A/N: Happy Easter! Or… whatever it is you celebrate. Thanks to everyone who's reviewed, it made me every happy. :D But we didn't even reach 140… :( Lol. I've decided that I'm going to start trying to update twice a week. But only if I get about ten reviews a chapter. Does that sound fair? No, not really… Oh well.
So this is the last chapter for November. (Haha bet you didn't think I'd get this far, did you? Well, I didn't!)
The awesome people who actually decided to review the last chapter were: snuffles101, shadow929, IddamSoyt, sarcastic spastic, scared-of-open-spaces, ShayaCatalyst and :D
November 30th
"Ouch."
"Katie. Come on, Katie. You have to get up."
"I think not."
"Yeah. You really want to spend the whole day with her moaning and groaning and banging her head on the table?"
"Ange, she's upset. What do you want her to do, go around laughing hysterically?"
I love my friends. They're just so… sarcastic.
"Preferably."
"Go 'ay," I mumble into my pillow. "Ge' ready fo' class…"
"No," Alicia says firmly. "Katie, you've got to get up. Honestly, I don't think even Trelawney thinks you're sick any more. You've been away for three days! Not to mention the fact that you stayed in bed the entire weekend."
"I got up to go to the loo," I remind her huffily. "I'm not completely lethargic."
Angelina sighs exaggeratedly. "Bell, come on. You haven't even seen Lee…"
"… He might not even be mad…"
"… He probably knows it was that potion…"
"… He is mad, though…"
"… He doesn't know it was the potion, either…"
See how encouraging they are? They just lift my spirits sky high.
"He hates me." I state flatly. "I was drugged! I was even talking about green eggs and ham, for god's sake."
"Yeah, that is sad," Alicia remarks.
Angelina gives us both a strange look, on account of how she's such a loser she's never even heard of the book. "Whatever. And I'm sure he doesn't hate you."
"I told him that I hated him!" I wail. "I don't, really."
"Of course you don't," Alicia says soothingly. Come to think of it, that's how she talks to George when he's all mad about something. Am I really that desperate that I seem like a Weasley twin?
"Hang on." I sit up suddenly. Or as suddenly as someone who has spent the past three days doing absolutely nothing can. "Why didn't you tell him it was all that stupid potion's fault?"
"Yeah, because that makes sense, Katie," Ange says sarcastically. "Besides. We tried. He didn't listen to us, though. Seemed to think that we were doing your 'dirty work'. I told him you weren't smart enough to come up with a conspiracy like that."
Righto then. Because that's normal.
"Look, Katie. Just talk to him, okay?"
"No." I flop back down on my bed. You know, I really feel sorry for this bed. It's taken more than it's fair share of knocks during the entire time I've had it. Like, using it as a trampoline, putting almost everything on it that one time we had to try and find Jessica Wentworth's mouse… did I mention jumping on it?
"Katie. You are getting out of this bed whether you like it or not." Alicia yells, brandishing her wand at my face.
Whoa. Scary, 'Lic.
"What if I don't want to?" I ask, in exactly the same tone three-year-olds use when their mothers ask them to 'get-out-of-the-lolly-shop-now-or-so-help-them-God'.
"That's it!" Alicia cries. "I can't take it any more!" Then she uses this weird spell I've never even heard of. It sort of petrifies me, but I can still move my head.
"Scourgify!"
Well. I guess that takes care of today's shower, then. It'll be interesting to see how they're going to make me dress.
"Hey! That's violating my constitutional right to privacy!" I scream at them.
Haha. All they really did was chuck some 'cleanish' robes over my pyjamas. Which in my case consist of a pair of tracksuit pants and a really old t-shirt. Way old. It's got the Beatles on it, before everyone got over them and they decided to go Muggle.
I wonder if the Weird Sisters will go Muggle?
"There," Alicia says, looking vaguely satisfied. "And don't worry. No one will be able to tell that you're wearing pjs. They look just like your normal clothes!"
Hmm. "Is that a thinly veiled insult?" I ask her. "Because if it is, I demand-"
"Shut up," Angelina says. "We're going to be late for breakfast now. Thanks a lot, Bell."
Well. Just because she eats like a hippogriff.
"And I heard that!" Ange calls over her shoulder as she leaves the room, no doubt to go and snog Frederick.
Huh. I wish I had a snogging buddy.
"Katie, don't cry," Alicia says, somewhat desperately.
"I… can't… help… it!" I say.
And, you know, I'm really upset. Honestly. But when it occurs to me that I might just be acting like Stormie McNamara, I stop crying hysterically.
Because really, who wants to act like her?
Not me.
"Do you want to go downstairs now?" Alicia asks gently, as soon as I'm over my coughing/crying/blowing-my-nose fit.
I shrug. "S'pose."
Alicia has to lead me down the stairs, because when I cry, my eyes get all red. And swollen. And puffy. So I'm going down the stairs with red, swollen, puffy eyes and I can't even see where I'm going.
"Ange! Help me!" Alicia hisses to her. Hey, I might be blind, but I'm not deaf, buddy.
I push 'Lic away. "I can't do this myself," I snap. I take a hasty step forward, and guess what?
It turns out we hadn't even gotten off the staircase.
So I fall down the last- I'm guessing about ten, but it might be eleven- steps, and it really hurts, and then someone catches me.
No prizes for guessing who.
"Why are you crying?" Lee asks. He's trying to make it sound like he doesn't care or anything. But I know better. Haha.
I sniff pathetically. "Because." Yeah, great going, Katie. God, I'm such an intellectual.
"Okay then…" Lee says slowly.
"You can put me down now," I tell him. After all, it's bad enough that I can't see where I'm going. But not being able to see where you're going when you're in Lee's arms is just plain dangerous.
"Oh. Sorry," he says quickly, practically dropping me so that I land smack! On my feet, and practically break my foot, not to mention the floor.
I sniff again.
The tension is really thick. Fred and Angelina are nowhere to be seen, and Alicia and George are shifting uncomfortably.
"Well," George says finally, "I'm hungry. Would you care to join me 'Lic?"
"Uh," she replies, sending an I'm-really-sorry-Bell-but-I'm-going-to-have-sit-this-one-out look towards me, and lifts one shoulder apologetically. "Sure."
Damn you, traitor! I'll get you back!
"So," Lee says, looking pointedly at me.
Oh. Yeah. The apologising part. "I was doped," I blurt out.
"Doped?"
"Yeah." I shrug. "You know what I'm like with medication. That's why I'm not s'posed to receive pain killers, remember?"
"Mmm."
Whoa. Real conversationalist, Lee Jordan is. "And I don't really hate you. Well, I do now," I add as a-not-very-well-thought-out-afterthought. "Because you're being stupid."
I know. I have such great insults.
"I'm being stupid?" Lee asks. "You're the one that broke up with me and told me you hated me!"
I roll my eyes. "Please. That was so last week. And I was on that potion!"
"Uh huh."
Okay. No more mister nice guy, buddy. "I hate you!" I wail in an I'm-just-really-pathetic-I-don't-really-hate-you kind of way.
"I hate you too!" Lee snaps back.
"I hate you more!"
"I hate you more!"
"Nuh uh!"
Have I ever mentioned my high maturity level?
"Bell!" Oliver comes down and assesses the situation. "Pull yourself together," he commands. "I can't have players getting caught up in personal issues, if we're going to win the cup."
Jeez. Just because he's some sort of emotionless robot (hmm… maybe he uses botox?) he expects us to be, too.
"Um," I say, "okay. Wait!" I call after him, as he gives me a curt nod and keeps heading towards the portal. "Are you going down to the kitchens?"
"Yeah," Oliver says, raising an eyebrow at me.
"Please don't leave me!" I beg, running after him.
"Er… I won't?"
"Wait for me!" I shout, catching up to him. "Okay. We can go now," I add in a quieter voice.
"Er, okay then," Oliver says slowly.
Poor guy. He really needs to get out more. Stick him in one slightly unusual situation and he can't even comprehend his surroundings.
I have decided that I am not going to care about a certain dreadlocked boy any more. If it were a choice between eating carrots or talking to him, I'd rather eat the carrots. If it were a choice between letting a hippogriff dissect my innards or let him save me, I'd chose to have them strewn about the grounds. Even if he were drowning in quicksand, I wouldn't pull him out.
'Course, it's a bit hard when he's in almost every single one of your classes.
In Transfiguration, we have to practice transfiguring our body parts. You know, like eyebrows and stuff. It's going to be on our Ordinary Wizarding Levels.
"Partners?" I ask Alicia, who's sitting on my right side.
She shrugs. "Okay. Just remember the spell correctly. I don't want this to be like that time in third year when you turned my thumb into a needle."
I laugh meanly. To be honest, I suck at Transfiguration. Absolutely suck. But that was probably the best fluke of my life. One minute I was waving my wand wildly in the air, and the next Alicia was jumping up and down and shrieking about her thumb. Classic.
"Whatever," I say.
So we begin practicing, right, when all of a sudden there's a commotion behind us, and I look up to see George trying to strangle Fred.
So of course, the whole class stops to watch. Nothing a bunch of fifteen-year-olds like more than a good old bloodthirsty fight.
"Why did you do that?" George demands.
To Fred's credit, he looks a little sheepish. "I was experimenting," he replies. "I didn't know that would happen!"
I can't actually see George's face from my position, but Alicia's expression is a mix of horror and amusement. She looks like she's struggling not to laugh.
"What happened?" I ask, leaning forward.
"Fred burnt George's eyebrows off," she answers, "and his eyelashes."
Eww. Have you ever seen people with no eyelashes? Let me tell you, it's scary. It's almost like people with white eyelashes, except not as bad. I have white eyelashes, and they're really scary. So bad, that one time, when I was little (and this was before I discovered that there was a little thing called mascara purely invented to take care of the problem) I tried to dye them black.
Let me just say that when you use shoe polish, it does not work.
"At least the teachers will be able to tell them apart," I say, my eyes still riveted on George who is now trying to physically remove Fred's eyebrows.
What he thinks he's going to do with them is beyond me. Glue them on? I'm sorry, but there is no way I would glue Fred Weasley's eyebrows on me. Even if mine were shaved off.
"Mr Weasley!" McGonagall's voice cuts through the noise. "Mr Weasley!"
"It looks like she's woken from her cat nap," I quip. "Get it? Cat nap?"
Everyone just stares at me blankly, until Lee starts snorting with laughter.
"Finished yet?" Angelina asks him politely.
Lee nods silently.
"Miss Bell, if you are quite done now, I would like you to demonstrate the spell now," Professor McGonagall says acridly.
"Oh," I grin, "the spell. Right." I turn to Alicia, who gulps nervously. "Relax, 'Lic," I say in a stage-whisper, "this won't hurt a bit. Lacendous!"
After that, we all stand around and admire my work. A job well done, I reckon.
"That looks painful," Fred notes.
"I don't know," Angelina replies, "at least it's colourful."
"Who knew Alicia was that bendy?" George smirks.
Okay. I would just like to say that due to my lack of natural talent, and the fact that I hadn't had enough time to practice, I deserve to get a reprieve. It wasn't my fault.
"I think you should take Miss Spinnet to the Hospital Wing," McGonagall tells me sternly. But hey- she looks like she's trying not to crack a smile.
"No! Please no!"
"Yeah, Professor, I think I will," Angelina says quickly, glancing at me. "Katie hasn't had such a good time with the Hospital Wing lately."
Whoa, way to go and blurt it out, Ange. Jeez.
"Okay," McGonagall says, looking vaguely concerned for me. "Are you alright Miss Bell?"
"Uh," I say. Well, my emotional health has deteriorated to about zero, on account of how I accidentally told my boyfriend I hated him, but no, I'm fine. "Oh yeah," I say cheerfully, looking pointedly at Lee, "I'm brilliant!"
Fred looks at me weirdly and puts his hand on my forehead. "You're about to strain your vocal cords, Bell," he says.
"Is it that bad?" Alicia finally asks.
"Uh," George says hesitantly. "No?"
"Yeah," Fred replies heartlessly, "it is."
"Don't listen to them," I assure her. "You look fine. Almost better than before!"
"On what world?" Ange asks.
"Um… mine?"
"Oh, and Mr Weasley?" McGonagall asks as the bell rings.
"Yes?" Fred and George ask at the same time.
"George," the Professor clarifies. "Perhaps you should accompany the girls."
"Oh yeah. The eyebrows," George remembers, shooting his twin a dirty look.
"Look on the bright side," Fred says as we exit the room, "now you can be called the pretty twin."
"Eww." I shudder. "People without eyelashes are freaky."
"Yeah, you prefer them with dreadlocks, don't you Bell?" Fred cracks, elbowing George as they laugh. Stupid Weasleys.
Ange goes to take 'Lic to the Hospital Wing. "Bye, Alicia!" I yell after her. "I'm sorry about your face!"
The response that I receive from her is not very polite, to say the least.
There's a whole pile of people standing outside the newly erected noticeboard, outside the Great Hall. A few students campaigned for one this year to put in the weekly newsletter. Most of it's boring stuff, you know like who won Gobstones club, who read the most books, et cetera.
But sometimes stuck up people like to post the latest news. As in, gossip.
When we draw closer, most of the people there turn around and start staring at us. I also happen to notice they're mostly girls.
"How could you?" one Ravenclaw shrieks dramatically, clutching her heart.
"How mean!" another exclaims.
"She never deserved to be with him in the first place!" A Hufflepuff fourth year remarks.
"What the hell are they talking about?" Lee wonders aloud.
I pretend to ignore him, and the other people.
"Hey! Look at this," Fred says, holding up a flier, which, incidentally turns out to be the Hogwarts Hits (don't ask me who came up with the name. Some person who'd recently been hit in the head with a bludger, apparently).
"Give me that," I snap. And there, on the front page (well it's nice to know we're popular, I guess… either that or whoever writes it had nothing better to report than who the Reader of the Week is), is a picture of me and Lee, which is conveniently torn into two. Very neatly, actually, and I admire the handiwork for a second before I read the headline. That does not please me nearly as much.
Deranged Chaser breaks up with lovable larrikin (what was she thinking?)
A/N: I'm sorry! But I might as well tell you guys they won't be getting back together next chapter, either. Please don't hate me:P