Below is one Mr. Freddy Weasley. Chapter Image by the all talented heavenleigh (:
“DID YOU OR DID YOU NOT THROW A TEACUP AT MR POTTER’S HEAD?”
“DID YOU OR DID YOU NOT TACKLE HIM TO THE GROUND?”
I chuckled. “I did.”
“DID YOU OR DID YOU NOT CALL YOUR PROFESSOR A ‘GRUMPY OLD BINT’?”
“Well, um, that depends on how you look at it, actually. I mean, I did say
that, but I could have been talking to the wall above her head. Or the roof. Or the fireplace. Or-”
“DID YOU OR DID YOU NOT?”
“AND YET YOU ASK ME WHY YOU’RE HERE?”
Let me take a minute to explain where ‘here’ is. I’m currently sitting in the Headmistress’s office, after a slight outburst which occurred during Divination. All I’m going to say is: Me, Potter, burning hot tea. You get the picture.
I’m very pleased to report that he had to go to Hospital Wing.
Serves him right.
“MISS WALKER, IT’S ONLY THE FIRST DAY OF TERM, AND YOU HAVE ALREADY LANDED YOURSELF ON TWO WEEKS OF DETENTION,” boomed Headmistress Greensberry. She wasn’t angry, even though it sounded like it. She just suffers from VLVS. Very Loud Voice Syndrome, that is. I tuned out her behaviour speech, and instead looked at the portraits of past Headmasters. They all looked so stiff and stuck up, except for the man with the long white beard in the corner. Whenever I had to sit in here and ‘think about my attitude’ I would have a little chat with good ol’ Dumblydore.
Dumbledore was the bee’s knees. And he liked sherbet lemon. Anyone who likes sherbet lemon automatically earns my absolute respect.
“MISS WALKER, ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah.”
“IF I EARNED A GALLEON FOR EVERY TIME YOU HAVE SAT IN THIS OFFICE, I WOULD ALREADY BE A HAPPILY RETIRED WOMAN!”
“I’m very sorry that you don’t earn a galleon every time I’m in this office, Professor Greensberry. We could propose that to the Governing Board,” I told her, wincing.
The Headmistress sighed, took of her glasses, cleaned them, put them back on, shuffled the papers on her desk and then looked back up at me. I followed her every movement, getting a bit dizzy.
“VERY WELL, YOU MAY GO,” she ordered. I winced at the extra-loudness of her voice, and skedaddled the hell out of there.
It was now lunch time, as I was reminded by an angry growl from my stomach. I hurried down to the Great Hall, and, having spotted my friends, made my way over to them.
“Phoenix!” Roxanne greeted, patting the bench beside her to indicate I should sit. I was tempted to let her down and take a seat next to Daisy, but the latter was looking rather mournfully at her beans, so I decided to leave her alone. “I hope Greensberry wasn’t too hard on you,” Roxie said sympathetically as I threw myself down on the bench.
“Apart from a pierced eardrum, I escaped unscathed,” I told her, as I helped myself to the potatoes. Roxanne winced at my pain, but I could see she was dying to ask me another question. I smirked when it came stumbling out.
“Did you really send James to the Hospital Wing?”
“Yup,” I answered, unable to hold in a smug smile. I saw Roxanne’s face light up with glee. That’s family love for you.
“My sources tell me that you tackled James to the ground, and when the Professor told you to calm down, you swore at her and stormed out of the classroom,”
“Your sources are correct.”
“You sure know how to make an exit in style, Fee.” Roxie sighed, shaking her head. I accepted her comment, carefully avoiding telling her that I had actually fallen down the ladder on my way out. She didn’t need to know that, did she?
In truth, I had ended up with more than just sore ears. Professor Patil had assigned me two weeks’ worth of detention, starting tonight. I wasn’t sure what I was meant to be doing yet, but I could already say that I wasn’t looking forward to it.
I forked a potato and lifted it to my mouth, only to have it snatched right out of my hands. I looked over to the food stealer and recognized Amelie.
"You should have seen your face in Divination earlier," she choked out between chews. "You were the very image of a girl scorned."
a girl scorned," I scoffed. “Bloody git with his sodding smirk and stupid comments.”
Amelie reached for another of my potatoes just as Fred came running over, skidding to a halt in front of us.
“Good-day, y’all,” he greeted, in typical Freddy manner (a.k.a. strangely and slightly disturbingly). He leaned over my shoulder and picked a piece of bread from my plate.
Why didn’t anybody tell me it was Steal Food from Phoenix Day?
My outraged protest was covered by his hand. As I struggled with his iron grip, he turned his dark eyes to Daisy.
“Can I talk to you?” he asked, his voice suddenly soft. Daisy gave him a calculating look, and I swear I saw a streak of mutual understanding pass between them. “Now?” Fred urged, and Daisy nodded, standing up and swinging her bag over her shoulder.
My mouth was released as he placed the now half-eaten piece of bread back on my plate, yelled an unusual farewell to the rest of us (something along the lines of ‘I shall love you and leave you’), and followed Daisy out of the Great Hall.
Roxanne, Amelie and I watched them walk away, various expressions of shock plastered on our faces.
“What the bloody hell just happened?” asked Roxanne, closing her mouth and turning her wide eyes towards us.
I shrugged, stealing my fork back from Amelie and finally starting to eat my lunch. I had to admit it, though; that had been rather strange. I didn’t have the slightest idea what Fred and Daisy would have to talk about that couldn’t be heard by us.
However, that was a mystery to be solved later. This time was reserved for eating.
“I bet they are making their way toward a broom closet right now,” Amelie mused, eyeing the door our two friends had just exited through, as if hoping she could laser-stare her way into said broom closet. A loud choking sound made both of us look in Roxanne’s direction.
“Twin – Daisy… images – gross!” She coughed.
While I patted her on the back, laughing, Amelie pulled her wand out of her pocket and pointed it lazily in Roxanne’s direction, muttering, “Anapneo.
Roxanne’s airways seemed to clear at once, and she took a deep breath, scowling at her saviour.
“Wait, give me a second to clear my head,” she said, holding up a hand. “I do not
need mental images of…argh! Ams, why did you have to bring that up?”
Amy chuckled darkly and Roxanne shook her head, as if trying to free it of Wrackspurt, muttering under her breath.
“We should be getting to class,” Amelie suggested, standing up. “We wouldn’t want to be late and send another poor soul to the Hospital Wing, would we?” She sent a pointed look in my direction, which I answered with a cheeky smile.
“James Potter is not
a poor soul,” I told her, sliding out from the bench. Roxanne followed suit, taking a sip from my glass of pumpkin juice on the way.
“Hey, guys,” I said as they started to walk off. Two pairs of eyes, one blue and one grey, turned to mine. “Next time, it would be really wonderful if you could both get your own plates!”
A first year girl came up to me halfway through Charms, with a roll of parchment she had been told to deliver. I nearly poked her eye out with my wand when she came over, as I was waving it about rather dangerously in attempt to silence my frog. I apologised to the poor girl and thanked her for the note before rolling it open to read the first line.
My heart sank.
The note was from Professor Patil, telling me what
I would be doing for detention. As I struggled through her thin, curly writing, I crossed my fingers and wished on Merlin’s spotty red knickers that I wouldn’t be assigned cauldron cleaning.
Apparently Merlin wasn’t wearing any underwear that day, because five hours later I found myself stomping down the poorly lit hallway leading to the dungeons.
Dark thoughts aimed at my Divination teacher and a certain hazel-eyed git swam through my head as I made my slow way down the cold, dark corridor, my steps echoing against the walls and bouncing from floor to roof.
When I reached the potions room door, I knocked briefly and waited for it to open.
As I stood there I wondered why I was being sent down here in the first place, instead of sitting up in the stuffy Divination Tower, polishing crystal balls. I had my theories, though. They involved Professor Patil and her inexistent divination powers, reading my mind and finding out how much I loved (read: felt murderous toward) Potions.
My gloomy train of thought was interrupted by the door opening and my Divination teacher’s smiling face greeting me on the other side.
“Come on in, Miss Walker,” she said, stepping aside. I resisted the urge scowl at her and stepped into a room even colder and damper than the corridor outside.
A considerably mood-lowering pile of dirty cauldrons was stacked in the corner, along with scrubbing brushes and a bucket of soapy water. I sent daggers in its direction, before turning to Professor Patil, who had been babbling on that whole time.
“…with no magic. Potter should be joining you shortly.”
I scowled at this. I would have been happier with the injustice of me having detention and him getting off clean, rather than having to spend two whole hours with him.
For two whole weeks.
“You may start straight away, Miss Walker. And remember, no magic.”
I nodded in response, and stomped over to the cauldron pile, dragging one toward me and dipping my brush in the soapy water. I was in a thoroughly disgruntled mood, and what I discovered at the bottom of my cauldron sent my temper plummeting even further.
Inside the cauldron, there seemed to have formed a solid layer of electric purple goo, which had hardened and was now impossible to scrub off.
I was muttering to myself, with my sleeves rolled up and purple water sloshing around my elbows, when a cough interrupted my mumblings. I glanced up at the owner of the noise, and found myself looking at the Prick himself, the one and only James Sirius Potter, looking all new and shiny, nicely patched up by Madame Periwinkle.
“That looks uncomfortable,” he stated, looking at my submerged arms. I glanced up at him, blowing a curl out of my face as I took in his carefully tousled appearance.
“Have a nice trip to the Hospital Wing?” I asked him, with a falsely bright smile.
“I know you like me, Walker, but I didn’t think you were that desperate for physical contact,” Potter mused. I opened my mouth in shock, and closed my fist around my brush, ready to throw it at him. “Tackling me like that…quite kinky, really.”
Potter stared at me for a couple more seconds, surveying me with an amused expression on his face, head cocked to the side. I stared right back, as haughtily as I could manage while I was covered in purple suds.
“You really are delusional. I think all that arrogance is eating away at your common sense,” I told him loftily, trying to keep my calm. “You’ve got work to do,” I added, jerking my head at the dirty cauldrons. “You better start cleaning.”
Potter looked over at the pile to my right, then to the bucket of suds, and back to the pile.
“The question is…” he began, scratching his chin pensively. “Do I want
to start cleaning?” He stood there, scratching, looking as though this was the hardest decision in the world.
Yeah, a real life changer, that one.
“You better get over here and start scrubbing, or I swear my wands going to end up somewhere nasty,” I snarled at him.
It seemed that he didn’t fancy having my wand shoved anywhere, because he sat across from me and pulled a cauldron toward him, an amused smile hovering around his lips, making him look like he was laughing at something only he knew about. Like an internal inside joke. Or something like that.
It was quite disconcerting.
“I’ve decided to shun you,” he announced, his serious expression almost believable. “You are, from this moment forth, shunned by me.”
“Shut up,” I told him. “And keep scrubbing.”
“This is stupid.”
“Calm down, Daisy, It’s really easy, you’re just too thick head-”
“Don’t you start with that, I’ve got a wand in my hand!”
“So do I, now try again.”
We were sitting in the common room, and I had just gotten back from my detention. Roxanne was trying to teach Daisy the silencing charm, but the latter had so far only managed to poke out her toad’s eye, and set Amelie’s Transfiguration paper on fire.
“What’s the spell for vanishing again?” asked my blond friend, biting the end of her quill.
” said Roxanne. “Daisy, where’s the toad?”
I yawned and stretched, putting the book I had been reading down on the couch beside me. My arms were aching from all the scrubbing I had done, and my fingers were stained purple. Potter had worn my temper to the limit, with his stupid comments and mocking smile. All I wanted to do was sleep.
I looked over at the portrait hole, and spotted Fred scrambling through it. He straightened up and started to walk in our direction, but seemed to change his mind and go the opposite way. I frowned at this, but after all, it was
Fred; who knew what was going on in that boy’s mind whatsoever?
Following Fred was Potter. How he managed to scrub cauldrons for an hour and not get a single sud or stain on him, I would never know. He glanced around, spotted us, and sauntered over, winking at a group of fourth year girls on the way.
“Who’s a genius?” he asked smugly when he reached us.
“Not you,” I told him, closing my book. Potter shook his head and sat down next to me. I stiffened, but otherwise controlled my murderous feelings.
“I’m not talking to you, you spilled tea on me,” he reminded me calmly, before repeating his phrase to the other girls.
“Not you?” answered Amelie absentmindedly, dipping her quill in ink. I knew there was a reason why we were fiends. Potter rolled his eyes and shot her an indulging smile. “But I am
, love, that’s just the thing,” he said. I snorted at this. James? A Genius? Dream on, kid, dream on. “You see, as I was walking back from dinner earlier this evening, I had a revelation. An epiphany, if you may.”
“You mean you finally realized how you feel toward men?”
He ignored me. “I was walking along, wondering how I was going to hold my party with this curfew in the way, when the answer struck me, just like that.”
“And what answer was that, oh bright one?”Amelie asked him, sending a sweet smile in his direction.
“To have it in the Room of Requirement, obviously.”
“The Room of Requirement,” he explained, with an enticing smile, “is a room that can become whatever you want it to. So, for example, if you
went there, it would turn into-”
“I know what the Room of Requirement is, you twit,” she snapped at him. “I’m just wondering if your plan extraordinaire involves a way of getting one hundred people to the place without getting caught.”
“Of course it does. Do you really think that I, James Sirius Po-”
“Don’t listen to the sod, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Daisy cut in, flicking her wand dangerously close her toad’s one remaining eye. Potter scowled at her.
“Still angry, Daisy?” he asked, looking annoyed. Daisy smiled down at her toad, not looking at Potter.
“Take a wild guess, James,” she told him coldly. “Do I look angry?”
“But I thought Fred came and talked to you about it! I told him-”
“I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU TOLD HIM!” Daisy had gotten up now, and was staring at James as if she was seriously considering hurting him. Her outburst seemed to have surprised him just as much as it surprised me. He jumped up, looking at Daisy with shock and indignation.
The rest of the Common Room had gone silent now, and everyone was staring at the little redhead, who had her wand pointed at a now furious looking James.
“THE TRUTH IS, JAMES, YOU SCREWED IT UP!”
She looked really scary. Scarier that a raging Roxanne, even.
“I DON’T CARE HOW HARD YOU’RE TRYING TO FIX THIS, BECAUSE EVERYTHING WAS YOUR FAULT IN THE FIRST PLACE!”
I never thought I’d hear myself say this, but I was beginning to feel a little worried for James’s safety. Daisy had her wand aimed at his chest, and her eyes where glinting manically.
“YOU’RE JUST AN UNSENTIMENTAL PRICK, WHO LIKES MESSING WITH PEOPLE’S FEELINGS!”
“That’s rubbish, Daisy, I never meant-”
“I. DON’T. GIVE. A. FUCK!”
Each word was accompanied by a jab. A Sharp, angry jab, each one of them sure to leave bruises. I flinched as Daisy took a step closer to James. So did he.
“Just give it up, ok? You’re just going to make things worse,” she snarled.
Hearing these words, James’s face turned from irritated to livid. His eyes lowered into icy slits, and his voice was as hard and cutting as a sharpened blade.
“Fine,” he hissed. “Just don’t come crying to me when you get hurt again.”
And with that, he spun around, and walked off. Daisy’s eyes filled with fury when she saw him leaving.
“Hey!” she called. He turned around. “I’m not finished yet.” Ignoring his withering glare, she strode up to him, and slapped him across the face.
Silence followed. Everyone was frozen, waiting for James’s reaction.
But he didn’t do anything. He just gave her one last, frosty stare, before marching off to the boy’s dormitory. As he stomped past me, I glimpsed a red handprint etched across his jaw.
All eyes turned to Daisy, standing by the fire, clenching her wand so hard that her knuckles were turning white.
“What are you lot gawking at?” she spat, glaring at the nosy gits, before storming out the portrait hole. I heard the Fat Lady protest as Daisy slammed the portrait shut behind her.
As soon as she was gone, an outbreak of whispers spread across the Common Room. I looked over at Roxanne, who was staring at the portrait hole, her forehead creased with worry.
“Should someone go after her?”
Fred had come up behind me, and was looking at where Daisy had disappeared with just as much concern as the rest of us.
“Are you volunteering?” I asked him, too tired and too grumpy to go follow her myself. I glanced out the window to see how dark it was, and when I looked back, it was to find the space in front of me empty, and Fred’s rear end disappearing through the portrait hole.
“I didn’t know Daisy had it in her,” Amelie was saying, her essay long forgotten. Her disregarded quill was sitting on the parchment, which was soaking up the ink greedily.
“Yeah, well, I’m glad someone finally slapped James.” I sighed, throwing myself back down on the armchair.
“I wonder what he did,” Amelie cooed, and I held back a smile. That girl was a sucker for gossip.
“Whatever it was, it’s been going on for a while…” mused Roxanne. “Haven’t you noticed?”
I nodded. Amelie frowned.
“No?” she said, though it came out more like a question. Sometimes that girl could be slower than a sloth, especially when it came to noticing something that didn’t involve her.
“Either way, James is an arrogant prick who deserved to be slapped,” I assured them both.
The thought of James made my earlier anger resurface, even more boiling than before.
To me, it seemed that he didn’t care much for anything but himself and thought he was above all human beings. He was even worse than Freddy and Josh combined, and no one seemed to hate him for it. He still had hordes of followers, he still looked annoyingly handsome, and I still didn’t understand why he wasn’t amongst Cody the Prefect and his friends, the social rejects who played chess in their free time.
Not that I have anything against chess. It’s very good for the, er, mind!
Anyway, back to James. Yeah, I was wondering why everybody liked him when he was such a sadistic git.
Maybe it was his good looks.
Or maybe it was that he was perfectly civil to anyone but me. Stupid prick.
Either way, that guy sure pissed me off. And now, seeing as he had hurt Daisy, I was positively murderous.
“I’m going for a walk,” I told my friends, jumping up. My anger was growing, helped by lack of sleep and terrible day, and I needed to get some fresh air to clear my head.
The corridors where deserted by this time, seeing as curfew was not far away.
I didn’t stop walking until I had reached the front doors, feeling like a raging monster had found a comfortable home in my chest.
Anger, frustration, sadness and resentment swirled inside me, until I was one big ball of bitterness.
Everything seemed to be coming up at once:
Annoyance at my father, and a little hurt, too. Worry for Daisy, and fury at James. Rage, along with a pinch of irritation.
James, always James. He seemed to be coming up in everything, always there to laugh at me and push all my pains in further, as if he was a needle.
My walk had landed me at the Quidditch locker rooms. Without thinking, I raced inside and grabbed a broom, bringing it onto the Quidditch pitch and kicking up off the ground, enjoying the feeling of the cold air hitting my face.
I sailed once around the pitch, looping through the goal posts, before racing off in direction of the Forbidden Forest. It was nearly dark by now; the sun had just hidden its face behind the hills.
It was that strange time, when it wasn’t quite night and it wasn’t quite day and you felt like you were in-between worlds.
That’s what my mother used to call it. The in-between. She used to tell me beautiful stories about this time, about fairies and elves and how they would come out from their underground homes, right when the sun sets, and steal a star from the night sky, bring it down to the forest, and dance around it until morning came. They always put the star back in the sky at the end of the night, my mum would assure me. They never left it on Earth to die.
It was ironic, really, how after time, my mum became like one of those stars. A bright light, her glow slowly receding, until she was nothing more than a flicker, extinguished in a heartbeat. Like a wilting flower, or the dying sunset.
I was flying just above the tree tops, skimming the leaves with my foot. A flash of silver made my heart leap, but it was only the swish of a unicorn tail.
I flew in a wide circle, trying to get some of the fresh night air into my head and chase away this angry feeling. Fireflies started to dart around me, like little sparks that had escaped from the hearth and flown out the window into the twilight sky. It was so dark by now that I could hardly see my hands. I looked back up at the castle, with its glowing windows and reaching towers, and suddenly, I felt painfully and devastatingly alone.
I held in a sob, convincing myself that my watery eyes were due to the wind, and not tears. Because Phoenix Walker did not cry. Ever.
There was a figure standing by the lake. I could just make out the darker splash of their shape, outlined against the growing shadows.
I hastily wiped my cheeks dry, and slowly flew in their direction, taking in small, ragged breaths of air. The raw anger that had filled me only moments before had been replaced by a dull ache, a yearning for something I couldn’t quite figure out.
The person wasn’t who I thought it would be. I had hoped it would be Daisy, but as I got closer, I realized that their build was much larger. I distinguished the broad shoulders and crop of unruly hair a moment too late. James had already turned around at the sound of my robes flapping in the wind, the cautious look on his face replaced by indifferent recognition when he saw who I was.
“Come to brag?” he asked me, and I was shocked by the raw pain in his voice.
I landed beside him, hopping off my broom and sitting down on the wet grass, looking out at the lake.
“Why would I brag?” I said simply. As much as I thought he deserved what Daisy did, I wasn’t a cruel person. I told him this. He answered with a humourless laugh.
“You think I deserved that?” he said, his voice cold. “Do you even know what I did?” I shook my head. He took a seat beside me, staring straight forward, not looking at me when he spoke. “I don’t think I need to explain myself. If I told you what really happened, you wouldn’t believe me. You have to think that I’m an emotionless prick so that you can hate me easier. And you need to hate me, because if you don’t, then the only person left for you to hate is someone you wish you could love.”
He said all this in a low voice, almost a whisper. At first I wasn’t sure I had heard him right, but when I made sense of his words, they hit me like an angry bludger. I opened my mouth for an answer, but I couldn’t think of one. My rage was boiling back up again, repressing the longing in my chest and taking over my whole body. I clenched my fists and gritted my teeth. Who the fuck did he think he was? Did he really think he could justify my feelings like that? What a conceited git! He didn’t know me, he couldn’t tell me how I felt, or who I was. The worst part is that he actually made it sound as if he was making me a favour by being a jerk to me.
“See, this is what I absolutely loath about you!” I exclaimed, throwing my hands up in annoyance. Potter didn’t even flinch at my raised voice. “You think you know everything, you don’t stop to think that maybe,
, you don’t. I mean, how could you possibly
know how it feels to be a mere mortal?” Sarcasm oozed off my every syllable. I was getting heated up, all my anger pouring out in my gushing speech. My built up annoyance from the past few months had finally exploded, and Potter made the perfect outlet for my wrath. “You have no idea how-”
“How what? How it feels to be hurt, angry? Do you honestly think that I am that devoid of emotion?” There was so much venom in his voice that I leant away from him, stung. “Just because you
lock everything up, pretend that you don’t care about anything, especially-”
“SHUT UP!” I screamed, jumping up. Potter stayed sat. A trickle of cold dread had slithered down my spine at his words. I didn’t want to hear what he had to say. He didn’t know what he was talking about.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I snarled at him, grabbing my broomstick and swinging my leg over it. “You don’t know the first thing about me.”
I kicked up off the ground and flew into the air, leaving Potter sitting alone in the night.
Thoughts were rushing through my head as I walked back up to the castle, having thrown my broomstick back where I found it. It was pitch black by now, but I didn’t run into anyone in the Entrance Hall, or up the main staircase. I didn’t want to think about what Potter had said, or the fact that it hit home, with sharp, deadly precision. I stalked through the dark Hallways, engrossed in my own world of excuses and reasoning, trying to convince myself that he was mental, and that he was talking bullocks. But he had probed at a hidden pain, which I normally kept buried in the gloomy regions of my heart, secret and unheard of. Now it was open, tender and raw.
The only person left for you to hate is someone you wish you could love.
I pushed open a tapestry to a shortcut, only to be met with the sight of two people locked in a tight embrace. The girl was pushed up against the wall, and the boy…the boy I recognized.
“Freddy?” I whispered, wincing at the vulnerability that had found its way to my voice. Fred unglued himself from the girl, and looked over his shoulder at me.
“Hey Fee,” he greeted, with a cocky grin. His snog buddy peeked over his shoulder, and with a surge of pure loathing, I recognized Sammy’s skanky sidekick, Lei Chang.
The girl who lost her virginity, and any slither of self respect she may still have left, back in her second year.
“Didn’t you go to check on Daisy?” I asked Fred, staring at him reproachfully. He shrugged and glanced at Lei.
“I got…sidetracked.” He smirked. Disgusted, I turned my back to him and let the tapestry fall back behind me.
I preferred to go the long way.
“Butternut scones,” I said wearily, when I reached the Fat ladies portrait. She swung open straight away, having spotted my vicious expression, and probably fearing for her life. Or her painting, in any case.
The Common Room was full of noisy students, seeing as the curfew was keeping them inside. I stalked across the room, hissing at a couple of first years for blocking the path, and stumbled up the spiral staircase, still in a trance of storming anger.
All three of my friends were in our dorm when I walked in. They were sitting on Daisy’s bed, a pile of comfortingly unhealthy food between them, talking in hushed voices. Daisy’s face was tear stained, but she was still smiling at something Roxanne was saying. I felt a sudden stab of affection for them all. They looked up at the sound of me entering.
“Where were you at?” Roxanne asked.
“You could have worried us!” Amelie exclaimed, her eyes wide with faked shock. “You should be ashamed of yourself!”
Daisy giggled and smiled up at me.
“I saved you some chocolate.”
did,” corrected Amelie, looking deeply offended.
“You and Roxie wanted to eat Fee’s portion!” Daisy accused them, pointing her index fingers toward them.
For the second time in one day, I felt close to tears. What was happening to me?
“I’m going to have a shower first,” I told them, my voice shaking. They nodded but didn’t comment, and I loved them for it.
The bathroom was clean and white, and it hurt my eyes after such a long time out in the darkness. I turned the shower onto boiling, and let it run behind me as I leant on the sink, staring at my reflection in the mirror.
My hair was a mess of tangled curls, windswept and wild. My eyes looked too big and achingly confused in the harsh bathroom light, standing out against the pale lifelessness of my skin. A rough contrast of sharp whites and hollow browns.
I was a mess.
I thought back at what Potter had told me, ignoring the stab of pain that came with the memory.
The only person left for you to hate is someone you wish you could love.
A/N: Wow, were did that come from? Daisy, yelling, slapping, Phoenix, angry, James, git face, screaming, sadness, what? I hadn’t planned any of this at all. And I’m still not too satisfied with the result. I’ll come back and edit it sometime…maybe…later. Oh well, we’ll see. Don’t forget to review, and tell me how this chapter could be improved, or just what you think, or whatever the magic box guides you to say…
Thanks for reading :)