Chapter 3 : A Mock Salute And A Handful Of Sherbet Lemons
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“That was bloody brilliant.” Freddy whispered to me as we left Professor Longbottom’s office. “We have to do that again sometime.”
“How does Monday sound?” Drew asked with a smile.
“Rain Check?” I asked with a slight skip in my step. “You two have Quidditch Practice on Monday.”
“Oh yeah,” Drew exclaimed smacking his forehead. “Damn Potter and his bad timing.” He leered and sat down on an old wooden bench near the Great Hall. Pulling his hat from his head and turned it inside out, batting soil and other herbs from it.
Freddy and I stood; he shoved his hand in to the back pocket of my school trousers and pulled me closer. For once, I didn’t mind the dirt that Herbology graced us with; it brought Fred and me together. Longbottom, on the other hand, wasn’t as happy as me.
He had asked us all to plant a seed of our choice, whether it would grow in to a tree or a stem, it didn’t matter as long as it grew. I had chosen a marshmallow plant. Its attributes give it medicinal properties; soothing irritation, relieving coughing. It’s rumoured to fight infection too. It is also a nice and chewy snack. Professor L said that I missed the point of the project.
After that humiliating announcement I had turned to Freddy who was occupied drawing smiley faces in the top of his soil, he would cover it up and then do it again. I slipped on to the other half of his chair and joined him. He drew a line down the middle of his pot, turning it around; he gave me the bigger half to draw on. I bit back a small smile and dipped my fingers deep in to the soil.
Within the space of three minutes, Fred and I had strategically placed army lines drawn on to our face, two on each cheek. He then held me down contradictory to my protests; Drew then put a handful soil in my mouth before walking away with a stinging-soil handprint casing his right cheek.
By some means, these rebellious and careless actions of ours had deemed our lesson in to an entire-class-participation soil fight. When Longbottom had managed to regain control of our class, the Greenhouses were covered in compost from top to bottom. The ability to see through the once-spotless glass was jaded as clumps of soil slid mockingly down.
I was sure, that if it hadn’t been his lesson that we interrupted, Proff L would have found the entire situation somewhat humorous. He gave us the biddable task of cleaning the Greenhouses as punishment. Nonetheless, he didn’t take out wands off of us. With his help the Greenhouse was spotless once more and we spent the next half hour plating Exploding Snap – with Freddy’s cards; James (the miscreant) still had mine.
With a mock salute and a handful of sherbet lemons our punishment was served.
I fell in to Freddy’s side and he wiped his soil-y cheek in to my hair. I resisted the urge to squeal and settled for a yelp instead. “I can’t believe that you two forgot your Quidditch practise.”
“I can’t believe that you remembered!” Drew muttered, pulling his hat back on to his head. I reached out my hands and he took them, I pulled him up from the bench.
The three of us walked in step in towards the Great Hall, the cobbles of the floor beneath my feet dug through the soles of my shoes. Freddy’s hand was still in my pocket. I counted to ten and attempted keeping calm. I was failing.
“Let’s just not tell James, yeah?” Freddy said. His grin fell on to his face once again.
I nodded obediently. “Obviously; I wouldn’t want my two favourite boys to die.”
“We’re your favourite boys?” Drew cooed and pinched my cheek.
Freddy pulled me away. “But I’m her favourite boy, ever.” He sneered. I turned my face to hide my blush.
“I don’t doubt that,” Drew muttered. I was sure that Fred had not seen my glare. It was strong enough to burn a hole through iron. My brows furrowed and I am sure that my teeth grew sharp.
We took a left and entered through the big, heavy doors. Freddy lifted my feet off of the floor and carried me in side ways. “Put me down!” I protested, wishing that he would do anything but.
I rolled my eyes. “Freddy!” He held my stomach tighter. “Freddy’s you’re hurting me.” He didn’t loosen. “Fred!” I kicked my legs. “FRED!”
I turned my face to his. In the movies they catch eyes, fall in love and kiss. In my experience, that’s overrated. It doesn’t happen. The coherent charms of Freddy Weasley continue to shock me in ways that I can not describe.
His gaze wasn’t directed anywhere near me, it was infact facing the Hufflepuff table. A pretty blonde Puff was sat at the end, her skirt hitched up high and her shirt undone one two many. Her bra was the same colour as the bubblegum she was popping.
I prodded his cheek with my free arm and wiped the soil away. “Freddy.”
“Fred, mate.” Drew reasoned, “You’re hurting her.”
He snapped back to reality and placed me down on to the ground, I rubbed my tummy. “Sorry, love.” I waved it away airily. He grinned and winked at the Puff, she giggled. “If you’ll excuse me, I have some unfinished business to take care of.”
Suddenly the pain in my stomach didn’t seem so strong.
It was the one in my chest that stung me.
Drew’s strong hand found my shoulder and he pulled me to under his arm. “Come on, Dix.” He gestured to the Gryffindor table. “Let’s go and have dinner.” I smiled sadly and walked with him. “You know, when he does that to you, your eyes don’t seem so blue anymore.”
He grinned glumly. “When Freddy walks away from you, your eyes loose their happy, but slightly fanatical Dixie shine.” I reddened a little and he laughed. “I just want you to be happy.”
I slid in next to Ellie and smiled as Drew sat next to me. “I am.”
“Good to know.” Even I could tell he was lying. He didn’t believe me in the slightest.
I wondered why we hadn’t been greeted yet, I looked up. Our group was sat in silence; each eye was on us or more precisely, the soil.
“I love the look.” Ellie stated, passing me a piece of pie. It appeared we were in time for desert.
“Thank you,” I stated. “I call it soil.”
James leant over the table and poked my cheek. “Army lines?” I nodded. “They would be good for Quidditch.”
Charisma laughed while Ellie glared disapprovingly. “No.” She snapped. “No more bright Quidditch ideas; the last time that you had one, I was smacked in the face with a jack in the box.”
I looked up from my pie. “A jack in the box?”
Charisma blinked and put her fork back on to the table. “I was leaving Transfiguration when a third year runs in to me and tells me of ‘The Great Seventh Years’ who started a soil fight in the greenhouses.” I twitched at her censure. “Why would you even do it?” She questioned. “It’s our seventh year, surly you’re more mature than to start a soil fight.” Drew and I blinked. At the same time we stabbed our fork in to our pie and twisted it around. We looked up and laughed. “Never mind.”
“We were bored,” Drew scorned. “End of story.”
“No not end of story,” Kyle said. “It’s Friday.”
“And the weekend is near!” Drew chanted before high fiving his roommate.
“That’s not the point,” Charisma deadpanned. “Actually, that sentence has no point! You’re seventh years; you should be setting an example, not encouraging bad behaviour.”
I scowled and took another bite of pie, serenading the cherry flavouring as it danced on my taste buds. “Lighten up, Chris.”
“Yeah,” Drew added. “It’s not like you don’t love to stir up a bit of trouble.”
“Oh, I totally agree,” she admitted truthfully. “But I can just blame it all on James’s bad influence.” She added after a pause. Drew and I sniggered, much to James’s annoyance. It unnerved me slightly to say that he looked somewhat proud of his girlfriend. “Plus, I know when to stop.”
“Even I know there’s a boundary,” James said, pulling bits of mud from my hair. Ellie rolled her eyes as small scarps landed in the jelly. “Our, Dixie on the other hand…”
I listened to him trail off and glared. “Finnish that sentence.” I said. “I dare you.”
He winked and leaned over, stealing a piece of pie.
“I would love to ram that pie segment down your throat.” I cooed.
Charisma smirked. “Yes, because that doesn’t make you seem eligible for therapy.”
James pulled another mud section from my once-clean-locks and I batted his hands away. “Forget it,” I muttered. Pulling a hair tie from my wrist I threw my hair on to the top of my head in a bun.
“That’s another way to do it.” Drew approved.
The table fell in to an eased chat. I inwardly groaned as Drew took his third piece of pie, it also happened to be the last one. I half expected him to be the belaying gentleman and give it to me, instead, with a tongue stuck out in my direction and a smirk, he waffled it up quicker than I could blink.
Interestingly enough, nobody seemed disturbed in the slightest.
I saw James’s gaze fall on me, then to the Hufflepuff table. He knew how I felt; he had experienced it with Charisma. She is a beautiful, blonde bombshell who happens to be sickeningly compassionate. He wasn’t the only one with his eye on her.
He raised a brow to me, I looked behind. Freddy’s arm was around the back of the Hufflepuff. With a single shrug I turned back to my empty plate and began to grind streaks in to the china with my knife.
“Careful, love.” Drew warned. “The poor house elves already hate you. Don’t give them another bloody reason.”
James punched his Beater on the upper arm and fiercely glared. Drew blinked in surprise. “It’s alright,” I muttered. “It’s not like it’s the first time.”
This time it was a silence to fall over the table. Kyle passed me a bowl of jelly; the boy may be dark and mysterious, but he really knew how to make a girl feel better. “Dix, my offer still stands.”
“And so does my threat,” I said through gritted teeth.
James and Drew shared a perplexed glance before airily waving away their questions. People continued to eat, but I knew that none of their minds were really set on their food infront of them.
My face fades from the glare that it fronts, the famous ‘I’m going to attack you while you sleep’ glare. Kyle is dancing on the wall, a high wall; he is teasing which was to fall. If he tells Freddy of what he knows, he jumps left. But he knows that he can’t get back, he can’t see anybody on the other side of the wall. If he jumps right, he stays with me; he can see anybody of his choice and even choose to dance on the wall some more if he pleases. But one thing is for sure; if you dance on the wall for too long, you fall.
It’s the direction of his fall that concerns me.
I dig back in to my jelly; prodding it with my spoon and watching it wobble. I see Drew flinch out of the corner of my eye every time I move the item of cutlery. I suppress the uncomfortable feeling, the one of betrayal and hurt and try to ignore the lovely shade of crimson that will grace my cheeks if I think of Freddy; red is not an attractive shade on me.
For once I would adore for Freddy to drop his front, to loose the cocky, arrogant stance that he wears and to just be himself. I have known him for long enough to know that behind the wise cracks and the egotistical grin, there is a serious, riveting and somewhat vulnerable boy. But, I have also known him long enough to realize that if he drops that act, his vulnerability will get the better of him. He considers it a monster, one that will gobble him all up if it’s let loose for too long. By the age of twelve it was locked up and safely secured.
I wish that just for once, without my encouragement, the security of his friends and the influence of an alcohol of his choice, ‘Freddy’ will make an appearance. I’m not talking about the full frontal ‘Here’s Freddy’ Nightmare on elm Street façade. I just want to see my friend. I know that he’s in there, for every time I fall ill, he cares. For when Charisma fell from her broom, he rushed straight to her side with a look of spared concern. For whenever he wakes up in the morning next to a girl he can’t remember the name of, he feels empty.
An unlimited amount of females isn’t going fill that hole.
He just hasn’t realized it.
But he will.
My eyes slide over to James in contemplation. I love his half-smile quirks, the messy hair. He’s so free. He may have the raven hair and the Potter smirk, but Freddy has the crooked smile and the Weasley temper. It’s fortunate that they both have a flare for mischief, for without it, I wouldn’t talk to either of them.
James’s hair is an amazing testament. It is a mystery how the perfectly odd but accurately brilliant angles of messy wonderment can be so shaggy, but so right. It’s James’s individuality; it’s an admiral show of his cheeky personality that would suit him until death. It’s a wonder that he received Head Boy; we were all counting on Drew.
With a last look over my shoulder to his best mate, James helped himself to a spoon full of my jelly, I smiled pleasantly. “James do you have a death wish?”
He simply laughed. “No need to be vicious. Besides, I was about to pay you a compliment.”
My eyes widened in surprise. “I like compliments.”
“Don’t we all.” Drew huffed. “If Dixie-Pixie get’s a compliment, then I want one too.” My shot gaze to Drew with resentment. My rueful fury burnt through his skin; he had referred to me as a Pixie.
James rolled his eyes. “Fine. Drew, you’re a babe.” This didn’t lower my infuriate boiling point by any rate. If we were in a cartoon, steam would have been hissing from my ears. “Dixie, I was going to congratulate you on earlier. For you see, I heard that your lesson was legendary.”
I mocked a blush and smiled coyly. “Oh shucks, you don’t mean that.” I batted my eye lashes and the group laughed.
“It’s strange to think that something so innocent can be so manipulative.”
I bit Drew’s finger tip as he pointed it in to my face. He yelped and poked my head.
Charisma snorted from the blue. “Dixie, you’re such a minx.” I cocked a brow. “I think that Ewan Hudgens has a nice little surprise for later.”
The group looked confused before following her gaze over towards the Hufflepuff table. After gazing past Freddy’s red beanie hat, Ewan stood up from across the table and walked from the hall; a perfectly shaped soil handprint on his left butt cheek.
Ellie and I broke down in to peals of laughter, as did Drew and Kyle when they noticed. James simply snorted a little. Ewan Hudgens was nearing the top of the Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry’s Attractive Males Scale. Each girl has their own list, but does it really shock you that they pretty much consist of the same people?
Ewan is nearing the top of mine.
“How can you prove it was me?” I tested.
She laughed. “Who else would it be? You’re the only one with enough courage to do something like that.”
The girls at the table turned to look at the ‘print’ once more.
“Oh, very mature.” James muttered, annoyed that he no longer had Charisma’s full attention.
I snorted. “Oh yeah, now you think I need to grow up.”
Professor Flint was furious, angrier that I had ever seen him. Thankfully, not all of this pent up rage was targeted towards me, only the majority. The other participant to his rage didn’t seem at all concerned.
I dropped my scrubbing brush at the sound of my name. “Don’t talk to me,”
“Touchy are we?”
“A little,” I spat through gritted teeth. “Just do the detention Avery; I have absolutely no desire to be stuck in this room with you for longer than necessary.”
He just chuckled darkly. “And here I was getting my hopes up.”
“Shame that I had to dash them then isn’t it.”
He sneered and returned to scrubbing the floor. I had considered filling out a form for the inappropriate treatment of students, but then I considered Professor Flint’s possible list of antics for his retaliation. I quickly wiped that idea from my head.
“OH GOD! OH GOD!” Christopher Avery bawled, his tone a cross between shock and pure ecstasy. His Irish-accented and somewhat smutty voice failed miserably at sounding oppressive. The simple sound of his voice causes my frown to turn in to a dark feature. It becomes more powerful than a weapon.
“What are you doing?” I snapped.
He stopped shouting and went back to scrubbing. “Just practicing, for later.”
I snorted and tried to hide my utter shame; I am trapped in a detention room, scrubbing the floor, with a pervert behind me. I decided to go with the average response.
“You sicken me.”
He laughed. “No, I don’t.”
“Yes,” I sneered slowly. “You do.”
He gave a belated exhale and grinned. “Lovely, Dixie. How can I sicken you so, when you want me so badly?”
I choked on my own spit and snort incredulously. “Excuse me?”
He looked somewhat amused. "You want me; it’s obvious.” He dipped his scrubbing brush back in to the water of his bucket and began to scrub another tile. “It’s obvious.”
“Oh, it’s obvious is it?” I said crossly. “Whoop-dy fricking obvious.”
“Yeah,” he said with a dark leer. “I’m not the only one who thinks so.”
“Would you care,” I simpered slowly. “To tell me who these ‘people’ are who agree with you?”
He grinned before shaking his head. “No, Dixie my darling. For you see, I realize that you will kill them.” My bit my tongue. “And there is no need for violence.”
I pulled my sleeves down over my lower arms, now the factor of them getting wet and in-the-way didn’t’ seem so important. I wanted to cover up as much of my skin as I could before he saw it.
He continued the conversation without looking up from the floor like he had done before. I stopped scrubbing and sat on my butt. It was no secret that Christopher Avery was tall, dark and mysterious. In all truth, he could be seen as the perverted (and more forward) version of the Freddy Weasley of the Slytherin house. Each one has their own. Obviously, Avery lacks the charm, wit and downright swagger that his Gryffindor rival possesses. Being brutally honest, I would look over Avery’s irritatingly arrogant smirk and not pass five minutes without having to fight the urge to dump his body somewhere far away.
With his chiseled bone structure and dashingly good looks, he was a bloke that had it all. He made it incredibly hard not to take a few stares in a passing corridor; however this gave his abnormally huge ego and even bigger (and utterly unneeded) boost to the heavens. I mentally punished myself for being so superficial and shallow and began to scrub the floor harder. His Irish tones dug deep in to my skin.
I hadn’t been listening to his words, not from the beginning. I chose, rather maturely to ignore him and continue with my work. Considering that my usual response would have been to batter his head in with the scrubbing brush, I would give myself considerate props.
“-but of course, dear Freddy was looking awfully cozy with that Hufflepuff today.”
Forget it. Forget it all.
AN: So, there was the third chapter. I hope that you all enjoyed it. It was certainly fun to write. For those of you that read ‘Wolfsbane’, does anyone remember Christopher Avery? He was in the later chapters. If not, it’s still all good. He will be a main part in this story.
Don’t forget to review! I will take anything! What did you think of the soil fight? What about Avery or Drew? But alas, I will simply leave you now…with a preview:
“Awww, well I think that Sir Cadogan will happily help you, after all, he is very generous.” I said smiling, a slow battering of my eyelashes “And ever so strong.”
“Do you have no shame?” Charisma snapped, a big grin tugging at her lips.
Who do you think Dixie was buttering up? I will give cookies to whoever gets it! :D
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