A/N: Yeah, yeah, standard warning, I don't own the HP characters; they belong to their rightful owner, JKR. I do, however, own the original characters that I created. Please review :).
~*~Explanation time! Yeeha!- trying some stuff out...I won't know what works and what doesn't if you don't review *sweet smile*
CHAPTER FOUR (Of Confusion and Families)
Next to her cheap silicon I look minimal
That's why in front of your eyes I'm invisible
But you gotta know small things also count
You better put your feet on the ground
And see what it's about
--"Objection (Tango)" by Shakira
Philomena collapsed on her bed with a definite flop. Her robes were discarded on the floor, exchanged for the customary Hogwarts pajamas. Margaret sat down at the bottom of Philomena's bed and waited patiently for her to resurface.
"Phil...c'mon...talk to me," she said, poking her friend's foot.
"Aw, Margaret, go away," Philomena sighed into her pillow.
"What happened?"
"I almost killed Draco Malfoy, I made a complete fool out of myself in front of all of Slytherin, and I lost my books."
"Sounds about average for you," she sighed. Philomena rolled over long enough to shoot Margaret a glare before rolling onto her stomach once again.
"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I found your books."
At this, Philomena sat up.
"You did?"
"Yeah, Hermione stopped by with them. She said they were in the library," Margaret shrugged and Philomena deflated.
"So, you're saying they were in the /library/ the entire time?" she grumbled.
"I guess so," Margaret said.
"Figures," Philomena sighed.
"Now...what else of this killing and humiliating part?"
"It's a long...twisted...sad story," Philomena muttered.
"I'm not going anywhere," Margaret said. Philomena started into the strange story of her adventure to the "depths of hell, more commonly called Slytherin House", and how she plowed down Draco.
"Well, it could have been worse...you could have knocked him unconscious," Margaret offered when she was done. Philomena sighed.
"That's not funny."
***
Draco picked the cotton ball off of his collar and turned to face Fiona.
"What happened?" she asked. He arched an eyebrow and wondered how on earth to begin.
"Nothing," he snapped. Crabbe and Goyle took up their customary positions beside him, but Fiona persisted.
"So, you were walking around with a bloody cotton ball because you wanted to?"
"Yes."
"Fine," Fiona said, and Draco was instantly reminded of the library.
"Fine," he returned evenly.
"Was it Potter?"
Draco snorted, "No, much worse."
"Philomena?"
He nodded with a yawn. Fiona rolled her eyes.
"What'd she do this time?"
Draco smirked slightly, but shook his head.
"Did she ever find her books?" Fiona asked. Draco paused a moment, then nodded.
"Well, good...hopefully she won't come barging in her next time, accusing us of stealing her books...honestly, the nerve," Fiona muttered, wandering towards the girls room. Draco turned back to his room, feeling like he could sleep for days, his eye still acheing.
***
Harry hobbled towards the Great Hall the next morning, feeling not unlike a blind elephant as he flopped down next to Ron.
"What's wrong with you?" Ron asked, turning to his friend. Harry sighed.
"My head," he muttered, rubbing his temples. Hermione looked concerned as she watched him over her Dangerous Creatures book.
"Didn't it hurt yesterday too?" she asked. He nodded absently.
"Maybe you should go see Madame Pomfrey again," Ron said. Harry moaned, but didn't object.
"Maybe," he sighed. After all, he could be a little late to potions today.
Harry muttered something about not feeling hungry and got up. Ron and Hermione started to follow, but he waved them away.
"No use all three of us missing Potions," he said, remembering the huge assignment that was supposedly going to take 'all year'. Ron arched an eyebrow.
"Alright, Hermione, you go, I'll make sure Harry gets to the infirmary," Ron said, still following. Hermione stopped and glared at him.
"Oh yes, the perilous journey that is the hospital wing," she said, rolling her eyes. Harry winced as his headache increased. Hermione sighed, but relented.
"Fine, besides, you'll only end up copying my notes anyway," she murmured, casting one more worried glance towards Harry.
"I'm probably just coming down with the flu," Harry said, trying to ignore Ron's not all too subtle glances at his scar.
"The what?"
"It's a muggle-oh never mind," Harry said, pushing through the door. Madame Pomfrey frowned as he entered, holding his head.
"You're head again?"
"Yes ma'am," he answered. Ron watched as Pomfrey disappeared into another room.
"Where does she go?" he asked quietly, staring at the door she had just closed. Harry shrugged.
"Maybe it's best we don't know," he answered, though he doubted anything could really surprise him now.
"What do you think she'd got back there?"
But before Harry could answer she was back, with the same vile as last night. Harry shuddered, remembering how horrible it had tasted, but he would do anything to relieve the throbbing of his head. He took the vile and with one more deep breath, downed the contents in a single, forced gulp. Ron watched as Harry's face contorted and silently prayed he never got a headache at Hogwarts.
"Is it that bad?" he asked as Harry finally relaxed.
"Oh yes," he said, looking at the empty vile with distaste.
"If it comes back, I want to know immediately. I wonder if this is worse than just a simple headache," Madame Pomfrey said, watching him closely. Harry nodded, and got to his feet. Once in the hallway, Harry noticed Ron dragging.
"Something wrong?"
"No use getting there any sooner then we need to," Ron said, stopping to stare out a window. The less time spent in Snape's dungeon, the better. However, their conscious finally got the best of them as they remembered Hermione was still there, and so quickened their steps. Harry worried about his head for the rest of the day. Why was it suddenly hurting? It couldn't have something to do with those frogs, could it? He quickly dismissed that thought with a slight laugh. Ron was really starting to get to him. Of course it wasn't the frogs, as he had said himself, not everything strange has to do with evil. But still, he was starting to feel a bit uneasy, and more than a little confused.
***
Philomena sat in Arithmancy, barely able to keep her eyes open. She had more then once been caught sleeping in the class, and did not intend to incur the wrath of Professor Vector today. This was one of the few classes Hufflepuff had with Slytherin and Philomena couldn't help but look towards Fiona. She glared back at her book, trying to concentrate on Vector's explanation. Fiona did well in all of her subjects, with what seemed little effort. She barely paid attention in Arithmancy and usually did homework for another class. It was a source of great annoyance for Philomena. How on earth were they going to coexist in a family? It would be impossible. She figured they would stay out of each other's way. But how would they manage to keep separated for two months? The thought of Christmas made her uneasy. Philomena did not particularly want to face the awkwardness of going home with Fiona and meeting her new father. She had heard stories, all of which were not positive, concerning Victor Batterwall, but she hoped very much that they were all greatly exaggerated.
With a small sigh, she rested her head on her hand and started to write down the night's homework as Professor Vector scrawled it on the board.
As the class started to leave, Philomena felt a presence behind her and slowly turned around, careful not to knock her chair over in the process.
"/Your/ mother sent a note...it's in my room, if you want to see it, you'll have to come by tonight before I throw it away," Fiona said coolly.
"Uh...ok, um, when?"
"After diner," she answered. Philomena shrank, not the Slytherin commons again. She shuddered, the memory of last night still fresh in her mind.
"I'm doomed."
~*~Explanation time! Yeeha!- trying some stuff out...I won't know what works and what doesn't if you don't review *sweet smile*
CHAPTER FOUR (Of Confusion and Families)
Next to her cheap silicon I look minimal
That's why in front of your eyes I'm invisible
But you gotta know small things also count
You better put your feet on the ground
And see what it's about
--"Objection (Tango)" by Shakira
Philomena collapsed on her bed with a definite flop. Her robes were discarded on the floor, exchanged for the customary Hogwarts pajamas. Margaret sat down at the bottom of Philomena's bed and waited patiently for her to resurface.
"Phil...c'mon...talk to me," she said, poking her friend's foot.
"Aw, Margaret, go away," Philomena sighed into her pillow.
"What happened?"
"I almost killed Draco Malfoy, I made a complete fool out of myself in front of all of Slytherin, and I lost my books."
"Sounds about average for you," she sighed. Philomena rolled over long enough to shoot Margaret a glare before rolling onto her stomach once again.
"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I found your books."
At this, Philomena sat up.
"You did?"
"Yeah, Hermione stopped by with them. She said they were in the library," Margaret shrugged and Philomena deflated.
"So, you're saying they were in the /library/ the entire time?" she grumbled.
"I guess so," Margaret said.
"Figures," Philomena sighed.
"Now...what else of this killing and humiliating part?"
"It's a long...twisted...sad story," Philomena muttered.
"I'm not going anywhere," Margaret said. Philomena started into the strange story of her adventure to the "depths of hell, more commonly called Slytherin House", and how she plowed down Draco.
"Well, it could have been worse...you could have knocked him unconscious," Margaret offered when she was done. Philomena sighed.
"That's not funny."
***
Draco picked the cotton ball off of his collar and turned to face Fiona.
"What happened?" she asked. He arched an eyebrow and wondered how on earth to begin.
"Nothing," he snapped. Crabbe and Goyle took up their customary positions beside him, but Fiona persisted.
"So, you were walking around with a bloody cotton ball because you wanted to?"
"Yes."
"Fine," Fiona said, and Draco was instantly reminded of the library.
"Fine," he returned evenly.
"Was it Potter?"
Draco snorted, "No, much worse."
"Philomena?"
He nodded with a yawn. Fiona rolled her eyes.
"What'd she do this time?"
Draco smirked slightly, but shook his head.
"Did she ever find her books?" Fiona asked. Draco paused a moment, then nodded.
"Well, good...hopefully she won't come barging in her next time, accusing us of stealing her books...honestly, the nerve," Fiona muttered, wandering towards the girls room. Draco turned back to his room, feeling like he could sleep for days, his eye still acheing.
***
Harry hobbled towards the Great Hall the next morning, feeling not unlike a blind elephant as he flopped down next to Ron.
"What's wrong with you?" Ron asked, turning to his friend. Harry sighed.
"My head," he muttered, rubbing his temples. Hermione looked concerned as she watched him over her Dangerous Creatures book.
"Didn't it hurt yesterday too?" she asked. He nodded absently.
"Maybe you should go see Madame Pomfrey again," Ron said. Harry moaned, but didn't object.
"Maybe," he sighed. After all, he could be a little late to potions today.
Harry muttered something about not feeling hungry and got up. Ron and Hermione started to follow, but he waved them away.
"No use all three of us missing Potions," he said, remembering the huge assignment that was supposedly going to take 'all year'. Ron arched an eyebrow.
"Alright, Hermione, you go, I'll make sure Harry gets to the infirmary," Ron said, still following. Hermione stopped and glared at him.
"Oh yes, the perilous journey that is the hospital wing," she said, rolling her eyes. Harry winced as his headache increased. Hermione sighed, but relented.
"Fine, besides, you'll only end up copying my notes anyway," she murmured, casting one more worried glance towards Harry.
"I'm probably just coming down with the flu," Harry said, trying to ignore Ron's not all too subtle glances at his scar.
"The what?"
"It's a muggle-oh never mind," Harry said, pushing through the door. Madame Pomfrey frowned as he entered, holding his head.
"You're head again?"
"Yes ma'am," he answered. Ron watched as Pomfrey disappeared into another room.
"Where does she go?" he asked quietly, staring at the door she had just closed. Harry shrugged.
"Maybe it's best we don't know," he answered, though he doubted anything could really surprise him now.
"What do you think she'd got back there?"
But before Harry could answer she was back, with the same vile as last night. Harry shuddered, remembering how horrible it had tasted, but he would do anything to relieve the throbbing of his head. He took the vile and with one more deep breath, downed the contents in a single, forced gulp. Ron watched as Harry's face contorted and silently prayed he never got a headache at Hogwarts.
"Is it that bad?" he asked as Harry finally relaxed.
"Oh yes," he said, looking at the empty vile with distaste.
"If it comes back, I want to know immediately. I wonder if this is worse than just a simple headache," Madame Pomfrey said, watching him closely. Harry nodded, and got to his feet. Once in the hallway, Harry noticed Ron dragging.
"Something wrong?"
"No use getting there any sooner then we need to," Ron said, stopping to stare out a window. The less time spent in Snape's dungeon, the better. However, their conscious finally got the best of them as they remembered Hermione was still there, and so quickened their steps. Harry worried about his head for the rest of the day. Why was it suddenly hurting? It couldn't have something to do with those frogs, could it? He quickly dismissed that thought with a slight laugh. Ron was really starting to get to him. Of course it wasn't the frogs, as he had said himself, not everything strange has to do with evil. But still, he was starting to feel a bit uneasy, and more than a little confused.
***
Philomena sat in Arithmancy, barely able to keep her eyes open. She had more then once been caught sleeping in the class, and did not intend to incur the wrath of Professor Vector today. This was one of the few classes Hufflepuff had with Slytherin and Philomena couldn't help but look towards Fiona. She glared back at her book, trying to concentrate on Vector's explanation. Fiona did well in all of her subjects, with what seemed little effort. She barely paid attention in Arithmancy and usually did homework for another class. It was a source of great annoyance for Philomena. How on earth were they going to coexist in a family? It would be impossible. She figured they would stay out of each other's way. But how would they manage to keep separated for two months? The thought of Christmas made her uneasy. Philomena did not particularly want to face the awkwardness of going home with Fiona and meeting her new father. She had heard stories, all of which were not positive, concerning Victor Batterwall, but she hoped very much that they were all greatly exaggerated.
With a small sigh, she rested her head on her hand and started to write down the night's homework as Professor Vector scrawled it on the board.
As the class started to leave, Philomena felt a presence behind her and slowly turned around, careful not to knock her chair over in the process.
"/Your/ mother sent a note...it's in my room, if you want to see it, you'll have to come by tonight before I throw it away," Fiona said coolly.
"Uh...ok, um, when?"
"After diner," she answered. Philomena shrank, not the Slytherin commons again. She shuddered, the memory of last night still fresh in her mind.
"I'm doomed."