Disclaimer: I own nothing, everything you recognize belongs to J.K Rowling (sob).
The whistle blew, causing me to react with a start. My glasses flew of my face and hit the floor. "Fuck," I cursed out loud. I bent over to pick them up when a hard object came in contact with my butt, resulting in me falling onto the floor of the station smack on top of my glasses. Dazed, I picked myself up and saw that my glasses were lying crushed at my feet.
It had really begun to become my word of the day. But then again, it has always been the word of my life. Well, not literally. Because you see, I am just the sort of person who gets into shit real fast and can almost never find her way out. A ball flying in the air does not pass me by without hitting me on the head atleast once. It doesn't help that I have glasses and the eyesight fit for a 107 year old. Or the fact that my hand eye coordination is ZERO. Even my depth perception seems off these days.
What is not wrong with me?
Yup. Thats my name. Elizabeth Bong. Nope you did not misread. It really is Bong. I am a british chit with thick glasses, monster thighs and last name BONG. I am a freaking comic book character. I am like Barney the freaking Dinosaur. Or like shaggy from scooby doo.
I am not even smart. I have the looks of a nerd but the brains of a five year old. Okay, maybe I am really good at DADA (I topped that one last year. Beat that, James Sirius Potter.), But i suck at everything else. Herbology freaks me out (eww germs). Ditto Care for Magical Creatures. Transfiguration is fine as long as I am transfiguring the right object and not somebody's hair. Charms is HOPELESS. My memory is bloody horrible and that tiny elf of a man thinks I'll remember all those spells?? I don't care if he's a goblin okay! I can call him an elf if I want to!
Now, where was I?
Yes, Platform 9 3/4. I picked up the remains of my glasses and tried the trusty old 'Reparo'. It was the first charm I had learnt. Probably because I required it often. When I was 10 years old, my mother realized I inherited the family reflexes and knack for Quidditch when I slammed my broom into the kitchen window. Yeah, it was a bit hard to explain that one to our muggle neighbors. But since then, my mother made sure i knew a few trusty spells to enable me to function normally. Or atleast manage to stay alive with. Aah I love that woman. Even if she leaves me stranded on the station ten minutes before I have to leave for an entire semester without even saying good bye. I try to drag my trunk onto the train but my upper body strength? Yeah it's not too great. Actually, It's non existent. I am all fat, no muscle. Yay. No wonder I get asked out all the time. (Note: Sarcasm). I heave the front of my trunk onto the train and was pushing with all my might when a pair of strong hands grabbed the arse of my trunk and pushed it up for me.
"Woah, there. If you pushed any harder, you might have popped a vein or something" said a good natured voice. I turned around to see whom the voice belonged to.
HARRY POTTER JUST PUSHED MY TRUNK ONTO THE TRAIN. HARRY POTTER CARED ABOUT MY BLOOD VESSEL BURSTING. AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH. Harry Potter was a LEGEND. Not only did he save the wizarding world from this bald dude, He was also the minister of magic.
Okay, Brain. Think of something clever to say. C'mon! Should I just thank him? Or should I tell him how much I respected what he did for us? Maybe he'll let me have an autograph. WHAT I SHOULD I DO? After, 416 seconds of my mental debate, my brain chose the perfect answer.
But it was too late. He'd already left.
Oh for the love of GOD.
Why? Why, God, Why?? What did I ever do to you? Not only do I have a semi-functional body, But also a dysfunctional family. Why can't they be normal? Why do they have to yell the ONE nickname I can't bloody stand OUT LOUD FOR THE ENTIRE SCHOOL to hear?
I quickly shrank away from where I'd been rooted to the spot after my brief (yet amazingly divine) interaction with Mr. Potter. I tried slinking away towards the train, tripping over feet,trunks and pets on my way and murmuring hushed apologies. I looked over my shoulder to see if my mother had caught on or not when I banged into someone.
I began when I found myself staring into the chocolate brown eyes of James Potter. I felt my heart skip a beat.
He smiled at me, causing my insides to immedietly turn into Jell-O. I smiled back. Or atleast tried to. My brain couldnt really process what was going on.
He put his hand on my right upper arm to steady me.
"No problem, Bong" He smiled at me again and turned away to resume his conversation with a red haired woman I presumed to be his mother.
Damn, that boy was FINE. Not only was he 6"4 in height, he had some serious muscle action going on in the abdomin area. Well, you couldn't tell under his clothes and robes but I knew. Last year, the night before the transfiguration final, I had been up in the Gryffindor common room till three in the night studying when I was interrupted by a sleepwalking James, wearing nothing but his boxers. I didn't know he was sleepwalking at first and had yelled at him to go upstairs and dress up appropriately. I found that he was sleepwalking when he plonked himself next to me on the couch and promptly fell asleep with his head on my lap. Needless to say, I couldn't study much after that. I had a half naked, red blooded male cuddling me to sleep after all. The next morning was well, awkward. I woke up in the common room with a stiff back, bare lap and a parchment next to me saying "Sorry".
I stared at the back of his head for a minute and a half (Did his hair EVER lie flat. Not that it didn't suit him. It suits him perfectly, actually.) before I felt a hand on my shoulder, swivelling me arounnd.
"LIZZIE-BEAR! There you are! Where have you been? I have been looking for you EVERYWHERE!" My mother cried, nearly in hysterics. "The train leaves in two minutes! Come, let's find your father!"
Before I could reply or even turn around to see if James had heard my mother yell my embarassing nickname, Mum began to drag me all the way accross the platform.
"Slow down, Mum!"
This lady gave BIRTH to me and yet she is unaware of the fact that her daughter is INCAPABLE of walking straight?
I banged and bumped into what seemed like a gazillion people before my mother planted me infront of my father.
"Lizzie!" My father engulfed me in a hug. When he finally let me go, I could see the tears in his eyes.
"Don't cry, dad! I promise I'll do everything to keep myself alive! I won't even enter the grounds during the daytime! or travel to hogsmeade! Just don't cry!"
"Thats not why I am crying Lizz-beth" My father sniffled.
Seriously, What is wrong with my family? My mother is this lady with abnormal bodily strength and my dad needs to carry hankies around with him to help him control the waterworks. Do not even get me STARTED on their incessant usage of completely pathetic nicknames for me and my brothers. Speaking of those good-for-nothing-wastes-of-space, where in the name of Merlin are they?
"My little Lizzie-poo is all grown up!" My father wailed into my mother's shoulder.
"There, there Rupert." My mother rolled her eyes as she patted him comfortingly.
The last and final whistle blew, and I hugged my mother before being choked to death by my father. He really really needs to lose touch with his feminine side. Not only is it disturbing, but is also extremely embarassing.
Please please please don't have anybody witness these incidents with my family. I'm enough of a social failure already. Besides, you wouldn't do anything of that sort.
I pulled away and was beginning to head back towards when I looked towards my right and saw James Potter grinning at me.
A/N: Review review review!