Seizure Lights
Author Note: Thanks for reviewing/reading!
Boom. Boom. Boom.
I winced, the loud music currently emanating from within the portrait resounding painfully against my ears. Oh, dear Merlin, why on earth was I not in the library right now – or better yet, eating some delicious bacon?
"Honey, are you going to come in or not?"
I looked upwards; the rather voluptuous lady from before stared down at me disapprovingly. Bloody painting.
The lady smoothed the shiny pink silk gown she was wearing and tittered with someone behind her. I squinted, barely making out a rather bony woman behind her dressed in purple.
"Violet, can you believe these students? I swear they get dumber every year!" she stage-whispered, swinging her wine glass around dramatically.
I stiffened; she did not just say that. Numberita steamed, incensed at the stab at our intelligence.
I thought longingly of ol' Bessie, who was probably residing somewhere at the bottom of Wood's smelly trunk underneath his multitude of Quidditch magazines and soiled jerseys.
Note to self: kill Wood.
"I'm…I'm going in," I said firmly. The lady rolled her eyes before taking another swig from her glass and opening up the portrait.
I stared at the dark opening behind the portrait for 3.2 seconds before advancing the 5 inches needed to reach the wall. Taking a deep breath, I lifted my right foot 6.2 inches and stepped inside.
Holy hippogriffs. I blinked, disoriented from the sudden darkness. Flashes of neon colored light illuminated the room at dispersed intervals (Numberita soon calculated them to be approximately once every three seconds, with the blue ones flashing every six seconds), casting everything in seizure-inducing (honestly – what if someone here had epilepsy or something? Gryffindors – idiots, the lot of them) shadows and lights.
Gah! Someone jostled me from behind.
I whirled around, my hand reaching for the (painfully) empty spot at my hip where ol' Bessie usually resided.
HOLY HIPPOGRIFFS AHH IT BURNS! Seth stumbled past me, his arm around some dark-haired girl I vaguely recognized as being a Seventh Year Ravenclaw and his tongue – well, let's just say I wasn't going to be forgetting that moment any time soon.
Ew. Ew. Ew.
Thoroughly disgusted, I carefully edged my way towards the long, orange-and-black draped table at the other end of the room (approximately forty feet in diameter) – hey! Maybe there would be bacon!
Hm…I scanned the length of the table, noting that it was about four feet long and one foot deep. Cake…cupcakes…drinks (lots of alcohol...no pumpkin juice unfortunately. Note to self: complain to whoever organized th-wait. James organised this…on second thought, maybe not; I wasn't sure what to think about James. How could the same bloke who had been thoughtful enough to find and return my quills be the same one who treated his younger brother so despicably? It just didn't add up…Numberita was determined to get to the bottom of it)…but no bacon.
Brilliant. Just brilliant.
I huffed angrily, crossing my arms across the smooth fabric of my Quidditch jersey and tapping my foot three times against the scarlet carpet underneath.
I observed my surroundings; dozens of students were at various stages of inebriation and I counted at least eight "nurses" scantily clad in garments that I was sure did not pass medical standards. I bet they wouldn't grow up to be actual doctors – I didn't recognize them to be Ravenclaws, and I certainly didn't want some idiot Hufflepuff taking care of me. She'd probably just prattle on about "friendship" while I lay there bleeding to death.
Oh gosh. I thought back to Numberita's accusations about Rose; here I was, doing the exact same thing I accused her of – judging people! I didn't really know anything about them. I had no right to- psh, who am I kidding? AWESOME ADELA DOES NOT BALK AT SOCIETAL RESTRICTIONS.
I had the sudden urge to stand up on the table and bellow an impromptu sonnet (in perfect iambic pentameter, mind you) on the virtues of bacon.
I restrained myself. Barely.
Feeling a bit bored (and Numberita was not immune to the dizzying effects of the flashing lights), I wandered over towards the back of the portrait again. Maybe I could still have time to sneak a quick trip to the kitchens! All this thinking of bacon left me with a huge craving that only a rasher of crispy bacon could cure.
Mmm.
Drat! I caught a flash of Rose's signature curly auburn hair. If I left now, Rose would see me and confront me about the whole Al thing. I cringed inwardly, pushing all thoughts of the Obliviate incident from Numberita. I'd think about it later – Numberita would figure it out! She always did.
Huh…that was weird. Rose wasn't with Scorpius. I would have thought the two lovebirds would be off in some corner by no-GAH MENTAL IMAGES GAH. I rubbed furiously at my eyes, shaking my head vigorously (and managing to knock some Second Year Hufflepuff off his feet and into the punch bowl. Oops).
Blargh. Note to self: stop coming up with these disgusting mental images.
By this time Rose had disappeared in the throngs of shifting teenagers. I sighed, feeling a bit alone. I wasn't close to anyone here…I edged my way to the wall, hugging it with relief when I finally managed it. Finally, something that wasn't moving!
Feeling a bit drowsy, I leaned against the wall, idly observing the partygoers with detached curiousity. Hm…it seemed like the Scamander twins were trying to convince some poor Third Year of the existence of some mythical creature again. Wood was off in a corner trying to convince Nico to "just come over here and look at this one play!" I laughed a bit at that; seemed like Wood was exactly like his father in that aspect…although, you wouldn't catch me saying that aloud to him. There are certain boundaries that you just do not cross; I might get annoyed at him (which reminded me – he still had ol' Bessie!), but I would never bring up his parents.
After 13 minutes and 49 seconds of observation (Numberita picked up quite a few interesting tidbits that had serious blackmail potential), a heavy hand dropped onto my shoulder. I resisted the urge to whirl around and stab the person's eyes out (what – the whole Forbidden Forest creepy stalker incident still left me a bit jumpy!), instead looking over to see Scorpius's clearly inebriated face.
Oh joy.
Why do I always get stuck with the drunk ones?
"Scorp, really?" I said wearily. He smiled dreamily, a lock of the signature Malfoy white-blonde hair drifting over his silver eyes.
"Hi, Gwenog. You know your team is rubbish, right?" he slurred. Huh? He jabbed his finger half-heartedly at my stomach. Oh, right. I was wearing a Gwenog Jones jersey.
Merlin. Dear Karma: WHAT HAVE I DONE TO DESERVE THIS? I caught sight of the clear glass he clutched in his hand, scowled, and smacked it from his grasp. It shattered against the wall, spilling the amber liquid onto the carpet. The liquid hissed slightly, steam curling upwards as it was absorbed into the red fabric.
"Firewhiskey, Scorpius? How many of those have you had?"
His face screwed up in an expression of intense concentration (it would have been quite comical, actually, had it been in different circumstances).
"Six," he said finally, lifting his hands and proudly displaying eight pale fingers. I resisted the urge to smack my head against the wall.
Well, Adela, look what's happened. You decided to go to a party and look who's left dealing with Drunk Scorpius!
Shut it, Numberita.
No!
Yes!
…
Dear Merlin I need some time away from all of this.
And no, I will not go to St. Mungo's for mental help so stop suggesting that!
I hoisted Scorpius's arm around my shoulder and began dragging him towards the portrait. Thankfully, I was only around 7 feet and 1 inch away from it; any farther and I don't think I (even with my Beater muscles) could have done it.
"I dun wanna goo," he whined, his alcohol-infused breath wafting over my nose and giving it a good punch.
I resisted the urge to gag, instead pushing his face roughly away.
Scorpius owed me for this. Big time.
I paused at the threshold of the painting, noting the slight ledge. Hm.
Having decided my way of attack, I stepped through the whole, turned around, and dragged Scorpius unceremoniously across the ridge.
"Ow!"
"Shut it, you big baby," I muttered, stooping to hoist Scorpius back up to eye level. He muttered something about me being a "big meanie" before stumbling along beside me.
Now…where to take him? I eyed his disoriented form dubiously. The Tower? No, I didn't want his drunk self tainting it (what? It's a perfectly reasonable reason!)…the Dungeons? No, I didn't want to run the risk of running into Al. The –
Scorpius opened the door to the classroom directly behind him and stumbled in, approaching the window and collapsing on the window seat.
Well. Abandoned classroom it is then. Nothing suspicious about that.
Not.
Sighing heavily and glancing around for any gossipers, I joined him in the room and quickly shut the door. No need to spread any unnecessary rumors.
I joined him on the window seat, eying him warily as he stared out the window, his face pressed against the frosted glass.
"Why weren't you with Rose?" I asked after 23 seconds. Scorp laughed, a bitter, hollow sound that echoed around the dark room. Oh no. When even Scorpius (you know, the bloke who helped me spread the rumor that Seth was a bloody unicorn and generally didn't seem like he had a care in the world) acted all angsty, that's when you knew your world was pretty much sh-shitake mushrooms. Yes, that was it.
Erm. Moving on.
"She seemed distracted, told me she needed space," he said angrily before laughing again. "I was going to ask her to be my girlfriend tonight."
Oh no…I could think of only one reason for Rose's distraction; the fight. Shoot, had I caused the trouble in the perfect Scorose world?
Just bloody fantastic. More guilt to add to Numberita – why not just add that my eating bacon killed millions of helpless little piglets and call it a day?
I groaned, burying my head in my hands. Scorp began singing a tune from our childhood in a surprisingly clear voice for someone who was drunk.
What did you do with drunk people? Send them off to the Infirmary? Provide them with a ton of chocolate and lock them up in a closet and hope they got better soon? Or did you just smack them around?
The last option was quite tempting; I hadn't gotten the change to tackle anyone in a very long time.
But one look at Scorpius's pathetically devastated face dispelled any urges to tackle him. I groaned before taking my wand from my pockets and weaving it in front of his face.
"Aguamenti," I whispered. A crystal clear jet of cold water spurted from the wand's tip, drenching Scorpius's face.
He spluttered, gasping for air as I coolly slid my wand back into its place.
"Feel better?"
"No, you bloody woman!" he bellowed before wincing and clutching his head.
"Scorpius, listen," I said seriously. He looked up, his silver eyes glinting in the moon's light.
"Rose wasn't mad at you – she was mad at me. We got into a row earlier about A-something. It's my fault, okay? Don't be mad at Rose. You need to go off and have five kids or something…whatever you Malfoys do."
"We Malfoys generally only have one heir," he sniffed, thrusting his aristocratic nose in the air. I rolled my eyes; even drunk Scorpius made sure to insert something about his family's "noble" background.
He did look a bit better though. I leaned forward to give him a quick hug.
"Now, Scorpius, go there and fulfill your Scorose destiny!"
Scorpius drew back, his eyebrows furrowed.
"Scorose?"
Shoot.
I shot a quick smile before saying, "Well bye!"
I ran out of the room, leaving Scorpius's confused self sitting on the window seat.
Awesome Adela had done her job – heck, I was pretty much a bloody hero.
Note to self: add "person to help cheer up drunk people" to list of potential job opportunities.
I glanced over my left shoulder at the portrait of the pink-swathed lady. She was passed out on the ground, the empty wine bottle resting haphazardly at the edge of the wooden table behind her. Way to go Hogwarts. Brilliant role model you've provided us with.
Rolling my eyes, I turned and headed in the direction of the Tower. From behind me, I heard a faint call of "Rose!" and an answering "Scorpius!"
I smiled a bit to myself, satisfied about my handiwork. Let no one say that Awesome Adela isn't a born matchmaker!
Feeling quite proud of myself, I imagined various scenarios in which I set up everyone else with their perfect person while they all worshiped me. Hehhee.
Ah!
I rounded the corner, bouncing into the (rather) solid chest of some bloke. My forehead bounced off his shoulder, ricocheting backwards 3.4 inches as I yelped.
I collapsed to the ground, my hands flinging backwards in order to muffle my fall. Ouch. That was going to hurt later on. I winced, rubbing my wrists. That's it. THAT PERSON WAS GOING TO PAY. I glared upwards, straining to make out my attacker (oh, shut it. Who cares if it was an accident? I STILL GOT HURT); it was no use – the dimly lit hallway (strike #131515 for Hogwarts's interior design) did nothing to illuminate his face.
"When I get my hands on ol' Bessie, you just watch it!" I threatened, scrambling to my feet and brushing off my pants.
The assailant chuckled (chuckled! At my pain!), the crisp scent of freshly fallen snow wafting over the 5.6 inches between us to drift across my nose. Bullocks. Al. I did not want to see him tonight – not right after the whole row with Rose about, well, him.
"Did Wood take away your bat? I'll have to remember to congratulate him on managing to do that without getting maimed," he said, stepping forward so that his face was no longer in shadow. I muffled a gasp; in the moonlight, Al looked…
OKAY MOVING ON.
I laughed nervously, my heart racing. What was wrong with me? I met his eyes; ah! Big mistake. I'd forgotten how green they were. Still bloody unfair how he got pretty almond-shaped eyes while I got murky hazel eyes that looked like cat vomit most of the time. UNFAIR I TELL YOU. UNFAIR. I avoided his eyes, instead focusing on his nose. Okay, it was a nice nose, but it was better than looking at those hypno-what was I doing? Was I analyzing his facial features?
Oh lord I really was insane.
Al coughed; oh, right. I still hadn't replied.
"He has a couple bruises across his stomach area, but the git has fast reflexes – you know, the whole Keeper thing and all," I rambled.
Al got a strange glint in his eye, and his mouth curled up into a sly smile.
"Really? How fast is he?" he asked casually.
"Oh, maybe – WAIT," I stopped; he was a Slytherin – as in, the team that had bloody beat us too many times to count when we were just about to get the Cup! I scowled, flinging an accusatory finger at his face.
"You cheat!" I bellowed. He smirked, crossing his arms.
"Not my fault if the Ravenclaw Beater insists on spouting out her team's statistics to random passerby," he said easily.
ARGH.
I spluttered around for 34 useless seconds as Numberita struggled to find a witty comeback.
Nothing.
Looks like I was on my own on this one. Which, you know, always leads to good things. Not.
I think I'm getting pretty good at this sarcasm thing!
"You-you-you bitterweed!" I yelled, my cheeks burning and my hair puffing around my face. Oh, Merlin. I was sure I looked quite attractive at this moment. Not that it mattered or anything.
Al blinked. "Bitterweed?"
I mirrored his actions; oops. I'd forgotten that not everyone knew what that word meant. Oh well. His loss!
"Anyway, I have to go now – things to do, people to see," I said lightly, moving to head past him.
As I walked past him, he said, "Have fun…doing those things."
I rolled my eyes, not even gracing his sentence with a reply. Honestly. Were all teenage blokes like that?
You know what, I don't think I want to know the answer to that question.
Nope.
It was only when I reached the Tower that I stopped to think about why Al was in that corridor. Why wasn't he at the Gryffindor Common Room with the rest of his House?
I paused, my right hand still resting on the bronze banister.
In fact, he was heading straight to...
Oh no.
I had to stop him!
I whirled on my heel and began running down the marble stairs. Dear Merlin, please let me not be too late…
AN: *cowers* please don't kill me! Sorry for the cliffie, but I couldn't resist ;D Please review!