“Rose,” I directed towards my best friend—the one ignoring me with her hand holding Malfoy’s (they were a couple now). I poked her but she only giggled at something Malfoy said. It was probably something stupid. I poked her again, harder this time. She still ignored me. I stopped walking with them as they continued down the corridor and felt my jaw go slack.
She never ignores the hard poke!
I closed my mouth before my gum could fall out and placed my hands on my hips haughtily.
“Oh fine, Rose!” I cried after them as they kept on strolling, “I see how it is. You’d rather giggle at the ferret then eat lunch with your best friend. Fine! I’ll just go to lunch without you—” This was usually when she’d stumble into a guilt trip. Panic arose in me when I realized it wasn’t working, “And eat alone . . . and drown myself in the pumpkin juice!”
. . . They were already around the corner.
I sighed in defeat.
That’s when a dorky looking third year approached me. He cleared his throat like he was trying to be smooth—and started hacking something up in the process, “I’ll go to lunch with you,” he offered kindly after his coughs calmed down.
“Bite me.” I snapped.
He flinched, eyes widening, “Really?” he asked hopefully.
“Get out of here!” I yelled, waving my arm at him like I was trying to scare an animal away. He rushed off immediately, “Wait, kid! Get back here for a second. And wipe that hopeful smirk off your face.” I commanded as he returned, cautiously.
“Throw this away for me, will ya?” I asked, taking the gum from my mouth and putting it in his unsuspecting hand. I walked away from him without another word.
When I reached the Great Hall I noted that it was virtually empty. Probably because everyone already finished eating because they don’t have crazy best friends who say they want to take a walk around Hogwarts with you only to ditch you for the git she’s obsessed with.
I sat down with a grumble and stuffed a chicken leg into my face.
“You look lovely,” Commented an annoying voice from my left, dripping with sarcasm.
“Go away, Dom.” I said through the chicken. Of course, it was all muffled and she probably couldn’t understand a word I had just said. Even if she had heard me, she would have ignored me anyways. Of that, I am sure.
She sat down, straddling the bench so she was facing me, “I heard you went on a date with my cousin.”
I swallowed the large amount of food in my mouth before speaking again, “Only because your other cousin forced me to.”
“Really?” She asked sarcastically. I’ve noticed how much she likes to tease me about this now that my feelings toward Al have gone public. It’s rather annoying, actually. And you’ve no idea how much I’d like to punch her in the face every time she sends a snide comment my way.
I knew I shouldn’t have told James about the date. He gossips more than girls.
“Okay, fine! Your other cousin forced Al to.”
“Much better,” She smirked.
“I really hate you sometimes, Dom.” I told her bluntly.
“Good. I hate you sometimes, too.”
“Is there a reason you came over to talk to me?”
“Well then, get on with it so I can eat without gagging every time I look at your face.”
“I want a truce.”
The spoon I held fell to the ground, along with the creamed corn I was just about to put into my mouth. I stared at her, accessing her sanity critically. I cleared my throat—much more successfully than that dorky kid did earlier—and asked, “Erm, didn’t we just get done agreeing that we hate each other?”
Dom rolled her eyes in annoyance, “And never forget it.”
I raised an eyebrow. She still hadn’t answered the question.
She sighed, raking her fingers through her hair, “Obviously, it won’t be a permanent truce—”
“How is that obvious?” I interrupted, folding my arms and sneering, “You still haven’t told me anything. Like why you want a truce.”
“Because . . .” She hesitated, “I want to kill Malfoy. You want to kill Malfoy. Al wants to kill Malfoy. Why don’t we all just team up and kill Malfoy?” She shrugged.
“James told you about that part of the date too then, eh?”
I knew I shouldn’t have trusted him with that information.
“James is telling everyone,” She remarked, rolling her eyes, “I didn’t have to hear it from him . . . Although, I have a feeling what I heard isn’t the original story. It’s somehow hard to believe that Malfoy paraded around Hogsmeade in a leather jumpsuit.”
“That could have just been James being an idiot and trying to be funny.”
We glanced at each other.
“We’re actually being civil right now, aren’t we?” Dom inquired, looking at me with a suddenly horrified expression.
“Ew, let’s stop right now.” I agreed, the same look of horror spreading across my features, “Hag.”
We sighed in relief that the insults could still come to us easily. Dom then left, muttering something about going to find Albus to inform him of the truce. I picked up my spoon off the ground, wiped it off with my dirty napkin and—when no one was looking—switched it with the clean spoon right next to me. I then proceeded to stuff my face.
Until, that is, I noticed something fiery and pale moving in my peripheral vision. I glanced sideways to find none other than Lily Potter sitting beside me. She had a bowl of . . . paper? And she was . . . poking them towards me?
“I saw that.” She said, nodding her head towards the spoon.
“Er . . .” I ignored her comment, a little befuddled at what she was doing, “Are you . . . okay, Lily?”
“Of course I am.” She replied simply, picking another piece of paper out of the bowl and poking it at me again, “I’m just poking fun at you.”
I picked up one of the papers . . . and it indeed had the word fun written on it.
“I don’t think that phrase is meant to be taken literally, Lily.” I replied with a chuckle, ignoring the fact that she feels the need to ‘poke fun at me’ for something, “And you’re littering!” I remarked, watching as yet another piece of paper floated to the ground.
“So?” She snorted.
“So . . . pick it up!”
She rolled her eyes, waving her wand at the fallen paper. They disappeared instantly.
“Where’d you send them?”
“So he can throw them away for me.” She shrugged.
“Why didn’t you just send them to a trash can?”
She smacked her hand to her forehead at her own stupidity.
I laughed, “I think you spend a little too much time around James.”
“Speaking of James,” She said, wiggling her eyebrows, “He informs me that Al had a rather hot date the other night . . . and that Malfoy was walking around Hogsmeade in a pink jumpsuit.”
“I thought it was a leather jumpsuit?” I said out loud but mostly to myself.
“So he really was in a jumpsuit!?”
“. . . Why not?” I asked dryly.
Lily looked heated. I’m not sure if she understood my sarcasm. She was acting like this should all be obvious . . . which it is—Scorpius in any sort of jumpsuit is a major barf-fest, “Because no one—and I do mean no one—wants to see that. Not even Rose.”
I think my shiver shivered.
“But anyways,” Lily began, sighing in dejection, “I also heard you spilled the beans about your feelings to Al.” I nodded, pulling away from my dinner momentarily to try and figure out where Lily was going with this. She just smiled at me, and ruffled my hair, “He doesn’t deserve you, Eliza.” I blinked, unsure if those words actually came out of her mouth.
“Where did that come?” I asked, rather shocked, “He’s your brother.”
“He’s also a butthead to me!” She told me smartly, “There’s a reason why I act more like James than I do Al. It’s because Al hates being around me. He thinks I’m nothing more than his bratty little sister—”
“Bratty little sister that he loves!”
“—with a big mouth but nothing important to say. So James rubs off on me ‘cause I’m around him more and . . .” She trailed off, rolling her eyes as I tried to defend him again. She wasn’t letting me get a word in though, “He just doesn’t deserve someone like you.”
“And what do I deserve?” I asked seriously, “I’m just an attention seeking bimbo with a fish obsession.”
She opened her mouth to disagree but stopped short, hesitating.
“See?” I asked, motioning to her blubbering mouth, “It’s the truth and you know it.”
“But you’re a lot more than that too.”
“Al is too,” I pointed out, “And you are much more than a bratty little sister.”
“You’re also great entertainment.”
She glared, “Thanks, Eliza.”
“Kidding!” I giggled and then grew serious, “Al’s your older brother; he’s probably just too blind to see through that and misjudges a fiery spirit for a bratty one. But he loves you, Lily. Don’t ever think he doesn’t. Why else would he get twitchy when boys flirt with you?”
“Thanks, Liza.” She said again—but more genuinely this time—smiling.
She pulled me into a hug, one I was not expecting at all.
You know, the harder and harder I fall for Al the more and more his family seems to accept me as one of them. Even Dom’s creating a ‘truce’. Maybe I’m doomed to be a Weasley . . .
Instead of a Potter.
Later, when I was wondering aimlessly around the corridors—guess who ditched me again—I stumbled upon a boy sitting on the ground, his back pressed against the wall, looking . . . almost dead. I felt almost awkward being here—like I was intruding into a private moment of this boy’s self-pity.
When seeing that it was actually James, I didn’t really care anymore.
“James?” I started tentatively.
He looked up at me, our eyes connecting, only to look down seconds later without any response whatsoever.
Okay, now I’m worried.
“James, what’s wrong?” I tried getting through to him again. I studied him, now noticing the red envelope he was holding limply in between his hands. I sat down next to him and reached for the letter. I paused, however, just to make sure it was okay with him. His lack of response told me it was okay. Gingerly, I picked it up, pulled out the parchment from inside and began to read.
“Merlin . . .” I muttered, not even two lines into it. But that was all I needed to read. I put the letter back in his hands, feeling strangely guilty—why would he trust something so personal to me, after all? It made no sense . . .
James nodded, agreeing with the grief in my voice that I felt for him.
“You what, Eliza?” He asked heatedly. In no way did he sound bitter. In no way did he find this to be my fault. He was angry. But something told me that he’s not trying to direct his anger at me—he just needs to let it out to someone. Again, I feel guilty. Why am I that person?
“Don’t be.” He commanded, turning away from me slightly so that he could stare at the coat of arms just down the hallway, “You warned me. I was just stupid enough to hope you were wrong. Don’t be sorry for being right.”
But I am.
I sighed, “That’s not what I meant,” I half-lied, “I’m sorry that you feel like this.”
He sighed too, “Me too. But thanks.”
“Barbie doesn’t know what she’s missing.”
He rolled his eyes, turning his head to me so that I could see his halfhearted smirk, “You’re right.”
There was an awkward silence for a moment that made me squirm. So, of course, I had to ruin it by babbling like an idiot, “You’re not going to hug me, are you?”
“No . . . why?”
“Your family has been hugging me a lot lately . . .”
“In that case . . .”
*A/N: Pretty short chapter. Sorry for that. But hey, at least it's something, eh? I hope you likedddddd.
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