::DISCLAIMER:: Harry Potter isn't mine. The whole universe of HP belongs to JK Rowling, which I think works out great for everyone. Don't sue me. Oh, and Lucy and Marge are mine.
::AN:: I'm not even going to bother making excuses for not updating soon. It's getting old. But I am sorry that it's taken me so long.
OH, WAIT! READ THIS PLEASE: I don't think the site sent out an alert for my last chapter, because all I did was replace the "notice" with the real chapter fifteen. Thankfully, people who read my new fic 'The War Between The Houses' found this out when I posted the info in an author's note at the end of the first chapter. But if you haven't read chapter fifteen yet (the real chapter, not the stupid notice), please go back and read it so that you don't get confused or anything.
Review-responses… Because I promised. (Yay.):
Am Loves Syusuke: Square… hahah… I guess it is. Sorry about the typo! I try to proofread my stuff as much as I can, but since I wrote it, I tend to miss stuff. And my beta is, I guess, no longer my beta, lol.
larkspur277: Thanks! Here's more, lol!
msj: Oh, I don't mean to worry you! I'm really glad that I'm over my writer's-block-i-ness, too. I hate Cho too (glares at Cho, who is cowering in the corner). Thanks for being my faithful reviewer! (yay) I hope you like this chapter!
sweetiepiepirate: I know I left you hanging. I meant to update ASAP, but… yeah. I'm surprised that "string" y'all were hanging on didn't snap and send you all plummeting to your untimely doom. (Or, er, something like that.) I've read the Georgia Nicholsen books (I love them!), but I don't think Lucy is exactly like her… Is she? Oh, God, I may have a spaz attack. Thanks for reviewing, though! I hope you like this chapter! (See the next review for Lucy/Harry info.)
Audrey Claio: See above review (to sweetiepiepirate). Everyone wants to see more "Harry/Lucy stuff"! You'll see some good stuff soon, but keep in mind that Lucy is crazy and also that she doesn't really know Harry (she just thinks he's uber hott and do-able and nice-smelling and whatnot), and it would be really weird if they suddenly got together or something. Especially since she's a Malfoy and he's, well, Harry Potter. Things like these take time (but, God, not that much time. I think I'd strangle myself). Please don't combust! I hope you like this chapter!
Agapanthus: Aw, thanks for reviewing! Of course you're on my favs list. You're awesome. I've changed my profile recently (it was totally outdated, dude). You're not even up to here, I guess, but I'm glad you like my fic!
totalhottie: Tolkien? Jar Jar Binks? Spiderman? Okay, sure, all those things are cool, but they have absolutely nothing to do with my fics! Are you on crack? It's okay, I won't tell anyone. (lol) But, dude. Um, thanks for reviewing, even though you're not up to this chapter. I guess.
Chapter Sixteen
Justin blinked down at me and I had nothing to do but blink back.
YES! Kiss me! Then maybe that horrid Boy Who Is So Impossibly Rude will miraculously walk by and see us and feel a tug of jealousy and attack you with loud shouts of, "Get the bloody hell off her!" amidst his proclamations of sweet love to me.
How romantic.
That'd be killing two birds with one stone, that would be. Get Harry. Get rid of Justin.
I am checking these items off of my List of Things to Do Before I Die (er?) as I blink back at Justin.
"Lucy, there's something wrong with you and I-" Justin began before I clapped my hand over his mouth.
Oh, so he can attempt to snog me when I'm not even paying attention, but not when I request it?
What is wrong with him?!
"For Merlin's sake, you daft boy!" I practically shrieked in his face. "I've just told you to snog me and all you can do is stand there and tell me that there's something wrong with me! What is wrong with boys? I try and I try to understand them," I said to myself looking down at my hands as I removed them from his face. "But I just can't do it. It's so hard. And let's just face it, I'm not that smart. Not like some Ravenclaw or –"
"You look a tad greenish." Justin noted quietly.
Of course I look green! I am green with envy! I mean – ahem – FURY! Fury!
"If you don't put those lips on mine in the next two seconds I am going to do – I don't know what I'm going to do, but it's going to be bad!"
"If you say so." Justin shrugged, grabbing me by the shoulders and leaning forward.
I looked up at him, waiting semi-patiently while crossing my fingers that someone worthwhile could pass by to see me getting my snog on. I sighed, watching him slowly close is eyes.
Then I promptly proceeded to turn away from him and vomit all over the floor.
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"Not much longer, alright dears? She needs her rest, the poor thing. It seems she's contracted the same illness that Miss Clearwater just managed to rid herself of. I don't know why I didn't think of calling Miss Malfoy in here sooner for a brief check-up, her being one of Miss Clearwater's dorm-mate and everything. I'll have to call in the other girls in their dorm room in a few hours as well. Ah, well. Five minutes!"
Er, qu'est-ce que what? Where am I? What happened?
"Luce? I come with good tidings of joy… And it's not even Christmas."
"Lucy, are you even awake?"
"I don't think she's awake. We should go."
"Shut up! She's sick! She needs friends!"
"We're not her friends."
Oh, Merlin, I know that voice.
I opened my eyes quickly and glared at Ron and Hermione, who just happened to be the first two people I acknowledged. (Whoa, moving blurs. Getting a bit dizzy here… Okay, no, I'm fine, I swear.)
"Where am I?" I half-whined at them, slowly losing my glare.
"She's awake!" I heard someone exclaim from behind Hermione.
"You're in the hospital wing." Hermione informed me. "Madame Pomfrey says that Justin brought you in, only he's already left for dinner. We're in dinner now, but we decided we'd rather visit you instead of eat. And don't mind Ron, he's just a bit upset that he's missing one of his many meals of the day. So, how are you feeling? Do you know what happened? You were brought here unconscious, I heard. Are you warm? Would you like another blanket? It's a bit chilly in here. Oh, you poor thing. You just do whatever Madame Pomfrey tells you to, all right? You need to get better as soon as possible so that you can begin studying for you O.W.L.s. Don't look at me like that, Lucy. I began studying months before you're going to, and I only received –"
"Blimey, she talks a lot and awfully bloody fast." I mumbled, shielding my eyes from the light.
"Sorry." Hermione nodded. "You need rest, don't you? We'll just be going, then, all –"
"Sit down." I heard Marge's voice behind her and watched as my friend's head poked through a small gap between Ron and Hermione's shoulders. "Stand aside!" She ordered. "What Lucy needs is, well, me." She settled into a chair next to my bed and I saw the people behind her take their seats on various chairs and unoccupied beds.
Just who's here? The entire royal guard?
"Don't get cocky." I croaked at Marge, my throat feeling awfully sore.
She smirked at me. "So, Luce? Up for a chat? What were you doing before you came here?"
"And why haven't you been eating?" I heard Ginny's voice from somewhere. "Madame Pomfrey told us that she couldn't give you a sleeping potion because there was nothing in your stomach and it looked as though you hadn't had a proper meal in weeks, making your condition even worse than it already is."
Marge rolled her eyes. "Yes, well, we'll get to that, Gin. Right now I think Lucy should answer my question. Come now, Lucy. Just what have you been up to?"
I blinked at my so-called friend. Just what was she trying to pull? Surely this annoying interrogation wasn't for my pleasure? Ah well, then.
I thought back for a moment, closing my eyes, then I turned to Margie.
"I believe I was with Justin. Obviously. Didn't Pomfrey tell you that he's the one who brought me here?"
"But why?" Margie whispered (loud enough for my father, locked away in Azkaban, to hear, of course. Where did she learn how to whisper?). "Aren't you 'utterly pissed at his crap face', as you put it?"
"Well, yes." I shrugged, though all I gained was a bunch in my blankets near my neck. "But I was walking about and I almost literally ran into him. What was I going to do, tell him to bugger off and leave me be?"
"It wouldn't be the first time." Colin piped up.
Thanks, man.
"Well, I was upset, see-" I paused to cough for a moment, my whole body shuddering with each cough. "Bloody hell, Margie, I think I'm sick."
"Nonsense!" was her quick reply. "Malfoys don't get sick. Remember?"
Oh, kill me now.
I rolled over onto my side, facing away from the group, and closed my eyes. "Yeah, well, that was all perfectly well and true before you went and gave me whatever it is that I've now got." I paused. "I haven't been sick since I was seven-years-old, you know."
"Poor Lucy." Margie cooed and pat my shoulder. "Alright, then. Is there anything we can get you for our next visit?"
"My daddy would be nice." I said.
She laughed and I heard the sound of chairs squeaking on the floor. "I'll see what I can do. Goodnight, Lucy."
"'Night, Lucy."
"See ya, there, Luce."
"Lots of rest, remember! I'll bring you some books next time I come! What's your worst subject – oh! Ow! Fine, then! Stop pinching me, Ginny! Bye, Lucy!"
"G'night Malfoy."
"Yeah. I mean, er, bye. Lucy."
My eyes shot open faster than I ever thought possible and I watched a small group of robed figures exit the dark room.
Oh… my life is crapper than the worst pile of crap. Ever. What in the name of Merlin's beard was Harry Potter doing here?!
Was he… worried about me?
Oh, for the sake of the Malfoy name, pull yourself together, girl! He is a despicable boy with only slight attractive qualities! Shove off, Boy Who Should Have Said Something So That I Could Have Maybe… Done… Something… yeah! I could do better!
Hell, I could do Justin if I wanted to. Not under the circumstances, mind you, but still. It's nice to know that I still have options, even if they do make me want to barf again.
"All right, Miss Malfoy." I heard Pomfrey's voice get louder as she walked toward me with a tray. "It's time for you to eat. Then I'll give you a bit of sleeping potion mixed with corn syrup. I can't give you any straight potions for a few days, with that malnutritioned state of you body and all.
Oh, I assure you, you old ninny, that I am not malnutritioned. I am merely slightly famished.
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The next morning, in an attempt to be thrown out of my prison, I sang 'Copacabana' by that American muggle dude, Barry Manilow, every time Madam Pomfrey walked into the room. At first she just kind of paused and then kept on doing whatever it is that she was doing, but by the afternoon, she was about to snap. I could tell.
She came in, holding a tray, and I noticed that there was someone behind her. (One someone or two? Hmm.) But I didn't care.
"Her name was Lola!" I sang at the top of my lungs, much to Pomfrey's delight (not). "She was a showgirl! With some, uh, feathers on… and a dress too… and she danced… the chacha!"
Hey. I said I sang it. I didn't say that I sang it word for word or… in a remotely pleasant manner. Trust me. I'm not the best singer in the world. Not even close.
"At the copa! Copacabana!" I sang.
In fact, I'm sure that the worst singer in the world would probably look at me right now and laugh. Just, laugh. Not because I look funny and unhygienic (can you believe that Pomfrey wouldn't let me leave to bathe? To bathe!), no, but because I can't carry a tune to save my life.
It's not just me either, no. It's my entire family. Back when Draco and I were still on speaking terms (a millennia ago, it seems), he told me that our mother used to try to sing me to sleep because I was a very fussy toddler, but her voice just made me cry even harder, it was so horrifying. I've never actually heard Mother sing, though. I suppose someone (i.e., Dad) told her to stop. Then there's my Dad, who kind of hums when he's writing letters or something, but I know it's bad because one time I asked him what he was humming and when he told me what it was, I just kind of sat and stared at him for an hour or so because it sounded nothing like it. Draco, of course, can't sing either. He is better than my parent's are though. Or maybe I'm just used to his voice. Or, I was. Back when he would sing me short, totally lame, little rhyme-y songs after I'd fallen off of my broom so that I wouldn't start wailing like a complete div.
"Miss Malfoy," Pomfrey stared at me coldly. "If you're trying to annoy me to the point of releasing you from my care, let me assure you that it is not going to work."
I shrugged. "I suppose I could switch it up a bit. Maybe a bit of Dungbeetle Pride, huh? I heard they were really big back in the 60s. How did that one song go…? 'Watch out! Just watch out for my dung! Watch out for my dung! Don't step any closer, or the dung will – da-da-da-dung will…!' I forget the rest."
Madam Pomfrey set the tray on a small end-table-like-thing next to me and walked away. I saw Margie skip up to my bed from the doorway.
"It's 'dong' not 'dung.'" She informed me. (Wow, thanks. I'll remember that.) "And how have you been? Are you feeling any better?"
I opened my mouth to say, yes, that I was feeling loads better and that the food Madam Pomfrey was giving me wasn't all that horrible, but then I remembered something and I scoffed at Marge, turning my head away.
"What?" She asked, giving me one of her "what-is-wrong-with-you?" looks.
I stared at a vacant bed across the room. "Are you alone? Right now?" I asked her.
"Um… yes…"
I pounced. "Margie!" I squealed – because if I shouted, Madam Pomfrey was bound to make Margie leave – sitting up straighter. "First of all, you got me sick, which I should hex you into oblivion for, and I would, if I knew how, but I don't, so you're going to get off lucky on this one. And then! Then you practically interrogated me on my whereabouts in front of tons of people! Not to mention, He Who Must Not Be Named!"
Margie blinked and stared at me as though I'd officially gone mad, which I hadn't, but I think I was fairly close to it, then she said very slowly, "You Know Who wasn't here last night, Lucy."
"Not him! Harry! Harry Potter! The Bloody Boy Who Stares A Lot And Does Unexplainable Things Like… Stuff And Sneaks Around In The Corridors With Particularly Pretty But Altogether Rude-As-Hell Ravenclaws And –"
I stopped talking when Margie burst out laughing. She continued laughing like a hyena and clutching at her stomach for a few more moments, until she slowly started to breathe normal again. But then she looked back up at my face and started snickering on like a twelve-year-old boy with his first-ever copy of WitchNaked.
"Oh, get out." I told a still-chortling Marge.
And she did. She left, rubbing her side and letting out one of those little sigh/snorts every few seconds.
And I thought I'd gone mad.
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I'm sneaking out.
Well, I'm not going to. I already have.
I am, quite literally, out in the corridor.
Which corridor it is, I'm not entirely sure. You'd think that I'd have at least the slightest bit of a clue by now, because I've been here since September 1st and Halloween is in two weeks. But no.
I'm not even on the same floor as the Hospital Wing any longer, I know that for sure. I didn't mean to do that, though. I was just walking about aimlessly when I sat on a staircase to rest my feet for a second (no shoes on these floors can hurt, let me tell you), when suddenly the staircase moved, giving me a heart attack and about three aneurysms. I was so frightened that I didn't move for a second, but then I was shot with a jolt of adrenaline and continued running up a few more flights of stairs, as fast as I could, until I had to pause for a bit of a breather.
Now I'm stuck on this one staircase that doesn't really lead to anywhere except some really old painting and then more stairs. But I don't have enough strength to go up, or even down, a single flight of stairs.
Why is it so cold? It's only mid-October.
Oh, Merlin, I shouldn't have run like that after having just eaten. Ugh. Maybe I should have waited an hour or so before escaping the hospital wing.
What time is it?
I turned to the portrait behind me and asked the woman, in the politest way possible, "Pardon me, ma'am, but do you happen to know what time it is right now?"
The woman in the portrait shook her head at me and said, "You're going to have to try better than that, dear. I wasn't born yesterday, you know."
What is she talking about?
I asked her this. I asked, "What are you talking about?" in a really confused way – because I was – and she simply shook her head at me.
"You're not getting into the tower without the correct password." She said.
Not… what?
"Have you forgotten what it is?" She asked me. "I'm sorry, but I still can't let you in."
Am I the only sane person in the entire castle?! What in Merlin's name is she going on about?!
"Lady…" I said slowly, cautiously stepping backwards. "I don't know what's wrong with you. Maybe you've been cooped up inside that painting too long, but… I have no idea what you're talking about."
She opened her mouth to say something more, but instead she swung open.
Just like that. She swung open.
I screamed.
I must have had an Angina attack or something, because I fell flat on my butt and stared wide-eyed at a figure emerging from where the portrait was before it suddenly swung open.
(Don't laugh. I know what an Angina attack is. When I first heard it I crossed my hands over my private area and said, "Oh, Merlin, that's pervy."
But, no, that's not what an Angina attack is. It's like an anxiety attack except it can affect the throat, jaw, the stomach and, more rarely, between the shoulder blades and usually lasts about 2 to 10 minutes. They're usually brought on by physical exercise, psychological stress, extreme cold, or a heavy meal (all three, in my case, I suppose).
And this is a lot of information to be held between two parentheses. Parenthesis?
What in Merlin's name is the plural form of "parenthesis"?
Ah, well. Whatever.)
…Where was I before I so rudely interrupted myself and decided to give you lot a lesson on Anginas? (Hah… Even though I know what it is, it still makes me laugh… I have such an immature mind. Angina… Oh, oh, my stomach. I can't breathe.)
Oh, yes.
"Bloody hell!" The figure exclaimed and looked down at me.
Dennis! Oh, bless your soul, Dennis, because I'm going to call a dementor right now to snatch it away! I may have permanently damaged my Angina!
…
Heh.
"Dennis Creevey!" I said his name in the scolding way that every single teacher at Hogwarts says mine. "Watch your language!"
I stood up, then. "Now, you short boy! Tell me! Why would you come barging out of wherever it is you came from to give me an Angina attack?!"
"A what attack?" He coughed and stared at me.
Boys. Always thinking with their you-know-whats, never their brains. Honestly. How did boys get so pervy?
"Where did you just come from, anyway?" I asked him, ignoring the weirded-out look he was giving me.
"The… common room…" He said slowly, as though I was a three-year-old.
"What common room?" I asked, looking around. "This isn't the way to the Hufflepuff common room… And that woman in the portrait is positively ginormous. What did she do with the skinny old man? And you're not even in my house! You're in Gryffindor! You're – oh…."
I blinked at little Dennis and opened and closed my mouth in a complete goldfish moment.
Then a thought struck me, sending a grin across my face.
"Step aside, short stack, and let me in." I told him. "I've got to see this."
"But you're not –" He stammered. "You're Hufflepuff and –"
I widened my eyes and pouted at him. "Is it me?" I asked pathetically. "Do you not like me? It's my looks, isn't it? I'm hideous."
His eyes widened even more than mine, which I didn't quite think possible. "N- no, no… No. You're not – you're not –" He swallowed what seemed like a sailboat. "You're very – you're – pret – pretty. You're –"
I grinned, then. "Oh, Dennis, that's so nice of you!" I jumped at him and hugged him tightly, making sure to shove what little boobs I had in his face. "No one's ever said that to me before!"
Well, yes. Justin has. And that nasty boy at Durmstrang who told me I had sexual tension. And Margie and Ginny. And Hermione.
But little Dennis doesn't know that, now does he?
I pulled away and smiled my best-ever smile at him. "Thanks, Dennis!"
His face was quite possibly redder than anything I had ever seen in my life.
"I – er – I –" He stuttered like he was having a right dither attack.
I looked him straight on. "Since, you're such a gentleman, Dennis…" I whispered. "If you let me in, I'll show you something I know you've never seen before."
His eyes practically jumped out of their sockets right there in front of me and his face turned about three million shades darker crimson. I thought he was going to have a nervy spaz to end all nervy spazzes right there, but he didn't. He said, "S-sure!"
Now way. Is this really this easy?
It can't be.
Dennis turned around to walk back into his common room or whatever, but then he stopped and looked back at me. "Are you coming?" He asked.
I nodded quickly. "You bet I am!"
This is triple-great.
Not only will I be able to see another house's common room, but I've also managed to manipulate a boy into doing exactly what I want.
But most of all, Madam Pomfrey will never think to look for me here.
Oh, I'm good.
::AN:: Please don't bombard me with protests of "Not another cliffhanger!" because, technically, it's not, and, technically, all chapter ending are cliffhangers because the fic isn't done, and you don't know what will happen next. I love you guys, though. Thanks for all the reviews.
::AN2:: The next chapter will be posted soon, but it won't be as long as this one. It's still a chapter, though! And you'll (probably) like it! Ah, well, you'll see.
::AN3:: So far I have, like, three flames for this fic. Cool, huh? I think that's cool. Maybe it's weird, but flames make me laugh. (Until I start thinking about it, and then I'm all sadish.) So, flame me if you want, but… I would rather you not.
::AN4:: Constructive criticism is not a flame. It helps. Feel free to give me advice, really.
Please review! I hope y'all liked this chapter!
PS: This site sucks and it's taken me almost an hour to fix it up on QuickEdit because it keeps bunching stuff together and/or putting everything bold and underlined. So if something is severely screwed up, I'm SO sorry, but it's not my fault. I hate the new QuickEdit thing; I want the old one back RIGHT NOW! Hmmph.