A Quest for Love: Chapter One
I didn't want a particularly strong boyfriend. It was always my belief that relationships need to be balanced, and my strength could definitely make up for the both us. Once, a girl suggested that Vincent Crabbe and I would make "such a cute couple--you have so much in common!" Ewww . . . I punched her in the nose. It wasn't one of my best punches, either; her bloody nose only lasted a couple of hours. Nevertheless, that was the last time anyone tried to pair me up--everyone else took the hint.
On the other hand, I did want a boyfriend. At the moment, all of the guys were too scared of me to even think of friendship. But a boyfriend would have been nice . . . of course, provided that he was small and meek and did everything that I told him too. Unfortunately, there weren't too many guys like that in Slytherin. So I was forced to look to the other houses for my ideal man.
A Hufflepuff would be best. Slytherin and Hufflepuff were almost always on good terms. There was only one problem; all of the Hufflepuff boys in our year were so afraid me that whenever I approach them, they would scurry away from me, throwing terrified glances over their shoulders. Every time that happened, I was struck anew at how fast they were. I suppose they must have developed some muscle doing all of that hard work that they are famous for.
After Hufflepuffs came the Ravenclaws. But the Ravenclaws were so dull. Besides, they were much too clever and alert--I probably wouldn't be able to slip any Love Potions into their pumpkin juice without at least one of them noticing. And they weren't as easily intimidated as some guys I knew.
So that left only Gryffindor, my own house's nemesis. I sighed. The thing about Gryffindors was that they were too brave; it would not be an easy job to make one submit to my power. Harry, Ron . . . I shook my head. Out of all of the boys in my school, these would be the last ones to choose. Even a bloody Ravenclaw would be better than those boys.
Seamus, Dean . . . getting closer, but I could see at once that they wouldn't do either. Although I might have been able to handle either of them by himself, they were always together. And it is always harder to frighten two boys at once than alone.
There was one more Gryffindor boy . . . who was he? Ah, yes. Neville Longbottom. My brow furrowed. Didn't he have the parents who went crazy under the Cruciatus Curse? I stifled a giggle. He would be perfect; weak, submissive, all of the qualities that I value in others. And he must have inherited them straight from his parents. Honestly, even I can deal with the Cruciatus better than that.
Well, now that that was settled, the only thing that remained to be done was to capture him. I rubbed my hands together. That should be fairly easy; all it would take was an hour or so of planning, and a successful strategy. I settled down in one of the dull green common room chairs to think.
Thirty minutes later, I had found the solution. It was perfect--I could almost feel a slightly evil grin brightening my features. I would start tomorrow. If only my soon-to-be boyfriend wasn't in Gryffindor . . . Oh well. You can't have everything.
The next morning, I made sure to look especially pretty before venturing down into the Great Hall. I put on an extra coat of lipstick, and I even put my hair in a braid. And when I sat down at the table, I made sure to paste an especially big, bright, toothy smile across my face for Neville to see. I think I might have scared him . . . when I looked over again, Weasley was trying to pull a cowering Neville out from under the table. I frowned to myself. While fear is a virtue, one can carry it too far. I would have to drill that out of him later.
But it was in Transfiguration that my plan really started to move along. We were trying to transfigure roses into pickles. To tell the truth, I wasn't paying too much attention. I was occupied with gazing at Neville, waiting for just the right moment to interrupt. Ah, yes, he seems to have finally mastered the spell, with only one minute left to class. I surreptitiously grabbed my cat, Cupid, into my arms, and leapt across the desk that divided us. The orange beam of light that had just left Neville's wand was caught by Cupid in the forehead. Perfect.
I was suddenly cradling a giant pickle in my arms. Poor Cupid. Not that he minded, of course. After all, pickles can't think. By the way, I didn't pick the name Cupid. He was named that when I got him, and unfortunately, he refused to respond to anything else.
So here I was, holding a mammoth pickle. Neville's lip was starting to tremble and I could see that he desperately wanted to hide under the desk. At that moment, McGonagall chose to march on over. She was furious; her face was crimson, and her eyes were bulging madly. "What exactly were you doing, Miss Bulstrode, leaping over desks like that? And getting cats transfigured into pickles? For that matter, why on earth did you have a cat in class at all? I demand an explanation, NOW!" By now, her face was turning a sort of darkish plum purple. Neville had his hands over his ears, and his eyes squeezed tightly shut.
"Well, Professor McGonagull, my cat was feeling sick today, and I just couldn't bear to leave him by himself. You've no idea what a sensitive animal Cupid is. I don't know what I would do if he died alond while I was in class! I couldn't live without him, I love him so! And now, he's been turned into a pickle! Is there any way to turn him back?" I wiped my dry eyes, and brought a kleenex out of purse to blow my nose.
She fell for it. "Unfortunately, Miss Bulstrode, I know of no official transfiguration of cat into pickle, and therefore you may have to do some research before you find the countercurse. But I know exactly how you feel," she said, her eyes misting over. "I too am quite a lover of cats. Why, I am even a cat myself when in my Animagus form!"
"Really, Professor?" I exclaimed, feigning enthusiasm. "That must be wonderful!"
"Yes, it is." But just when I was starting to think that I would get off without any punishment, she snapped out of it. "But Miss Bulstrode, your love of your cat, although quite admirable, fails to explain why you suddenly sprinted across the room to Mr. Longbottoms desk!"
I had been hoping she would forget that part; my excuse was rather weak. "Um, Professor, there was a mouse next to my desk. I'm terrified of mice!" I gave a little shudder. "And besides, I was afraid that Cupid would try to run after it." Now if only she wouldn't go and look for it.
She didn't. "Very well, Miss Bulstrode. Twenty points off of Slytherin for an unauthorised animal in the classroom, and for disrupting the class." She then turned to Neville, who was still trembling in the seat next to me. "As for you, Mr. Longbottom, I understand that your part in this was quite unintentional. Therefore, I shall not take any points off of Gryffindor. However, you must learn to aim before you cast a spell. You shall assist Miss Bulstrode in finding a countercurse to the spell." So far, everything was going exactly as planned. Sometimes teachers can be so predictable.
"Thank you, Professor!" we chorused meekly, and scurried out of the classroom together.
In the hallway, I addressed Neville, "When would you like to look up the countercurse in the library?"
"Um . . . whenever you want!" he stuttered, shrinking up as close to the wall as possible.
"Okay, then how about tomorrow?" I gave him another one of my charming grins.
Poor Neville's face now wore a look of undisguised terror. "But . . . but we have classes!" he said, obviously searching for an excuse.
"Neville, tomorrow is a Saturday," I growled.
"Oh! Right! I knew that! Um, okay . . . you know, I have to go to the bathroom. See you in Potions!" He would now have been sprinting down the hall at top speed if I hadn't grabbed his ear. He winced in pain.
"No you don't." My voice was dangerously soft, almost menacing. Really, this was almost too easy. "Now, come with me to class."
"Okay!" Neville's voice came out in a squeak. He was now twisting his head this way and that in agony, trying to escape my grip. Finally, the stupid boy gave up. "Would you let go of my ear . . . please?"
I moved my face closer to his. "Do you promise that you won't try to escape?"
"I prom-" Suddenly, he was cut of by the appearance of Granger, Potter and Weaseley. Damn them. They just ruined the perfect moment. For a minute there, I had almost had him under my thumb. I let go of his ear hastily.
"Neville, are you okay?" Potter looked at me suspiciously. Neville glanced at me with fear written on every line of his face. I growled softly, so that only he could hear.
"Um, yes, I'm fine, just wonderful, we were walking to our next class, you see McGonagall-"
Once again he was cut off. "Neville, you to don't have the next class together--you know, History of Magic with the Ravenclaws?"
"Oh, right, but she was walking me there on the way to Charms, which is what she has next-"
"Neville, the Charms classroom is at the other side of the school," Hermione told him gently.
"Oh! Right! I knew that! I mean, she-"
Now I interrupted him. "Listen, we just ran into eachother in the halls. I'll be going now." And with that, I stalked off, pausing only to flick at Neville's ear where I had been pinching it. It was still red.
None of the others noticed; they were already absorbed in conversation.
Overall, the day had gone pretty well. It could have gone better, but these things can take time. I would just continue on with my plan, and if Iwas lucky, Neville should be mine by the end of tomorrow.
So, what else does Millicent have in store for poor Neville? Find out in the next part--I'll try to get it up as soon as possible. This part didn't come out quite as well as I wanted it to, and I hope that the next part will be better. Please review! You can count it as your good deed for the day.
Disclaimer: Nothing from the Harry Potter books belongs to me.
