Chapter 17: Of Nutters and the Bro Code
‘Why do they have to travel in packs?’ wondered Elle aloud, her gaze intent on a group of Beauxbatons guys, hanging in the corridor.
I shrugged, ‘Boys are weird. No other explanation.’
The whole school was in a tense, hormone-induced state, as it was mid-December and the Yule Ball was approaching. Personally, I didn’t see the big deal about the Yule Ball. Just an excuse for teenagers to sneak alcohol onto the premises and hook up outside.
Plus, I didn’t like this whole date thing. There was no one I really wanted to date, because if I brought someone as my date, it would be a big deal. I’ve composed a list of things that would happen if I brought a date to the Yule Ball. Would you like to see it?
Of course you don’t.
Well I shall show you anyway!
List of Things which WILL happen if I bring a date to the Yule Ball.
1) Dom will squeal excitedly and plan a double wedding with my date and whatever poor sap she chose among her gaggle of adoring fans.
2) Elle will constantly shoot me suggestive eyebrow movements all night.
3) Al and Jordin will threaten the poor boy who I’ve roped into dating me. They will then do a poor impression of an overprotective father, and say something like, ‘If she’s not back by ten, there will be trouble.’
4) Freddie will probably try to initiate him into ‘our group’ by pouring faerie blood into his drink and watching him suffer.
(I should really get a counsellor for that boy)
5) Connor will constantly mouth ‘get some’ all night. And then probably pretend to grind a pole afterwards.
Sounds fun, doesn’t it?
But honestly, my hormones aren’t tingling. They’re in paralysis, I suppose. Lying dormant until someone comes along.
On a completely offhand and non-relatable topic, I wonder who James is taking.
Not that I care.
Elle heaved a long, drawn-out sigh, ‘Why won’t Freddie just grow some balls and ask me?’
It was true; it was obvious that Freddie had it bad for my best friend. He was even secluding himself from the Gryffindor Gaggle (which consisted of himself, James, Dom and Connor). More and more often he was popping up at the ‘Claw table, interrupting our general bookishness and nerdy debates (Bathilda Bagshot was not crazy, she wrote Hogwarts: A History!
I never said she wasn’t smart, just that she was ape-shit bonkers.)
Don’t mess with us Ravenclaws, we might actually debate you to death.
She narrowed her eyes and looked in my direction. ‘Who are you taking, Halle?’
I chuckled, my voice an octave higher than necessary, ‘I am an independent woman! I don’t need a man on my arm to have a good time at the ball! Feminism, Elle. Learn it, live it, love it.’
She scoffed, ‘A coward’s response.’
In retaliation, my tummy growled as I seated myself on the bench of the Ravenclaw table. Hungrily, I stabbed my fork into a fat, juicy sausage, resisting the urge to drool.
Jordin looked at my expression somewhat disgustingly, ‘You remind me of a dude,’ he stated simply.
I shrugged my shoulders, ‘Gonna initiate me into the Bro Code?’
‘The Bro Code,’ he began seriously, and I had to resist the urge to roll my eyes as he began his “manly men” speech. ‘Is a secret society in which only the manliest men can enter. There are limited initiates, and you Halle, have too much oestrogen to be one of them,’ he stated.
Elle rolled her eyes, ‘Is the Bro Code some sort of lame ass club you made when you were drunk?’
Jordin cheeks coloured slightly, ‘What? No. Yes. ALRIGHT FINE, YES. It has me, Connor, Freddie, James and Albus,’ he said, ticking the names off on his fingers.
‘And what exactly do you do at the Bro Code?’ I asked, somewhat curious.
He drew his forefinger and thumb across his lips, symbolizing that they were sealed. ‘Sorry, can’t tell you, you’re a female.’
Elle flicked some toast at him.
‘Sexist bastard,’ she muttered.
‘Balls of steel, Jordin my man,’ Freddie congratulated, seating himself next to me. ‘Even when interrogated by the enemy, you didn’t give away our manly secrets,’ he said, fist bumping Jordin.
I rolled my eyes. ‘You’re secrets aren’t worthy of females like us,’ I said, fist bumping Elle.
It was a sort of fist-bumping convention.
‘Uh, our secrets are awesome, thank you very much. Better than yours anyway,’ Jordin argued, fist-bumping Fred again.
Elle and I gasped in unison.
Them bitches did not just diss our secrets.
‘Oh no you didn’t.’ Elle said, heavily breaking up the word ‘didn’t’ so it sounded like ‘di-ent’.
Fred pursed his lips, ‘Oh yes we did.’
This meant war.
A fist bump war, that is.
What is a fist bump war, you say?
Honestly, I have next to no idea. We just kept on trying to outdo each other in levels of awesomeness when performing our fist-bumps.
Yeah, we’re a bunch of losers.
Eventually, it resulted in Elle lunging across the table to prevent the boys from finishing a pretty epic fist bump (which included a Native American tribal dance of some sort).
‘Get them Elle!’ I screeched, ignoring the bits of bacon flying everywhere under her attack.
‘I’m trying, you shall not fist bump!’ she yelled, hopping across the table (quite awesomely if I do say so myself) and vaulting herself into Freddie’s lap, successfully ending the fist bump.
‘We are victorious!’ Elle cheered, fist-bumping me, and thus ending the competition.
Then Jordin smirked. And then I smirked. And then Freddie smirked. Don’t worry, we’re not going to have a smirking war (that would just be ridiculous) but there was reason behind our smirks.
Elle was sitting in Freddie’s lap.
And his hands were around her waist.
And hers were resting on his forearms.
His very muscly forearms.
Poor dear Elle hasn’t seemed to realise yet, still revelling in the glory of our victory, but it was going to hit her.
‘Eep!’ she squeaked, ‘Sorry! I didn’t realise I was, uh, practically straddling you. Wait! No, that’s sexual. I’m just- um. Nothing. Just ignore me. Heh,’ she began mumbling pathetically.
Jordin and I shared a smirk. Elle looked at me helplessly, but I relaxed in my seat, watching this little romance unfurling before me with glee.
Elle made to climb out of Freddie’s lap, but he grabbed onto her waist, stopping her. This earned a surprised, (but pleased) squeak from Elle, as she turned around to look at him. ‘Something wrong, Freddie?’
He smirked at her reddening cheeks, ‘Are you nervous, Elle?’
She hiccoughed. ‘Nervous? Why would I be nervous? I mean, I don’t usually get nervous. Well I did last year, because we had O.W.L’s, but everyone gets nervous theee-mph!’
Her awkwardly adorable rambling was cut off as Freddie pressed his lips on hers, drawing her closer.
And that’s when all hell broke loose.
Jordin whooped in delight. I jumped up from my seat and started dancing. Yeah bitch, dancing. Macarena-style.
Dom and a couple others cheered. I looked over to see her excitedly chatting with Rose and Roxanne, happily pointing to the new couple.
I was still dancing.
Connor and James yelled, ‘YEAH BRO, GET SOME!’ from across the hall.
I was still dancing.
Don’t even get me started on the fan girls. Most just jumped up, sobbing, and screamed something like ‘BUT HE WAS MINE! FREDDIE WAS MINE!’
The best was when a girl threw her books across the hall, aiming for Freddie and Elle but got the Slytherin table instead, wailed a little (she sounded like a dying monkey of some sort) before yelling out, ‘HE WAS SUPPOSED TO MARRY ME!’
She was in second year.
I laughed, while continuing to dance, while Elle and Freddie didn’t even bother to break apart.
Deciding to do what was best for Elle, I stopped dancing (I’m not sure why, I was dancing for so long I probably broke some sort of world record) and dragged Jordin up so we could give the new couple some privacy. True, that was kind of difficult since we were in the Great Hall, but students began filing out of the room to get to class.
Jordin was smiling proudly, ‘Our little girl’s growing up!’ he said, his voice cracking slightly.
I turned to look at him, ‘Jordin. Are you crying?’
He dropped his mouth in indignation, but not before I saw him wipe a microscopic tear from the corner of his eye, ‘Absolutely not! Manly men do not cry.’
I began laughing, grabbing his elbow and turning to leave the Hall, but not before I heard Freddie murmur, ‘Still nervous, Elle?’
‘Not a chance,’ she replied, before kissing her man again.
Oh. Teenaged clichéd romances. Aren’t they the best?
I take it back. Clichéd teenage romances are the worst.
‘They’re always holding hands and being all cutsey. It’s sickening,’ I ranted to James, on but the third day of the making of Elleddie. Alright, in all truth they weren’t so bad. In fact, the only time I’ve ever seen them sucking face was that first time in the Great Hall. Ever since then the pair of them have acted like they were on fucking Cloud Nine. This, of course, did nothing to help my whole date situation with the Yule Ball, as I was still dateless and it was fast approaching.
If I continued this way, I would become a crazy cat lady. Screw Potions, lets join the How to be a Crazy Cat Lady 101 class. I bet you it’s actually really hard work. You always have to be mean to children and you have to avoid getting rabies from your many cats.
It’s quite a feat, if I do say so myself.
James rolled his eyes, adding some powdered unicorn horn to our Antidote Potion.
‘They’re not that bad,’ he reasoned, stirring the potion clockwise.
‘Hey!’ I protested, grabbing onto his hand as he was about to stir it for the third time, ‘You’re only meant to stir it two times, dim-witted Gryffindor.’
I liked calling him that. It’s the most fitting title he has ever been deemed with.
‘Out of all the people I speak to on a day to day basis,’ he began, ‘You’re the one I want to strangle the most.’
I snorted, ‘Don’t you know how to make a girl blush?’
Professor Chang huffed. ‘Would you two stop flirting so loudly?! My head is aching,’ she complained, dropping her head into her hands and massaging her temples.
Pah. Well excuse me, lady, but we never told you to get smashed last night and come to class with a hangover. And we were not flirting.
At least, I don’t think we were. That sort of thing isn’t very explicit when handling with James.
He sent her an apologetic grin, ‘Crazy party last night?’
I scoffed; trust a Gryffindor to strike up a conversation with a grouchy Potions Master.
Professor Chang looked disgruntled as she brought her head up, opening her mouth to protest. On second thought, she shook her head glumly and dropped her head back into her hands, ‘Replace crazy party with a terrible stomach ache. I’m planning on getting my First Years to make me a Hangover Potion, it actually works great on stomach aches.’
I smiled; I liked it when teachers took advantage of their students. Especially first years, they’re so easy to trick.
‘Why didn’t you just get us to make it?’ I asked, my curiosity getting the best of me.
She scoffed, ‘Knowing you, you’d probably just bottle it up and use it yourselves,’ she noted, grimly. ‘That’s the reason I never teach the Hangover Potion to fifth years and above, it seems to only give them even more incentive to party,’ she explained.
‘But if you teach it to the first years, then by the time they’re in fifth year, they’ll have the Hangover Potion down pat, and they’ll party even harder. So, you would’ve created some sort of mutant, hybrid race of teenagers who party all weekend long,’ I pointed out. And then it hit me, this woman was committing a crime! We couldn’t let her get away with this!
There’s only one course of action.
‘THOSE POOR LITTLE FIRST YEARS ARE GOING TO FAIL THEIR O.W.L’S BECAUSE OF YOU!’
Professor Chang’s eyes opened wide, and James just scoffed.
‘Halle?’ he asked.
Surrounding Potter-fangirls erupted into laughter and I rolled my eyes, watching all of them warily.
‘Oh no, let’s just let the crazy Potions master poison the brains of the first years. That’s cool. I’m so cool with that.’
Chang narrowed her eyes at me, ‘I don’t appreciate being called a crazy Potions master, Miss Thomas. 5 points from Ravenclaw.’
I scowled while James collapsed in silent laughter next to me, ‘Crazy is a relative term. Could’ve been complimenting her for all she knew,’ I muttered under my breath.
‘Heard that,’ Professor Chang sang in response, before burying her head back into her arms as the class continued with their potions.
James chuckled and I felt him outstretch his arm behind me to reach the mistletoe berries, lightly brushing the small of my back. The microscopic gesture sent a shiver down my spine, which he seemed to notice, as he smirked slightly.
‘So,’ he said, crushing the berries under the blade of his knife, ‘Taking anyone special to the Yule Ball?’
Shit. How do I reply with ‘Absolutely no one at all,’ and still sound cool? Is it even possible?
I don’t think it is. I’m going to have to bullshit my way through this situation.
I can do it right? I just have to think of the ducks. The ducks will give me the strength I need.
Ducks are fluffy.
Fluffy backwards is yffulf.
Heh. Yffulf, that’s a funny word.
‘Halle,’ James sang, snapping his fingers in front of my face, ‘You spaced out again.’
Stupid boy, he probably doesn’t know what fluffy backwards is.
I smiled sheepishly. ‘You’re obviously too boring to pay attention to.’
He smirked, and it wasn’t a particularly attractive smirk either. It was more a victorious smirk, one that made me feel like I’d lost some sort of battle.
‘I see you’re awkwardly dodging my question. What’s the matter Thomas, going solo to the Ball? Let me guess, you’re going with a bunch of fat friends and you’re going to make the night all about girl power,’ he taunted, sarcasm dripping from every vowel.
I scowled; this boy had the most violent mood swings a person can have. One day he’s nice. The next he’s all, condescending and shit. I just wanted to slap the smirk off his unfairly attractive face.
So that’s exactly what I did.
Figuratively speaking, of course.
I returned his smirk with my own, and replied. ‘Actually I have a date.’
WHAT? SHIT. OH SHIT. THIS IS SO ONE OF THOSE THINGS WHICH ARE GOING TO BITE ME IN THE ASS SOMETIME IN THE FUTURE.
He raised a surprised eyebrow, ‘Really? Who?’
Oh, I forgot about that. I tried the snobbish approach, ‘Really, Potter I don’t see how it’s any of your business. Besides, who’s your date?’
It was a naïve hope to think he’d be going dateless. Knowing the female population of Hogwarts, he’s probably already been bombarded with dates left and right.
He chucked slightly, ‘She’s French.’
I felt my insides deflate a little, ‘And she’s red-headed. Let me guess, Adriane Vecord?’
He smirked, ‘Do you know she’s part Veela?’
Fuck, I knew it.
‘Really? That sounds lovely. Just great. Despite how interesting your love life is, the bell is going to go soon, so if you don’t mind,’ I said, gesturing for him to pour the berries into the cauldron.
With a flick of my wand the Potion was completed, no doubt most likely the most successful in the class. Despite all my jabs at his intelligence, Potter was one of the smartest people in the year, so we made quite the Potions duo.
‘So I’ve told you my date, now you tell me yours,’ he challenged. Well it wasn’t going to work on me, stupid Gryffindor. I don’t have pride. So I’m going to avoid the question like it’s the plague and thrum my fingers on the table in an attempt to fill the awkward silence which was inevitably going to arrive.
‘None of your business,’ I sang, quickening my fingers.
He smirked again, ‘I bet you’ve made up this date,’ he said, putting finger quotation marks around the word.
I scowled again, ‘I haven’t, for your information. Now sod off.’
‘Is he in Ravenclaw?’
‘Slytherin? Don’t tell me you’re taking Al?’
‘Gross. And no.’
‘A Hufflepuff. It has to be. You wouldn’t betray the school, would you?’ he asked, with mock concern.
I snorted, ‘You betrayed the school, taking an enemy champion as well.’
He shrugged, ‘She’s hot. Now, what house is your date from?’
Well, I might as well make this imaginary guy dream-worthy, ‘I told you, none of them. He’s French.’
Aha! I smiled victoriously as the smirk danced right off his face, replaced by a frown, ‘You’re going with a Beauxbatons bloke?’
Eh, why not? ‘Damn straight, I am,’ I replied.
He opened his mouth in shock, ‘How dare you fraternize with the enemy? Go and cancel your filthy date and find some nice Hogwarts bloke instead!’ he ordered.
Sheesh, what was his problem? But this was an interesting response. True, my date is imaginary, but hey, let me have my fun. I’ll let future Halle deal with this shit. I’m not letting James Potter beat me again.
‘Hypocrite, much? Besides, I wouldn’t have the heart to cancel my date. He practically begged me after all; I wouldn’t want to let the bloke down after he sent me a dozen roses!’ I lied.
Hmm, this is not good at all. This is so going to bite me in the ass, hard.
But hey! I never get to have any fun. Why can’t I just win against James Potter once and then I’ll think of a solution for this problem. Elle will help.
Whatever emotion that was once playing on James’s face was gone, replaced with stoic indifference. ‘A dozen roses, eh? Having yourself your very own fairy tale aren’t you, Halle?’
I leaned across the table to reply, stopping only when our faces were inches apart. I could see the soft sprinkling of freckles spread out across his nose, so pale I didn’t even notice they were there. ‘Jealous?’ I smirked.
Before he could reply I was already out of my seat, making my way to the door as the sound of the bell rang throughout the classroom. I spared him a casual look and was extremely satisfied to see he looked thoroughly disgruntled, still sitting in his seat, apparently shell shocked.
I did a little happy dance once I was out of the classroom. I WON AGAINST JAMES FUCKING POTTER, BITCH. STEP BACK, I AM ON A ROOOOLL.
And then the situation crashed down on me. I just made up a completely fictional, French date to the Yule Ball which was in less than two weeks.
Cue mental breakdown in 3…
WASSSUP GUYS!? so ive taken procrastination to a whole new level, but the mabo decision is boring my brains out so i decided to upload a new chappie!
ooh. so what do you think? halle's gone and been an idiot in an attempt to impress the male race. WHAT CAN YOU DO? anyway i recently purchased a llama, and he is sad, but if you leave a review and wish upon a butterfly he will be happy! so review...
COZ YOU DONT WANT MY LLAMA TO BE SAD DO YOU? WHAT KIND OF PERSON ARE YOU? YOU ARE A LLAMA-HAPPY-MAKING-PERSON.
muhaha. thanks for reading lovely reviewers. tata!
Nothing u recognize in this chappie belongs to be, including the wonderful imagination of JK rowling. i wonder if i gave her my llama she'd reconsider...