Chapter 3 : On Too Much Firewhiskey, Kind Slytherins and Confessions
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On Too Much Firewhiskey, Kind Slytherins and Confessions:
By the time I get back to the party my Firewhiskey bottle is mysteriously empty.
OK, I lie. It's not mysteriously empty, I know exactly where its contents have disappeared to. I can feel the effects of the drink weighing on me already. My head feels lighter and my feet feel heavier. I'm still walking in a straight line, though, which is an improvement from other nights like these. I've been known for drinking entire bottles of Firewhiskey, it's kind of my signature trademark. Though usually on most occasions, I've done it on a dare. I have never backed down from a dare. It's physically not prohibited in my book.
Being a tall girl at Hogwarts usually gave me an advantage, here it does nothing. Considering half of our guests are Weasley's I can not see a thing. Everywhere I go there's someone in the way of my vision and I can't seem to find Spencer anywhere. She's the only person I've told about Scorpius and I. I desperately need to talk to her.
Ooh, that could be her, I happily turn on my heel.
Why am I happy again?
Almost falling over seems to be my thing these days, but once again, I am saved.
“Hey, Olive,” says the one and only Albus Potter, pulling me out of the crowd for some unknown reason. “Great party.”
He actually recognises who I am, Louis hadn't done that.
“Albuuuuuuuuuuus,” I moan. “Where's Spencer?”
He looks at me pitifully and points to my left.
There a foot away from the raised platform, dance floor is Spencer, snogging the face off the one and only …
“Is that your brother?” I ask. “I had it in my head that Spencer had standards.”
He raises one eyebrow at me.
How does he do that? I mean, seriously.
“Yes, it's James.”
He sounds disappointed, I ask him why.
“I don't know, he's just … snogging a vulnerable girl.” he says. He obviously doesn't have a valid reason to sound disappointed.
I laugh. Spencer, vulnerable. Is he kidding?
My tone turning serious. I look him in the eye.
“Al, I slept with Scorpius.”
The words make me giggle, Merlin knows why.
This surprises him. “Yeah, I know, Scorp told me.”
“Why did Scorpius tell you?” I ask, we had sworn not to tell anyone, but then I'd gone and told Spencer, so I guess our promise was sort of moot.
“Well, we kind of have been best friends since we sat together at the Slytherin table, on our first night at Hogwarts.” says Albus, reluctant to talk to me, because he obviously thinks I'm drunk, Even though I so am not. “And he kind of expected you to tell Dom or Spencer. Plus he said something like he couldn't keep it in any longer.”
“When did he tell you?” I ask, pulling him down onto a seat beside me.
“Earlier today, he came over to my place to get ready.”
Whoa. I guess that made me the bad friend. I had told Spencer two months ago. A week after it had happened.
“Oh.” I state, then have a small epiphany. “Albus!” He looks startled. “Lets go dance!”
I pull him towards the dance floor and make my way towards the middle. Then I place my hands around his neck, giving him room to put his hands on my waist. He does, reluctantly I might add, but he does put his hands on my waist and we begin to dance. Very slowly.
“Can I tell you something?” My voice is an octave too high.
“Sure.” he says, as I rest my head on his shoulder.
“I slept with Scorpius –”
“You've told me that already.” he interrupts.
“I wasn't finished,” I complain, “anyway … I slept with Scorpius and he told Rose,”
Nobody's head turns so I assume nobody heard his yell.
“Yeah,” I say, exhausted. “Well it was more like we told Rose and then again it was more like Rose figured it out …”
“How?” he says, blandly.
“Well, Dom suggested that we should play this sort of drinking game …”
“Not the one with the shots.” he moans, covering his face with his hands.
“Yes, that one, how did you know?” I ask, I swear Dominique mentioned something about making it up.
He shrugs. “I'm guessing someone said: 'Take a shot if you've slept with someone,' and you both took a shot and then you both wouldn't say who you'd slept with and so she figured it out.”
“Pretty much,” I mumble, sadness filling my voice.
“I should probably go and find Rose …” he says, pulling away.
“Don't go, Albus,” I plead, more vulnerable than I should have been. “She's got Dom with her.”
“I guess so …” he mumbles, coming back into my outstretched arms.
“Can I tell you something?” I ask again, when we have been dancing in silence for a minute or two.
“You've already asked me that.”
“I know.” I say simply.
He didn't make any move to say anything, so I continued without his permission.
“D'you think Louis likes me?”
He seems a bit shocked at my words.
“I don't know …” he shrugs. “Louis is complicated … he could like you, but he'd probably never show it and he'd never ask you out until he was one hundred percent certain you liked him back.”
“Sounds complicated,” I say, deep in thought.
So, hold on, he could like me, but he'd never show it, so that means he could like me, but I would have to do something about it before he would actually let me know. But that also means he might not like me because he won't let it show. So I could end up flirting with him and maybe, if I'd had enough alcohol I might have the courage to ask him out and he could be all: 'What, no, were you getting my messages wrong? I don't like you …'
God, I don't even want to think about it. That would be BEYOND embarrassing. I have absolutely no idea what to do about it. What ever I do, I'll either end up making a fool of myself or making a fool of myself, but still getting the guy. The second option doesn't seem so bad, but still, I go tomato red when I'm angry or embarrassed. And I'm sure that's not attractive.
I'm a hundred percent sure it's not attractive.
And then I remember. Louis already knows I like him! So that puts everything down the drain, he knows I like him and he hasn't done anything about it. So, there goes my hopes. Louis does not like me.
“Louis doesn't like me,” I say, defeated.
Albus pulls away from me, looks me in the eye and turns, holding my wrist so as to pull me with him. He steps off the platform and sits himself on the grass a couple of meters away. For a guy, he is extremely graceful. Probably why he was the Seeker for our Slytherin team.
“How do you know?” he asks, once I've taken a seat next to him.
“He knows I like him.”
“You like Louis?”
His stare is making me uncomfortable.
I blush, he takes it as a yes.
“How does he know? Did you tell him?” he asks.
For a guy he seems oddly interested. I guess he's grown up with helping out girls. One, he's got a younger sister, two apart from Scorpius, Rose is like his best friend and I could have bet you anything, any problems she had she would go to him, after of course, yelling abusively at the cause of her problem. I had been on the end of that stick plenty of times. Like I said, I don't understand why she's wasn't in Slytherin. Like I don't understand why Albus was in Slytherin.
“You're too kind to be a Slytherin, do you kno-ow that?” I say, while yawning.
“That's completely off topic.” he states, though he smiles anyway. “How does he know you like him? You can't avoid my question for ever.”
“Blah, blah, blah,” I mumble, taking a gap to yawn again. “I told my friends that I wanted to kiss him and he overheard. Who cares? It's old news. He doesn't like me – it doesn't matter. I just wanna dance!”
“So you and your friends go around talking about who you want to kiss?” he asks, one eyebrow raised suspiciously.
I am completely baffled. How does he do that?
And how does he manage to completely ignore every word that comes out of my mouth, and still not sound rude? I mean, come on!
I attempt to raise one eyebrow at him. Sure I probably look like a complete idiot. Who cares?
Oh, that's right, I do.
“No,” I say, sounding particularly moan-y, not on purpose. “We were just randomly talking about out of a select few who would we most want to kiss, and then I said Louis and then Louis and Scorpius decide it's time to come out of the closet. And I mean, literally. And then they burst out, having heard our whole conversation.”
“So who was it out of? Louis and Scorpius?”
I fail to see how this is of any importance, but I answer anyway.
“Lemmethink,” I mumble incoherently. “Ummmmmmm … you, Louis, Scorpius, James, Hugo and Luke.”
“Did anyone choose me?”
Yes, I still can't see how this is of any importance, but again, I answer.
“Well, Rose certainly didn't. Dom certainly didn't either. And Spencer said she wouldn't mind giving you all a kiss. So, yes … I guess Spencer chose you …”
I smiled mockingly, this information didn't seem to please him.
“I guess I should've guessed that …” he mumbles, more to himself than to me.
I give a huge yawn.
“Can we go dance now?”
“Nope, I'm taking you to bed.” he says, getting up soberly, then helping me when I struggle.
“Ooh, Albus, I didn't know we were that close.” I say, noticing that I seem unable to wink.
“You're a lot funnier when you're sober,” he comments, taking hold of my arm as we walk.
“I think not!” I say, taking a huge step, and crumbling on my feet. “Stupid heels,” I mumble.
Albus rolls his eyes for some strange reason.
It's now I notice my stomach rumbling.
“Albus, I'm hungry.” I say, but he keeps pulling me towards my house, despite the fact that the food is slowly disappearing behind us.
“How come you keep calling me Albus?” he asks.
At these words I freeze, only to be tugged on rather forcefully. I rip my arm out of his grasp.
“You are Albus, aren't you?”
I peer closely at him, sure enough he has the gorgeous green eyes that makes girls fall at his feet. And he's not wearing glasses so he can't be his father. I push his hair out of the way to make sure, there's no lightening scar on his forehead. It's clear as water.
“Yes, I'm Albus,” he says, laughing. “I just meant, that you normally just call me Al.”
“Oh,” I say. It's true I usually do.
The glass wall approaches us and I have a small epiphany. Oh, Albus has to see this!
“Albus Potter,” I say loudly, well it sounds loud in my ears. “Did you know I am magic?” My words don't even make sense.
“You are honestly one of the strangest people I know, Olive,” he says, smiling at my silliness.
“No,” I say, my forehead creasing. “That's not very nice Albus, now watch!”
I turn and look at the window, take a huge breath and take off. It only takes a few steps before I'm tripping over the ground. But I throw myself far enough to shoot through the window. I look up from my seat on the floor at his face.
He's inches away from the window, his hand pressing against it, a what-the-fuck look in his eyes. I grin at him and pull myself up.
It's no wonder my mouth only begins to feel dry when I see the almost empty bottle of vodka on our bench. Smiling, because the overprotective, arrogant Potter can't stop me now I pick up the bottle. And there he is, already taking it out of my hand.
And now, I see the glasses. It's a good thing he's holding the bottle, because I just dropped it.
“Ah, Har– Mr Potter,” I stutter. “'Tis nice to see you again.”
Ohmygod it's Harry Potter!
Did I just say 'tis'?
“Olive, how much have you had to drink?”
I do not like my fathers voice any more. Not when it asks questions like that …
I attempt to straighten up, Albus skids to my side and pulls me up slightly, just in time, as our wooden floor is quite slippery and I was about to end up as proof of that.
“And what are you wearing?” he adds, his voice disturbed.
“About that,” Albus answers. “She was just saying how inappropriate her clothing choices are today and we were going to decide what she could wear instead.”
I glare at the boy.
My clothes are not inappropriate!
I look down.
OK, maybe a little …
“That's right!” I say, snapping my head up. “And we should be going now!”
I hook my arm around Albus' and make the mistake of walking the wrong way towards the stairs. I turn and blush at the adults. My father is positively fuming. Whereas Mr Potter looks amused.
At least he has a sense of humour.
Unlike, my dad.
Albus pulls me up the stairs in a rush, strangely he knows where my room is. I shrug it off, but I'm still slightly confused.
“Albuuuuuuus, I don't wanna go to sleep.” I complain.
“Maybe Oliver can convince you,” he suggests.
I pull him back before he can rush to get my dad.
“OK, fine,” I say, jumping on my bed, not even trying to stay quiet for Drake. He's snoring a river, anyway.
I struggle to pull myself under the blankets. Drake almost rolls off.
“You staying the night?” I grin.
“I'm not drunk.”
“May I ask, who is that?” he says, looking at Drake, his forehead creased in confusion.
“Oh, it's just my cousin,” I say.
“Right … well 'night,” he turns and leaves.
“Wait!” I yell.
It doesn't matter, he's left already. But then again, I do feel tired.
I yawn and put my head on the pillow. I'm asleep in seconds.
Author's Note: Sorry about the wait, guys. Added a new story and then needed to finish this one. I'll put the next one up as soon as possible (: - Don't forget to review .. it makes my day :)
“There's a little café in the town near Shell Cottage. It's one of those ones that open early for all the Muggles that have to get to their jobs and for all those people who can't make a decent coffee to save their lives and are suffering from a hangover. D'you wanna go with me? I was going to go there anyway.”
My first thought is to say yes or sure. Or something along the lines of: I really want to go, even if it's not a date, even though I want it to be, yes, please let me come with you. But a lot more subtle.
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