Disclaimer: Just borrowing the HP universe. I don't own it.
Chapter One: The Ad
I'm not a morning person. Unlike the chirpy, look-good-all-day-long early risers of the human race, I'm sluggish, slow-witted, hideous, and I literally speak in a growl when I'm forced to get up before noon. Friends, family, and even telemarketers dare not call the apartment in fear of me picking up the phone and telling them off. Functioning in the morning is almost impossible for me, but this didn't keep me from noticing that something wasn't right this morning.
In a sleepy daze, I stumbled into the tiny, cramp kitchen to discover it clean. All the appliances were neatly lined up against the wall, no dishes lounged in murky water in the sink, boxes of cereals and other goodies that were last night scattered across the counters were no where in sight. I could even see my pale face and bright yellow hair in the microwave door.
I found more discouraging discoveries on the little table in the corner. The rickety table was draped with a freshly iron bubble gum pink table cloth. All my favorite breakfast foods- bacon, eggs, and crepes with strawberries and chocolate syrup - were arranged neatly around a huge vase of daisies. Even my beloved cat, G.B., was eating good today. In his polish metal bowl, fresh tuna awaited to be devour by the orange and white feline.
I felled into a wobbly chair, resting my head on the table. Ignoring the delicious food in front of me, I searched my memory for any clues that could give me an idea on what would make my best friend do this. Every time Sonya does something that would upset me, she thinks buttering me up before she drops the bad news in my lap will stop me from getting mad. Trust me when I say this, the sugar coating just makes me angrier.
So I sat there, fighting my drooping eyelids to stay open and yawning continuously, waiting for the bearer of bad news a.k.a Sonya to return from her run. Just as I was about to take a snooze in the plate of eggs, Sonya came huffing into the kitchen wearing a black sweatshirt and sweat pants. Her face was flushed from the wind and cold. My pal loves to run. She regularly runs three times a day, five miles each time. That's a hundred and five miles per week! The crazy thing about Sonya's running routine is she will drop everything to go on her daily jogs. She'll leave parties, work, classes, anything just to run. I know running is good for your heart and keeps you in great shape, but I don't think it should be your main priority for the day. Of course, this is coming from the girl who failed P.E., not because she never participated, but because she sucks at everything athletic. Also my body would try to kill me if I try to exercise. Maybe it's perfectly normal to want to run fifteen miles everyday.
"G'morning," Sonya chirped, taking a cup from the cupboard above the sink and poured herself a glass of grape juice. Humming an annoying, up-beat tune, she plopped into the chair next to me, making the tiny kitchen seem narrower. Sonya's humming transformed into whistling as she fixed herself a plate. She plucked a strawberry from her plate and popped the whole thing in her mouth. My friend, sadly for me, was a morning person.
I craned my neck so I could make eye contact with her. Sending her my infamous "you-better-talk-or-shit-is-going-to-hit-the-fan" look, I asked her, " What did you do this time?" I tried my best to look serious, but I yawned loudly and absentmindedly rubbed my eye.
Sonya looked questionably at me, playing the clueless room mate. " What do you mean?"
"Oh, I don't know, Sonie," I grumbled sleepily, crossing my arms against my chest. Sonya had winced at the nickname; the only time I call her "Sonie" is when I'm super happy or super pissed off. "The only time the kitchen looks this sterile is when you do something that's going to cause me to throw a tantrum. You let me pick the paint color and tile for the kitchen when you lost my two hundred and thirty dollar gold ring. There was the time you knew Danny was going to dump me for some slut, but you didn't want to be the one to tell me. You cleaned the kitchen and made a homemade three layer chocolate cake topped with the most fluffiest chocolate frosting and the biggest strawberries I have ever seen. Do you want me to keep listing."
Sonya's sweet and innocence routine crumpled leaving a very worry-looking girl staring at me. I sighed, massaging my head. I could feel a nasty headache appearing. Why couldn't Sonya just tell me?
"Sonya, we have been through a lot together. Whatever you did isn't going to end the world," I reassured her.
"You're going to hate me for this," she said in a soft voice, frown wobbling violently and her eyes bright with tears. It was strange hearing the meek voice come from such a big body. Sonya isn't fat and I'm not saying that because she's my best friend. Sonya is what I call Amazon warrior built. She was a beautiful girl with a muscular body, broad shoulders and is taller then most basketball players. But like I said, even thought she could fight a rabid grizzly bear, she was stunning. Sonya had very noticeable female curves and she wasn't bulging muscle like other women who were serious weight-lifters. Her eyes were a robin egg blue and her wild, curly hair blazed like fire down her back.
"Come on, Sonie. The longer you wait, the worst I'm going to take it," I said. Sonya slumped in her seat. "Ummm…Deansmovingin." She braced herself for my reaction.
I blinked in surprise. That was it? That was the horrible offense that was going to crush my happy, little world into pieces? Sure, it's no big secret that I HATE Dean, but getting upset about the lazy ass moving in is not worth the energy of being angry. I love Sonya like a sister. Hell, my mum and dad claim her as their second daughter. I could put up with her prick of a boyfriend if it made her happy. It's not like I can stop her anyway; Sonya owns the apartment.
"Wow, you had me worry there. From the way you were acting, I thought you killed my parents," I said, helping myself to some bacon. "So where is Dean going to sleep?"
"Errr…," Sonya began, playing with her food. "In your room."
I choked on my bacon. Sonya shot up from her chair and scrambled to my side. She smacked me on the back until I waved her away coughing. Sonya poured me a glass of water and held it out towards me. Grabbing it, I downed it. I slammed the glass down and croaked angrily, "My room? What in the hell do you mean my room? I refuse to sleep on the couch. I was here first!"
Sitting back down, Sonya went back to playing with her food. "TheonlywayDeanwould moveinisifyoumovedout."
A horrible silence filled the tiny kitchen. "Heather?" Sonya said.
"Backstabber," I hissed, raising so fast I knocked my chair over.
"Let me-"
"Save it for someone who cares," I shouted, storming out of the room. While Sonya pleaded with me to stay and talk, I slipped on my shoes and slammed the door in her face.
If you are the one to walk away from a fight, I advise not to leave wearing bright pink pajamas with cute, cuddly penguins dancing happily on the fabric, a ratty pink bathrobe and holey, grimy tennis shoes. It ruins the affect of your grand exit and while you cool off, people, including hot guys, will give you weird looks as you wonder around London.
I couldn't believe Sonya would kick me out for that arrogant, lazy, worthless loser. How could she pick him over me? If Dean was a nice, polite, handsome guy, I might have forgiven her in couple of months, but this is Dean we are talking about. He was a complete jerk.
The sidewalks were shockingly crowded for such a windy, cool day. Freezing and tried of being pushed around by people in hurry to get to work, I let my feet lead me to my other best friend, Cecile. She was sitting on the concrete steps in front of her sister's used book store, The Dozing Dragon, writing in a black notebook. Cecile was a very unique character. Like Sonya, Cecile was super tall. She was slim, had beautiful blonde hair that she hid with black hair dye, and hazel eyes. The three things I love most about my black clad friend is her "I-don't-give-a-shit" attitude, her weird sense of fashion and her ability to give advice that actually works. I sat down next to Cecile, not caring if I got something nasty on my robe or pants.
"Nice outfit, Luv," Cecile greeted me, not looking up from her notebook. "Going to a slumber party?"
"I'm really not in the mood, Cici," I grumbled.
Carefully closing the notebook, she tucked it and her pen in the mailbox. I must had had a weird expression on my face because Cecile said, "A note to the postman."
"Do I even want to know." I shook my head in wonder. To normal folk, leaving a letter for the postman was strange, but to Cecile, it was the most normal thing to do.
"He's friends with my favorite band. So I been leaving him notes to convince him to snag me free tickets to their next concert. I think I almost have him," she said, a sly smile slowly spreading across her face.
"Does he write back?" I asked.
"Just a few sentences. He can't write me a freaking love letter, Heather. He's a very busy man," she replied. "So what brings you here?"
I told her about my horrible morning, leaving no important details out. I might have changed a few things, but it wasn't a big deal. My tale needed some drama. When I finished my story, Cecile was laughing.
"What's so funny?" I snapped, angry that Cecile wasn't ready to led a crusade against Sonya.
"You guys fight over the stupidest shit. Move out and move on, luv, because your friendship with Sonya shouldn't get destroyed over an ass," she said, putting her arm around me.
"Your missing the point. She's picking him over me," I wailed.
Cecile narrowed her eyes at me. " This is grand coming from you. I can remember tons of times you stood me and Sonya up for some jerk."
"This is totally different. She's kicking me out," I grumbled.
" You were suppose to move out months ago. You been munching off the poor girl. Be thankful that Sonya put up with you for five months. If it was me, I would have kicked your ass to the curb after a month, two months if you paid me rent," Cecile said.
"I can feel our friendship grow stronger," I frowned. "Maybe I overacted, but where am I going to live?
"You could live with me," she suggested. That was nice of her, but I turned down her offer. She usually lived with her sister which wasn't a big deal. Her sister was nice and an amazing cook. The problem was Cecile was living in alley right now. She wants to film a documentary about the homeless problem in London and Cecile thinks sleeping in an alley will give her inspiration or something like that. I wasn't really paying attention when she was telling me about the project. Anyway I'm not sleeping in a dark narrow passageway where I could end up being murdered, mugged, or raped.
"How about you look in the paper to see if someone is looking for a roommate," Cecile said.
"Do people really put ads in the newspaper for roommates?" I asked in disbelief.
"All the time. Look in the paper and if you can't find someplace to live, move back in with your parents. I know they wouldn't care."
"Not an option," I scowled, getting up. "You got a newspaper?"
Nodding, Cecile went to the mail box and pulled out a crumpled newspaper. Before I could ask, Cecile said, "A bribe for the postman. Feel privilege that I'm willing to give up my chance of getting tickets so you can find shelter."
"Bye, Cecile," I said, rolling my eyes. Giving her a hug, I headed back to the apartment. I was happy to find the sidewalk almost deserted. I could get home quicker and with less glares in my direction.
Could you really find a roommate in the newspaper? It sounded kind of shady to me. Who in their right mind would live with a stranger? Your new room mate could be a thief, a serial killer, or something worst and you wouldn't know until you find yourself floating in the Thames River dead.
I opened the newspaper and flipped to the want ads. I was that desperate. I was willing to live with Jack the Ripper if it meant not ending up homeless. Scanning the page, I was shocked to find a Roommate Wanted ad. It was under the ad for Harris' Funeral Home who was looking for morticians who were able to work nights. Reading it , I was intrigued by what I read. The ad promised a huge apartment with my own bedroom and bathroom. I would have to go to an interview, but that was okay with me.
To busy reading, I ran into someone. With both of us cursing, we tumbled to the ground into a heap.
"Bloody hell," my victim grumbled, untangling himself from me. Rubbing my head, I looked up to find that the guy I just mowed over was cute. He had a lean body with a pale complexion . Silver eyes peered through shaggy bangs of light blonde hair. The guy was dressed in a nice striped polo and faded jeans.
"I'm am sooo sorry," I said, scrambling to my feet. I knew my face must be a bright red by now. I picked up my newspaper and a paperback book that must have belong to the guy. Smiling apologetic at him, I gave him back his book.
"No problem. I wasn't looking were I was going either. I was too absorbed in my book," he said, tucking the book under his arm.
"Good book?" I blurted out.
He tilted his head to the side, studying me with an amused smile on his pointed face. "It's … interesting."
I wanted to get away from this cute guy and go hide under my comforter for the rest of my life, but my mouth had other plans. "What's the name of the book?"
"The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck," the blonde answered, making a face.
"He's not that bad for an American writer," I commented. Why can't just I shut-up?
"So you have read one of Mr. Steinbeck's works," the guy asked.
"Three of them: The Grapes of Wrath, In Dubious Battle, and Of Mice and Men," I listed off. "I did a huge report on him for my World Literature class."
"Must have been a fun paper to write."
"I hated it, but at least I can say that I have read some classics in my lifetime."
The blonde smiled at me and glanced at his watch. " I got to go. Classes to attend."
"Okay. Bye, "I said dumbly.
"Nice talking to you." He was gone. I stood there for a few minutes. Then I ran off, not caring who I knocked over.
When I should be writing new chapters for my other stories, I start a new one. Review and let me know what you think, but please be kind. Happy Earth Day!
Till next time,
The Good Witch of Dark Magic