The fabulous J. K. Rowling owns it all- except for the little cliche plot and the original characters.
As I wiped the sticky goop out of my eyes, only one thought crossed my mind; I hate James Potter, Dominique Weasley, and the entire bloody mess of their clan.
I imagined him being torn limb from limb by the giant squid. Die, Potter, Die.
That made me feel better.
I inhaled deeply, and rung some of the goo out of my hair. Ewwww. I'd be washing it out for weeks.
'Okay. Deep breaths, calm down. Unidentified goop in your hair isn't the worst thing that can happen. It's just pretty bad. Honestly, at least it's not acidic-'
"Ohmygawd- her hair is smoking!" Shouted Clarine Flint, clapping her hands over her mouth in shock.
Well, that was a crude was of putting it, but yes, it had looked pretty good today- oh. Shit- she actually meant-
I shrieked, jumping and trying to get the smoking goop off of my body. It was starting to burn my skin, and the scent of scorched hair curled in my nostrils. I sobbed, hand now burning too, and resolved to hold perfectly still, so as not to get it anywhere else on me. It was slowly started to burn more. "Someone aguamenti me! Get it off! It's burning!"
"Shit." Muttered James Potter, I suppose because it was all his fault. "Sorry, Nellie," My name, coincidentally, is not Nellie. It's Nessie. "Okay- stand back- Aguamenti." I was doused in water. My skin burned even more, and it felt like the goop only thickened, constricting and clinging tighter to my body.
I reached up, and tried to swipe it off of my face. I got a bit off, but it didn't help much. I couldn't help sobbing a little harder, my throat tightening painfully. "Merlin's balls- don't use water again! Try scourgify!" I screamed, in agonized pain.
Dominique Weasley piped up, "Well you said to use aguamenti you! Here- Scourg-"
"Dom! No! You want to skin her alive?" James Potter cut in. I squeezed my eyes shut, so the goop wouldn't get in them. I heard him say something else, and felt hands pulling off my outer robes. "Blimey- these are no good anymore- burned clean through. Alright then, Nellie, I'll take you to the Hospital Wing. Tell Professor Felixir when he comes back." He pushed me on, hands on my shoulders. He was wearing his dragon-hide gloves.
I snapped at him, voice still trembling in pain; "My name is Nessie, you sod." And let him lead me out.
Devil'sSnare,JamesPotter,AndOtherThingsThatMightKillMe,Devil'sSnare,JamesPotter,AndOtherThingsThatMightKillMe,Devil'sSnare,JamesPotter,AndOtherThingThatMightKillMe
Okay. So, let me explain to you how that whole scene actually came to be.
My name is Nessie Nott. Yeah- like 'The Loch Ness Monster'. Very creative. I've heard it a thousand times before. It loses its hilarity after about the- wait, no. It never had any hilarity. It's stupid. I'm giving the wrong impression- I don't hate my name. I love my name; I think it's a good name. Cute and it fits me. I can't imagine having any other name. I'm just a Nessie.
That morning I woke up, like any other. I rolled out of bed with an unhappy groan, and fell with a thump to the floor, groaning even more and thrashing around a bit in anger. I was not a morning person- if I could, I'd stay in bed all day, every day. And come out at night. That was an idea- Hogwarts should have night classes. They could advertise themselves as the only vampire-friendly school in Europe.
I'd like that- I like vampires- think they're amazingly fascinating. I plan on studying them once I graduate.
You've got to admit- there's something alluring about the undead. The nocturnal thing, the feeding on the blood of mortals. Teeth. All that stuff? It's just interesting.
Anyway, back to the progress of my morning. I was on the floor, writhing and moaning, and then my darling friend Clarine Flint kicked me in the ribs and told me to 'stop complaining and get myself ready from breakfast'. She's a real gem, that Clarine. Really. I have no idea why I never made friends with her. It must have been because she had a really nasty piece of spinach stuck in her teeth when I first met her at the Start-of-Term Feast. What the hell kind of eleven year old eats spinach? Sicko.
Right, so after being lovingly (That's sarcasm, guys. You got to keep up with me here if you ever want to get to the part where Senor Dick-Head sets my hair aflame) kicked in the ribs by the Ever-Charming Flint, I decided to get out of kicking-rage in case she felt like coming back around for seconds. Seriously. It was a hard kick. My ribs were aching for ages after that. (And stupid Professor Longbottom wouldn't give her a pass to go to the Hospital Wing- but… well, we'll get to that when we get to it.) I hobbled pathetically, like a hobo on the verge of death crawls towards his last bottle of whiskey, to my trunk and managed to find a clean set of robes, and hobbled my way right on down to the Great Hall.
So you know how I said I'm not a morning person? Well, I'm not. But I am a food person. I love me some munchies. And even though I wake up later than all the other girls in the seventh year Slytherin dormitory, I'm down in the Great Hall shoveling chocolate chip waffles and bacon down my throat before any of them. (By the blessed tail of Merlin's revered beaver, I love chocolate chip waffles and bacon. And yeah. You just read that. It's not widely known that Merlin had a Beaver, but look it up. I read it in the Quibbler.) I guess it's probably because I don't have to spend hours building my own self esteem up high enough to stop looking at myself in the mirror and let a member of the male persuasion view my glorious ninety-nine-point-nine-five-two percent fake face. Seriously, girls today spend more time looking in mirrors and learning facial-transfiguration spell than they do breathing. Or something equally important- eating.
Luckily I was saved from that fate by having alarmingly high self esteem. Say it with me now people- sar-cas-m. Sarcasm. I haven't lost you yet, have I? Good. Really though- I just don't see the point. I mean, sure, boys are hot and all, but they're sort of dicks (By definition?) and it's not like they seriously care that much about how we look- as long as we're not really ugly or really pretty. I've met some nice guys, of course… Well, I've heard of some. Most of the guys in Slytherin are sort of jackassian. Except for… Well, Scorpius Malfoy's all right (He's a jackass, but it somehow works for him), and my little brother's not one- but he doesn't count. I'd beat him if he was a dick. He knows it too. My dad probably would too… and my mum… Grandad would be so pleased, but none of us really listen to him anyway.
Back to breakfast- despite the fact that I may or may not have acquired several cracks in my ribs, I valiantly washed down my chocolate chip waffles and bacon with a cold chocolate milk, and slouched back in my seat to scan my eyes over the hall, slowly filling with the gems of humanity I'd come to know as my fellow students.
Not even five minutes after I'd poured my second glass of chocolate milk my favorite posse entered. That's not sarcasm- promise. My little brother, Alex, is a good looking kid, pale, brown haired like me, brown puppy-dog eyes- he looks a lot like my mum, actually. And he's best friends with Scorpius Malfoy, who is so hot that he makes Alex look like bloody hag. Naturally, being the best looking and most obnoxious, Scorpius is the ring leader of their little crew- which also includes… shit, well, I can't remember his first name. It doesn't really matter though, because everyone just calls him Monty- Montegue, in case you're curious. Don't think bad of me just because I can't recall his first name… I swear, I don't think I know a single person who doesn't call him Monty. Anyway, Alex is sort of the quiet clever one, while Scorpius is the loud, obnoxious, grossly inappropriate one (Alex told me that he walks around in the buff in the dorm room- which makes me both feel like a pedophile (It's ONLY one year difference!) and wish that I lived in there too.), and Monty is the easily angered somewhat traditional one that is always yelling at Score for being a dickhead. Occasionally the three of them are joined my Pleiome Yaxley, Monty's on-again-off-again girlfriend. Apparently they broke up last week though, because he forgot her favorite color or something like that. I love Pleiome, but sometimes she's a bit… ridiculous? Yeah. Ridiculous.
Anyway, I waved them over into the empty seats by me. I didn't really hang out with them that often- but I'm close with Alex, and we're in the same house, so we usually eat at least one meal a day together. I dunno- they can be funny.
And I guess I describe them all how they are… to me, you know, inside the circle. To the outsiders we just look… well, like all ancient pureblood families do. Most- if not all- of our parents were arranged marriages, and we all look sort of similar. The boys all have the same square jaws, broad shoulders, over-six-feet height, sharp cheekbones, and lips (Thin upper, plump bottom). The girls all have porcelain skin, arching brows, and distinctive faces. I mean- all the undiluted families have the odd ability to look alarmingly similar while also distinctly different. For example- Pleiome is distinguishable as a Yaxley by her height, and by her strong nose. Alex and I are Notts by our big eyes, brown hair, and awesomely arched right eyebrow. Scorpius is Malfoy… well, everything about him is Malfoy. Monty's all around square-ness shows he's Montegue. It's like we're all made from the same template, only with minor alterations.
Anyway- the point of that long winded description is that while we are… our true selves around each other, mostly we put on the cold stiff façade. You know, the one you learn when you're constantly being ferried around to expensive dinner parties, in which everyone dances stiffly, and everyone smiles but none of the smiles reach their eyes, and the conversation, while sometimes about important things, is never really important. When you're from the old pureblood families there are certain unspoken rules- like how we don't smile at meals, and even though I might have narrated like I was wolfing down those chocolate chip waffles and bacon, I was actually cutting them up daintily and chewing politely. And we all learn how to act like we should, without actually thinking or feeling that way.
I think that's why we all naturally gravitate towards each other. No one else quite understands the pressures of it. It's not even the pressure of our parents anymore- it's the pressure of our grandparents- and society as a whole. Scorpius is the only one of us who really breaks the mold. I have my moments, we all have brief moments of rebellion, but none of them can compare with some of the stuff Score pulls. He fights quite a lot- and back talks teachers. It's easier for him, I guess. His family was hurt so badly in the War that they sort of said to-hell-with-it after it was done. Sure, at the parties he behaves well, and he blends in perfect with us when he wants to, but we all know that Scorpius is… he's probably the best of us.
They all sat down beside me, Alec next to me, and Score in between him and Monty, like always. Alex and Monty both looked perfectly groomed, as always, but Scorpius' blond hair was ruffled, and his tie was slightly askew. That was normal. He wasn't really a morning person. "Already ate?" Asked Alex, pouring himself a cup of coffee while Monty loading his bowl with porridge.
I shrugged, "You know me. I can't wait for my food."
Scorpius leaned around Alex, to peer at me under his half-lidded eyes, smirking, "You look ravishing as always, love of my life." His voice was silky, the corners of his lips perfectly curled. Honestly, sometimes it's hard to believe that Scorpius Malfoy is human.
Yeah. He's that good looking. "Prettied myself up just for you." I shot back, giving him a smirk in return. For the record- smirks are allowed under the pureblood code. So are fake smiles, the polite kind. Just not heart-felt, sincere, genuine smiles. And don't go thinking anything about me and Scorpius. I talk a lot about how pretty he is- and sometimes we might throw back flirty things, but it's not anything we really mean. Trust me on this one, guys. As much as I like to think about him naked, I don't have that sort of interest in him.
Breakfast carried on with much of the same- exchanging witty remarks, sipping coffee, pumpkin juice, and chocolate milk, and falling into our natural routine.
Alright- now you get to hear about the horrible Professor Longbottom and how he refused to give me a pass to the Hospital Wing because he hates my guts.
Herbology was my first class after Breakfast, Herbology with the Ravenclaws. Because it's a N.E.W.T level class it's gotten pretty small-ish. I think Longbottom just really dislikes me. He always has. Probably because I'm Slytherin and he's Head of Gryffindor. Whatever to him. Anyway- we were studying devil's snare, and I was trying to wrestle my plant into compliance by bear hugging the thing and letting it thrash me around like hypogriff with a ferret. The whole thing was really off, now that I think about it, and Longbottom probably should have saved me from being shaken to death by a killer plant of doom that really had no place in a school green house.
Anywho, the bear hugging had really started to hurt my perhaps-cracked ribs, so I decided to let the killer plant of doom win round one, and go explain in a very calm, level-headed manner that I'd been brutally assaulted by my roommate and might need to take an awful tasting potion courtesy of Madame Pomfrey. Of course, Professor Longbottom couldn't except that.
"No. Go back to your plant."
I couldn't help to gape at this unfairness. "But, Professor, I really need-"
He peered at he over the edge of his reading classes, "To see Madame Pomfrey. Like Last week when you had a cough? Or last month, when you'd stubbed your toe?" He gave a world-weary sigh, as if I was too childish for him to take seriously. "To be frank, I think the only injuries you ever really suffer, Miss Nott, are the ones you make in your mind. Back to work."
And that was it. I hobbled back to my killer plant of doom and let it shake me like a maraca.
After that trauma, which actually left my hair looking surprisingly good. All the shaking had left it minorly tousled, and fluffy looking. Just very nice. Any way- after that, I walked with Erica McLaggen and Clarine Flint to potions. Honestly, I dislike both of them extremely, but we've got a lot of classes together and we do share a room, so I behave cordially. Most of the time. Like I said- I don't trust Flint because she's a spinach-loving busy-body who assaults me in the morning, and I dislike McLaggen because she's a self-important bitch. Simple as pie.
N.E.W.T level Potions was made up of all houses. So included in our class was Blaise Zabini, also a Slytherin and Scorpius must-less-likable cousin, a couple of boys and a girl from Hufflepuff, two Ravenclaw boys and three girls, and several Gryffindors. Unfortunately, those Gryffindors consisted of James Potter, Dominique Weasley, Fred Weasley, and Richard Cogan.
You know, normally I try not to super hate the people that most expect me to hate, but I can't help it with these guys. I might not have mentioned it, but Weasleys are everywhere. Dominique is the cookie cutter Weasley- wavy red hair, an obscene amount of freckles, a distinct lack of brains. Of course, she's got that whole part-veela thing working for her, but she seems to cancel it out somehow to make her look human by never brushing that red mop and slouching, and acting all around distinctly not-pretty. Potter is equally freckly, with big hazel eyes, messy black hair, and rectangular frame glasses. He's got an attractive-athletic-dork thing. To be honest, he's cute, but I still hate him for his general dickheadedness and jackassian behavior. And, Fred. Fred is darker skinned, with a nearly-shaved head, and clear blue eyes. They're not an unattractive bunch, but they are obnoxious.
And then there's Cogan. Bloody Cogan is Head Boy- and even the Gryffindors hate him. He's obnoxious, pompous, and too loose with his detention slips. I hate Cogan.
Professor Felixir is a pale, squeaky, twiggy little man. I don't hate him like I hate some people- and he doesn't dislike me like Longbottom does. I'm pretty good at Potions, actually. Typically at this level, he just writes down the text book page, and tells us to go- and then wanders around for about fifteen minutes, peering into our cauldrons, before he retreats back into his office to go over things from his other classes.
Today he had us making something that got rid of boils- just busy work really. It was a simple potion.
I sat at a table with Marianne Barbary, from Hufflepuff. She has a lot of trouble with potions sometimes and I can occasionally whisper little tips to her, and let her copy me without anyone seeing, and thus preserving my reputation.
Most of the class passed as usual. I subtly showed Marianne how I cut my snakeweed, and ignored the disapproving looks Zabini was shooting me from the next table over. Dick.
Everything was normal until I heard snickers, and some giggling, and turned around just in time to have James Potter dump the gooey contents of Dominique Weasley's cauldron on my head.
And… well, you know what happened after that.
Devil'sSnare,JamesPotter,AndOtherThingsThatMightKillMe,Devil'sSnare,JamesPotter,AndOtherThingsThatMightKillMe,Devil'sSnare,JamesPotter,AndOtherThingThatMightKillMe
A/N:
Hi there... meet Nessie! Nessie Nott, eldest daughter of Theodore Nott. Older sister to Alexander Nott. I'm not sure what tehre really id to say here. This idea just popped into my head, so I decided to upload it. I'm going to try and update weekly- or at least every other week.
Reviews are MUCHLY appreciated!
-Jessie
