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“D'you, er... Do you want to be my, um, girlfriend?”
I was utterly gobsmacked. Flabbergasted, even. Dumbfounded. Thunderstruck. Because honestly, did James Potter actually ask
me what I heard him asking? Did a certain red-head called Lily Evans die and leave me a spot in his 'People-To-Ask-Out' list? (I sincerely hoped she didn't. Die, I mean. Because despite whatever, she's my only bestest best mate.)
I just sat there, gawking at him, looking like an
extremely alluring goldfish.
(That was sarcasm, in case it wasn't clear to you dim-witted fools.)
But really, what
is so great about a goldfish? You either buy the bitch at a cheap pet store for lack of better options, or win it at some shit Mayfair. Then you forget to feed it, or clean its bowl, and the stupid bint is dead. You can't even take the pointless shit out for a walk, it's that useless. (And this internal rant has no connection whatsoever to a certain personal grudge against a certain pet goldfish called Dorius.)
Meanwhile, all this time, as I sat there bearing a strong resemblance to a member of the
Carassius auratus species, 254 possible replies to his question were flitting and flickering through the grooves of my brain, ranging from,
'HELL YES!' to
'What. The. Fuck?!' and
Are you crazy?'
You'll never guess what I did say in the end.
“Did you know that a pregnant goldfish is called a twit?”
I mean, really.
Really. Where the hell did that come from? Well, judging by the
rousing tribal chants of
'What The Actual Fuck Was That?!' ringing through my head, I'd say that I had no friggin' idea.
James and Sirius were looking at me really weirdly, like they were fearful for my sanity or something.
We all are, mates. We all are.
Sirius opened his gob, presumably to say something
utterly funny and derogatry. I held up my hand in the universal guesture for 'Stop!' and forestalled him in a world-weary voice. “Just...just forget I ever said anything.” He looked indignant, but settled back with a shit-eating grin on his face anyway.
“So, yeah, James.” I said, turning to him, “Have you lost your marbles? Or your glasses, perhaps? Because, hate to break this to you but,
I'm not someone called Lily Marie Evans.”
James just scowled, which, I guess, was fair in a way, because he still was wearing his glasses. I've always wondered how he manages to look so good in them. I mean, on anyone else, those round black frames and thick, jam-jar bottom lenses would look just dorky and boring, but James...man, he makes them seem like 'Witch Weekly's Fashion Must-Haves of the Month.' Not to mention that they totally compliment and bring out his hazel eyes.
Boy, you know you have it really, really bad when you start zoning out fantasysing about a guy's
glasses. Absolutely
pathetic.
“Tea!” He irritatedly snapped his fingers under my nose for what Sirius exaggeratingly muttered to be the 'millionth' time, making me jerk out of my reverie with a startled “What?!”
“I said I got Head Boy.” He replied, annoyed, and I almost fell out of my chair in shock. What is this, 'Surprise-Tea-Shitless' Day?
“Wha-but...but how? When?” I spluttered, picking myself up, and staring at him with eyes as wide as Galleons. “I thought Remus or Amos Diggory would get it. But
you...?”
James simply gave me an affronted look, while Sirius leaned in conspiratorily, and fake-whispered, “We believe Dumbledore's gone senile. It's quite a shame, really.”
I grinned. James furiously mumbled something along the lines of, “I'm not that bad a choice, you know.”
“Yeah mate, you're a really
excellent choice. Just think of all the pranks you and the rest of the Marauders pull. Indeed, a worthier candidate for the position of Head Boy, there can't be.”
Sirius guffawed loudly at my comment, and I joined in, before it hit me, quite suddenly, and like a fifty-tonne-brick-and-cement wall.
“James. You're so dead.”
They looked at me in confusion. Of course. Bloody typical.
“Lily's Head Girl. She wrote to me today.”
They both continued to give me the looks. You know, the gormless, totally moronic I-have-no-idea-what-the-fuck-you're-on-about looks. Honestly. Boys… Did they not comprehend the gravity of the situation here?
“Can you please tell us Tea, what you're trying to put down here? 'Cause we're totally not picking it up. All that cryptic-warning-stuff is really creepy as well.”
And some people say that the Marauders are intelligent. (Well, okay, Remus is…)
“Um, let's see,” I began sarcastically, my tone brittle, pretending to think. “Okay, how's this : Lily hates James with every last cell in her body. She bloody hexes him senseless every time he asks her out. So when they'll be cooped up- alone- in the same living quarters, I guess James will have hit on her so many bloody times, we'll be graduating with his fucking mangled remains!”
I'll admit it, I was semi-hysterical. But you try being in love with a guy who is loathed by your best friend. It's only natural that I live in constant fear of Lily becoming a murderess, and James a pile of deformed dead meat.
Apparently, my words finally got through their thick, semi-permeable skulls, because James went all, “Which is exactly why I'm asking you to date m-”
“And that would be the cry of the rare
Bullshit bird!” I snapped. Did they honestly think me to be as gullible and naivé as a First-year Hufflepuff?
“Lily being a wand-weilding, crazy harpy and cursing your arse to Tartarus and back has never stopped you from pestering her before,” I said, an annoyed undertone to my voice, “And I can bet your sorry arse, it won't stop you now.”
(Not that his arse was actually sorry, or anything. Quite the contrary. His arse was pretty fit. As fit as a fiddle, infact.)
He grinned at me sheepishly, and ran his fingers through his electrocuted-looking hair (an action that makes Lily's eyes twitch, and my knees go weak).
“The thing is, I'm trying to make Lily… jealous.”
“Jealous?” I repeated, confused.
“You know… Envious. Green-eyed. Resentf-” He rambled off.
“Yes, yes, I know what jealousy means. I don't need a thesaurus.” I cut in snappishly. Taking a breath to calm myself and fighting an urge to smack the boy before me, I reiterated, “What I meant was, why do you want to make Lily jealous?”
James huffed unhappily. “She doesn't notice me.”
DO. NOT. ROLL. YOUR. EYES. RESIST!
“
Au contraire, Jimmy boy. Where do you think Lily's entire attention is fixed when she's shouting at you or jinxing you into jelly? Certainly not on the Giant Squid.”
James harrumphed crabbily. Literally, he
harrumphed. And like a
crab, no less. Like I'd said something off-base.
“The thing is,” Sirius cut in, his voice dripping with fake sympathy for James, “Our Prongsie-poo feels that Lilykins notices him for all the wrong reasons, and not his angel-like qualities and a heart of pure, 24-carat gold.”
I couldn't help it, I let out a derisive snort. It's not like James is a bad nut. When he is walking with his head deflated, and not being an arrogant arsehole (which, I admit, is as sporadic as a sighting of the Hailey's comet), he's quite nice to be around. But saying that he has "angel-like qualities" and "a heart of pure, 24-carat gold" would be stretching the truth a
bit too far.
“Anyway, the point is,” James hastily intervened, before we could dissolve into fits of laughter again, “I need to date someone that is not Lily, so she is intrigued and hopefully, jealous. And realises that I'm good dating material.”
“And you chose specifically
me for this honour because?” I wanted to know.
“Well, two reasons actually. One, you're Lily's best friend. So she would actually sit up and take note of who you're dating. And secondly, I like you. You're hilarious to be around, Tea.”
Frankly, I was touched. No one, not even my best friend, had ever told me I was hilarious to be around. And you wonder why I love this boy.
“I can't buy it that you came up with this plan all by yourself.”
“'Twas Remus' idea.” He grudgingly admitted. “He came up with it a few days ago, when I owled him about getting Head Boy.”
I sighed. This was a lot to process. And complicated. And, in a way, wrong. “So basically, what you're saying is, I fake-date you, so that Lily gets jealous of me, her best friend, and, at some point of time, realises that James Potter is actually capable of being a good boyfriend, and then, eventually, dates you herself.”
The boy in question nodded his head, half-exited, half-apprehensive.
“I don't know James. It would feel like betraying my best friend of
six years.” He looked slightly crestfallen, so I added, “What's in it for me?”
“Er…the pleasure of my company?”
Not a bad deal at all. But I wasn't about to tell him that. “I'll think about it. Right now, I need to get going. I am already too late for lunch.”
I got up, and despite their protests, (contrary to popular belief, chivalry is
not dead) paid for my Blackcurrant-and-Raisins ice-cream sundae and waving to them, made my way out of the crowded Fortescue's.
I had just reached the doorway when, from behind me, Sirius shouted, “Oi Tea! Did you know that a golfish has a memory span of three seconds?” and promptly burst into snickers.
I scrunched up my eyes tightly shut, and winced slightly. I
knew he wouldn't ever let that utterly embarassing golfish thing go.
In retaliation, I cheerfully flipped him off, and fought through the throng of shopping witches and wizards to reach the Leaky Cauldron, and then strolled away to muggle London.
When, ten minutes after my very eventful meeting with two-fourths of the Marauders, I returned to my room on the top-floor of the orphanage, I had never, in all of my born days, expected to get practically assaulted by my BFFL.
Lily, her face all blazing smiles and shining emerald eyes,
legit flew at me, throwing her entire weight on me as she attacked,
ahem, hugged me, and, for a moment, all I could see was a mass of long, soft, smothering hair, red as tomato ketchup.
“Ohmegosh, TJ. I missed you
so, so much!” The person currently choking me with her hair, while at the same time, squeezing all the air out of my lungs, squealed near my ear, and at such a pitch, I'm pretty sure my trympanum membrane ruptured.
If this bint wasn't my best mate since the age of eleven, I'd think she was here to assassinate me.
“Ow, ow, ow! Lily, I CAN'T BREATHE!” I gasped.
Finally,
finally she let go, still beaming, as if she hadn't recently almost suffocated me. I spat out the chunks of her bright, flaming hair that had gotten into my mouth. “Seriously, a simple, "Hi, Tea. How're you?" would have sufficed.”
She scoffed. “Oh, TJ… always so melo-dramatic.”
I would've liked to point out that I had, most surely, bruises on my lungs that hadn't been there before, but instead, said, “I thought I told you to stop calling me TJ, like, six years ago.
Tee-yah is not very difficult to pronounce, is it?”
“Have I ever stopped before?” No. “D'you think I'll stop now?” No. Lily believed she was very intelligent to have come up with such a 'clever' and 'original' nickname for me. If you morons couldn't already tell it,
TJ is derived from Tea June.
Like I said, very
clever and
original.
“Anyway, what the shiz are you doing here?” I wondered aloud.
Lily turned to gaze at me with an expression of mock-hurt on her pretty face. “Is this how you treat your bestie?” She questioned, her voice dripping fake-distress. She pertended to look like a cute little puppy dog that had been given a whopping kick.
In reply, I rolled my eyes. “Cut the act, Lils. Tell me the reason why I have been blessed with the pleasure of your company.”
She dropped her act at once, and jutted out her hip, crossed her arms and swished her hair very primly, behind her shoulder. Huh. Classic Bitch-Pose.
“You're spending the rest of the hols with me. Merlin knows you need to get out of this hovel.”
I sighed in defeat. I was expecting this, because it had been happening every summer since Fourth year. Lily dragging me to spend a part of the vacations at her home. I can't say I needed much persuasion to say yes.
“Fine.” I said, and began to throw my stuff- books, quills, broomstick and clothes- pell-mell into my trunk.
Fifteen minutes later, I stood there, cluthing my trunk and owl-cage, getting ready to Apparate to Lily's place.
“All set then?” Lily asked, casting a glance around my eerily tidy room. “Let's go.”
With a loud
pop, we vanished, only to reappear, a second later, in a dark room, which I assumed to be Lily's.
“Fuck.” She muttered, her curse appearantly directed at the pitch blackness in the room.
It however, reminded me of something.
“Lily, did you know…” I started impulsively, “… if you kept a goldfish in a dark room, it would eventually turn white!”
A/N: Hey, everyone! I hope you're still enjoying this story. Chapter three may be a little delayed, seeing as how i'm working on this new one-shot, Moth hour of Eve. Please do check it out.
Also, our feedback means a lot to me. I need to know whether or not you're liking this fic. Only on your opinions and critiques can I continue. So even if you have some complaints about this chapter, or story, just scroll down and rant. I honestly wouldn't hate you for it.
Also, Give a hoot, don't pollute!
Lots of love and ice-creams,
-Akansha.
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