A/N: I don't agree with Samantha's little voice person about how fat people
are bad. I really don't, because I myself am pretty chubby, so please don't
feel offended.
Disclaimer: Blah dee blah, I don't own Harry Potter, I'm not stupid, etc. They belong to *bows down in worship* the Almighty JKR. But, as you will see, I don't even mention any of her characters by name! Samantha Weasley, THIS James Potter, and everyone else belong to ME! Muahahahaha! Booyah! In your face! Now, enough of that… Enjoy!
Samantha Weasley boarded the train. She found an empty compartment in the back. As the train started to move, she looked out her window at her tall, red haired father and short, bushy headed mother and waved, but didn't smile. What an odd couple they made. Samantha groaned and looked away from her parents, who were now blowing kisses at her.
Samantha couldn't stand her life. Her parents treated her like she was six. She was thirteen, though. and due to her lack of a social life, she was condemned to staying in her room all day, usually reading or writing. She had one friend who wasn't very close, but he was a family friend so he didn't count. Their families had dinner very often. His name was James Potter. They didn't talk much. Mostly the just hung out in her room, Samantha reading or writing, and James drawing or playing Muggle Solitaire. Sometimes they played gobstones together or James read Samantha's stories, but that was it.
James' life was great. His father was famous, he was handsome, and everyone likes him. He had fun and still managed to get good grades. Samantha, on the other hand, spent all her time in the library studying or reading, or in her dorm crying. It's not like anyone would hear her loud sobbing, screams, and stomping feet. Her three roommates had better things to do than hang out there…
Samantha was feeling hot in the train. She went to open the window, but it wouldn't budge. Looking around to see that no one was coming to her compartment (and why would the? She thought), Samantha rolled up her sleeves. She never had the chance to do so, unless she was in the privacy of her room (OK, scratch the "never"). The reason was she had scars on her wrists. She looked down at them. Samantha remembered the mixture of relief, joy and anger she felt making them. As she would slice her skin with a knife, she told herself "That's what you get, you annoying little bitch. No wonder no one likes you. You're ugly, whiny, your stories stink, and you don't even try to make any friends." Samantha found herself saying this out loud as she took her "security knife" out of her back pack and was about to strike her skin when she was interrupted.
"I like your stories, Sammi." Samantha knew it was James without looking up. He knew she hated being called Sammi, and therefore always called her that. "No one asked you, JAMIE," Samantha retaliated menacingly, meanwhile smoothing out her sleeves, so as to hide her scars. "What's that for?" asked James, looking at the knife.
Samantha searched for an answer, meanwhile blushing quickly from her ears to her nose, the same way as her father. "Oh, just, waiting for the food cart…" she said.
"Okay then. Catch you later, Sammi." James left the compartment. Samantha hesitated, then walked to the door. She shouted down the aisle, "Shut up Jamie!" but he wasn't there anymore. A few heads poked out of some compartments. Samantha waved at them, forced a smile, and sat back down.
"Stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid! Why the hell did you do that?" she said to herself. Again, Samantha picked up her knife and rolled up her sleeves. She struck her left arm first with the knife, and then sunk it deeper into her skin and moved it back and forth, as if cutting bread. Samantha sighed and looked down proudly at her now bleeding gash, obviously satisfied with what she had done. Hearing that someone was coming, she quickly hid her knife and pulled down her sleeves, just in time for the plump witch with the food cart to open her compartment door.
Samantha took out a few Sickles from her pocked and was about to ask for two Cauldron Cakes and a bottle of pumpkin juice when an annoying voice in the back of her head told her "Don't you know how much sugar and fat is in that stuff?" Samantha looked down at her stomach. She knew she wasn't fat, but the voice continued. "eating that will make you plumper than the witch serving it! No one wants to be friends with someone that big! Listen to me, Sammi." She looked back up at the witch. "Just a bottle of water, please," she said and paid the witch two Sickles.
The rest of the train ride Samantha spent crying and looking out the window at the quickly darkening sky. Finally, one too many hours later, the train slowed down to a halt at Hogsmeade Station. Samantha quickly slipped into her school robes and walked off the train.
Disclaimer: Blah dee blah, I don't own Harry Potter, I'm not stupid, etc. They belong to *bows down in worship* the Almighty JKR. But, as you will see, I don't even mention any of her characters by name! Samantha Weasley, THIS James Potter, and everyone else belong to ME! Muahahahaha! Booyah! In your face! Now, enough of that… Enjoy!
Samantha Weasley boarded the train. She found an empty compartment in the back. As the train started to move, she looked out her window at her tall, red haired father and short, bushy headed mother and waved, but didn't smile. What an odd couple they made. Samantha groaned and looked away from her parents, who were now blowing kisses at her.
Samantha couldn't stand her life. Her parents treated her like she was six. She was thirteen, though. and due to her lack of a social life, she was condemned to staying in her room all day, usually reading or writing. She had one friend who wasn't very close, but he was a family friend so he didn't count. Their families had dinner very often. His name was James Potter. They didn't talk much. Mostly the just hung out in her room, Samantha reading or writing, and James drawing or playing Muggle Solitaire. Sometimes they played gobstones together or James read Samantha's stories, but that was it.
James' life was great. His father was famous, he was handsome, and everyone likes him. He had fun and still managed to get good grades. Samantha, on the other hand, spent all her time in the library studying or reading, or in her dorm crying. It's not like anyone would hear her loud sobbing, screams, and stomping feet. Her three roommates had better things to do than hang out there…
Samantha was feeling hot in the train. She went to open the window, but it wouldn't budge. Looking around to see that no one was coming to her compartment (and why would the? She thought), Samantha rolled up her sleeves. She never had the chance to do so, unless she was in the privacy of her room (OK, scratch the "never"). The reason was she had scars on her wrists. She looked down at them. Samantha remembered the mixture of relief, joy and anger she felt making them. As she would slice her skin with a knife, she told herself "That's what you get, you annoying little bitch. No wonder no one likes you. You're ugly, whiny, your stories stink, and you don't even try to make any friends." Samantha found herself saying this out loud as she took her "security knife" out of her back pack and was about to strike her skin when she was interrupted.
"I like your stories, Sammi." Samantha knew it was James without looking up. He knew she hated being called Sammi, and therefore always called her that. "No one asked you, JAMIE," Samantha retaliated menacingly, meanwhile smoothing out her sleeves, so as to hide her scars. "What's that for?" asked James, looking at the knife.
Samantha searched for an answer, meanwhile blushing quickly from her ears to her nose, the same way as her father. "Oh, just, waiting for the food cart…" she said.
"Okay then. Catch you later, Sammi." James left the compartment. Samantha hesitated, then walked to the door. She shouted down the aisle, "Shut up Jamie!" but he wasn't there anymore. A few heads poked out of some compartments. Samantha waved at them, forced a smile, and sat back down.
"Stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid! Why the hell did you do that?" she said to herself. Again, Samantha picked up her knife and rolled up her sleeves. She struck her left arm first with the knife, and then sunk it deeper into her skin and moved it back and forth, as if cutting bread. Samantha sighed and looked down proudly at her now bleeding gash, obviously satisfied with what she had done. Hearing that someone was coming, she quickly hid her knife and pulled down her sleeves, just in time for the plump witch with the food cart to open her compartment door.
Samantha took out a few Sickles from her pocked and was about to ask for two Cauldron Cakes and a bottle of pumpkin juice when an annoying voice in the back of her head told her "Don't you know how much sugar and fat is in that stuff?" Samantha looked down at her stomach. She knew she wasn't fat, but the voice continued. "eating that will make you plumper than the witch serving it! No one wants to be friends with someone that big! Listen to me, Sammi." She looked back up at the witch. "Just a bottle of water, please," she said and paid the witch two Sickles.
The rest of the train ride Samantha spent crying and looking out the window at the quickly darkening sky. Finally, one too many hours later, the train slowed down to a halt at Hogsmeade Station. Samantha quickly slipped into her school robes and walked off the train.