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Welcome To My Crazy World by smashed_crayon
Chapter 8 : Bright lights and Pissed off Veelas
Rating: MatureChapter Reviews: 8

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Disclaimer: All rights are reserved to J.K Rowling for all things wizard, and likewise, I do not own Merlin, whose name I have used many times in angered exclamations (sorry buddy), nor can I take credit for Babar, Amelie’s elephant, though the real Babar is much cooler because he talks French and wears a crown. Babar is a beast. He kept me entertained as a small child.  Be in awe of his awesomness. BE IT!




Gryffindor Dorms, 8:30 am




“Time to get up, love.”

“Maybe she’s in some sort of sugar induced coma.”

“You think?”

“She did eat that whole block of Honeydukes’ chocolate last night.”

“And that slice of mudcake.”

“Don’t forget the box of fudge.”

“And those toffees Aunt Audrey sent me.”

“The ones that tasted like dragon piss?”

“The very same.”

“Wake up, you idiot!”

“Amy, don’t slap her!”

Daisy groaned and mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like ‘bloody idiots’. I felt very offended, but Roxanne assured me that she wasn’t talking about us.

“C’mon Dais, time to get your grumpy arse off that mattress. You have a day to embrace.”

The commanding tone didn’t seem to be working on her. I let Roxanne take over

“Dais, hun, you have to get up; it’s class time. You wouldn’t want to miss out on any lessons in your OWL year, would you?”

“Roxy, it’s Saturday,” I whispered.

“Shh!” Roxanne shot me a disapproving look and put a finger to her lips.

I felt this was a strange start to the day. Honestly, how can the world be turning right if me, Phoenix Walker, cynical queen and morning robot-zombie, am out of bed, showered, dressed and awake (which happened in that exact order) before Daisy had even stirred? And I hope we are talking about the same Daisy here. The bookworm, smart, appearance freak who thinks that it’s necessary to spend one hour in the shower every morning and another one getting dressed and doing her hair.

Who would think that sweet, innocent little Daisy was so superficial?

I opened my mouth to ask the obvious question (should we jinx her?), before Amelie walked out of the bathroom, a resolute expression on her face, carrying a bucket of what I feared was cold water.

“No! No, no, no, no, no, that’s a bad idea!” Roxanne protested, having made the same assumption as me. Amelie ignored her. “She is in emotional distress, we need to take a soft approach on this; you can’t just-”


“Do that?” she finished in a whimper.

Daisy definitely reacted this time.

“WHAT THE BLOOMING HELL WAS THAT FOR?” she screamed, rolling off her bed with a yelp. She wriggled in the blanket that had wrapped itself around her.  “That should at least come with some sort of warning signal!”

“But that just takes all the fun out of it,” explained the blonde with a cheeky smile. Daisy scowled. She didn’t seem to be in the same frame of mind as her roommate(s).

 “We were just worried about you,” Roxanne told her softly. “I mean, what with what happened yesterday and all…”

I winced at her choice of words.

“I’m fine,” Daisy snapped, contradicting her own words. She hadn’t breathed a word about why she had lashed out at James, so we had all made our own assumptions.

I simply thought he was an unsentimental git, but that was just my opinion. And it was the same thing I’ve always thought.

Even though we had all begged her, over and over again, to tell us what he had done, and what was going on between the two of them, she had avoided the subject entirely. Not one of us had managed to get a word out of her.

This made it very hard to comfort her, seeing as we had no idea what we were dealing with. Had she and James been dating? Was it something else? It was hard to tell, and after a while, we gave up trying to guess.

“That’s it!” cried out Amelie, throwing her bucket on the ground. “Daisy, you’re being pathetic.”

“Ams!” Roxanne exclaimed.

“No, I’m over this! We have tried being nice and patient, but that obviously didn’t work.”

Daisy looked like she was on the verge of tears. I was torn between pity for my friend, and agreement with Amelie. I didn’t know whether I should stop her, or just watch and wait.

“Look, whatever he has done to you, you have to get him back for it. You’re a proud twenty-first century woman, for Merlin’s sake, you can whoop his arse!  Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and in this case he’s going to have four pissed off girls at his heels. We’ve all got your back, Dais.” I cheered along with Amy, and together, we managed to pull a weak smile out of the little redhead.

“Now, you are going to get out of that bed, and go through your day with your head held high. And tonight you’re going to go to James’s party. Whether by choice, or tied up and stupefyed.”

Daisy whimpered.

“No, I can’t!” she whispered. “He might – he might be there.”

Amelie scoffed. “I’d be worried if he wasn’t. It’s his party.” Daisy shook her head.
“No-” she started, but broke off midsentence. “I’m not going,” she stated.

I had a feeling that we were going to have a hard time changing her mind.



Gryffindor Dorms, 5:00 pm


“I’m not going.”

This declaration was followed by a yelp, as I lost patience for the fourth time that day, and grabbed hold of Daisy’s ankles, dragging her straight out of bed.

She screamed and wriggled, trying to escape from my hold, but she had no chance against my badass Seeker strength.

“Daisy, listen closely,” I told her, stopping just outside the door. Roxanne was sitting on Daisy’s bed, shaking her head, having given up on stopping mine and Amelie’s ‘heartless methods’ long ago. “Listen very closely. If you don’t agree to come out of this room-”

“And tell us what happened!”

“And tell us what happened, I am going to drag you down the stairs, into the common room. And seeing as it’s Saturday afternoon…I’m guessing it’s full of people.”

All Daisy was wearing was a small white singlet with Elmo’s smiling face stretched across her boobs, and black underwear.

Black lacy underwear.

“Ok, ok, just let me go!”

“Splendid. Ams, tie her up.”




Gryffindor Dorms, 6:30 pm


It was just nearing nightfall, and we were stuck up in our dorm, trying desperately to get ready while radiating a steady flow of reassurance to keep Daisy convinced that going to this party was the right thing to do.

I was standing in the middle of the room in a purple bathrobe, foaming toothbrush in one hand, a hair straightener in the other.  Around me ruled chaos.

A pretty blonde was standing in front of the mirror, hair wet and dripping down her back, jabbing herself in the eye with an eyeliner pencil and swearing in French as she did so (Laurent had taught her well...). She was wearing a loose white dress, made of soft nearly see-through material, which could be deemed a T-shirt had it not been for one millimetre of gossamer fabric. Next to her was a cute redheaded girl, with big, innocent brown eyes. She was sitting in an empty trunk, its contents scattered on the floor around her. All she was wearing was a small white singlet, and she was looking around desperately for something to wear.

A beautiful chocolate-skinned girl was standing on her bed, dressed in nothing but a push-up bra and track-suit pants. Her curly hair was piled on top of her head, and she was pointing a very dangerous looking metal instrument at me.

I decided it was high time to be scared.

“Roxy, put it down.”

“I need that straightener!”

I looked down at the metal straightener in my hand. No way she was getting this thing.

“It’s not working,” I complained. That was true. I had been running it through my hair for the past half hour, but my dark brown locks where still as curly as ever.

“That may be because it’s not plugged in, nitwit,” called out Amelie from her place by the mirror, throwing her eyeliner over her shoulder. I looked down at the wire curving down from the straightener. Oh right.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” exclaimed Roxanne. “Do you really expect me to go to a party with this...” she began, motioning to her hair as she looked for a word to describe it, “this animal on my head?”

Well, yes, I did, but I wasn’t going to tell her that, because, unlike me, she was armed.

“Guys, I have nothing to wear!”

We all turned to Daisy, sitting on her empty trunk.

“You’re surrounded by clothes, love, you’ll find something.”

Daisy just stared up at us with her mournful brown eyes. But I was a stone cold woman. I would not give in to that heartbreaking expression. I would not!

“Here, let me help you.” I abandoned the straightener and tooth brush and knelt down next to my friend.

“Everything looks horrid on me,” she complained, crossing her arms over her chest and sticking her bottom lip out in a resigned air.

“That’s bollocks. Now get off that trunk and turn that frown upside down!” I instructed, voice gruff. I wasn’t too good with the sentimental stuff. Like I said: stone cold woman. I grabbed the other girl’s elbow and roughly lifted her to her feet. “There will be boys drooling over you tonight, I swear.” I promised as I started rummaging through the explosion of clothes she had created around herself. Daisy nodded meekly, and knelt down to help me look.

Meanwhile, Roxy had decided to take over the hair straightener. She pulled it through her hair a couple of times, before giving up and throwing it on the ground in anger.

“Watch it!” warned Amelie. “That cost a fortune.”

Amelie was the only one out of the four of us with a muggle parent. She had introduced us to her hair straightener two summers ago, and we had all fallen in love with the beautiful thing, which had been so much easier and quicker to use than the sleeking potions we were used to. She had explained to us that it wouldn’t work at Hogwarts, seeing as we had no eleclicity here, or something. We had all failed to understand what she meant by that, and have continued attempting to use it, despite her protests.

“Voila!” I exclaimed, pulling a dress up out of Daisy’s clothes mountain. It wasn’t too short or low cut, but it was made out of a wispy, floral material, and had a hole cut out of the back. Daisy eyed it wearily.

“No,” she stated, sticking her chin out stubbornly.

My gaze flattened.

“I said I was going to make boys drool over you, didn’t I?” I told her. She nodded. “Well, don’t you trust me?”

She gave me a weak smile. I grinned back. I hated seeing her sad like this. It was heartbreaking when such a sweet girl looked so desolated.

Because of James.

I was growling in my head right then. I bit the inside of my cheek, resisting the urge to launch into a mind-rant/bitching session.

“You are going to make heads turn when I’m finished with you,” I assured my friend. “When have I ever gone wrong?”

My question was greeted with silence. Hey, I’m not that bad, am I? AM I!?

Memories from last term flooded through my mind.

Hmm, maybe they had a point.

In the end Daisy let me do what I wanted. I forced her into the dress (which, by the way, looked amazing on her) a pair of beige pumps, some pink lipstick and a bit of liquid eyeliner, and she was as pretty as a picture. She wouldn’t wear any jewellery, though. Said it was uncomfortable.

Now that Daisy was ready, Amelie had finally managed to work the eyeliner and the red lipstick, and Roxanne looked stunning in some weird blowy peachy cottony lacy thing (*cough-hippy-cough*), I was the only one left undressed.

“Are you going to grace this party in your bathrobe?” asked Amelie, cocking an eyebrow as she struggled to pull on a pair of black high heels.

Merlin, was her dress short.

“No,” I answered grandly. “I am going to grace this party in a purple bathrobe, Ams, which is much more elegant.”

She shrugged. “No, but seriously,” she said. “Get ready.”

Coming from her, it sounded like a death threat.

“I’ll help you,” Roxanne suggested, slinging an arm over my shoulder. I gulped. It wasn’t that I didn’t like Roxanne’s style. It always looked great...on her. But I knew that I couldn’t pull off the casual, loose, bohemian look that she had.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she told me, removing her arm. “I can see your eyes widening at the thought of wearing anything I would put together. But don’t worry. I said help, not take over.”

She smiled, taking my hand and leading me over to my trunk. In the end I was acceptable in a cute floral (yes, we were all quite floral) rather short, dress, with buttons down the front, and vintage high heels that tied up in a bow around my ankle.

One coat of red lipstick, and I was good to go.

By then, it was quarter past seven, and we were running a little late. By that I mean a whole half hour past fashionable. My reaction to running in high heels?


Do you remember James’s epiphany? The one that happened long, long ago, in the time when Daisy was still thought to be harmless, and I still believed James was just an arrogant, untrustworthy human being (manipulative and creepily observant have now been added to that list). Well, his great scheme was really quite straightforward:

He would simply bribe the prefects patrolling the hallways to ignore any dressed up student that may walk past. He thought that by inviting them to his (and I quote) ‘cooler than they can ever be’ party, they would be happy to look over the rule-breaking involved.

Amelie and Roxanne both informed him that this was the stupidest thing his small brain had ever thought of (neither me nor Daisy were talking to him. When this discussion was taking place, we were sitting up in the dorms, plotting on ways to make Professor Rattlepod’s moustache disappear, so that it would stop spraying spit on us.)

James had then told them to ‘try’ to come up with something better. They had pondered on the matter, before coming up with the ingenious idea of starting the party before curfew, and then sleeping in the rooms that the Room of Requirement would, of course, provide. James had agreed. Personally, I thought that crowds of students all walking in the same direction around the same time would look a little suspicious to the teachers, but they never really got us in trouble for this sort of thing anyway. They were more likely to come and party with us. Last Quidditch celebration, I found Professor Longbottom doing the sprinkler in the middle of the dance floor.

Yes, I was deeply disturbed.

We didn’t run into any teachers on the way the seventh floor corridor, so we reached the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy without being questioned. We joined a group of sixth year boys as they paced three times in front of the wall, reciting the room James had told us to ask for under our breath.

James’s super cool party I was lucky to be invited to, James’s super cool party I was lucky to be invited to, James’s super cool party I was lucky to be invited to.

No kidding, that’s what he’s been telling everyone to say.

And still, everybody fucking adores him. Maybe he pours something into the schools pumpkin juice supply, and I’m the only one immune to the stuff. Made sense.

Well, it made more sense than my theory that Potter was a reincarnation of Edward Cullen with extra mind powers.

Wait, I just need to pause and shudder. You see, it is necessary to shudder after anything involving Twilight has been mentioned, and if it’s Edward Cullen, then you must shudder and gag.

Daisy read those books once. She even left one of them on my bed one time, and I had to touch it. I think that may be where my Potter-is-a-vampire theory started, because the shudder-gag reaction was also one I had towards him.

 I held fast to my vampire theory for two whole years, but after I sliced my hand open during Quidditch practice and Potter carried me all the way to the hospital wing without looking constipated/eating me once, I was forced to give it up.

I know what you must be thinking:

This girl could be in a zoo!

I can see it already; a tall cage with metal bars, only one meal a day and now showers. I would be visited and ogled at by mothers and their small children: ‘Ohh, look mummy, look at the crazy girl!’ ‘I see it, dear, isn’t she frightening? Look closely at how her eyes dart from side to side; look at the mane of wild hair perched on her head! Don’t get too close, dear, the sign says she bites. How about we go look at the penguins instead?’ 
That's right, you go look at those penguins! I HOPE THEY BITE YOUR HEADS OFF!

That just made you worry for my sanity even more, didn’t it? Don’t worry about it, I’ve lived with it for nearly sixteen years, it’s not dangerous unless I’m sleep/food/chocolate deprived.


I can honestly say that I was dreading seeing Potter. We hadn’t seen each other since the fight yesterday, and I was scared that I would start feeling vulnerable around him, seeing as he seemed to know my deepest, darkest secret. That’s if what he had been saying hadn’t been lucky guesswork on his behalf.

But I was mainly scared that I would try to throttle his stupid neck at the sight of him.

I could see Daisy freeze up as the door came into view. I grabbed her hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

“I’d be more worried for James than for you,” I whispered, and she laughed nervously.

The sound of blaring music hit us as we walked in. The room was big and dark, lit up only by colourful, floating balls that were drifting around the room. I could see the shape of moving bodies scattered around, and there already seemed to be a few passed out on the floor.

I jumped as someone put their hand on my shoulder.

“Stacy? Tha’ you?”

 I smiled as I recognized the voice. It was Josh, tipsy, by the sound of his slurred speech.

“No, it’s Alice,” I told him sarcastically. I heard him laugh and his drink slosh around in his cup.

“Phoenix!” he exclaimed, and I was pleasantly surprised that he recognized my voice in his state. “My ‘dorable lil’ brownie!”


“You’re very pr’itty, ye’ know that?” He told me in all serious. I laughed at his comment and removed the arm he had slung over my shoulder.

“There are much more willing girls you could tell that too,” I said, beginning to walk away. He grabbed my arm.

“Don’t leave me!” He sounded worried. I sighed and turned back to face him.

“You,” he said, pointing a wavering finger at my face. “You’re not ‘lowed to ‘ave a drink. I don’t wanna stu...stupid boy taking ‘vantage of you.”

I pushed his finger away with the back of my hand.

“I think can take care of myself,” I assured him. He nodded his head solemnly.

“ ’ndependent,” he said, still nodding, “Tha’s wha’ you are.”

“Drunk. That’s what you are.” I turned to leave again, and this time, he let me.

The others had already disappeared by now. I glanced around, trying to find them, but it was too dark to see anything more than a metre away.

I wasn’t really in the mood to dance. The pounding music was giving me a headache, and all I wanted to do was lash out at every stranger who bumped into me.

So I walked over to the drink stand, and poured myself a cup of Firewhiskey. The number of stumbling bodies around me indicated that the cups must be refillable, so I took my glass and wandered out of the loud room, into a mellower space. This room was lit with a warm, yummy glow, and there were cushions stacked in corners, with people lounging around and talking. I looked around to see if there was anyone I knew in here, and spotted Tristan.

He was looking illegally attractive in a T-shirt that showed off his toned body, lying on one of the cushions with his hands under his head, showing off a centimetre of fit stomach.

Amelie was sitting next to him, talking and smiling and flirting, and there was a group of girls not far away eyeing him hopefully.

I sauntered over, smiling beguilingly at them both.

“Hey guys,” I greeted, sitting down next to Tristan. “Enjoying ourselves?”

“Phoenix! Haven’t seen you in a while,” said Tristan, flashing me a smile. Amelie pulled a face at me from behind his back. I grinned.

“Why aren’t you out dancing?” Tristan asked me, his mouth quirking up in a crooked grin.

 “I’m not nearly drunk enough for yet,” I said, opening my eyes wide and biting my lip. All rights reserved to Amelie for that look. Thanks for teaching me, Ams!

“I’m going to refill my drink,” Amelie informed us, stretching out her long legs, drawing Tristan’s attention. She got up and flashed us a grin across her shoulder, winking at Tristan, before sashaying off. The drinks are refillable, love, I wanted to say.

But now it was just me and Mr Delicious, so who was I to complain?

“She’s a nice girl,” he said, looking at Amelie’s retreating figure pensively. I laughed.

“Don’t let hear you say that,” I warned him. “She has her eyes set on you, and believe me, when Ams wants something...she tends to fight for it.”

I bit my lip to stop myself from delving into the story of her and her pet elephant, Babar.

“You guys all seem really close,” Tristan mused. “I never had friends like that at Durmstrang. I don’t know if it was the weather or just the people, but everybody was very cold over there.”

I thought about what he said for a moment, thinking of Roxanne’s aunt, Hermione (Or should I say, Minister), who had once told all us girls about a boy she had met from Durmstrang (after making us swear we would not tell her husband, Ron, that she had brought it up), and I remembered her saying that he hadn’t been able to pronounce her name because of his accent.

“How come you don’t have an accent?” I blurted out, mentally slapping myself for my lack of tact.

“Excuse me?” Tristan asked, adorably confused.

“I just thought that you would have an accent, being from overseas...”

“Sorry to disappoint,” he apologized, with a breathtaking, alluring, cheeky, charming smile (and yes, smiles can be all of those things at once if your name is Tristan Wild). “I can fake one, if you like.”

“I’d like to see you try.

“Watch me.”

The next ten minutes passed in blissful laughter, as we tried to imitate accents from all over the world, competing to see who could come up with the funniest one. He proclaimed that his Australian one was the best, but I just didn’t think that it overthrew my American corn farmer impression (how could it? I practice).

I had finished my cup of Firewhiskey by now, but I ignored the refill. Just as I was about to introduce Tristan to the wonderful vowels of the Russian, a pretty sixth year girl beckoned him over to the pillow her and a couple of friends were sitting on. I was happy to see Tristan sigh and roll his eyes.

“I better go over there,” he told me regretfully. He stood up and smiled down at me. “But that was fun. I like talking to you, you’re funny. We should do this again sometime.” He winked at me. “You still need to hear my Canadian accent. It will reduce your American farmer to pulp.”

 I assured him that nothing, and I meant nothing could reduce my farmer to anything, and with one last laugh, he walked over to the group of giggling girls.

I sighed and stood up, smoothing down my dress.

He was such a handsome boy. Drop dead gorgeous, really. God-like. And from my past experiences, guys that fit are generally pricks.

Take the three musketeers for example.

But Tristan wasn’t. He was nice and smart and he had a sense of humour. And he thought I was funny. I picked up my drink and took a sip as I made my way back to the dance floor.

The scene was just the same as before, plus a couple of extra passed out bodies. I bumped through the crowd, looking out for Daisy.

I wanted to know how she was going, and if she had run into James yet. I squinted through the moving bodies, but instead of Daisy’s red head of hair, I spotted Roxanne’s dark curls.

“Rox!” I exclaimed, reaching her. She turned around at the sound of my voice and smiled.

“Hey hun!” she greeted. “Where have you been?”

“With Tristan!” I shouted over the uproar.



When Roxanne shot me quizzical look yet again, I gave up and grabbed her arm, dragging her into yet another side room. This one was all white. So white that it hurt your eyes, and everyone in it stood out sharply against the pale walls.

The only colourful thing in the room was a large white tub in the middle, filled to the brim with overflowing, rainbow coloured bubbles.

I explained to Roxanne who I was with, and what we had talked about, and when I was finished, she shot me a big smile and informed me that that was all wonderful, but she was going back to her dancing.

“You should come, it’s brilliant!” she exclaimed. I took in her big, bright smile and enthusiastic expression, but still shook my head and let her walk off.

Leaning my back against the wall, I slid down to the floor, closing my eyes against the harsh white light.

“Excuse me?” said a voice above me. “Have I shagged you yet?”

My eyes flew open in surprise.

“Freddy!” I exclaimed. “You scared me!”

The boy grinned and took a seat next to me.

“That’s not normally the effect I have on girls.”

I looked at him consolingly, sticking my bottom lip out an admirable expression of apology and pity. “I noticed that,” I said, puppy dog eyes gone, expression now cynical. “I got more proof than I would have liked to, actually.”

Fred grinned at the memory.

“Speaking of which,” he said, getting back up. “I think I’ll be leaving you. There’s a little bird out there waiting for me, and a bed with my name on it...if you catch my drift...”

“You disgust me.”

Once Fred had ruffled my hair and walked off, I was left alone on the floor again. I wasn’t especially enjoying the party. Too much music and too little space, in my opinion.

Now that Fred was gone, I realised how abnormal our conversation had been. Normally those kinds of disturbing talks went down with Josh. And the drunken guy mumbling nonsense...that what supposed to be Fred. Maybe they had had a personality switch...this thought in mind, I closed my eyes again, hoping for some peace and quiet this time.

No such luck.


I opened one eye, keeping the other closed. The boy in front of me was obviously drunk, drunker than Josh, and I recognized his blond curly hair easily.

“Simon,” I stated, closing my eye again. “Go away.”

He didn’t move. I sighed. Simon was my ex (or more like, ex ex), and we had had a pretty bumpy relationship. Actually, it was more a competition to see who could cheat on the other the most without getting caught. When I got tired of our whole shenanigan, I broke up with him, but he took it pretty badly. So now, he likes to harass me, and he never passes a chance to show me how much I had lost by leaving him.

The only problem was that his current attitude was only reinforcing my convictions.

“Nice derss...dress,” he slurred, staring at my legs. I scowled and stood up, ready to walk away.

Oh, and did I mention that he’s currently dating Dominique Weasley?

Yeah, well, he is.

“Sod off.”

Simon looked at me strangely, his eyes disconcertingly unfocused.

“Should I make this simpler?” I snarled at him. “Get the fuck away from me, before I lose my patience and punch that stupid grin right off your face.”

It took a while for my words to sink in, but when they did, an expression of drunken confusion passed over his features.

“Bu’ Fee, I though’ you liked meee!” he slurred, staring at his feet cross-eyed.

“Then you’re thicker than I thought you were,” I spat, and turned to leave.

And that’s when I ran into a blonde-haired being of perfection.


“Phoenix,” she said, in a voice too cold to be a greeting.

“Dominique,” I shot back. She hated her full name.

Her eyes lowered into pretty blue slits. I could see the veela anger flaring up, and I smirked.

Dom and I had been friends, before I supposedly ‘stole her man’. I found this accusation ridiculous, seeing as I knew they had been shagging behind my back on Sunday mornings.

Yes, Sunday mornings. How un-sexual can you get?

“Your boyfriend’s a prat. Why don’t you break up with the cheating bastard already?” I spat, giving Simon a disgusted look, which I then turned to Dom. She didn’t answer, just stared at me stonily, so I shrugged my indifference and stalked off, bumping into her shoulder as I walked past her.

“Bye bye Feeee!”  Simon called out as I left.

I smirked.

The music and lights were really starting to get to me now. I knew it was pretty early and I had hardly had anything to drink, but my headache was pounding and I was feeling rather sick. I went back into the darker room, were I spotted Roxanne, still dancing, but this time with some tall dark stranger. I wondered were Daisy was, and were Amelie had gone to. I knew the latter would probably be a little sloshed by now.

Merlin, I was scared for what she could be doing.


I was walking across the room, minding my own business, when out of the darkness a figure emerged which I ran into it with a yelp of surprise.

 “Sorry love, are you okay?”

I recognized the low, husky voice immediately. The boy had his hands on my waist, and his face was so close to mine that I could feel his breath on my cheek. Our bodies were just brushing against each other. Thank Merlin it was too dark to see his face.

I might have vomited.

I didn’t answer. I was too scared that he would recognize me, so I stayed silent, frozen, with his hands burning through my dress.

Wait, they shouldn’t be doing that.

They should be sending waves of disgust running up my spine, not shivers.


“You alright?” Potter asked again. Every word he said brushed air against my cheek, and I could feel Goosebumps rising on my neck.

This wasn’t right at all. This was very, very wrong.

“How about I get you a drink?” he offered, when I stayed silent. His hands moved from my waist to my hand, and he started leading me across the dance floor. I felt panic rise in my chest. In a couple of seconds we were going to walk into the light, and he would see who I was, drop my hand, and go into some speech about how I locked away my feelings.

Well, maybe not that last one, but still.

So I let go of his hand. He turned around, and I could just imagine the confused expression on his face, but I didn’t see it.

I was already walking away.

Bumping through the crowd, I made my way to the drink table and poured myself another glass of Firewhiskey, sipping it slowly; I knew that if Potter had realized it was me he had bumped into I would’ve been lucky to get a muttered ‘sorry’, but when I was a random girl on the dance floor he insisted on getting me a fucking drink.

The lights were really getting to me now. I pushed my way to the cushion room, breathing in the fresh, sweat-less air with relief. I couldn’t spot Amelie anywhere, although there was a flash of red hair in the corner that looked like Daisy. Or one of Roxy’s many relatives.

I dragged my feet across the room, ignoring whoever it was that called out to me. There was a set of doors at the far end, which I hoped would lead to a nice, comfy bed.

I was not disappointed.

The door led to hallway, and off that hallway were lots of other doors. I opened the first one to my right, looking forward to throwing myself down on the mattress and sleeping.

There was only one problem.

The mattress was taken.

And by Fred, nonetheless.

By Fred and…


Well this was unexpected. 



A/N: MWAHAHA It’s a cliffhanger! Oh I feel so very evil right now. I’ve been practicing the evil cackle for ages.

Anyway, who do think the mystery girl (or boy) is? It could be anyone, really. I mean, its Fred we’re talking about here. It could be Amelie, Daisy, Sammy….or maybe dear Lei again? Hehe. Let me give you a clue: it is, in fact, a girl.

And what about James and Phoenix?  What’s this I hear? Goosebumps? And did James really not know who it was he bumped into? Just something to think about…

I know this chapter is a filler, but I couldn’t fit the whole party in one chapter without making it the size of Potter’s ego, so I’m sorry!

Also, I want to thank Emandem for the betaing she’s been doing. NO MISTAKES! Woo! And it’s all thanks to her (:

Till next time my dearies <3  

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