Author's Note: For those not familiar with British slang, "flipping the
bird" has something to do with a certain raised finger. And if you don't
know what gesture I'm talking about, then you're really far too young, or
pure, or both, to be reading this fic ;-). Also I'm not actually sure what
Warrington's first name is but I've seen it as "Carl" in some other fics,
so that's the one I'm going by.
This chapter is also an "R" rating for implied sexual acts. Well, it could probably pass as "PG-13," but just to be on the safe side...
Disclaimer: Don't own them, don't own them, don't own them. Adrian Pucey, however, has run off with a pair of my undies. Prat.
# # # # # # # # #
Entry Ten: Supremo Slytherin Humiliation
Natalia gets offered a job in media and shamed by Slytherins both on and off the Quidditch field.
6:52 AM, September 26th
Well, it's finally here. The day of reckoning. For Slytherin, that is.
Have been kept mental with last-minute Quidditch training and enough scrolls of Potions homework to successfully stuff Penelope Clearwater's bra (Snape not doubt anticipating impending house defeat), but post-practice body is now beginning to hurt in good, satisfied (not agonising) way - the way I feel after my "favourite" form of calorie-burning (it's not Quidditch) - and last I checked was second in Potions. And unlike some others I could mention, did not have to flutter eyelashes at Snape to get to that position.
Eww.
8:04 AM
Accosted by Marcus Flint on way to Great Hall. School rules permit houses to wear team slogan t-shirts on match days, and he was wearing a "Slytherin Rules" t-shirt which flashed to "Slytherin Shaggers are Second to None" when teachers were absent from sight.
Think will have a very, very difficult time keeping down breakfast this morning.
"So, Natalia," he smirked, "if we win tonight will you go to bed with me?"
"No, but you can go someplace else for me," I retorted. "Now if you excuse me, I need a decent breakfast in order to open a can of whup-arse in your face on the pitch and looking at your ugly mug is enough to make me turn anorexic."
"That would be a pity, in your case" Flint grinned. "Apparently the first place birds lose weight from is their rack."
"What was that?" I asked with quiet menace.
"Is there a problem here?" I heard an intriguingly-accented voice ask. Luc Delacourt was standing behind us, with one hand propped threateningly, alluringly, on his hip. The other was clutching his wand.
"Yeah, the toad in green," I snapped.
"Interesting," Luc said, raising his wand higher. "You do realise what we do with frogs in my country?"
"Think I'll best be going now," Flint mumbled and walked quickly off. Luc fluidly waved his wand in the direction of Flint's departing back, transforming "Slytherin Shaggers are Second to None" to "Slytherin Snakes Suck."
"That was a good one," Luc chuckled. He does have very nice chuckle, a warm one that sort of catches in his throat. "It should keep him occupied for the rest of the day trying to figure out why people are laughing behind his back, although I get the impression that is what happens to him on most days. And did you get the "Snakes Suck" reference? I think I just made my first pun in English."
With that he walked off. Like a hurricane really, brief but leaving a trail of devastation in its wake.
8:53 AM
Roger collapsed giggling next to me in Transfiguration. Had spotted Flint in hallway and managed to add "Each Other" to his shirt.
Perhaps should give it to Adrian as Christmas present.
12:19 PM
Wolfed down quick lunch and then rushed off to library to meet Roger and Adrian and ground out Potions assignment. Roger was explaining what happens when placid herbs were crossed with volatile when my earlier saviour walked into the room, rendering me temporarily death to Roger's rantings. "Will ya look at that?" I breathed to Adrian.
"I'm looking," he responded.
"And so if you add taproot to witch hazel, you get-" Roger broke off when he saw the dazed expressions on my and Adrian's faces, then turned to the door to see what had caused this trance. "I have got to find some friends who don't fancy blokes," he scowled.
"Cupcake, given what you see when you look in the mirror every morning, I think the chances of accomplishing that are nigh-on impossible," Adrian said, causing me to crack up. Roger's scowl deepened.
"For Merlin's sake, he's just an above-average Chaser with an European accent and a hot sister-"
"And he's also part Veela," Adrian finished smugly. "And you, poor deprived being, can never appreciate that side of him in the way Nat and I can."
"For which I am bloody grateful," Roger snapped. "Merlin, if all Slytherins take after you, Pucey, is it any wonder wizarding families had to marry Muggles in order to prevent themselves from dying out?" I howled with laughter. Roger smote me with what was becoming a trademark glare of his.
Maybe Roger needs to get some too.
"Yes, that's right, Roger," I teased. "Carry on the family name. Do your bit to contribute to the wizarding population. Just like a noble, dutiful Gryffindor. Perhaps if you're really lucky, you may even marry a Weasley. Ginny is looking pretty cute these days." Adrian slammed his palm onto the table in an I-can't-take-this-anymore laughing fit. Roger flipped the bird at us and sunk mutinously behind his Encyclopaedia of Potions. Our laughter increased.
1:45 PM
In order to prepare for the bloodbath that is a Quidditch match involving houses other than Hufflepuff, school finished two hours early, giving self chance to prep in bedroom. After debacle in which pretended to be my boyfriend, Adrian has become quite sympathetic to my lack of luc(k) with Luc (please ignore very uncool attempt at pun). Even spends time browsing through Potions manuals looking for infatuation brew for me to make. A bit offended by that since do not consider self to need any dietary supplements in order to attract the less-fair and most-unfair gender, but then have never attempted to coucher a French part-Veela before!
"Adrian," I began as he rifled through my underwear drawer (don't ask), "for the ten thousandth time, why are you doing this? I mean, you Slytherins aren't particularly renown for your lack of self-consideration."
"Because I have come to the conclusion that even with my considerable charms, I cannot sway Luc Delacourt in my direction," Adrian replied, distastefully dropping a faded jog bra to the floor. "Therefore I have resigned myself to living out a relationship with Hogwarts' Divine One through you. If you and Delacourt ever hook up, you will give me every salacious detail, won't you?"
Dream on, I thought. Outwardly, I responded, "Just because "you" couldn't try anything on him doesn't mean he's not gay, you know."
"And just because "you" haven't exactly had noteworthy success in your efforts, doesn't mean he's not straight, you know," Adrian retorted.
"I thought I had sneaked you in here to be supportive and reassuring," I griped.
"Ah, but that behaviour would be contrary to everything my house stands for," Adrian grinned. "You know how Clearhead's always harping on about house values? Thought I would pay attention to her for once. Speaking of houses, you do realise you're going to get totally and utterly demolished in an hour, don't you?"
"It must be wonderful to be so delusional," I sighed with mock sympathy.
"I don't know, you tell me," Adrian quipped.
"Adrian, I'm still not sure of the necessity of you picking out my underwear for me this afternoon," I cut in, trying to ignore the fact that was being totally done under in one-liner contest. "How do I know you haven't run out of g-strings and are using this as an excuse to swipe mine on the sly?"
"Because I am much too, shall we say, "gifted," to ever squeeze into anything you may own," Adrian smirked. Delusional, I tell you, completely. "And I wouldn't be caught dead in those things. They're so David Beckham. Anyway," he held up a black Wonderbra, "this will be perfect."
What is bastard thinking? "Do you realise how uncomfortable it is to play in those things?" I ask him. "Actually, forget I ever asked that. I'm afraid of what the answer may be. And I really don't know why I'm asking a gay guy for advice on female attractiveness."
"Because I'm in the know," Adrian beamed. "I'm privy to all the changing room gossip, Adani, although to be quite honest I don't know what all the fuss about particular female assets is about. They're just two lumps of fat to me. Incidentally, changing room gossip reveals that Flint is quite taken with you-"
"I'd rather not know-"
"-And to be completely crass, quite taken with the thought of "taking" you- "
At this point put hands over ears and stating singing. Wish I really was the delusional one at such times.
"Now be a good girl and put this on," Adrian said, holding the satin torture contraption out to me.
"Turn away first," I demanded.
"Natalia, I'm gay," Adrian said, giving me an odd look, "although to be completely honest with you, it has been a Slytherin tactic in the past to pretend to be gay in order for us to get a gander of things we may not otherwise be fortunate enough to witness. Hoping to be let into the girl's changing rooms (although it can't have been Slytherin's given the shrews we're always landed with), Carl Warrington kept it up for three years until I finally got sick of his posturing and tongued him at dinner one night. Stupid git pulled away screaming, which completely blew his cover since I was widely thought of being the most gorgeous bloke in our year." As if to make his point, Adrian turned away so I could struggle into the thing. "Although why you bloody women subject yourselves to this kind of thing, I don't know. You're all effing loony."
"Because men like them," I reply through gritted teeth.
"I don't," he retorted.
"Don't get me started on you," I said and started to put the awful thing on. Wire in bra has bite to rival gnomes when heaving them out of the garden. And it would be the wrong time of the month to wear it too.
"You've got it on all wrong," Adrian said impatiently. "You're meant to lean forward and fall into the effing thing."
"You really know far too much about girls' underwear," I told him. "It's quite disturbing."
"Shut up and lean forward," he insisted, standing behind me. Obliged and suddenly felt his hands tugging on the edge of bra, trying to arrange me. At that moment door burst open with a very shocked Vanessa Johnson on the other side.
"Natalia, Roger just wanted me to tell you that we meet in fifteen minutes- " she began, then broke off abruptly. Her face split into a wide grin. "I knew it! Angelina said that if any girl in this place could convert him, it would be you! You've done womankind a great service today, Natalia. In my estimation you just went up a notch!" She gave an excited squeal and ran down the hall.
"Effing Merlin, I've got a lot of explaining to do," Adrian muttered after a moment of mutual mute horror.
"You and me both," I told him.
Hope Luc doesn't hear about this.
# # # # # # # # #
2:30 PM
Made it to Quidditch stadium where cluster around Ravenclaw changing room door awaited. Attempted smile at Ravenclaw's very own part-Veela and got shot down majorly with Snape-like scowl. Yep, Luc has heard about it. Roger was trying not to laugh. Bombardino didn't even bother.
Was willing self not to skin Beater team-mate with pointed tip of wand (and reminding self that he is team-mate after all, thus need willing and able for the match, in same way as would like Luc willing and able in areas not remotely related to Quidditch), when felt a tug on my uniform sleeve. A tiny but utterly adorable boy with dreadlocks was smiling up at me.
"Greetings, introductions and amenities," he said with a flourish and one of those gorgeous public-school accents ("private-school" to all the sane non-British people who like to make sense with their language), "I am Lee Jordan, Gryffindorian and match commentator. I take it you are the lovely Natalia?"
"Some of the time," I said. "If you feed me chocolate frogs and try not to cross me. Other times I'm just plain Natalia, which may be far too much for you to handle, little man."
"Ah, the legendary Adani wit," Lee smiled. "And I do take it as a compliment that "you" called me a man, although I will ignore the prefix and pay attention to only the suffix of that statement." If you like, shortie. "Although I don't think you could be anything remotely close to plain. However, I have travelled far and wide to ask if, during the matches that do not involve Ravenclaw, you would do me the honour of being my co- commentator."
"What's in it for me?" I asked suspiciously. Am generally not good with favour requests, unless they're those kinds of favours.
"Well, basically you get to kick back all day in one of the prime viewing spots," Lee began, "satisfy any attention-seeking urges you may have by making outlandish comments into a microphone, thus forcing people to listen to you and take attention away from the players, make fun of Draco Malfoy, comment on the attractiveness of each team, make fun of Draco Malfoy, and occasionally report on the status of the game-"
"Alright, I'm sold," I cut him off. "See you for the season opener."
"Thank you, my dear," he purred, then surprised me by leaning forward and kissing my hand. "It's a date then." He winked and sauntered off.
"Wow," I said to Cho next to me, "I'm speechless."
"Wonders may never cease to exist," Roger snapped from behind us. "Now if you don't mind, could you please stop flirting with the homunculus and come inside for some last-minute game-play adaptations? In case you've forgotten, we have a team to destroy."
"Hey, good going ensnaring Jordan," Adrian called as he walked by on his way to the Slytherin changing rooms. Luc's eyes narrowed into disdainful little slits. "He may be on the short side, but what he lacks in height he more than makes for in other aspects of his personage-"
"Yes, he's an absolute sweetie," Vanessa sighed. "His personality just shines through."
"Actually," Adrian said with a slight sneer, "I was referring more to his being nicknamed Tripod." Vanessa's mouth fell open.
"Pucey, stop corrupting my charges-" Roger began.
"Oh, hello there captain," Adrian beamed at him. "Pardon me for saying so, but it's a bit sad that the females of your house have to pick up carnal terminology from stately gay men-"
Cho gasped. "Eff off, Pucey!" Roger yelled. "You have a game to lose!"
"Touchy, touchy," Adrian sighed with mock-hurt. "You mustn't be getting so much touchy-touchy, for you to be so touchy-touchy, if you catch my drift."
Roger scowled and abruptly swung into the changing room. Adrian shrugged and flounced off. "You're hitting Bludgers at the wrong team, mate," he called over his shoulder. "And I'm not talking about Quidditch."
2:42 PM
Roger has just given me calming potion with a rather-dubious smell. Said he was sorry and knew he had let me off during training, but Snape had made it up especially and with teachers present, could not really afford to ignore Dumbledore's orders.
Took cautious sip. Would think that something that's supposed to make people nicer would taste, well, nice, but potion tastes like worse earwax Bertie Botts' Many Flavoured Bean ever sampled. Just confirms own opinion that been good not all it's cracked up to be, really. Stood next to Bombardino, so if threw up would be all down front of his uniform. Ha ha.
4:13 PM
Is now over an hour into the match. Ravenclaw leading 60-40, courtesy of open-play goal and two penalties from Roger, a double from Arthur and a nice rebound from Luc. Have so far failed to knock Malfoy from Nimbus Two Thousand and One, but did make Bludger ruffle his hair and therefore his temper.
Wait, why would I want to hit a Bludger at Draco? Is really quite cute adorable little thing and resembles nothing like albino rat. Nose rather pre-Raphaelite, in fact. And Marcus Flint such a chaaarrrming young man, and it would be a pity to ruin that beautiful face of his...
Accidentally blocked that cute little Seeker of theirs and deliberately hit two Bludgers away from Adrian and Warrington, thus earning penalties for those nice boys in green so Slytherin now one goal ahead, but really don't mind since it is soooo nice to be giving. Roger on ground gesturing furiously for team time-out. Would say is Quidditch-obsessed grumpy-pooh but far too nice for such thoughts.
"Adani, what the hell are you doing up there," he barked once I'd disembarked, "besides absolutely nothing for us and HELPING THE OPPOSITION?"
"So much negativity," I sighed sympathetically. Cho stared at me.
"Bloody Merlin, you're supposed to be negative!" Roger swore. "You're a Beater, and it's time you got nasty instead of just giving them the game! Despite what Flint and his bunch of floozies must be thinking right now, it isn't Christmas, you know-"
"But it should be," I said soothingly. "Every day should be Christmas Day and then we would all be far more giving. Besides, young man, violence is not the answer."
Roger gave me a gobsmacked look. Bombardino swore and kicked the turf.
"Right, I guess I'll just have to take Nat out of the game," Roger said heavily. "Means you'll be working on your own, Bombardino, but at least this way we won't have a Beater on our team who is oh-so-considerately HELPING SLYTHERIN TO SCORE!"
"Judging be Flint's and Malfoy's faces, they need all the help they can get to score," Malcolm joked weakly. Roger lanced him with a glare. "Just trying to lighten the mood," he muttered, turning away.
"Honestly, Nat, I don't know what's got into you today-"
"That is it," Luc, who had been silent all through the team talk, cut Roger off suddenly. "Something has got into her. It is that potion Professor Snape made for her before the game, it is doing its work too well-"
Oh good lord, they have to drug me to be nice? Must be absolutely horrible person normally. "I hate myself," I sighed.
"See, the potion is actually making her more suicidal!" Bombardino cried, then went off on a tangent of Italian swearing.
"Young man, my ears," I begged.
Roger waved Madame Hooch over to him and asked if anyone had tampered with my potion before the game (which was absolutely foul-tasting but I'm sure whoever made it meant well, the poor dear). Hooch replied it was funny that he asked that, since Snape had made it entirely, but that "Professor Lockhart had made some taste-wise amendments to it. He said it needed more salt."
"That bloody dandy!" Roger swore. Tut-tutted at his language. "That's it! Cho, fly up to Clearwater and get her to go to the kitchen for some milk. Tell her to run. Nat, you're to drink milk until you're sick and throw Gilded Fool's mishap up. Its won't take long, our bodies can only handle one litre of milk at a time." Hooch was gesturing at us to hurry up. "The rest of us, well, we'll just have to make to."
He mounted his broom and prepared to fly off. "Can I play too?" I asked timidly.
"Hell no," Roger snapped. "You're to go to the changing room until you've drunk the milk."
"Nobody likes me anymore," I said and burst into tears.
4:36 PM
That nice pretty lady Penelope Clearwater has arrived with four litres of milk so I can play with her. Whoopee! Ask if we can have a tea party and I can bring all my dolls to play, but she says only after I have drunk all the milk. We will have such fun!
5:13 PM
That nice pretty lady Penelope Clearwater has been holding my hair back while I throw up. Real nice considerate lady. Real pretty too-
THAT BLOODY BITCH JUST MADE ME DRINK FOUR LITRES OF MILK!
5:14 PM
Chased screaming Clearhead out of changing room and onto Quidditch pitch. "And we're back in the game," Roger said cheerfully.
Just then Cho and Malfoy both dove for the Snitch, the later ensnaring it. Pandemonium ensued. The Slytherin section of the stadium roared, and I felt even more like their house colour. "What did we lose by?" I choked.
"Two hundred and forty to sixty," Malcolm whispered. My stomach flipped inside itself, and I deposited yet more milk onto the pitch. A pair of hands held back my hair. "Fuck off, Clearhead," I snarled.
"Natalia, I am Luc," the deep, musical voice spoke up from behind me. "And what is "fuck off"?"
"A phrase I will never knowingly direct at you," I replied. "Maybe "fuck me," but never "fuck off"."
"What?" Luc blinked.
"Nevermind," I said. "Merlin, we lost by that much? I feel so bloody awful."
"Do not feel bloody awful," Luc said nicely, his tongue tripping a little on the unfamiliar swearword. "It is not your fault. You were not to know that there was something wrong with that stupid potion and besides, who has ever heard of a nice Beater?"
I gave him a weak smile.
Roger was walking over to us listlessly. "Roger," I began, "I'm really-"
"Forget about it," he waved off my apology. "As Luc said, it wasn't your fault. Trust bloody Lockhart to mess things up! And it's not as though this match counts or anything like that." Was not sure if he was talking to me or himself. "The only thing the winner gains from it is bragging rights-" He shut up abruptly and buried his head in his hands.
"Well, at least now I have a concrete reason to give Dumbledore for not wanting to off myself," I told him.
"Yeah?" Roger looked up from the ground with lifeless green eyes.
"Yeah," I confirmed with gritted teeth, "the reason being that I am planning on sticking around long enough to get revenge on Slytherin!" And punctuated that little outburst by throwing up yet again.
This chapter is also an "R" rating for implied sexual acts. Well, it could probably pass as "PG-13," but just to be on the safe side...
Disclaimer: Don't own them, don't own them, don't own them. Adrian Pucey, however, has run off with a pair of my undies. Prat.
# # # # # # # # #
Entry Ten: Supremo Slytherin Humiliation
Natalia gets offered a job in media and shamed by Slytherins both on and off the Quidditch field.
6:52 AM, September 26th
Well, it's finally here. The day of reckoning. For Slytherin, that is.
Have been kept mental with last-minute Quidditch training and enough scrolls of Potions homework to successfully stuff Penelope Clearwater's bra (Snape not doubt anticipating impending house defeat), but post-practice body is now beginning to hurt in good, satisfied (not agonising) way - the way I feel after my "favourite" form of calorie-burning (it's not Quidditch) - and last I checked was second in Potions. And unlike some others I could mention, did not have to flutter eyelashes at Snape to get to that position.
Eww.
8:04 AM
Accosted by Marcus Flint on way to Great Hall. School rules permit houses to wear team slogan t-shirts on match days, and he was wearing a "Slytherin Rules" t-shirt which flashed to "Slytherin Shaggers are Second to None" when teachers were absent from sight.
Think will have a very, very difficult time keeping down breakfast this morning.
"So, Natalia," he smirked, "if we win tonight will you go to bed with me?"
"No, but you can go someplace else for me," I retorted. "Now if you excuse me, I need a decent breakfast in order to open a can of whup-arse in your face on the pitch and looking at your ugly mug is enough to make me turn anorexic."
"That would be a pity, in your case" Flint grinned. "Apparently the first place birds lose weight from is their rack."
"What was that?" I asked with quiet menace.
"Is there a problem here?" I heard an intriguingly-accented voice ask. Luc Delacourt was standing behind us, with one hand propped threateningly, alluringly, on his hip. The other was clutching his wand.
"Yeah, the toad in green," I snapped.
"Interesting," Luc said, raising his wand higher. "You do realise what we do with frogs in my country?"
"Think I'll best be going now," Flint mumbled and walked quickly off. Luc fluidly waved his wand in the direction of Flint's departing back, transforming "Slytherin Shaggers are Second to None" to "Slytherin Snakes Suck."
"That was a good one," Luc chuckled. He does have very nice chuckle, a warm one that sort of catches in his throat. "It should keep him occupied for the rest of the day trying to figure out why people are laughing behind his back, although I get the impression that is what happens to him on most days. And did you get the "Snakes Suck" reference? I think I just made my first pun in English."
With that he walked off. Like a hurricane really, brief but leaving a trail of devastation in its wake.
8:53 AM
Roger collapsed giggling next to me in Transfiguration. Had spotted Flint in hallway and managed to add "Each Other" to his shirt.
Perhaps should give it to Adrian as Christmas present.
12:19 PM
Wolfed down quick lunch and then rushed off to library to meet Roger and Adrian and ground out Potions assignment. Roger was explaining what happens when placid herbs were crossed with volatile when my earlier saviour walked into the room, rendering me temporarily death to Roger's rantings. "Will ya look at that?" I breathed to Adrian.
"I'm looking," he responded.
"And so if you add taproot to witch hazel, you get-" Roger broke off when he saw the dazed expressions on my and Adrian's faces, then turned to the door to see what had caused this trance. "I have got to find some friends who don't fancy blokes," he scowled.
"Cupcake, given what you see when you look in the mirror every morning, I think the chances of accomplishing that are nigh-on impossible," Adrian said, causing me to crack up. Roger's scowl deepened.
"For Merlin's sake, he's just an above-average Chaser with an European accent and a hot sister-"
"And he's also part Veela," Adrian finished smugly. "And you, poor deprived being, can never appreciate that side of him in the way Nat and I can."
"For which I am bloody grateful," Roger snapped. "Merlin, if all Slytherins take after you, Pucey, is it any wonder wizarding families had to marry Muggles in order to prevent themselves from dying out?" I howled with laughter. Roger smote me with what was becoming a trademark glare of his.
Maybe Roger needs to get some too.
"Yes, that's right, Roger," I teased. "Carry on the family name. Do your bit to contribute to the wizarding population. Just like a noble, dutiful Gryffindor. Perhaps if you're really lucky, you may even marry a Weasley. Ginny is looking pretty cute these days." Adrian slammed his palm onto the table in an I-can't-take-this-anymore laughing fit. Roger flipped the bird at us and sunk mutinously behind his Encyclopaedia of Potions. Our laughter increased.
1:45 PM
In order to prepare for the bloodbath that is a Quidditch match involving houses other than Hufflepuff, school finished two hours early, giving self chance to prep in bedroom. After debacle in which pretended to be my boyfriend, Adrian has become quite sympathetic to my lack of luc(k) with Luc (please ignore very uncool attempt at pun). Even spends time browsing through Potions manuals looking for infatuation brew for me to make. A bit offended by that since do not consider self to need any dietary supplements in order to attract the less-fair and most-unfair gender, but then have never attempted to coucher a French part-Veela before!
"Adrian," I began as he rifled through my underwear drawer (don't ask), "for the ten thousandth time, why are you doing this? I mean, you Slytherins aren't particularly renown for your lack of self-consideration."
"Because I have come to the conclusion that even with my considerable charms, I cannot sway Luc Delacourt in my direction," Adrian replied, distastefully dropping a faded jog bra to the floor. "Therefore I have resigned myself to living out a relationship with Hogwarts' Divine One through you. If you and Delacourt ever hook up, you will give me every salacious detail, won't you?"
Dream on, I thought. Outwardly, I responded, "Just because "you" couldn't try anything on him doesn't mean he's not gay, you know."
"And just because "you" haven't exactly had noteworthy success in your efforts, doesn't mean he's not straight, you know," Adrian retorted.
"I thought I had sneaked you in here to be supportive and reassuring," I griped.
"Ah, but that behaviour would be contrary to everything my house stands for," Adrian grinned. "You know how Clearhead's always harping on about house values? Thought I would pay attention to her for once. Speaking of houses, you do realise you're going to get totally and utterly demolished in an hour, don't you?"
"It must be wonderful to be so delusional," I sighed with mock sympathy.
"I don't know, you tell me," Adrian quipped.
"Adrian, I'm still not sure of the necessity of you picking out my underwear for me this afternoon," I cut in, trying to ignore the fact that was being totally done under in one-liner contest. "How do I know you haven't run out of g-strings and are using this as an excuse to swipe mine on the sly?"
"Because I am much too, shall we say, "gifted," to ever squeeze into anything you may own," Adrian smirked. Delusional, I tell you, completely. "And I wouldn't be caught dead in those things. They're so David Beckham. Anyway," he held up a black Wonderbra, "this will be perfect."
What is bastard thinking? "Do you realise how uncomfortable it is to play in those things?" I ask him. "Actually, forget I ever asked that. I'm afraid of what the answer may be. And I really don't know why I'm asking a gay guy for advice on female attractiveness."
"Because I'm in the know," Adrian beamed. "I'm privy to all the changing room gossip, Adani, although to be quite honest I don't know what all the fuss about particular female assets is about. They're just two lumps of fat to me. Incidentally, changing room gossip reveals that Flint is quite taken with you-"
"I'd rather not know-"
"-And to be completely crass, quite taken with the thought of "taking" you- "
At this point put hands over ears and stating singing. Wish I really was the delusional one at such times.
"Now be a good girl and put this on," Adrian said, holding the satin torture contraption out to me.
"Turn away first," I demanded.
"Natalia, I'm gay," Adrian said, giving me an odd look, "although to be completely honest with you, it has been a Slytherin tactic in the past to pretend to be gay in order for us to get a gander of things we may not otherwise be fortunate enough to witness. Hoping to be let into the girl's changing rooms (although it can't have been Slytherin's given the shrews we're always landed with), Carl Warrington kept it up for three years until I finally got sick of his posturing and tongued him at dinner one night. Stupid git pulled away screaming, which completely blew his cover since I was widely thought of being the most gorgeous bloke in our year." As if to make his point, Adrian turned away so I could struggle into the thing. "Although why you bloody women subject yourselves to this kind of thing, I don't know. You're all effing loony."
"Because men like them," I reply through gritted teeth.
"I don't," he retorted.
"Don't get me started on you," I said and started to put the awful thing on. Wire in bra has bite to rival gnomes when heaving them out of the garden. And it would be the wrong time of the month to wear it too.
"You've got it on all wrong," Adrian said impatiently. "You're meant to lean forward and fall into the effing thing."
"You really know far too much about girls' underwear," I told him. "It's quite disturbing."
"Shut up and lean forward," he insisted, standing behind me. Obliged and suddenly felt his hands tugging on the edge of bra, trying to arrange me. At that moment door burst open with a very shocked Vanessa Johnson on the other side.
"Natalia, Roger just wanted me to tell you that we meet in fifteen minutes- " she began, then broke off abruptly. Her face split into a wide grin. "I knew it! Angelina said that if any girl in this place could convert him, it would be you! You've done womankind a great service today, Natalia. In my estimation you just went up a notch!" She gave an excited squeal and ran down the hall.
"Effing Merlin, I've got a lot of explaining to do," Adrian muttered after a moment of mutual mute horror.
"You and me both," I told him.
Hope Luc doesn't hear about this.
# # # # # # # # #
2:30 PM
Made it to Quidditch stadium where cluster around Ravenclaw changing room door awaited. Attempted smile at Ravenclaw's very own part-Veela and got shot down majorly with Snape-like scowl. Yep, Luc has heard about it. Roger was trying not to laugh. Bombardino didn't even bother.
Was willing self not to skin Beater team-mate with pointed tip of wand (and reminding self that he is team-mate after all, thus need willing and able for the match, in same way as would like Luc willing and able in areas not remotely related to Quidditch), when felt a tug on my uniform sleeve. A tiny but utterly adorable boy with dreadlocks was smiling up at me.
"Greetings, introductions and amenities," he said with a flourish and one of those gorgeous public-school accents ("private-school" to all the sane non-British people who like to make sense with their language), "I am Lee Jordan, Gryffindorian and match commentator. I take it you are the lovely Natalia?"
"Some of the time," I said. "If you feed me chocolate frogs and try not to cross me. Other times I'm just plain Natalia, which may be far too much for you to handle, little man."
"Ah, the legendary Adani wit," Lee smiled. "And I do take it as a compliment that "you" called me a man, although I will ignore the prefix and pay attention to only the suffix of that statement." If you like, shortie. "Although I don't think you could be anything remotely close to plain. However, I have travelled far and wide to ask if, during the matches that do not involve Ravenclaw, you would do me the honour of being my co- commentator."
"What's in it for me?" I asked suspiciously. Am generally not good with favour requests, unless they're those kinds of favours.
"Well, basically you get to kick back all day in one of the prime viewing spots," Lee began, "satisfy any attention-seeking urges you may have by making outlandish comments into a microphone, thus forcing people to listen to you and take attention away from the players, make fun of Draco Malfoy, comment on the attractiveness of each team, make fun of Draco Malfoy, and occasionally report on the status of the game-"
"Alright, I'm sold," I cut him off. "See you for the season opener."
"Thank you, my dear," he purred, then surprised me by leaning forward and kissing my hand. "It's a date then." He winked and sauntered off.
"Wow," I said to Cho next to me, "I'm speechless."
"Wonders may never cease to exist," Roger snapped from behind us. "Now if you don't mind, could you please stop flirting with the homunculus and come inside for some last-minute game-play adaptations? In case you've forgotten, we have a team to destroy."
"Hey, good going ensnaring Jordan," Adrian called as he walked by on his way to the Slytherin changing rooms. Luc's eyes narrowed into disdainful little slits. "He may be on the short side, but what he lacks in height he more than makes for in other aspects of his personage-"
"Yes, he's an absolute sweetie," Vanessa sighed. "His personality just shines through."
"Actually," Adrian said with a slight sneer, "I was referring more to his being nicknamed Tripod." Vanessa's mouth fell open.
"Pucey, stop corrupting my charges-" Roger began.
"Oh, hello there captain," Adrian beamed at him. "Pardon me for saying so, but it's a bit sad that the females of your house have to pick up carnal terminology from stately gay men-"
Cho gasped. "Eff off, Pucey!" Roger yelled. "You have a game to lose!"
"Touchy, touchy," Adrian sighed with mock-hurt. "You mustn't be getting so much touchy-touchy, for you to be so touchy-touchy, if you catch my drift."
Roger scowled and abruptly swung into the changing room. Adrian shrugged and flounced off. "You're hitting Bludgers at the wrong team, mate," he called over his shoulder. "And I'm not talking about Quidditch."
2:42 PM
Roger has just given me calming potion with a rather-dubious smell. Said he was sorry and knew he had let me off during training, but Snape had made it up especially and with teachers present, could not really afford to ignore Dumbledore's orders.
Took cautious sip. Would think that something that's supposed to make people nicer would taste, well, nice, but potion tastes like worse earwax Bertie Botts' Many Flavoured Bean ever sampled. Just confirms own opinion that been good not all it's cracked up to be, really. Stood next to Bombardino, so if threw up would be all down front of his uniform. Ha ha.
4:13 PM
Is now over an hour into the match. Ravenclaw leading 60-40, courtesy of open-play goal and two penalties from Roger, a double from Arthur and a nice rebound from Luc. Have so far failed to knock Malfoy from Nimbus Two Thousand and One, but did make Bludger ruffle his hair and therefore his temper.
Wait, why would I want to hit a Bludger at Draco? Is really quite cute adorable little thing and resembles nothing like albino rat. Nose rather pre-Raphaelite, in fact. And Marcus Flint such a chaaarrrming young man, and it would be a pity to ruin that beautiful face of his...
Accidentally blocked that cute little Seeker of theirs and deliberately hit two Bludgers away from Adrian and Warrington, thus earning penalties for those nice boys in green so Slytherin now one goal ahead, but really don't mind since it is soooo nice to be giving. Roger on ground gesturing furiously for team time-out. Would say is Quidditch-obsessed grumpy-pooh but far too nice for such thoughts.
"Adani, what the hell are you doing up there," he barked once I'd disembarked, "besides absolutely nothing for us and HELPING THE OPPOSITION?"
"So much negativity," I sighed sympathetically. Cho stared at me.
"Bloody Merlin, you're supposed to be negative!" Roger swore. "You're a Beater, and it's time you got nasty instead of just giving them the game! Despite what Flint and his bunch of floozies must be thinking right now, it isn't Christmas, you know-"
"But it should be," I said soothingly. "Every day should be Christmas Day and then we would all be far more giving. Besides, young man, violence is not the answer."
Roger gave me a gobsmacked look. Bombardino swore and kicked the turf.
"Right, I guess I'll just have to take Nat out of the game," Roger said heavily. "Means you'll be working on your own, Bombardino, but at least this way we won't have a Beater on our team who is oh-so-considerately HELPING SLYTHERIN TO SCORE!"
"Judging be Flint's and Malfoy's faces, they need all the help they can get to score," Malcolm joked weakly. Roger lanced him with a glare. "Just trying to lighten the mood," he muttered, turning away.
"Honestly, Nat, I don't know what's got into you today-"
"That is it," Luc, who had been silent all through the team talk, cut Roger off suddenly. "Something has got into her. It is that potion Professor Snape made for her before the game, it is doing its work too well-"
Oh good lord, they have to drug me to be nice? Must be absolutely horrible person normally. "I hate myself," I sighed.
"See, the potion is actually making her more suicidal!" Bombardino cried, then went off on a tangent of Italian swearing.
"Young man, my ears," I begged.
Roger waved Madame Hooch over to him and asked if anyone had tampered with my potion before the game (which was absolutely foul-tasting but I'm sure whoever made it meant well, the poor dear). Hooch replied it was funny that he asked that, since Snape had made it entirely, but that "Professor Lockhart had made some taste-wise amendments to it. He said it needed more salt."
"That bloody dandy!" Roger swore. Tut-tutted at his language. "That's it! Cho, fly up to Clearwater and get her to go to the kitchen for some milk. Tell her to run. Nat, you're to drink milk until you're sick and throw Gilded Fool's mishap up. Its won't take long, our bodies can only handle one litre of milk at a time." Hooch was gesturing at us to hurry up. "The rest of us, well, we'll just have to make to."
He mounted his broom and prepared to fly off. "Can I play too?" I asked timidly.
"Hell no," Roger snapped. "You're to go to the changing room until you've drunk the milk."
"Nobody likes me anymore," I said and burst into tears.
4:36 PM
That nice pretty lady Penelope Clearwater has arrived with four litres of milk so I can play with her. Whoopee! Ask if we can have a tea party and I can bring all my dolls to play, but she says only after I have drunk all the milk. We will have such fun!
5:13 PM
That nice pretty lady Penelope Clearwater has been holding my hair back while I throw up. Real nice considerate lady. Real pretty too-
THAT BLOODY BITCH JUST MADE ME DRINK FOUR LITRES OF MILK!
5:14 PM
Chased screaming Clearhead out of changing room and onto Quidditch pitch. "And we're back in the game," Roger said cheerfully.
Just then Cho and Malfoy both dove for the Snitch, the later ensnaring it. Pandemonium ensued. The Slytherin section of the stadium roared, and I felt even more like their house colour. "What did we lose by?" I choked.
"Two hundred and forty to sixty," Malcolm whispered. My stomach flipped inside itself, and I deposited yet more milk onto the pitch. A pair of hands held back my hair. "Fuck off, Clearhead," I snarled.
"Natalia, I am Luc," the deep, musical voice spoke up from behind me. "And what is "fuck off"?"
"A phrase I will never knowingly direct at you," I replied. "Maybe "fuck me," but never "fuck off"."
"What?" Luc blinked.
"Nevermind," I said. "Merlin, we lost by that much? I feel so bloody awful."
"Do not feel bloody awful," Luc said nicely, his tongue tripping a little on the unfamiliar swearword. "It is not your fault. You were not to know that there was something wrong with that stupid potion and besides, who has ever heard of a nice Beater?"
I gave him a weak smile.
Roger was walking over to us listlessly. "Roger," I began, "I'm really-"
"Forget about it," he waved off my apology. "As Luc said, it wasn't your fault. Trust bloody Lockhart to mess things up! And it's not as though this match counts or anything like that." Was not sure if he was talking to me or himself. "The only thing the winner gains from it is bragging rights-" He shut up abruptly and buried his head in his hands.
"Well, at least now I have a concrete reason to give Dumbledore for not wanting to off myself," I told him.
"Yeah?" Roger looked up from the ground with lifeless green eyes.
"Yeah," I confirmed with gritted teeth, "the reason being that I am planning on sticking around long enough to get revenge on Slytherin!" And punctuated that little outburst by throwing up yet again.