Chapter 3 : And the misery fest continues.
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When will this end??
I mean, I love the sorting. I really do. It's absolutely fun-tastic to watch these poor little sods being sorted into various houses. It's kind of a tradition for me and my friends, to guess what house a kid would be sorted into before the sorting hat decides. It's usually a lot of fun. Whoever gets it wrong has to do a dare and stuff. We have been doing this since the second year.†
But I really don't feel like it today. All I want to do is go to my dorm and SLEEP.†
"Oooh, I think that one is definitely a Hufflepuff. He's shaking like a leaf,"Pam commented for a 4 foot tall blonde boy.†
"You're probably right. He doesn't look cunning or sexy enough to be a Slytherin," Sam noticed.
"Hey!" Poor Luke.†
"Oh, shut up." †Sam kept them where she wanted em.
I swear to god I'm going to die if I stay here for a minute longer. Pam and Fred are like a freaking old married couple, all sweet and...familiar with each other. Yuck. And Sam and Luke are like those sickly newly weds who can't keep their hands of each other. I swear to god I'll kill one of them if their feet graze against my leg one more time. Even footsie should have rules.
And then there is James. And his chick. Or girlfriend. Or whatever.†
They aren't even, like, doing normal couple-y things. No holding hands or anything. James is just staring at the sorting hat, looking bored out of his mind while his whore girlfriend is staring at her perfectly manicured nails with disinterest.
Wow. Even they have each other to be bored with.
Her name is Malorie, by the way. Sixth year Ravenclaw. I hate her types. Smart, blonde, beautiful and BLEH.
Trust James to date a younger chick.†
Woohoo. Score for Potter.
Why was I so mad at him anyway?
"Liz, what do you think?" Sam nudged me breaking my reverie.
"Nothing. I'm too sleepy to think,"I mumbled back.
Sam pulled on my arm, "Stop being an old lady, Bong."
I gasped. How absolutely appalling. This young woman was my friend. My best friend. And she was calling me an old lady? OLD?LADY?
Wait that doesn't sound right.
"Im NOT an old lady!"I exclaimed, drawing the attention of half the Gryffindor †table towards me.
Controlling my desire to flick them all bloody off (You have to pay me if you want a show, arseholes), I smiled sheepishly at my audience.
"HUFFLEPUFF!" the sorting hat bellowed. For such a tiny thing, it had a mighty powerful voice.
"Fine, you're not an old lady. But you are so...homely. It's not healthy," Sam whispered to me.
"How in the world is homely not healthy? Homely is perfectly fine! Guys totally dig homely," I whispered back. Who the hell was I kidding here?
"RAVENCLAW!" Could you be a little louder hat? I don't think they heard you in New Zealand.
"As enunciated by the extremely long line of your suitors?" Sam countered.
I don't know if I was more shocked by her use of the word 'enunciated' or the fact that her words hit home so hard.
"Well, they are school boys. They don't even know what homely is. I'm not going to waste my time on them," Not that I've been presented with the opportunity. To waste my time on them, that is.
Potter snorted. I glared at him. What IS his problem? I'm really confused. I am. Is he listening in to our conversation? Who does that? Go listen to the hat, you pathetic sod.
"GRYFFINDOR!"The hat announced and our entire table errupted in applause.†
"Oh come on, Liz, don't †give me that shit. NOBODY digs homely" She nudged Luke's arm, "Hey, Luke, would you have liked me if I was homely?"She asked him.
I smirked at Sam. Ha! there.†
"Luke, Do you even know what homely is?" Pam interjected. Didn't know she could keep her mind off of Fred for long enough to enable participation in alternative converstations. Interesting.
"Sure." Luke replied, his mind clearly elsewhere. Probably next to his you-know-what.
"What is it?"
"Someone who lives in a home. As opposed to, you know, homeless," Luke replied, puffing his chest out, obviously pleased with his extremely high brow answer.
"No you shithead," Sam whacked him on the head. Young love. †"Homely, as in, someone who'd rather stay at home than go out partying. Someone who prefers reading a book into the whee hours of the night as opposed to partying the night away. Would you go out with someone like that?"
Luke thought for a minute (probably trying to process this information, which comprised of more than his limit of one line.)
"I guess not," He finally decided.
"You see?" Sam pointed out. God, she is so stubborn.
"Why are you making it such a big deal, anyway?" I asked. I was exasperated, okay. I don't like being exasperated, thank you very much.
"Liz-" Sam began.†
But it was too late for the feast had begun providing me with the fleeting opportunity to get the hell out of there.
A/N : Hey there anonymous readers (if there are any)! This is my first proper author's note. And hence the first time I get to justify anything. I promise more of Jamesy Poo in the coming chapters. If you notice, the James of my fic is quite different from he commonly read about James. He is not the careless jokester but a mischievous fellow who is more of a strategist. He plans and executes. A mix of his grand dad and mum. I hope you like him and the story. Do leave a review, yeah?
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