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Operation Weasley by TheHouseElf
Chapter 4 : Day Seven, Phase Three (Part Two)
 
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Day Seven, Phase Three, Part Two

A/N: Read and Review!



Super awesome CI by the super awesome la.paz (Louise) at TDA. It's Hugo, he's an idiot. A loveable, endearing, idiot.

Lunch was chaotic. Everyone was scrambling to get their favourite foods and piling their plates to high heaven. It was no wonder since everything was mouth watering. It was a wonder how all the girls ate so much yet stayed so slim. That’s worth investigating.

The length of the several tables lined up next to each other was gargantuan, the whole thing extending from one end of the garden to the other.

I suppose it has to be, with this many people.

“Freddie, the cheese and jam sandwiches are right at the end of the table,”

Cheese and jam sandwiches?

“Ew, why do you eat that rubbish?”

“Cheese and jam sandwiches are awesome,” Don’t diss the cheese and jam combo.

“I thought it was just Freddie who had the weird taste buds,”

“James!”

See, that is why you never get on the bad side of a guest, they always have the parents around to put them back in line, cheers Mrs Potter, you’re awesome, just like cheese and jam sandwiches. I don’t get why no one else likes them... It’s not like there’s anything weird with it, I mean, the Americans eat Peanut butter Jelly sandwiches (which are really Peanut butter and jam sandwiches, jelly is not jam, jelly is different), so substitute the peanut butter for soft cheese and kazam! You have a taste explosion in your mouth.

Nothing wrong with that whatsoever.

No siree.

Unless the explosion blows your mouth apart, then you have a real problem and you might even have to go to the dreaded dentist.

I don’t like the dentist, the way they probe about with a metal stick in your mouth and shine a bright light in your eyes so you’re temporarily blinded, something about that doesn’t sit quite right with me.

“How did Freddie introduce you to cheese and jam sandwiches?”

Ah, here we go again, delving into the realms of the history of The Target and I. First that scar, now those sandwiches...

“I introduced him to cheese and jam sandwiches. It all happened because our mothers were hopeless at making packed lunches-“

“Hey!” Whoops, kinda forgot Aunt Angie was sitting right there.  Wasn’t she speaking to that animal fellow Charlie? Why did she- Oh they’ve all stopped their conversations to hear the cheese and jam story. Brilliant James, you had to make that remark which made Mrs Potter scold you which made everyone listen.

I swear that I am really cursed, there’s no other option.

I fail at public speaking, especially with strangers. I could feel the heat flush spreading across my cheeks and neck and I’m pretty sure I was a blotchy purple which, in case you haven’t noticed, isn’t a very aesthetically pleasing colour of skin tone.

Just a thought.

“Sorry Ma, it’s true, you make great food but sandwiches just aren’t your forte,” The Target smirked, saving me from further embarrassment. True friendship, he saves me, I- no, I’m too cursed and clumsy to save anyone. ‘Tis a one sided friendship.

“But yeah, so Sophie’s made her sandwiches since Year 4, and one time in Year 5, there wasn’t anything left in the fridge in terms of fillings, only a small amount of cheese and a small amount of jam. Being the ever resourceful girl she is-“ Yeah, scratch what I said before. Save me? Feed me to the lions why don’t you! Compliments+moi= Super embarrassment. “She mixed the two together to make a sandwich. We had this tradition where we would swap half our sandwiches at lunch, I had half her creation, she had half the sardine and pickle sandwich Mum made. Surprisingly, her sandwich was really tasty so we’ve had it ever since,”

I’m pretty sure I heard Vic ‘aw’ in the background.

That wasn’t even a cute story. Wait till she hears about the abandoned cat we found in the forest behind the school. She’ll have ‘kittens’ about it.

Geddit- kittens, we found a cat- Oh, my humour is wasted on mortals of lesser intelligence.

“Freddie’s the fussiest eater ever, he wouldn’t eat cheese and jam sandwiches unless they were good. You guys are missing out,” I supplied.

The cheese and jam sandwiches were soon finished.

***

Lunch was over and Freddie, Imogen, James and I had taken over the couches in the living room. Something was digging in to my back from in between the sofa so I reached out.

I pulled out a sock.

A sock.

Why the heck was there a sock stuffed down the back of the couch?! It wasn’t even a pair, just one. And what is Puddlemere United, huh? That’s not a football team I’ve ever heard of. Nice sock though.

“Er, that’s mine,” Yes, James was a special dude. He must be to stuff socks supporting non-existent teams down the back of his nan’s sofa. I don’t do that at my Nan’s. But then again, she’s usually sitting of the only sofa in the house so I can’t exactly move her just to push a sock down there. She’s fragile.

James had plucked the sock deftly from my hands and stuffed it in his pockets. If he stuffs that sock anywhere else... I wonder how his mother copes.

I can’t imagine living with a guy like that. I’d rather live with Freddie, at least he doesn’t stuff socks into random places.

“So, who wants to play 21 Dares?” Imogen asked, a mischievous smirk on her lips that worried me. That game never worked out for me, the last time we played it in class, I ended up standing in the bin in the middle of the room and I got caught by the teacher. It would suffice to say that I had quite a few detentions.

“No,” James whimpered to my surprise. A macho man like him would always be jumping at the chance to show off their manliness. “The last time I played with you, it was horrific, definitely no,”

Thank God for James Potter.

Wow, did I really say that?

“Fine, we’ll play 21 truths,” James brightened up but as a girl, I knew. This game was ultimately worse, especially if you have deep dark secrets such as, oh, I don’t know, an undercover operation perhaps?

Just saying.

“Yeah!”

“I’m game,” Damn, I was counting on you, you let me down Target.

“Soph, you in?” Imogen asked, the smirk hadn’t left her face.

I’ll back out, I’ll say no, it’s easy. “Sure,” I think my mouth and my brain aren’t connected, clearly.

“Lovely, I’ll start. 1,2,3,”

“4,5”

“6,7,8”

“9,10,11,”

“12,13,14,”

“15,”

“16, 17, 18,”

“19,20, ha ha shame,”

“Hard luck Jimmy boy,”

“I hate you all, 21,”

“Now, for your question,”

***

21 Truths can be a very educational game. I learnt that James wanted to be a ballerina when he was 6, Freddie’s favourite family member is his Nan (which made James mad, something about being brothers or other) and Imogen... she was doing her best to never let the dreaded 21 land on her. Which was working very well, convincing me that she was a professional at this game. I wonder if they play it a lot at Hogwarts, would you have enough time to in a boarding school?

21 Truths was not an enjoyable game for me. Not only did I have to answer questions about myself which made my palms sweat in case anything near to my case was asked (It obviously wasn’t going to be, but I was still nervous.), but I couldn’t ask the others what they were hiding. One, it would blow my op out of the water and second, I’d only just met Imogen and James. I can’t poke my nose into their business so soon after meeting them. That’s bad manners.

And my mother raised me well.

Thankfully, it was a short lived game as our seclusion was interrupted by the entrance of, guess what, another cousin! It’s ridiculous how many Weasley’s there were. His hair was bright red and freckles dusted his nose and cheeks. He couldn’t have been older than 15.

“I’M HOME!” Oh, it’s another loud Weasley. Most of them seem to be built this way with the exception of a few like Molly who preferred to be quiet.

“JAMES! CAN WE PLAY SOME QUID- Mffff” I don’t know what’s more astonishing, the fact that the kid was about to say a game that begun with Quid or that Freddie leapt over the sofa and covered the ginger’s mouth whilst James tackled him around the legs.

It was an amusing sight, especially when Crookshanks peed on them all.

That cat has a bladder problem.

Poor cat.

Poor people.

Nah, it’s definitely worse for the cat.

“ARRRGHHHH!” That boy really is a screamer, even with his mouth covered. So much so, he had gathered pretty much everyone from all around into the living room. Even Nana Weasley who had soapy washing up gloves on.

Shouldn’t old ladies tire easily? How can that woman still be going?! I get tired from climbing up one flight of stairs and that lady had been climbing and cleaning all day.

I wish I had her energy. It would make tailing people much easier.

Let me tell you know, The Target is a fast walker.

And I’m not a very physical person.

Ever since primary school, I’ve always been lacking in that department. I’m sorry, I just don’t see the point in running around for no reason, but if there was a knife wielding murderer chasing me, I’d be off like a shot.

That’s running for a purpose. But anything short of a life or death situation? Heck no.

Call me lazy. I call it saving my resources.

James removed himself from the screamer’s legs and quickly scooped up Crookshanks by his middle. His movements were so swift, it was as if the move had been perfected.

Which, judging by how much that cat pees, it most likely is.

The Target still hadn’t taken his hand off of the boy’s mouth. His face seemed a strange mixture of relief and fear? Never before had I not been able to understand Freddie’s emotions. It unsettled me.

He’s my best friend and I know him better than I know myself.

To not know something about him worries me.

Which is why I have to figure out his emotions and his secret.

Because if it means he doesn’t trust me anymore... can we still be friends? I can’t sit around with the slight hint of a feeling (okay, a very big gut wrenching feeling) that Freddie’s keeping stuff away from me, because it means we’re not as close as we were.

Whatever happened to the days before Hogwarts when the most important things in life was swamp football and finding out what sweets Ms Shepherd was going to give us for Christmas?

“Mmffmmff,”

“What did you say Hu- eurgh! You licked my hand,” The Target wiped his wet hand on the shoulder of Hu-something liberally. It must be bad to have cousins who lick hands.

The worst my cousins do is hide my socks.

They’re 5.

Poor kids don’t know how to prank.

“You wouldn’t let go. I asked who’s that,” Hu-something replied, pointing a finger at me. Hey mister, I don’t know you either, but I don’t point, it’s extremely rude.

Lily slapped his hand down.

“Don’t point, it’s rude,” She snapped. See, that’s exactly what I thought! I knew I liked her for a reason. “That’s Sophie, Freddie’s neighbour,”

“So she’s a mugg-mff,” Freddie covered Rude boy/Screamer boy’s mouth, only to be promptly licked again. The Target never learns. Rude boy/ Screamer boy laughed whilst Freddie wiped his hand on the wall. However, it also is noted that RB/SB (Really, Rude Boy/Screamer Boy is too long a nickname) never seems to learn as Lily cuffed him around the head.

That girl resorts very quickly to violence.

“Soph, this idiot’s Hugo, Rose’s brother,” Wow, smart, polite Rose shares genes with him?!

“I am not an idiot!”

Cue incredulous stares from around the room. Silence. I think I can hear the cat peeing on the tiles in the doorway. Definitely sounds like dripping to me.

“I’ll just go stop Crookshanks from pissing everywhere,”

I’m very eloquent. Also my language is very age friendly. Nana Weasley didn’t even bat an eyelid, her stare still focused very much on Hugo.

I shut the door on my way out, picking the ginger fat cat up whilst he was emptying out his bladder. Clearly, I’m not a professional since I got covered in urine.

Cats just love me.

First Joey, now Crookshanks.

I don’t blame Crookshanks though, you can’t control your wee in your old age.

“C’mon, let’s take your business outside,” Look at me cooing to a cat that covered me in piss.

Many scratches later, Crookshanks was happily peeing again.

At least this time, not on people but on Nana Weasley’s rose bushes, which might be worse considering she told me they were her ‘pride and joy’ and she ‘poured sweat and blood and love’ over them.

Holy farting cows, what have I done?

“I’m sorry, my cousin’s insane, we’ve tried to teach him to be normal-“

“Jesus! You scared me Frenchy! It’s not normal either to sneak up on people from behind either so you don’t exactly qualify as the best teacher for normality,” Neither did Kelly or Ravi or Noah but they went and did it anyway. Look how that turned out. I’m covered in cat piss for chrissake.

“Frenchy is it now? I’ll just have to call you Poshy,”

I have no words. I think Frenchy is trying to recreate the Spice Girls, only worse. I sing like a foghorn.

“Because you have a British accent, it’s posh, geddit?”

“You have a British accent too,”

“Damn,”

“This is why I make the nicknames, no one else,”

“Shut it Poshy,”

I turned my head to look at Frenchy, y’know, really look.

The sun was glinting off his hair which looked golden and really soft. Subconsciously, my arm lifted up- stop it arm- my hand in his hair- stop this now, follow orders from the brain body, that’s what you do- and my fingers were fondling the tips. This not how you should act around strangers. I shouldn’t be unleashed into society. Ever.

“Your hair is softer than it looks,” Word vomit. Another reason I don’t do new people. Mum says I have verbal diarrhoea, the words just come out, well rather like diarrhoea, you can’t stop it. Now Frenchy is never going to want to talk to me again, I’ll be remembered as the girl who touched up the irresistible guy she just met’s irresistible hair. See those baby blue eyes, damn, they’re really blue, they’re going wide in shock and repulsion.

And why is my hand still caressing his hair?!

Frenchy chuckled.

He laughed.

I let out a breath I didn’t realise I was holding in. Phew, he finds me funny. Wait,  do 18 year old guys want to know funny girls? I don’t know, I’m out of my depth here, save me somebody!

But seriously though, why is my hand still in his hair?!

“It’s my conditioner,”

Guys use conditioner? Oh, there goes my mind unlatching itself from Frenchy’s locks. For a second, I thought we’d be joined forever. Although going to the loo would be pretty awkward. And I’m sure he would have prised me off sooner or later.

“I’m joking, I was just born with super soft hair. Hey, your hair’s soft too!”

That’s how I can truly say I bonded with a French blonde over soft hair. That’s also why for the next 5 minutes said Frenchy was twiddling my hair around his finger.

I’m fairly sure by now that all of The Target’s extended family are keeping the same secret. If I get pieces from different family members, then I could put the pieces together. Like a puzzle.

I’m good at them. I once did a 500 piece puzzle in one day.

Beat that.

But, I’m also certain Imogen is in on the know too. That means it’s not a family thing. Plus Teddy too. The only thing they have in common except for the Weasleys is... their school. They all went to the same school.

Hogwarts. It’s a Hogwarts thing!

That helps.

Especially considering Hogwarts has no hits on Google.

One step forward, a gazillion steps back.

“Hey Sophie, Louis,” The Target appeared from nowhere, his jaw tight. What is it with Weasley’s and sudden appearances?

Why do I get the feeling The Target is upset with Frenchy? I don’t know, maybe because he spat his name or it could be because he’s giving him Stink Eye #47. 47’s lethal.

Just saying.

Frenchy dropped the strand of my hair he’d been winding around his finger and laughed nervously. Why the nervous laugh? Everyone knows it only makes things uncomfortable and increases the tension!

“I’ll just-“ I made friends with a spaz. Only a spaz can run like that, arms waving wildly. So much for trying to be normal, there’s no point, no one else is normal.

Screw normalcy.

Yeah, I said it.

How is Crookshanks still pissing? That cat must have a big bladder to retain and store all that pee. That can’t be healthy, can it? He doesn’t even drink that much water. That’s worrying to say the least.

The Target was till glaring at Frenchy’s retreating back. I’d like to tell him the house is the other way but he’s too far away.

His loss.

***

Once again, I was back in The Target’s bedroom. It was 11:00 at night and I was laying in his bed, contemplating my evidence. So RB/SB hinted at something beginning with Quid that you play and I was a mug.

I’m not sure it meant I was a mug, but again like Quid-something, a word yet to be finished.

I need to invest in a dictionary.

All this thinking was damaging my brain.

What was that brain? You want sleep? Okay.

I felt a hand smooth my hair, then I felt my body being carefully cradled within the arms of another. A loud crack. I was back down on a bed that smelt like my own.

As if I could get from The Target’s bed to my own with a crack. I was simply dreaming.

A/N: I’m sorry- slow update! Damn, kill me. School’s finished but I’ve been so busy with Work Experience, on Thursday I stayed from 9 AM til 10 PM. Remember to review, they really do inspire me. I was disappointed with the lack of reviews in the last chapter, so make up for it now!

Review, that box is lonely.


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