If I owned Harry Potter, there would've been 20 books in the series, dealing with the next ten generations of the Chosen One's family.
Awetastic CI by HeavenLeigh @ TDA
“Al!” I hiss, trying to make out his messy-haired head under the dark duvets in the gloom of the dormitory, “Al, wake up!” He does not. I try again. “Really, Albus. Haul your pathetic butt outta bed already!”
If I'd thought that my zealous efforts would bear fruit, I am sorely disappointed. The moron just continues impersonating a Mountain Troll, muttering gibberish, and rolls over his on side, so now his back is facing me. By this point, my patience is running membranously thin.
“Albus Severus Potter,” I growl, bringing my mouth close to his ears, so my chin-length black hair brushes over his cheeks ever-so-lightly, “if you do not wake up this very instant, I swear on Dumbledore's beard I am going to castrate you.”
Maybe it is the urgency and sincerity in my tone, indicating that I would doubtlessly follow through with my threat, or maybe it is the fear of having such a vital part of his anatomy removed, but my words work their magic. The Second-born son of the Chosen One and his wife, 'The Hottest Female Chaser in the Last Millennium' finally opens his beautiful, praise-worthy emerald eyes...
...And blinks up at me like the gormless idiot that he is.
“Wuzzgoinon?” He mutters, disoriented. I quickly glance around the dark Seventh-year Slytherin boys dormitory. Even though I had cast the Muffliato charm as I came in, and teenage boys slept like logs (I speak from experience), you could never be too careful.
I can imagine how mortified I would be to be discovered in my current scandalous state by one of Al's roommates. They would only have see me in his bed, curtains drawn, and in my nightclothes (a tank top and shorts) at four in the morning, and of course they would assume the worst, the gutter-heads.
It probably didn't help that my half-cousin was also present in the room, a few meters away, but, thankfully, asleep.
“Albus, you need to help me,” I whisper solemnly, “because it is time.”
Contrary to my expectations, no look of horrified understanding crosses his features and he does not rush to my aid, like I had believed he would. Instead, he just utters a single syllable, “What?”, maintaining his stupid expression of pure and unadulterated gormlessness.
I wonder what this mysterious and all-important 'gorm' is, in the absence of which, people lose their wits and are reduced to being such moronic flobberworms.
“Al,” I snap, “It's my time of the month.”
“Oh... Great. Congratulations.” My mouth drops open in incredulity. He doesn't notice. “Now can I go back to sleep?”
He begins pulling the blankets around himself, but I smack him before he can hide underneath them.
“What?!” He says, sitting up so suddenly that I almost tumble down the bed. I make a shushing gesture at him as I frantically search for anybody woken up by our kerfuffle, and fortunately, find no one. I then turn to Al. “Calm the fuck down, will you?”
“Calm down? Calm DOWN
?” He splutters indignantly. “Gen, are you on crack? You wake me up at- what time is it anyway?” He scrambles around for his bedside alarm clock, and his eyes widen to the size of Galleons when he reads the dial. “Four a.m.? You woke me up at four-bloody-a.m.
to tell me you got your period? What the FUCK
Al is such an amazing person when he's sleep-deprived, isn't he? A ray of golden sunshine and pretty daisies.
“Shut up already, Al!” I hiss, as a few beds away, a head of tousled blonde hair groans and twists around.
“Look, I hate this more than you. I was the one who had to get up in the middle of the night in a pool of my own blood,” I rant angrily, “and discover my tampons are all finished.”
Admittedly, that had been my own fault. I should have bought some last weekend, on our Hogsmeade trip. But can you really blame me for getting side-tracked by Honeydukes and it's sugary goodness?
They were giving out free samples of Caramel Chimera, for Salazar's sake.
“Why can't you just borrow some from your roommates?” He asks me, with all the exhaustion of a hundred-year-old warlock.
“You do realize that those hags would skin me alive for ruining their 'beauty sleep'?”
“Oh Merlin, I'm too tired for this...” He croaks in a broken voice, cradling his face in his hands.
I am more than a bit offended. “I'm bleeding like I've been Sectumsempra'd
, and all you can think of is your sleep?!” I exclaim hotly.
“What d'you want me to do?” His voice is muffled by his palms.
I suppress a smile. He's breaking, I can just see it. “It's nothing. Barely take any time. You'll be back in your bed befo-”
“Gen,” he interrupts, snapping his head up, “cut the crap.”
I do so. “I can borrow the tampons from Rose. But Godric knows I can't solve the riddles to get into their tower to save my life.”
“So, you want me to sneak up to the Ravenclaw tower with you, and solve the riddle to the entrance of their Common Room, so that you can borrow some, er, items of female hygiene?” I nod, trying to keep from laughing at his choice of words.
'Items of female hygiene?' Honestly Al?
Meanwhile, he sits there deep in thought. I can see his dilemma. On one hand, there's his warm, comfortable bed. On the other hand, there is...well, me.
I decide to make a last-ditch attempt. “Please, Albus?”
Al swears. I don't even flinch. He takes in my (fake) helpless, sort of stubborn expression, cusses some more, and then says, “Fine. Let's get this shit over and done with.”
I smile triumphantly. Al - 0, Gen - 1.
He grumbles and pushes the heavy blankets off himself, as I stealthily climb out of the four-poster, making my way through the jungle of discarded socks, sweet wrappers and other unrecognizable stuff scattered on the floor. Adolescent boys and the concept of hygiene don't really mix well.
He follows me, and without taking my eyes off the dormitory door, I say, “And for Godric's sake, Al, put on a shirt.”
“Why?” He questions, his tone light and mischievous, “does my shirtless hot bod make you nervous?”
He probably hears the sound of my eyeballs scraping against their sockets, as I roll them at his comment. Carefully easing the door open, so it doesn't creak too much, I whisper back, “Yes, of course, Al. The sight of your non-existent pectorals just make me all nervous and a-quiver like a Flutterby bush.”
Fifteen minutes later, we're sneaking around the dark corridors of Hogwarts, occasionally glancing at the Marauder's Map, though, of course we see no one. Like Al put it, even Peeves wouldn't wreak havoc at the arse-crack of dawn.
“Look, you can't just tell a bloke he doesn't have pecs, even as a joke. Do you have any idea how much it hurts their self-este-”
“For the hundredth time, Al, I'M SORRY! I had no idea it would hurt your elephantine ego, so please, forgive me, and shut your equally fat gob,” I snap, whirling around to face him. Al has been going on and on about how I'd called his thoracic muscles non-existent, and honestly, after fifteen straight minutes of him being a whiny bitch, I've reached the end of my patience reserves.
I think my sudden anger scares him, the wimp, because he shuts up quick, and it is a long while before he dares to break the silence with a tentative question.
“Er, just, out of curiosity, how are you holding up? I mean, shouldn't you be trailing blood and stuff right now?”
I pinch my eyes shut, and reply in a terse tone, “You don't want to know.” I tried not to think about how the answer involved several large wads of charmed tissue paper and liberal amounts of Spellotape.
“Okay...” He says, and an awkward silence ensues till we reach the bottom of the staircase leading to the Ravenclaw tower. Just looking at the seemingly endless spiral steps makes me dizzy, I shudder to think would happen when I start climbing those tight circular stairs.
“Blimey, Gen,” Al mutters from beside me, “you so
owe me for this.” Then, with a quickly exhaled breath, he starts climbing.
“That,” I pant, after seven floors worth of extreme workout, “was the worst- I can't even- oh, Merlin!” Al has a sheen of sweat over his brow as well, but he still snaps at me to 'suck it up'. Git.
“Fuck Ravenclaws. Fuck Ravenclaws and their stupid wit,” Al sends me a withering glare, and reaches out to knock the eagle-shaped doorknob on the polished wooden entrance of the Ravenclaw common room.
The eagle opens its beak wide, and bellows so loud, I am almost sure everyone in the castle can hear us. “What is broken every time it's spoken?”
“See, this is what I meant,” I throw my hands up and spin away from the knocker. “Stupid Ravenclaws. Would it kill them to use a simple password? I mean-”
“Gen, just keep shut for one minute so I can figure this out, yeah?” Al snaps at me, then proceeds to scowl and mumble incoherently. “Broken... But when it's spoken? How...”
He continues pacing and putting those brain cells of his to work. Somewhere, an owl hoots. My impatience peaks.
“Come on, say something. I didn't bring you here to just brood in silence.”
He throws me an annoyed glare. Then suddenly-
“Got it!” He says, and turns excitedly to the bronze guardian of the Ravenclaw tower. “The answer is silence.”
“Well done!” The bronze figurine chirps, and the door opens up to reveal a beautiful room, with a dark blue carpet, midnight blue ceiling painted with stars, floor length windows on one wall and a marble fireplace surrounded by wooden glass-fronted bookcases on the other. At the far end of the room, a statue of a pretty lady- Rowena Ravenclaw- stands, between the doors leading to the boys' and girls' dormitories.
Without preamble, I run across the room, dodging around the little tables, couches in various shades of blue, and other bric-a-bracs, trying not to knock stuff down. I'm hardly successful.
When I come back down ten minutes later (it took me five minutes to wake Rose up. Honestly, it was like she'd swallowed the Draught of Living Death. When she finally did get up, she proceeded to lecture me about irresponsibility and the rudeness of waking people up at ungodly hours on a Saturday morning) Al is out like a light on one of the armchairs before the fireplace. I could've happily left him there, he looked so angelic, but I also happen to know that an unholy number of Harry Potter's younger son's fan girls were resident Ravenclaws, and if they discovered the deity of their fan girl cult in their own common room, sprawled on an armchair and drooling like there was no tomorrow, they could do anything to him, including stripping him of his tee-shirt and snitch-patterned boxers.
So, acting like any decent human being concerned for her best friend's safety (and dignity), I poke him hard on his stomach, and he jumps up with a start.
“Mission successful, comrade,” I grin at him, and, as he runs a hand through his untidy mass of jet-black hair, yawning widely, Impulsively, I leap up and lock my arms around his neck.
He staggers a bit, but pats my back all the same. “Thanks, Al.
“Hey, it's not a big deal,” he says into my hair. Except that it really is. Though I'm no damsel-in-distress, and we often act as each others' knights-in-shining-armors, there's no denying that no other person I know would ever wake up at four in the morning to tolerate my whining and then, solve a riddle like that, just so I could get a few tampons. Albus Severus Potter really is
my best friend. I conveniently choose to disregard the fact that I would have badgered him till he agreed, in any case.
We stay there like that for sometime, lost in a comfortable silence, and I'm thinking about how I'll cherish this moment of true friendship and all that snitch for the rest of my life, but then Al, utter gormless moron that he is, just has
to go and ruin the moment.
“You do know that you still owe me, right?”
I know, I know, where is the chapter three of Serendipity I had promised?!
I swear, I had so much on my mind lately, and I was so uninspired, the only way I could escape my writer's block was by writing another story. Weird? That's me.
Moving on, what did you think of this chapter? I bet you all have a lot of questions. Who exactly is Gen, who's her half-cousin, who are the hags she referred, to, and, above all, what is
'gorm'? I have no idea, but I'd love to read what you think. So, be sure to review.
A bit here, a bit there, typos, grammar errors and stuff...