Chapter 13: Of Nutters and Unexpected Kisses
Someone’s poking me.
And it is monumentally irritating.
‘Stop!’ I complained, blankets still over my head, muffling my command. I was asleep but two minutes ago and I’m fairly sure I’m still in the hospital wing, so why is someone poking me?
‘Halle, wake up!’ whispered a voice.
I groaned. It was a great groan. All load and irritated and drawn-out. I should become a groaning expert.
Nervously removing the covers from over my head, I searched for the perpetrator behind the poking. Lo and behold, Elle and Jordin were standing by my bed, Jordin being the mastermind behind the poking scheme.
‘Stop fucking poking me!’ I ordered, and he obeyed. Ten pokes later.
That boy has severe trouble following orders.
‘What time is it?’ I asked, groggily, rubbing my eyes.
‘About five in the afternoon. We thought we’d come and get you, since your victory party is tonight!’ squealed Elle, excitedly clapping her hands.
‘Victory party?’ I questioned, glancing at the bed next to mine. ‘Twas empty. James must have left.
‘Of course. Hogwarts students take any chance to party, and this is a huge deal. We’ve managed to postpone the party until you were out of the Hospital Wing, but the date is fixed. It’s tonight, and you’re coming.’
‘A victory party, eh? Sounds good to me,’ I said, pushing myself up a little bit, still a bit annoyed when pain sored my joints and ached my muscles.
Does that make sense?
Whatever. Main message was; I STILL HURT. EVERYWHERE.
Jordin looked concerned, ‘Are you sure you can make it? You’ve been out cold for about three days. You’re free to leave, Madame Jett said. You just have to take this last Potion,’ he said, handing me a purple vial.
Excited, I perked up. I had grown to love Potions (not the subject; the thing), ‘GIMME! GIMME! GIMME!’ I ordered.
Quickly downing it in one go, I made a face as the hot liquid burned down my throat, ‘Bleh,’ I said, ‘Tastes like fish.’
But, amazingly, the fishy-tasting liquid sent a warm surge pulsating through my body, easing the itches and burns of all of my injuries. Amazed, I opened my eyes wide and swivelled my shoulders. No pain. I bent my knees a couple of times. Still no pain. I squealed, ‘WHAT WAS THAT HOLY LIQUID?’
Jordin smiled, ‘Feeling better?’
I jumped out of my cot, feeling like I could tackle the world, ‘I feel like I could take on the Giant Squid with my bare hands.’
Elle laughed, ‘Steady on there. Party first?’
I grinned, rubbing my hands together like a cool cartoon character, ‘Let’s party.’
After napping a little more in the Hospital Wing by myself (there’s nothing like a Hospital Wing nap. It’ll make every other nap you’ve had feel like sleeping on a bed of nails. NAILS I TELL YOU!), I decided to make my dramatic departure from the Hospital Wing at around five-ish. After all classes had ended.
Coz I’m sneaky like that.
After hugging Madame Jett, (‘OH THANKYOU, FOR YOUR MAGICAL HEALING SKILLS MY DEAR NURSE!’), I began my happy return to the Ravenclaw Common Room, feeling as good as new.
‘Great job in the first task, Halle,’ squeaked a little firstie, as soon as I entered the Common Room.
I beamed, ‘Why thank you, firstie. I appreciate it muchly.’
Muchly is a cool word. In fact I’m pretty sure I just made it up.
I SHALL GO DOWN IN HISTORY FOR MAKING UP THE WORLD MUCHLY.
Or, you know, being a Triwizard Champion. But personally I reckon coming up with the world muchly is a bigger achievement.
Heaving myself up the stairs, (whilst being congratulated by every freaking member of the Ravenclaw House) I threw open the door to my dormitory, anxious to find my bed and, you know, sleep some more.
‘Halle!’ squealed Elle as I came inside. She was lying on my bed, painting her toe nails, and I suspected she was guarding the wooden box which lay ominously atop my mattress.
My eyes grew wide as I saw it, ‘It’s the box.’
She nodded gravely, ‘Well, aren’t you going to open it?’
I practically pounced on her and grabbed the box like a wild animal, my eyes growing wide in anticipation. I had nearly died for this box. And it wasn’t even a nice box! Just a plain, wooden chest. After a quick inspection I had noticed there was absolutely no form of patterning on it, however in the bottom, left hand corner there had been one small engraving. 32, 141. Two numbers, so small I could barely see them. But there they were, etched into the surface.
I looked at Elle, ‘What could that possibly mean?’
She shrugged her shoulders, ‘Maybe you’ll have a better idea once you see what’s inside?’ she suggested, eyeing the box wearily.
It was sitting right in front of me, just waiting for me to unveil its secrets.
Elle made an impatient groan, ‘What are you waiting for?’
I gazed unsurely at the wooden contraption, afraid it was going to bite me. I took a deep breath, ‘Here it goes,’ I muttered unconfidently, unclasping the golden hook which was engraved on the front.
What lay inside was a major letdown.
‘It’s just a ball!’ I claimed, grasping the small, grey sphere in my hand.
It really was just a ball. A sphere, I suppose, made of a dull, grey metal. The colour lacked lustre, but the surface was smooth. It wasn’t very big; it fit nicely into my hands, about the size of a tennis ball, maybe a little bigger. I ran my finger over it, completely mystified at its purpose.
Elle narrowed her eyes, ‘That is so strange,’ was all she said.
I groaned, ‘How am I meant to figure out this thing? Do I open it? Talk to it? What do I do?’ I yelled, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her.
‘I don’t know! You want to start deciphering it now?’
I shook my head, before stuffing the sphere back into the box, ‘Later. I have a ton of homework to catch up on,’ I lied, wearily.
Elle gave me the look. You know; the judgemental one.
I tried a different approach, ‘And we have to get ready for that party of yours!’
Her features lit up excitedly as the memory of the party dawned on her. Mission: Success.
‘Dom should be here soon with our dresses,’ she squealed excitedly, returning to her previous duty of painting her toe nails.
Happy, excitable, hormonal Dom?
CRAP ON A STICK. WHAT HAVE I GOTTEN MYSELF INTO?
‘No, Dom, that dress is not too short,’ I reassured, for about the fiftieth time.
But I lie, the dress is totally too short. But hey, she looks good. Sometimes a girl’s gotta look like a slut.
She self-consciously tugged down on the glittery skirt, while she stood in front of the mirror in me and Elle’s dorm, ‘You‘re sure?’
‘Positive,’ replied Elle.
‘Alright!’ she yelled, somewhat crazily, ‘Now it’s your turn Triwizard champion,’ she stated, whirling around to face me.
‘Why is everyone making such a big deal about this party? I mean Dom came all the way from her dorm room just to help me get ready, and I don’t even want to go. Can’t we just sneak down to the kitchens and have a pie?’ I asked desperately. A party which would mainly be centred on me and James did not seem like an exciting prospect.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m proud of what I did. But I’m not good with attention. It’s why I prefer Jordin and Elle’s company over that of the Wotter’s.
‘Halle, you seriously need to get over pie,’ said Dom, shaking her head.
Elle and I gasped in unison, and looked at her with horror. Elle seemed too shocked to speak and I managed a threatening, ‘Never say that again.’
Elle nodded in agreement. And that is why I love her.
‘OK, OK, calm down, Halle. Just teasing,’ Dom replied, holding her hands up in compliance.
Damn straight bitch, comply with my pie-loving ways.
‘Anyway Halle, you need to go. You just do. Don’t worry, it’s not like you don’t have any friends. In fact, everyone will want to be your friend after this. Oh god. You’re going to be swept up in all the attention and I’ll be left to rot in the shadows and eventually turn to drugs, drop out of Hogwarts, become a hobo who possibly finds love with a homeless dog, and then becomes the star of her own reality TV show called Puppy Love,’ said Elle, whose head was currently in my lap.
I scoffed, laughing since she’d probably been thinking about this for a while. ‘Ditch you? But then I’ll have no friends. I’ll have to spend my days in the library! Oh the horror! The shame!’ I shouted, putting a head to my forehead and pretending to faint.
Elle chuckled. ‘We already spend all our time in the library, we’re Ravenclaws remember?’ she joked, laughing along with me.
Dom just scoffed, ‘You guys are such nerds. Now come on! Serious business time. Here Elle take this, you’ll look gorgeous. Fred won’t know what to do with himself,’ she ordered, throwing a beautiful orange number her way. Elle stuttered while taking in the dress’s long sleeves, and short length, which stopped mid-thigh. ‘You think?’ she asked.
I nodded, ‘You’ll look kick-ass.’
She smiled, ‘Kick ass is good.’
‘Now for the Champion,’ Dom pondered, flicking through my closet.
‘Aha!’ she proclaimed victoriously, pulling out a dress from my closet which I have never seen before. And it looked suspiciously like it belonged to Dom. ‘This is perfect!’
I rolled my eyes, ‘Dom, did you smuggle your own clothes down here?’ I asked, wishing I could raise my eyebrow for this suspicious moment.
She turned red, ‘What? Me? Never. OK, yes fine! Stop looking at me like that! I mean, you know I love your taste, the whole cool-nerd-thing works for you. But you need to look like a slut for this party. It’s the only way!’ she argued, her eyes reaching alarming records of wideness.
‘Why must I slut-up for this party?’ I asked, shaking my head disapprovingly.
‘So we can show James just how hot you are,’ she replied, winking.
I nearly shrieked in horror, ‘Why would we want to such a thing? I don’t like him like that!’ I protested.
A knowing smile spread to her face, ‘Sure you don’t. Fine then, I’m putting the dress back. You can wear,’ she cringed, ‘jeans or something.’
Because heaven forbid I wear jeans.
I eyed the dress wearily, it was extremely pretty. It was cream coloured, the top half made a tightly-knitted lace, with a shallow drop in the back. The skirt was a darker beige colour and fell about high-thigh: borderline prostitute. I could already tell it would accentuate my pitiful cleavage nicely, and yet it still had a very classy feel about it. Definitely not slutty, but not modest either.
‘Alright, toss it here,’ I said, reaching out for the fabric, which was soft to the touch. ‘But I’m not wearing it to impress James,’ I confirmed.
Dom laughed slightly, but nodded, ‘Alright, whatever you say. But you’re going to look absolutely model-perfect in that thing,’ she said, pointing to the dress.
I smiled a little; because I hoped she was right.
‘Wow,’ breathed Elle, as she took in my reflection in the mirror.
I don’t usually dress up, I suppose. Not like this anyway. Dom had paired my dress with a pair of nude heels, a long, draping pearl necklace, and an army of black bracelets up my right arm.
I don’t wear makeup usually (sometimes when I look dead I put a little eyeliner on, but I just end up poking my eye), but Dom full on did the whole shebang. Mascara, eyeliner, lip gloss, it was all on my face.
And it made my face look good.
‘Absolutely stunning,’ Dom complimented, ‘I am a superstar.’
I laughed slightly, ‘Thanks, Dom. I really like it. You sure it’s not too-’ I stopped to think of the appropriate word, ‘Revealing?’
Dom grinned mischievously, ‘Absolutely not. Now come on, we’re already fashionably late, the party started fifteen minutes ago.’
This, er, shindig was to be held in the Room of Requirement, since it was a whole school celebration. I hesitated as we reached the seventh floor corridor, and Dom made the door appear. She smiled widely at me, ‘Champion first,’ she ordered.
Baha! I am so awesome I have my own party. True, I have to share it with James, but still, this is exciting. Even if I am socially awkward.
When Dom opened the door and we walked in, the crowd erupted in applause, and my face split into a grin. Upon entry, I was promptly hoisted onto Jordin and Freddie’s shoulders, and the entire crowd cheered, ‘Halle! Halle! Halle!’
I laughed nervously, despite the fact I was enjoying myself immensely. I’ve had dreams about being hoisted onto someone’s shoulders while everyone chants my name. And now it’s happened twice.
It’s obviously the universe’s way of telling me I’m awesome.
Or it’s the universe’s way to help me remember my name. Sometimes I forget it when I’m nervous.
I jumped off the boy’s shoulders, landing somewhat lightly on my heeled feet, and pumped my fist into the air. Everyone crowded around me and looked at me with expectant expressions, and I gave them a nervous smile. ‘What are you waiting for?’ I asked, delivering the line which I had been practising the whole way here, ‘Let’s get the drinking started!’
Yes, the line was cliché. But the crowd loved it. And so did I.
James arrived a little after me, and I must grudgingly admit that he handled the situation slightly better than I. The crowd just loves people like him, and I suppose he did deserve a bigger applause for his little speech.
I bet you want to hear his little speech.
Well you shan’t! For it was better than my one alcohol-inspired line.
And I am a sore loser, especially to James Potter.
The music was monumentally loud; and it threatened to burst my eardrums more than once. So I decided to have a mental conversation with the music.
It went like this.
Me: Music, will you be softer.
Music: NO, shan’t.
Me: But please, music! My eardrums are about to burst.
Music: Like hell if I care.
I then proceed to punch the music in the face, and the music bows down in awe of my glory.
I really shouldn’t have had those five shots of fire whisky.
I was currently sitting at the bar, Al next to me, as we played our convoluted drinking game, called True English. Don’t laugh; we came up with the name when we were drunk, alright?
Don’t judge me.
Said game involves a game of scissors, paper, rock and various dares. We’ve come up with exactly one hundred different dares, especially thought up of for this game. And we’ve memorized each and every one. But we’ve only ever gotten up to Round Seventeen. Because our alcohol tolerance rates are pathetic.
Alright, you can judge me.
But judge Albus too! We were both co-founders of True English.
Did I mention we charmed real scissors, paper and rocks to play for us? Probably shouldn’t be using magic when we’re both piss-drunk, but hey, don’t blame us. We’re drunk.
Elle was off dancing with Freddie, which made my already excited head even more excited. Dom was snogging some random bloke in the corner, Connor and Jessie Kurt were grinding on the dance floor and Jordin was currently seducing a very pretty Hufflepuff.
And she was being seduced, all right.
A small crowd had gathered around me and Al’s intense drinking game, and I stared my big brother square in the eyes as we entered Round Seventeen.
This is a big one.
He narrowed his eyes at me, ‘Scissors, paper, rock!’ we shouted in unison.
There was a collective ‘ooh’ around the crowd as his scissors cut through my paper.
‘Screw you, Albussss,’ I cursed, slurring my words slightly. He just grinned triumphantly, and pushed another fire whisky into my hands, which I downed in one go. The crowd went ecstatic, and I wiped the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand.
‘Bring it on.’
A girl from the crowd piped up, I think she was in fifth year or something. ‘What exactly is the dare for Round Seventeen?’ she asked, everyone leaning in with genuine curiosity.
Al looked very pleased with himself, ‘I came up with it! Usually this is our last round (there was a disappointed aww from the audience) because it’s about as drunk as either one of us wants to get. We have to kiss someone in the room who we really want to. And we’re too drunk to lie,’ explained Al. I think he did an astoundingly good job, considering we’re drunk.
His eyebrows shot high into his fringe as a new thought occurred to him, ‘This will be the first time it won’t be Scorpius!’ he realised.
Oh my god. It was always Scorpius. Shit, we haven’t played a game of True English since we broke up. There is no way in hell I want to kiss him anymore. Al looked at me with renewed interest.
His lips turned into a smirk, ‘Go on, Halle. Go and kiss the boy you want to the most!’ he ordered, pushing me off the stool, ‘Or a girl. You could kiss a girl,’ he added hopefully.
I poked my tongue at him, ‘Nice try, Albus.’
He shrugged his shoulders, ‘Worth a shot.’
Our little crowd seemed to buzzing with excitement as I began walking out onto the dance floor. I’m pretty drunk right now, so I’ve given complete control to my legs. They seem to know exactly where they’re going.
Hang on, they’re heading towards James.
ABORT MISSION! STOP WALKING! LEGS WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?
They’re not stopping. Why aren’t they stopping? Shit, what’s happening?
There was a huge gasp from the bar as everyone realised where I was off to, and Albus looked like someone had thrown a pitcher of ice down his back.
‘LEGS, STOP!’ I yelled to my mechanical limbs, but they seemed set on getting to James, who was now looking at me curiously.
But then he smiled at me. And it made my heart stop. I don’t know why, but it did. And I grinned straight back at him.
Waving goodbye to the bunch of ‘Puffers he had been talking to, he began approaching me, still smiling. It was like in a movie, everything was in slow motion, and my vision seemed to zoom in on James.
He was looking great. Well he always looked great, but tonight he looked like he had walked straight off an Abercrombie and Fitch magazine. He was sporting tight black pants and a slightly translucent white tee, which gave me a lovely view of his rock-hard abs. This seemed to spur my legs on even faster. The sixth shot was flooding to my head; the music was pounding through my body. I completely forgot about the audience watching my every move and walked straight up to him.
‘How’s your night going, Halle?’ he asked, looking down at me.
I hiccupped in response, ‘I apologize for what I’m about to do. You’d better not hate me,’ I explained, letting the alcohol completely take over.
The edges of his lips quirked upwards, ‘I could never hate you,’ he said, reaching out to brush a stray piece of hair from my face. The touch sent electric shocks through my body. The alcohol seemed to be magnifying every single emotion running through my mind, making me one horny teenager.
I took a step closer as he spoke, his breath smelling strongly of fire-whisky. He was drunk too. Maybe he wouldn’t remember. That would be nice.
I took another step forward. And he didn’t step back.
He looked at me a little strangely, before putting a hand around my waist and drawing me closer. His eyes had something new in them, not the hazy drunkenness which was there before. They were soft and a little anxious.
‘Are you feeling alright? You’re not talking. And you always talk,’ he said, bringing his lips to my ear so I could hear him over the new, even louder song which began playing.
His movement sent a shiver down my body, and I just couldn’t take it anymore. The lights from the disco ball highlighted his irises, illuminating those tiny gold flecks which I love so much.
‘Just remember, this was a dare, sort of,’ I said, before closing the distance between us and pressing my lips to his.
BOOM. POW. CRASH. BANG.
*sounds of hypothetical fireworks which existed only in my alcohol-addled brain*
Wow. Just wow. If you couldn’t tell from my cliché imaginary fireworks, kissing James was…amazing.
He seemed a little surprised at first, but then he kissed me back with a strange ferocity which made me even hungrier for him. He brought his other arm around my waist and I twisted mine around his neck, pulling him closer. His hair was soft. Like really soft, especially when I knotted my hands in it, running my fingers across his scalp.
Merlin, what shampoo does this boy use?
My ears were booming. My head was spinning. All I wanted was James, and I wanted this moment to last forever.
But it didn’t. Because only seconds of this hectic bliss, James was yanked roughly from my grip, by someone who looked very much like him.
Being slightly too drunk to comprehend what was happening, I stammered back, quickly catching myself from falling on my arse.
My eyes widened as I looked at our attacker, and he glared at me with such ferocity I didn’t have the balls to open my mouth. Before I knew what was happening, Al curled his fist and punched James squarely in the jaw, before looking at the pair of us, absolutely livid.
Oh. My. Pie.
What have I done?
ooooooooohhhh. QUICK UPDATE, RIGHT? SOMEONE SEND ME A MEDAL.
is it in the mail? excellent.
hope you enjoy this chapter, twas a present for my shitto last chappie. soo, waddufink? the dress? the kiss? THE KISS?
please review :) penguin offer still stands. all reviewers recieve penguins. CHECK OUT THIS SEXY BEAST; <(")
HARRY POTTER IS NOT MINE *SNIFFLES*. The drinking game True English
was a take off True American
from New Girl, created by Elizabeth Meriwether. Abecrombie and Finch isn't mine either, (tried to find the owners, but its like a public company, so there's loads of shareholders.)