Printer Friendly Version ] [ Report Abuse ]
<< >>

Writings of Nelissa Finnigan - A Failing Journalist by hplover987
Chapter 7 : Seven
 
Rating: MatureChapter Reviews: 1


Font:  
Background:   Font color:  

I hate children, it's official. I walked into Hogwarts all excited and ready. I had brought Quidditch robes and everything, just so I looked the part. The headmaster spoke to me and I told him a few stretched truths just to make myself look better; like I know the Nimbus family (true) and they let me test out new brooms (not true). And I know England's Manager (true) and he comes to me for advice (not true). I got shown to the Quidditch pitch because at school Josie and I only followed the boys without actually paying attention to where we were going. Then the children arrived, it all went down hill from there.

 

This week I was training the Gryffindor second years. I thought it would go well because I was a Gryffindor and maybe they'd respect me. But they've been talking for half an hour, and I only have an hour and a half left with them.

 

“Hello!” I called. They continued talking, completely ignoring me.

“Please?!” I tried. One of the boys looked at me and laughed. “Shut up!” I yelled finally. They all looked at me shocked and eventually dipped into silence. I stood up and straightened my robes. “So, I'm your Quidditch trainer, Nelissa Finnigan,” I said proudly.

 

“Is your Dad Seamus Finnigan?” a dark haired boy called.

 

“Yeah,” I smiled.

 

“He owes my Dad money,”

 

“Oh,” I muttered. “Anyway, four balls, six hoops, seven players per team,”

 

“We know,” a brunette girl laughed. “Everyone knows that,”

 

“You obviously haven't met the celeb news reporters at work,”

 

“Where do you work?” a blonde girl asked.

 

“The Daily Prophet,” I replied.

 

“Do you, like, get to go to parties and get in places for free?”

 

“I'm a sports reporter,”

 

“Really?” a ginger boy asked.

 

“Yeah,”

 

“But-”

 

“What?”

 

“You're a lady,” he finally said.

 

“And?” I urged.

 

“You're hot,”

 

“Am I?” I asked, and he started to nod. “Erm. . . thanks,”

 

“Do you have a boyfriend?” a blonde petite girl asked.

 

“No,”

 

“Are you sure?” a ginger boy asked.

 

“Why? Are you offering, Lowe?”

 

“Shut up,” he growled.

 

“I have a boyfriend,” the blonde girl said smugly.

 

“That's nice,” I sighed.

 

“He's called Darren and goes to Durmstrang. When we're both of age we're going to leave home, rent a flat in Diagon Alley and go to Vegas and get married,”

 

“You sound like you have it all planned,” I said impressed. I sat down on the grass and they formed a circle around me.

 

“I've made an action plan,” she informed me.

 

“I wouldn't do Vegas. The weddings don't count under magical law,”

 

“Are you sure you don't have a boyfriend?” the ginger boy asked.

 

“No,”

 

“Really?” the blonde girl asked and raised her eyebrow at me.

 

“I have a date tonight,” I shrugged. I don't know why I told them, but these kids seemed to get me.

 

“Who is he?”

 

“His name is Hugo,”

 

“He sounds odd,” the blonde girl commented.

 

“He is odd,”

 

“Is he sexy?” I'm sure I didn't talk like that in second year.

 

“No, he looks like a sloth,”

 

“Then why are you going out on a date with him?”

 

“I don't know,”

 

“That's not very clever,” the ginger boy stated.

 

“I don't know how to tell him I don't fancy him,”

 

“Just say, Hugo, you're nice and everything. But you ain't hot,” the ginger boy said.

 

“No,” the brunette girl gasped. “Say that you're not emotionally ready for a relationship,”

 

“That actually pretty good,” I reasoned.

 

“That's how I broke up with my ex last week,”

 

“Why did you break up with him?” the blonde girl asked.

 

“So I could snog John in public,”

 

“Do you fancy someone?”

 

“Kind of,” I replied.

 

“What's his name?”

 

“James,” I finally admitted.

 

“Is he hot?” the blonde girl asked.

 

“Yes,” I laughed.

 

“Do you know what hot boys want hot girls to do?” the brown haired boy said.

 

“What?” I asked carefully.

 

“To run into the common room-”

 

“-Office,” I interrupted.

 

“And tell him you think he's hot,”

 

“Why would she do that, you idiot?” the brunette hissed.

 

“Because otherwise he'll forget and go out with some dog instead,” the ginger boy reasoned.

 

“Just meet him and casually flirt,” the blonde girl said.

 

“I don't know if I want to meet him,”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because he's a little bit scary,” I admitted.

 

“Is he violent?”

 

“No,”

 

“Because if he is there's a contact in the paper you can owl,”

 

“He isn't,”

 

“Then flirt and wear Vaseline on your eyelashes,”

 

“Why?” I asked, confused.

 

“It makes them look longer,” she smiled.

 

“Really?” I asked, interested.

 

“It's in Witch Weekly,”

 

“And you can use it as a glue down your eyebrows,”

 

“Why would you do that?” the ginger boy questioned.

 

“To draw on new ones,” she replied as if it were obvious.

 

“Can we talk about Quidditch now?” the dark haired boy begged.

 

“Yes!” I exclaimed. I jumped up from the floor and opened a chest. Inside were four balls. I got out the first and threw it at the second years. “This is a bludger,” I informed them.

 

“No, it isn't,” the brown haired boy shot back.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“It's a quaffle,” he said and threw it back. It hit me on the shoulder and I swore loudly. They looked in shock and I shrugged. I picked the ball up and examined it.

 

“Are you sure?” I asked.

 

“Yeah,” he nodded.

 

“Well, like he said, this is a quaffle. You throw it and try to score, I

think,” I explained.

 

“You do,” the boy confirmed.

 

“Now, this is the snitch,” I said and withdrew a small golden ball. I knew this one because I have some earrings with dangling snitches. I threw it up into the air and wings shot out. I struggled to catch it and it slipped through my fingers. We watched as it floated up into the air and out of view.

 

“Miss Hooch is going to skin you alive,” the ginger boy said lightly.

 

“Anyway,” I continued. “These are. . .” I trailed off as I bent down to unbuckle the two remaining balls.

 

“Careful,” the brunette girl warned.

 

“Why?” I asked. But as they were released in understood why. The first slammed straight onto my face, sending me collapsing back onto the grass. I closed my eyes and sighed. Shit.

 

* * *

 

After the day I had I really didn't want to see Hugo. Once Josie had stopped laughing she got hold of Hugo and I told him we'd have to call it off because I might have concussion. Apparently he seemed concerned, but I couldn't really care less.

 

Josie was going out and came in my room at eight wearing her new dress which cost a small fortune and my heels. I looked at her and she did a twirl for me. “Can I borrow your bag?” she asked.

 

“Sure,” I nodded. “The clutch?” I questioned.

 

“Yeah,”

 

“In the bag draw,” I told her.

 

“Where?” she asked as she rummaged through.

 

“The third bag draw,”

 

“Oh,” Josie smiled. She hurried off and came back in with my bag under her arm. “How do I look?” she asked lightly.

 

“Lovely,” I replied.

 

“Good, now are you sure you'll be alright?”

 

“I'll be fine,” I shrugged.

 

“I won't be too late,”

 

“Who are you seeing?” I asked casually.

 

“No one,” she laughed.

 

“Josie?” I urged.

 

“I'm not seeing anyone. We're going for nothing,”

 

“Don't lie to me, Josie,”

 

“I'm going to be late,” she shrugged. I frowned at her but she rushed out of my room and I heard the front door slam behind her. I rolled over in bed and flicked the page of the magazine. Those Hogwarts second years were right, there are some really good beauty tips in Witch Weekly. I might have to start buying it again.

 

But I stopped reading when I heard a loud knock on the door. I snuggled into my covers and kept quiet, hoping they'd go away. But they knocked again, and a third time. I sighed loudly and got out of bed. I made my way to the door and pulled it open. Hugo was standing in front of me holding a bunch of red roses.

 

“Hugo,” I muttered. “I thought Josie spoke to you,”

 

“She did,” he smiled. “I just felt do bad for you, Nelissa. I decided to bring the date to you,”

 

“How. . . sweet,” I replied carefully. “But I really should get some sleep,”

 

“Oh no, I'm going to make you a cup of tea,” he said firmly. I sighed but Hugo pushed me to the side and let himself in. I walked in behind him and closed the door. Hugo was already in the kitchen boiling the kettle with his wand. I slumped down on the sofa and tucked my knees up to my chest. Hugo walked over and handed me a mug of tea with a few chocolate digestives. I thanked him and took a

long sip.

 

“I want to talk to you, Nelissa,” Hugo informed me.

 

“No, you don't,” I reasoned.

 

“I do,” he replied. “I really like you,” I said. I looked in alarm as he took my hand. Hugo turned towards me and rested his other hand on the back of my neck. I didn't know what to do! Instead of doing the normal thing of throwing him off me I let him kiss me. He kissed me like a snake kisses it's prey. Then I felt his hand snake inside my top and bra. He squeezed and I pulled away. The snake! Then his hand went down to my jeans where he started to unbutton. I jumped up and rushed backwards. Hugo looked at the floor and I started to breathe heavily.

 

“I'm sorry,” Hugo muttered.

 

“No, no,” I laughed angrily.

 

“I do really like you, Nelissa,”

 

“It would never work!” I exclaimed.

 

“Why?”

 

“You . . . You want 'this' and I don't,”

 

“You don't,” he echoed.

 

“No . . . I'm saving myself,” I lied.

 

“What?”

 

“Chastity ring,” I blurted out and raised my hand to reveal a silver ring Mum and Dad gave me last Christmas.

 

“Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to offend you,”

 

“No, the truth is I'm not emotionally ready for a relationship,” Thank you, second years.

 

“I can wait for you,” Hugo said after a moment.

 

“No, you can't! I'm sorry, but you're just not the man for me. I need someone different,”

 

“I don't understand,”

 

“No, you don't,” I exclaimed. I walked over to him and pulled him up by the arm. Then I dragged him to the front door. “Goodbye, Hugo,” I whispered and kissed him on the cheek. Then I forced him out of the door. I slammed it behind me and stood with my back to the door, quietly. At least that's over with.



Thanks for reading and feel free to review x


Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Favorite |Reading List |Currently Reading

<< >>


Review Write a Review
Writings of Nelissa Finnigan - A Failing Journalist : Seven

Review

(6000 characters max.) 6000 remaining

Your Name:
Rating:

Prove you are Human:
What is the name of the Harry Potter character seen in the image on the left?


Submit this review and continue reading next chapter.
 

Other Similar Stories


Lykis' Gift
by melis1907