Eh…I had to delete that last chappie. I guess it was pretty retarded to do an April Fools joke. Oh well.
Tra-La-La! If you remember a long time ago, I turned in that evil paper, and guess who got an A-! Woo-oop! Woo-oop! Moi! Pshah!
Molly walked briskly out of Madame Puddifoot's, leaving an awestruck Ernie sitting by himself. Was Neville truly that dense? Couldn't he see that she was so madly in love with him? And Hannah! Molly told her that she liked Neville. And she sat there with Neville, holding hands!
Once in the privacy of the deserted girls' dormitory, Molly bawled her eyes out. After fuming about it all the way up to the castle, the depression set in, and the whole I'm-going-to-be-single-for-the-rest-of-my-life-because-nobody-loves-me thing reared its ugly head (Does anybody ever feel this way? ;;).
As luck would have it, it wasn't a very long time that she was by herself.
"Greetings, scum," came the squealy voice of Pansy Parkinson.
"Can you ever leave anybody alone?" Molly tried desperately to cover her puffy eyes; the last thing she needed was for this girl to be making fun of her for crying.
"Why, is wittwe Miss Amewica cwying?"
"Sometimes, it's necessary for little Miss America to cry. Some of us actually have feelings and need to cry every now and then." Pansy was taken aback by this statement; she hadn't expected such a truthful and straightforward response. Some kindness deep inside her gave her the decency to leave Molly alone.
Molly remained in the girls' dormitory for the rest of the weekend. She did not eat, she did not sleep. She didn't even do her homework, a first for the teacher's pet.
Meanwhile, Luna, and Neville grew worried about their friend. Why hadn't they seen her all weekend?
Finally, when Monday came, Molly showed up for Transfiguration. Her hair was lank and silvery blond, her freckles were faded, and her eyes were hanging somewhere between green and grey.
"What happened to you?" said an astonished Luna.
"What?" Molly's eyes were puffy.
"Your hair, and your eyes—" but Luna didn't have any time to say anything else, for Professor McGonagall swept into the room. She took one look at Molly before grabbing her by the hand and pulling her out of her chair.
"Ms. O'Connor, Professor Dumbledore wishes to see you. Class is dismissed."
"Why? What did I do?" Molly said worriedly as the other happy students milled out of the room. Could the Headmaster himself have found out that she didn't do her homework? Was she going to get expelled? (A/N These are my thoughts when I don't do my homework, lmao)
"This is not the place," McGonagall said in a low voice. Instead of making her way to Dumbledore's office, she swept into her own office.
"What happened?" asked the professor.
"I'm sorry about my homework, I just—I just—" Molly didn't have time to finish her sentence, because McGonagall interrupted.
"I'm not worried about your homework right now. Your Metamorphmagal powers are wearing off. Obviously something is bothering you. Out with it!"
Molly sat there in awe. How was she supposed to explain to some dried up old lady that the guy she was madly in love with was at Hogsmeade with another girl?
"It's not important. I'll—I'll get over it."
"Obviously, it is important. Do you realize how depressed you have to be before a Metamorphmagus loses her ability to change her appearance?"
"Well, no…"
"Ms. O'Connor, it is apparent that something is bothering you. We need to solve it so you don't blow your cover."
"Well, there's…this…guy. But, I don't think you would really understand…"
"Why? Because I'm old? If you don't think that I've had boy trouble when I was your age—"
"No, no I don't think that," Molly was quick to defend herself. She didn't want to contradict a teacher.
"Then continue, please,"
Molly told her everything. She found it easier to talk to Professor McGonagall than say, Luna. She didn't press or pry, she just listened and was content with hearing what information Molly chose to give her. Which was everything.
"Thank you so much, and I'll turn in my homework tomorrow," Molly said, standing up and drying her eyes.
"You're welcome. Don't worry about the homework, turn it in next Monday, the same for any other homework you didn't do over the weekend." McGonagall squeezed her hand.
"Really! Thanks so much,"
"But mark my words, if you ever miss an assignment again--"
"No, you can be sure, I won't,"
"I didn't think you would, but all the same..."
"No, I won't. Thanks again!"
And the amazing part? McGonagall made it a little better. And she didn't even say anything while Molly was confessing.
Don't review something stupid and say how corny this is that she poured out everything to a teacher. Cos it works. And I won't even bother to reply to something stupid as "dis is cornee y did she talk 2 da techar?" or even those of you who have better vocabulary. Someday, I will laugh when you people get ulcers because you aren't open about your feelings.