Chapter One of Time To Dance
A Fred Weasley FanficHappiness Is A Warm Gun Trilogy: Fred/Jolene
FOR NASEEM
WRITTEN BY EMMY AKA DRUIDIAN.ERA.OF.GOTHS.
Get it right, wenches.
Disclaimer: Hikari Daeron/Druidian.Era.Of.Goths do not own anything Harry Potter, whether it be plots, characters, settings, et cetera. They also doesn't own the song Time To Dance – Panic! At The Disco do. Druidian.Era.Of.Goths also doesn't own Jacklyn Jones, and Fionavar Telrúnya (which was co-created by with Caitlin); Hikari Daeron does. Hikari, on the other hand, doesn't own Jolene Nicholson – Druidian.Era.Of.Goths does. All are used with permission. They also own anything else original, and the plot unrelated to Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.
This note below is written by Hikari Daeron:
Note: This is one part of the three-part series called Happiness Is A Warm Gun. The three stories take place at the same time (Harry's fourth year), and thus can be read in any order – simultaneously is suggested, as they will be updated at the same time.
Each one is about a girl who comes to Hogwarts (whether as a student or guest) who has a complicated background. All three fall in love with three different boys in the school. It goes through the year, showing the girl and her chosen, with complications, of course. They all end up becoming friends (with a few exceptions) and each story ends differently, whether happily or not. Two of the stories are written by me; the third by a friend of mine (AKA THIS FIC) (posted on Quizilla). All three, however, shall appear here on my site – however, I will write a one-shot for whoever goes on my friend's Quizilla site and rates the one that she wrote (the fic shall include you and your favorite character in whatever; more details after this chapter).
The three parts to Happiness Is A Warm Gun are called This Nightmare (George Weasley, written by me), I Just Want You To Know Who I Am (Draco Malfoy, written by me) and, my favorite, aka the best one, Time To Dance (Fred Weasley, written by Druidian.Era.Of.Goths – as she calls herself on Quizilla).
Jolene Nicholson started unpacking her emotions with as much enthusiasm as a person getting her wisdom teeth pulled. She never really did have much zeal for the idea of dealing with her stepmother and the one bloke her therapist insisted she should start calling 'father'.
"You can't call someone that doesn't give a damn about you father… -Not even dad or pap-sicle…" Jolene mused starting to recall last Wednesday's session. She never did think of a previous sessions' goings on until the week she had to go back and deal with her 'issues'.
"Well what do you intend on calling him, Jo?" asked Dr. Nietzsche (pronounced knee-chi). The slender, blond middle aged woman fumbled with her cheap dollar store spectacles before putting them back on her face.
Jolene simply smiled fickly and rolled her eyes. As tiring and aimless as it was, she enjoyed humoring Nietzsche. The best part of her jest was her father continuously paid for these nonsensical sessions ever since her mother passed away (class four breast cancer, they kinda saw it comin'...). Her father married Victoria Whitaker a few months after that. Jolene had changed a lot from being the bubbly lass she was before.
"Only my friends call me Jo, Doc… and we both know I haven't any so, quit the bloody theatrics." She tilted her head animatedly at that; as if irking Dr. Nietzsche to say something vile in return.
"We've known each other for five years-" started Dr. Nietzsche calmly, but Jolene fiercely cut her off.
"Yes Nietzsche, as of today it has been five wonderful years together. Time does certainly fly, doesn't it? Too bad we don't have anything to show for this momentous occasion other than a rabid bill in celebration of our fabulous visits together," she snapped with a smirk, she continued on standing and getting uncomfortably close to Nietzsche. "It feels like it was just yesterday I was a wee lass unperturbed by menstrual cycles and pornography to come here and talk out 'the cobweb intricacy of my human emotions' (complete with quote-y fingers) and all that other rubbish we both know you don't give a bloody thing about. That's bullocks and we both know it! I'm nowhere close to where an emotionally stable teen is supposed to be without taking up your grand plan of drug induction! FIVE YEARS! WHOOPDY-FRICKIN DOO!"
JOLENE'S POV
Nietzsche got that bloody look in her eyes like I was the funniest little shit ever to be in her presence. I'm sure with the drugs she was thinking about crushing into my food and slipping down my throat as I sleep that I would stop coming around here and be a normal clique following, hair tossing, gossip telling wench. Lovely…
I actually don't have any friends. That's one of the few things that I ever told to that damned doctor that wasn't a lie.
As soon as Mum passed when I was ten and I began school at Beauxbatons, my best friends Paula, Natasha, and Amelie left me forever. It's a bitch to be young and alone, but it does have its random perks. Like on trips to Milan and Canada, I can spend whatever cash amount my "parents" -estranged fits of coughing- give to me to spend completely on myself and not have to have the burden of thinking 'Humph. I wonder if they want this or that'. No need to hang in tacky gift shops and buy those lame muggle souvenirs like snow globes from steamy islands, or take advantage of postcard sales… It's so stupid even if I wanted someone to engrain it in their cranial orbit that I had 'fun' on my holidays…
Back to the Beauxbatons crisis. Now I'm home schooled. It does mean I spend a few extra hours barricaded in a room with my demon parents forced to learn otherwise they withhold food and Tivo, but I do get in return what I have been looking forward to the longest time, tickets to the Final of the Quidditch World Cup (sometimes they dangle my ticket over a cliff, far worse than not getting fed!). They also would 'Wingardium Leviosa' it over the fire to get me to learn about the Hundred Wizards' War of the age of Merlin and Salem Witch Trials in America too! Sick isn't it? I wouldn't fit in with those delicate, frighteningly fragile girls that priss around from class to class acting like their shit don't stink.
I'm tall and little lanky except for the fact that my rowing body has brought me the fruits of firm abs, arms and legs. Basically I hoist this large boat sit down with a big arse paddle and row in unison with some old lady screaming and whacking furiously at a drum to keep us synchronized.
I have spiffy green streaks carefully placed in my hair done with the latest in wizarding hair technology. It works so I have these green streaks and my natural hair colour which is jet black. But when the sun hits it, it does this spiffy ass thing that instead of my dark as shit black hair looking blacker it actually makes all my hair look green! The green streaks of course are a little lime green against the jungle green my black hair becomes. But only outside. Only in the sunlight. Aren't I sexy? You want to kiss me, you want to love me! does the -macarena in head-.
"Are you even listening to me Jolene?" Dayum, wench! Even when she's bloody angry she has to act all rational and resolute. After these five years it's really starting to put Unforgivable Curses and my wand control on breaking point. Damn her.
"I think the question is: are you listening to me? Were you ever listening wench?" I raised a single eyebrow in mockery and contempt.
This time the devil woman smirked irksomely… Ick factor number 1000…
I couldn't really tell if she was angry at me or just constipated after having chugged down five mugs of ruddy coffee while therapizing me. I pulled out my wand and started to scratch my head with it. I loved doing it just to tick her off. She told me one day I'd accidentally blast myself into oblivion… but I'm sure she'd enjoy that immensely… then maybe she could spend the rest of her days recovering in St. Mungo's trying to calm her bloody nerves after being in sessions with me… Maybe then someone would be able to change her undergarments after she first wets her combinations…
Ruddy pumpkin head….
"I've been talking with your father Jolene," said Dr. Nietzsche.
"Humph. I'm sure you two had a wonderfully deep conversation followed by nonstop shagging under your desk."
Of course she ignored my surly spat. "He and your stepmother have thought it be best that we discontinue our sessions and your living in residential housing."
"Oh?" I was intrigued now. Our first interesting meeting since I decided to ask about the anatomy of the male reproductive system… it went something like this:
"Okay, so this is the scrotum," said Nietzsche, completely on edge but trying to hide it.
"The what?" I said stupidly… I wanted to see her squirm since she makes it so amusing to view anyway.
"The scrotum Miss Nicholson."
"Huh? I don't think I quite understand." -inside my brain goes into estranged fits of laughter equal to that of someone on marijuana-
"Oh, for God's sake! It's the BALL SACK!"
"OH… what does it do?"
"Sweet Jesus…" She later went to go slip some gin into her coffee…
That was fun… he he…
"We think that we should discontinue your home schooling. Even though you are up to curriculum, I think, um, we think it would be prudent for you to be in a more- how did your father say it? Oh! 'Socially stimulating learning environment'."
That sure as shit sounds like my father. "Well doctor, I tried that before. And I failed miserably," I said as I walked over to her desk and played with her rubix cube.
"You have to admit that wasn't one of your father's best ideas after your mother passed away," she said delicately.
"Yes. Among other things…"
"That's why you're going to Hogwarts."
DR. NIETZSCHE'S POV
I saw her eyes widen at that and drop my rubix cube.
That spoiled little wench is finally gonna get her ends. She keeps acting like this is some bloody game and she can just keep starting over if she loses.
"Since when did you too concoct this master plan? Huh? Since day one?" She replied coolly, peering around for unknown content in her purse.
"You're a smart ass enough to know your father loves you. And even if he doesn't care about you, rest assured this of all his ideas has been carefully considered. Today's our last day. Screw the courtesies and suck ups.
"Woo… Hostile aren't we?" Jolene uttered as she gazed up at me in semi-amazement. But then again she kept some of that same expression ever since I broke the school change news to her.
"Sod off. You know, I did suggest you becoming a Durmstrang, but your parents were worried about you being the only lass there and possibly getting date-raped on your week. Frankly, I don't give a damn."
"Oh. Emo tear," Jolene said in mock discontent, making the gesture of a single tear scaling down her jewel-like eyes that resemble carefully formed orbs of topaz, sapphire, and amber. "But you know. I think I can handle this whole arrangement. It might give me a chance to fraternize with more prospective young people like myself. I could turn my life around and stick to long term goals."
"Really?"
"Hell no!" Jolene slipped her Dooney and Bourke purse under her arm and bolted out the door not without sending a raining charm on my entire office, probably ruining my paperwork I had to reprint and file. She slammed the door via charm.
Only a Nicholson and a Malfoy can get away with undereaged wizardry, I fumed to myself.
She's gone. Finally gone. I trudged over, already soggy in my new Bill Blass suit, and clicked into the speaker system.
"Myrna! Send the next patient in. And get a few towels…"
JOLENE'S POV
The bloody wench!
Ugh…
How could they? Who the hell do they think they are!
Your parents…
Well other than that! Jeebaz!
You never know they might be onto something…
You're not helping douche!
Why must I fight with myself?
I was walking down the subway platform and realized the train schedule wasn't due for a few hours due to the Muggle terrorism scare. Damn. They hear a rumor then they just have to shut everything down… Then again. That's better than what the senile minister Fudge did… Now that's a right foul coward.
I went to Porto-Potty and Apparated (as not to frighten the Muggles) to my apartment where I saw my roomies Kayla and David.
"We heard kiddo," said David. I could see in his eyes he was sorry, but that didn't account for the other look he had; the one full of glee that said he'd call my room with the bigger window as soon as I depart.
"How?"
"Nietzsche said she needs you to fill out some crap or something."
"Growl," I said in a deep tone.
"What are you going to do?" asked Kayla.
"I don't know. I mean, I could run, but they planted a tracer in the back of my lower jaw so it'd be pointless."
"There's always a cloaking spell."
"Thanks Dee, but it seems like so much trouble. I'm tired of fighting with people I know jus' suck."
"Then just go."
David and I stared at Kayla.
"Are you high or just incredibly stupid?"
"Well, they'd be paying for it, you'd be away from your bloody parents, plus, I hear them country English blokes get hotter every year! And they have parties that are actually good. Not that rubbish they mix up at your Nicholson Manor every year with only the three of us there! You could even start your own dance school like you always wanted. The other Nicholsons wouldn't be able to stop you cause you'd be away and a legal witch of 17."
"Is it that simple though?"
"Why not?"
God, I hate it when she's right.
Continuation of special fic notice:
Whoever goes onto and rates the story (quiz) Time To Dance REGULARLY will receive, in reward, a special fic from me.
This fic will be in any genre you desire, and can be written about anything (that I know of) with any characters (again, make sure I know them).
However, there will be a few specifications I will need:
WHAT THE FIC WILL BE BASED OFF OF (ex. HP, YGO, Song of the Lioness, Inuyasha, Eragon, et cetera)
WHO THE MAIN CHARACTERS WILL BE (ex. You, Sirius Black, Joey Wheeler, Alanna, Kagome, Brom, et cetera – try not to have too many or it will be too difficult to write; remember this is a ONE-SHOT)
WHEN IT TAKES PLACE (i.e. if it's HP, then Harry's fifth year; if it's YGO, before the Ancient Egypt arc; if it's Rent, then before New Years, et cetera)
HOW YOU WANT IT TO END (i.e. happy ending, tragedy, something general like that)
WHAT GENERAL GENRE YOU WANT IT IN (i.e. make it funny, make it sad, make it angsty/emo-ish)
EXAMPLE:
I've been regularly going to Druidian.Era.Of.Goths' site and rating Time To Dance. I was wondering if you could write me a story using Rent. I'd like it to show the story of Roger and April before she died. Thanks.
Now, let's break it down to show what I was saying:
BASED OFF: Rent
MAIN CHARACTERS: Roger/April
WHEN: Before April's death
ENDING: Sad, obviously – 'tis a tragedy!
GENRE: Drama
If some of the stuff is obvious (i.e. ending/genre), then don't worry about it.
Don't keep it restricted to this – put as much info as you like!
Hope that perks your interests!