[ Printer Friendly Version ] [ Report Abuse ]
Chapter 2 : Nightmares In The Lavatory
| ||Rating: Mature||Chapter Reviews: 23|
Background: Font color:
Chapter 2. Nightmares In The Lavatory
Today was going to be hell.
Waking up this morning not to the sound of my alarm clock, but to the forceful urge to throw up, was the first sign of the horribleness that awaited me.
So I jumped out of bed and bolted to the girls lavatory, threw myself into the small cubicle and fell on my knees in front of the toilet. I didn't even have time to brush away my hair before all the contents of my stomach pushed themselves up my throat and out of my mouth.
I knew right then and there that this day was going to be, allow me to repeat myself, hell.
The second sign was how I couldn't seem to shake off the constant nausea, this causing the third sign to present itself; highly unstable emotional outbursts.
Well, maybe not outbursts, it was more like inbursts. Even though I wanted to scream, cry and thow punches at improper times - and at people who didn't really do anything to deserve it - I kept it all inside. Instead I simply grit my teeth, dug my fingernails into my palms and swallowed hard before waltzing away.
The amazingly confusing cherry on top of this sundae sprinkled with crap though, was how my mood could changed in the drop of a hat. Like later that day, just before walking over to Human Relations class, I felt almost...dare I say it? Cheerful.
All of a sudden it hit me.
Of course! It was as clear as clarified butter now! Well, I had apparently forgotten to take my Smart pills today, because the obvious reason to this madness was simply that I was massively pre-menstrual. I didn't remember having this extreme case of emotional imbalance before, though, but there was a first time for everything, right?
Right, I thought to myself as I sat my bum down at my assigned seat at HR(short for Human Relations), not noticing Tristan who was already sitting there.
It wasn't until Tristan shook his head and I felt drops of water hit my face, that I turned to look at him.
"You're wet," I stated, furrowing my brows as I drunk in his soaked appearance. The shirt he was wearing was glued to his chest, and I couldn't seem to drag my eyes away from the muscles he had hidden under there.
"Good observation," he said dryly, took out his wand and began drying himself off with a few swift moves, then added in an annoyed tone, "I was pushed into the lake by your boyfriend and his possé."
"Why?" I asked through grit teeth, finding myself oddly annoyed by what Bray and Deuce had done to this poor lad. Chase would never do that, but I actually blamed him a little bit as well.
See? Another sign of pre-menstruality: irrational reactions.
But seriously, those two were the ones giving us Slytherins a bad name. Aside from, you know, all the Death Eaters, Voldemort and Salazar Slytherin himself..
"Since when did Brayder the Brutal ever need a reason to be violent?"
I raised a brow at him. There was more to this story - I could sense it.
"All right," he said admittingly, sighing in the process, "so I may have been practicing my Tae-Kwon-Do out on the lawn."
Laughter took place of my anger. It was literally bubbling in my chest. And just like that, I had completely forgot about my bad mood.
"We live very different lives you and I," I chuckled, the image of Tristan stretching, bouncing and dancing about the lawn permanently etched into my brain.
Then suddenly I began thinking about how in the world he knew that Brayder was my boyfriend... It was a little strange, wasn't it? Yesterday he didn't even have an idea who I was, and now he knew about Brayder and my other friends? I had to ask.
"And how did you know Bray was my boyfriend? I thought you had no idea who I was."
"I-I didn't, I mean, I-I don't," he stuttered, and his gaze scattered about the classroom. Professor Martinez hadn't arrived yet, and people were sitting on their desks, chatting with people of their own houses. Slytherins on one end, Hufflepuffs on the other. Now that I thought about it, Tristan and I were the only ones at our seats. "But did you know that you and your 'gang' is about the only topic every single person in this school is interested in discussing? Oh, and those infamous Potter kids, whomever they are, and some sort of weasel farm."
"I've had my suspicions," I responded while nodding slowly, not really listening. I was now trying to catch Bray's gaze, but without success. "And just FYI, the Weasleys are another famous family in the wizarding community. Seriously, did you never pick up a paper while living with those iguanas?"
"Iguanas?" Tristan said while raising his brows. "I said wolves! That's not even in the same species, they- Oh, nevermind..." he trailed off sourly when noticing I wasn't paying any sort of attention.
I was still trying to catch Bray's eye, but apparently his conversation with Deuce was so interesting he didn't notice me - but Chase did. And as our eyes met, he gave me a kind smile. It was "common knowledge" that Deuce was the sexier, better-looking twin, but there was just something about Chase that seemed so much more appealing. At least I thought so.
I smiled back at him, and then I heard the echoing of Professor Martinez' high heels clicking.
"And he smells!" Clover added to her long list of complaints about the lad sitting next to her in Human Relations, and grimaced as she gave a tiny wince.
"He can't be all that bad," I laughed, and received a glare from my best friend.
"Oh, really?" she half whispered, half growled at me. I had to give her props for that. "He picked his nose, apparently found something worth collecting, dug it out and sat for five whole minutes staring at it - his own booger, Adella!"
I almost fell down the rest of the stairs laughing, and I had to hold the railing for support in order for that not to happen. Clover's face was radiating disgust at the mere memory of Booger Bob, and this made me laugh even harder.
"It's not funny!" she insisted, stomping off ahead of me to the common room.
Things weren't as funny alone as they were with company, so my laughter ebbed away, leaving only the silence on the stairs with me. Loneliness overwhelmed me all of a sudden, and I sprinted down the rest of the steps in order to catch up with Clover.
Why did this hallway have to be so dark? I know we Slytherins have a reputation to uphold, but I don't see any reason in making people walk in the blind when trying to get to the common room.
As I stumbled my way through the secret passage, I winced as the light suddenly shone right into my sensitive eyes. I had gotten used to it after blinking for a few seconds, and when my sight cleared up I noticed Heathcliffe sitting on the rug in front of the massive fireplace. It wasn't lit, but that didn't bother my little brother, he was preoccupied with reading anyway.
"Hello, little brother," I chirped and got to my knees beside him, it made me a little dizzy, but I ignored it.
"Hi, Del!" Heathcliffe's smile warmed just as much as a fire in the fireplace would have, and I returned it whole heartedly. Checking that nobody saw, I leaned down and kissed the top of his head; he would've thrown a fit if there were an audience.
He was so much younger than me, and I had always felt a sort of maternal instinct toward that sweet boy. The first year was always rough, and I wanted more than anything for it to go as smoothly as possible for little Heath.
"Hm, that's interesting," he mumbled to himself as he leaned closer to the paper.
"Reading the Daily Prophet, are we?" I asked and tried to read over his shoulder, even though I wasn't much interested.
"As a matter of fact I am."
"Are we in it?"
"Nope, but uncle Harry and auntie Gin is," he shrugged his shoulders. "Oh, and there's a picture of them saying goodbye to Lily and Al at the Hogwarts Express. Hm, I bet James was off signing autographs when this was taken."
"Cool," I muttered, and I know it's wrong, but I felt a tiny bit jealous. I mean, my mother was the sodding Minister of Magic, doesn't she deserve to have her picture taken?
"Hey, Del," Heath exclaimed with badly concealed surprise in his tone. He was up to something. "Listen to this article. 'Michael Earwig'-"
"Earwig? Are you serious?" With a chuckle, I lowered myself onto my stomach, and smiled at Heath.
"Yeah. Funny name. ha, ha," he laughed dryly as he rolled his blue eyes at me. "Anyways, let's read on. 'Michael Earwig of Surrey, England, has recently donated his right lung to his younger brother, Derric. Earwig says, "I've got two lungs, but only one brother.'" Aw. Isn't that something?"
"It certainly is," I answered with furrowed brows, not liking where my abnormally clever and sneaky little brother was going with this.
"The love a sibling feels toward his brother or sister."
He had now turned his eyes to me, and was giving me his most innocent, glimmering, persuasive puppy eyes.
"Mhm," I agreed, squinting my own eyes at him, "what do you want?"
"How dare you imply-"
"... I need you, your friend Clover and Al to come to my Wizarding Chess Club."
"I would rather give you a lung," I replied and was about to get to my feet, but Heath grabbed a hold of my arm.
"Del, I beg you," he said, piercing my heart with his sparkling blue eyes. Dad's eyes. "The others are threatening to quit the club if the three of you don't show up!"
"Why would they quit after only a day?" I reasoned with him, but sat myself back down so he would loosen his tight hold on me. "If they've suddenly come to their senses and decided to not have a relationship with those chess-boards anyway, then I can't imagine that mine, Clover nor Al's prescence would make any difference."
"Well, that's true, but you see, it's a bit more complicated than that," he muttered with his eyes lowered to the rug we were sitting on, biting his lower lip.
"Ehm..." I saw him squirm a bit under my dark, brown gaze, and he didn't answer me until I gave him a little nudge. "When recruiting members into our club yesterday, we might've let it slip that you were my sister and Al was our cousin, and that you'd probably be around most of the time... A-And your blonde friend too, uhm, Clover."
"Who's 'we'?" I asked, and Heath smiled up at me, as if this was my way of agreeing.
"Me and Ronnie! Oh, and Bendik," he practically chirped, and I knew I couldn't let him down now. How could I possibly live with myself for destroying his good mood? And anything that involved Ronnie I had to be a part of. The girl was hilarious. She had inherited uncle Ron's sense of humor, his ginger hair and had a tomboy attitude that surpassed most of the other third years.
I bet that growing up without any maternal input would do that to a girl.
"Bendik's a first year too, a Ravenclaw. We were in the same boat up to the castle, so we talked and-"
"And you found out there's a bigger nerd than you at this school?" I interrupted teasingly, at which Heath replied with a mock-angry glare.
"You're one to talk," he answered cheekily, "you're the first one in Hogwarts' history to have ever skipped a year."
The pride in his voice was unmistakeable, and I felt my eyes well up.
"Are you crying?" he asked with surprise. I very rarely showed emotions in public(even though we were alone), and then I laughed my unshed tears away as I gave him a one-armed hug.
"No, I'm just..." I muttered and had to swallow hard to get the lump out of my throat, "no, you're just embarrassing me, that's all. Y'git."
"But it's true, right?" Heath asked, a bit thrown by the change in my mood. He was probably afraid that he might have said something to hurt my feelings, even though he never usually had to worry about that.
"Yes, it's true. But I don't like going around and bragging about it, you know?" I said, and Heath nodded understandingly. "But I have to admit that I quite enjoy being a seventh year even though I'm technically not supposed to be one."
"Dad says we've got Mum's brains," he added matter of factly. "That's probably why we're so smart."
"Yeah," I agreed with a chuckle, and put my head on top of his for a moment before Heath put his arm around me. "Probably."
"Oh, Holy Harry!"
A whirlwind rushed into the girls dormitory, and I froze as I was about to remove my socks. It wasn't until the whirlwind sat down on the bed closest to me, that I noticed it was Clover.
"Holy freaking Har-"
"Would you please?!" I hissed, annoyed at how people were abusing my uncle's(even though we had no blood relation, my mother certainly regarded him and the Weasleys as family, ergo he was my uncle) popular name, and I was equally sick of how I constantly had to remind everyone that I despised their use of it.
"Aaron asked me out to that Hogsmeade-trip this Saturday!" Clover squealed and jumped up from her seat only to dance on her tiptoes as a ballerina about the small dormitory.
"Aaron who?" I asked, not really interested enough to fake excitement.
"The yummy one."
"Can't remember him," I said as I peeled off my socks. But when I noticed how Clover was eagerly awaiting an opening to go into detail about this 'Aaron', I gave a sigh and jumped onboard. "Like pumpkin pie-yummy?"
Another squeal. "No. Better; he's liqourice ice cream-yummy."
"Ew," I actually felt a small amount of nausea settle in my stomach at her words. "That's gross."
"No, it's not."
"Yes, it's horrible. I hate liqourice." I really didn't hate it, but as of this moment, even the thought of it repulsed me. How strange.
"Whatever, Del, I love it. And I love him. I could totally eat him for breakfast, lunch and dinner."
"Where do you come up with this stuff?" I mumbled with a grimace, and folded my slightly damp socks before throwing them into my open trunk.
No, I do not separate my clean and dirty clothes. It's one of my many quirky qualities. Along with always managing to button my coat wrong, and being able to tickle myself into a stupor, to name a few.
Clover used to keep a list, but I think she gave up after realising that she would've had to constantly gone around carrying a quill, ink and parchment to keep up with me.
Clover ignored my question, and instead jumped on top of my bed and grabbed my hands. "Please come with us. I want to show that I'm strong and independent, and you know I can't do that alone."
"Yes, you do come off as a teensy bit needy when you're on your own," I confirmed, and gave her a grandma-hand-pat.
"Something I'll never understand, by the way," she muttered, and threw her dramatic self backwards so her shimmering hair now lay sprawled across my pillow.
"Well, it's just one of life's unsolved mysteries, I guess."
Clover had always been cause of many jealous moments for me, and for one simple reason: her hair. Where mine simply refused to budge when I tried to fix it, hers followed her every whim. Like now, when those long, blond locks were hanging over the edge of the bed, resembling silk. Mine was more of a birds' nest - without the eggs. Damn Mum for having passed that on to me. Genetics sucked.
My mind snapped back into the present, and I dragged my jealous eyes away from Clover's silky mane.
"The date!" she reminded me as she sat up. "Will you go with me?"
"I can't really picture Brayder wanting to double-date," I answered truthfully, and not at all guilty that I just used my boyfriend as a scapegoat. "Sorry."
"But I can't go without you!" Clover insisted and got to her feet again. Luckily, the other girls sharing our dormitory weren't here yet. I had thought I would have the dormitory to myself for a bit, so I could get a few hours extra sleep. I was incredibly tired, and the reason might have had something to do with both my physicality and mentality being strangely unstable all day.
"What if I run into Stephen?" Clover's piercing, dramatic words cut through the fog around my head. "Going in there alone is just not going to happen."
"I went out with him last year. The one that worked at The Three Broomsticks. It did not go well."
"So? Is that why you don't want to go there anymore? Because of one bad date with the waiter?"
Moment of silence. "Yes," she simply said, her jaw clenched.
"Was it really that awful?"
"We spent most of the night in silence, drinking a bottle of Firewhiskey he'd stolen from the bar."
The laughter was hard to keep away from my eyes. "That sounds like fun?"
"Yeah." Clover noticed the humor in my eyes, and smiled herself. "The Firewhiskey was."
Oh, no! Not again, please, Lord!
I needed a toilet - pronto.
Dashing out of the bed, and down the stairs with a speed that would shame even a Firebolt, I landed by the sacred porcelain just in time to hurl out what little was still in my stomach.
"That doesn't sound too good, does it?" noted a squeaky, floating voice from behind me, and I dabbed some toilet paper on my mouth before turning to see who it was.
"Hello, Myrtle," I groaned before resting my forehead on the cold porcelain, letting out a foul-smelling sigh. "Changing scenery, are you?"
The ghost ignored my question, and instead floated closer to me.
"Has the little Hogwarts Princess been eating something she shouldn't?" I could hear her annoying voice coming even closer, and I wish she was of flesh and blood so I could mash her brains in. "Poor, poor, little Princ-"
"Oh, shut up, Myrtle," I hissed through clenched teeth, and focused hard on not being sick again. But there was nothing I could do about it. My belly cramped and thrashed, causing my eyes to water, and then out it all came.
"You know," said Myrtle in a mocking voice as I tried to catch my breath, "I've seen this before."
"Oh, have you now..." I wanted her gone, but I didn't have the strength to scream at her just this moment.
"Yes," she answered with a hint of evil in her ghostly voice as I summoned enough determination to flush the toilet. "And she turned out to be pregnant."
And she turned out to be pregnant.
...turned out to be pregnant...
I thank you for reading :)
Tell me what you think, my beauties!
Btw, what was your favourite quote in this chapter? :)
Previous Chapter Next Chapter
Other Similar Stories