Chapter Two: Of Sprinting, Lying, and Travelling
Is this really, actually, seriously happening to me? How can I go from escaping the girls' dormitory, to being James Potter's fake girlfriend? What did I do to deserve this? Is it because I called Merlin's Y-fronts saggy? If that's the reason then, Merlin, I apologise, I don't doubt that your underwear aren't saggy.
"Loganberry, are you listening?" James snaps his fingers in front of my face repeatedly, pulling me harshly from my inner turmoil.
"Excuse me?" I slap his hands away from my face, trying to hide the fact that I haven't been listening for the past ten minutes. Ever since he dragged me away from the silent common room- without my book, I might add- and into the sixth year boy's dorm.
It's surprisingly neater than I expected, but I assume that's because it's the end of term and everything they own is packed into their trunks. Except for the strange smell wafting from under what I think is Peter Pettigrew's bed, everything is weirdly organised. But then I have to remind myself that this is the boy's dormitory.
More specifically the Marauders' dormitory.
I have a feeling this won't end well, there's no way I can convince myself that I won't fall off the bed, or that I'll be charmingly witty and flirty, or that I'll not say something that makes them think I'm a little bit weird. But I do know that I have to keep this situation from turning into some catastrophic, irreparable mess. That's easier said than done, though, right?
"I asked you if you were listening to me," James repeats impatiently, his lips pressed into a thin line.
"Um, yes," I lie, knowing already that the Marauders are already growing weary with my lack of attention span, and my lack of replies.
"I do believe Loganberry is lying to us, Prongs," Sirius Black steps forward to include himself in the conversation, his arms folded securely around his chest and his eyes trained coldly on me.
Us...? Is this conversation not only between James and me, but between all of them and me? Have they got some psychic link that no one in Hogwarts is aware of? Or-
"Listen," I stand up from one of the beds I had been placed on like a sack of flour a few minutes previously. "Thanks for the, erm, k-kiss, but I really ought to be leaving. Dorcas will be wondering where I am, you know what she's like, she, erm, worries a lot. It's, um, been lovely talking to you all and seeing your pretty faces, but I need to leave."
"In what Planet did we allow you to think you were leaving?" James suddenly asks yanking me back down onto the bed with his hand firmly clamped around my wrist.
Oh Mother of Merlin. I knew I should have just stayed in the dormitory with the loud screeching and masses of clothes I don't wear. Then I wouldn't have to stick around and hear what they have to say about me and James' fake 'romance'. Because I know as well as they do that they wouldn't be associating with me otherwise.
"Listen, Loganberry, I need your help," James Potter sits down on the bed opposite mine, running a hand through his already unruly hair and staring at me awkwardly. "I need you to go along with this whole 'you're my public girlfriend' thing."
"And why would I do that?" I snap, a little harsher than I intended to. But James doesn't seem to notice, instead just stares at me for a while.
"Because I'll look like a total arse, if I don't date you."
"It's summer anyway, there's going to be no one to even see us together," I reason, making up excuses as I go along.
"Loganberry, you live ten minutes away from Lily Evans," Sirius drawls, quirking an eyebrow at me with a smirk etched across his face.
Bloody hell, that is true. I need another excuse-
"Dating me won't help you get Lily!" I blurt out before I can clap a hand to my mouth, to prevent the word vomit falling from my mouth.
"Of course it won't, she's incapable of jealousy," James rolls his eyes, as if he had already thought of this countless times.
"Back to my previous point, um, we won't see each other anyway," I avoid looking in any of the Marauder's eyes. "I live in a muggle estate, and you don't."
"Don't worry about that too much, we'll sort that out," Remus Lupin pipes up from his perch on the windowsill, where he has been sat playing Exploding Snap with Peter for the past however many minutes.
"Right, um, I'm going to leave now," I stand up for the second time, ready to run from the room. "See you at, erm, some point."
And then I sprint from the room as fast as my gangly limbs could carry me, I narrowly miss bashing my head off the door frame on the way out, and very nearly trip down the stairs. I grip the railing until I'm safely back into the now empty common room, and pant heavily as soon as I reach it.
"Where have you been, Luna?" Dorcas suddenly yells, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards the portrait hole. "We're going to miss the carriages, if you don't hurry up and leave your fake boyfriend where he is."
And then, for the second time that day, I sprint down the staircases. Except this time it's hand in hand with my best friend, and I'm not escaping four idiots in a dormitory.
The train ride from Hogsmede to Kings Cross was an uneventful one. Well, I say uneventful, if uneventful means being pestered by James Potter's bloody fan club. As soon as I had found a compartment with Dorcas, I was questioned relentlessly: 'How did he ask me out? Was it romantic? Have we kissed before? What about Lily Evans? Is he a good kisser?'... I was practically mauled with words. That was until Dorcas threw her pumpkin pasty at one of them- which takes some doing since she barely ever parts with her food willingly- and they all sulked down the corridor.
"I can't wait to meet your parents," Dorcas squeals, linking arms with me as we cross the busy road in muggle London.
"They're nothing to be excited about," I mumble, knowing how long it had taken for me to convince my parents to allow someone 'like me' to stay over for a month.
"But they're muggles," she exclaims, her blonde hair whipping her face as a gust of wind swoops through the air.
"And they hate the fact that I can do magic," I hiss quietly at her, looking around the street for the nearest bus station.
"If they say anything about it, I'll protect you," she laughs, and I can't help but snort at her.
I look my best friend up and down, taking note of her small and fragile frame. And the fact that she barely stands at over five foot five and the fact that she would rather eat her hand than use violence any day. Dorcas and I had been friends since First Year, when I tripped over her bag and nearly fell headfirst into her potion. She had helped me up and told me that if I wanted to be her friend, all I had to do is ask. And from then on, we had been friends. We spend our time together tackling the Marauders mocking of my clumsiness, ignoring Lily Evans whenever she feels the need to yell at us for being late for curfew, and taking midnight trips to the kitchens.
"Luna, why are we just stood here?" Dorcas questions as we stand by the bus stop, her pale blue eyes staring at the pole curiously.
"We're waiting for a bus."
"What's a bus?" she questions again.
"Something you'd know about if you took Muggle Studies for you O. ."
And for that comment, I fell off the pavement.