Not the Pants

"Oi! James!" Al's voice rang through the flat. I blinked, still slightly disoriented from my Apparation. I was in a sleek white hallway. The decor was modern and bristling with black accents and sharp edges. From the sounds of it, Al and James's flat was the one directly opposite from me. I hesitated for a moment before pushing open the dark door, revealing the pristine interior. Or, at least, the almost pristine interior. To my amusement, there was almost a clear divide in the center of the living room. One side was neat, almost clinically sparse, while the other was dotted with discarded Quidditch jerseys and emptied energy drinks.

No hardship guessing which side was which.

The flat as a whole continued the modern theme the building (which was quite nice and a far cry from the cozy flat I shared with Rose) had going on, with dark wooden floors and wall-length windows charmed to be one-sided so that curious passerby and reporters couldn't look in. Rose was nudging a dark blue (well, I liked the colour at least) Puddlemere United jersey with a hesitant foot, her lip curled up slightly as she eyed James's side with undisguised distaste. I had to agree with her; James was a right slob (oh, sod off. Yes, I know my room barely looks better).

"James!" Al bellowed from somewhere deep within the flat. I exchanged a bemused look with Rose before going down the hallway to see what all the fuss was about.

The room was dark and smelled slightly of sweat and cologne. Al flicked his wand angrily at the curtains, magically flinging them open and letting in the bright late-morning light. James groaned from his position on his bed, flinging his red (honestly. The Gryffindor-ness of this room was almost vomit inducing) blanket over his head. Al shrugged, a small, mischievous smile curling his lips.

He brought out his wand once more and murmured, "Aguamenti." A steady stream of water shot from the wand, drenching James's covers. He was up in a second, spluttering angrily.

"ALBUS SEVERUS POTTER!" he yelled. He flung himself forward, slamming into Al's body. They began shoving each other and were soon knocking over various Quidditch trophies in their mock-fight.

I exchanged another long-suffering glance with Rose. Merlin. Well, at least they no longer hated each other.

Well, as much as I hated to break up this…sibling-fest…I did have a purpose for coming here. So I cleared my throat, hoping to catch their attention.

Nothing. The two Potters were still fighting, and Al's shirt was starting to ride u-

OKAY TIME TO INTERRUPT THIS BEFORE THINGS GOT OUT OF HAND. The Adela Tomato firmly in place (fantastic), I gripped OBTS and flung myself in between them, swinging the bat around haphazardly and connecting into something very solid.

I looked up, smiling sheepishly when I saw James's annoyed blue eyes glaring down at me. Eh. He had Quidditch muscles – they were practically a suit of armour. He'd deal.

"Hi James," I said brightly, casually slinging OBTS back on my waist. "I have a favour to ask."

He reached towards his dresser, grabbing his dark-rimmed glasses and shoving them on his face. "Of course. Ask away. Why wouldn't I want to grant a favour to the girl who just whacked my stomach?" he said sarcastically.

I scowled. Al's sarcasm was rubbing off on him. One sarcastic bloke was bad enough – two annoying Potter spawns was overkill.

But I was mature, so I ignored his jibe (I deserved a medal for that alone) and continued as if I hadn't heard him. "We need tickets to the Manchester United game today."

He blinked, genuinely taken aback. "You mean the game that's been sold out for months?" he finally managed.

I cringed slightly. "Er…yeah," I said.

He cast a glance behind me at Al. After eight long seconds he sighed, running a hand through his dark brown hair.

"I'll see what I can do. Chang's brother is a Squib who plays on their team. He might be able to get you in," he said finally.

I beamed, jumping forward to hug him. He reached down to ruffle my hair. "Thank you, James!" I said sincerely. He shrugged. "Anything for you, my violent Ravenclaw," he teased.

Al cleared his throat, and I realised with a start that I was still hugging James. Huh. Though James definitely was handsome (his years of rigorous Quidditch practice and growth had certainly been kind to him), I felt the same as I would have if I were hugging Rose. Just platonic friendship. My schoolgirl crush on him seemed so distant now...I stepped away, moving closer to Al and Rose.

"Now, we need those tickets by noon," Rose added bossily. James's mouth dropped open. "N-noon? Merlin, woman! It's ten already! At least let a bloke eat some food first," he protested. "I pity Scorpius," he added jokingly.

Oh no. Rose whitened immediately, and her small hands curled into tight fists by her sides.

She turned to me slowly and said through clenched teeth, "Adela, I'll be waiting in the living room." Then she flounced out of the room, leaving only a lingering scent of parchment and flowers behind her.

James blinked. "What did I say?"

I scowled, reaching over to whack him again with OBTS – this time with considerably more force than the time before. "Git." I said angrily, turning to follow Rose.

"Make sure you get us the tickets by noon," I called over my shoulder.

I heard a muffled, "Al, what did I do?" as I left.

Rose was curled up on the neat side of the room, hugging her knees to her chest as she stared contemplatively at the floor before her.

"Rose?" I said tentatively. She looked up, smiling self-deprecatingly when she saw me.

"I'm acting a bit pathetic, aren't I?" she said bitterly. "I can't keep freaking out whenever I hear Sc-his name."

I bit my lip, Numberita struggling to find a helpful response. Nope, nothing. Sigh. Note to self: read more books on how to comfort a friend.

I sat myself down beside her, sighing heavily as I stretched my legs out in front of me.

"Boys are idiots," I said finally.

She stared at me for a second before laughing, a short, delighted sound that made her honey eyes sparkle.

"Idiots," she agreed. Then we sat in quiet companionship for the next three minutes and twelve seconds until Al entered the room, his eyes darting around wildly until he saw me sitting on the floor. He visibly relaxed, slipping his wand back into his pocket.

"Don't worry. No psycho siblings here," I half-joked, but inside I was flinching a bit at the thought of the two Bulgarians. Al eyed me contemplatively before, to my utter surprise, sighing heavily and flopping down next to me so that our sides touched. I pushed down the urge to go all "Adela Tomato" again, angrily cursing my body for the ease with which it reddened. Note to self: find some way to suppress blushes.

My left side was very warm now, and I had to resist the urge to lean my head against his shoulder as I had so many times before. Nope. Nope. Nope.

"I sent James off to Chang's," he said conversationally. Nia Chang was one of the star Chasers on the Puddlemere United team.

"Good," I said. Then I paused before saying suspiciously, "I don't want to know how you got him to leave without breakfast, do I?"

He grinned. "Nope," he said cheerfully. Rose was still silent to my right, and I glanced at her worriedly.

"What did the idiot of a Malfoy do this time?" Al asked bluntly. I shot him a glare, but he shrugged, tilting his head closer to whisper, "There's no point beating around the bush. I like to go in for the kill." I shivered before strengthening my resolve, reaching out to push him.

"It's probably nothing. I'm the idiot for getting so jealous," Rose answered, still examining her hands with determined interest.

Al tensed, his eyes narrowing and his hand drifting towards his wand.

"Jealous? Why are you jealous? Has he been flirting with someone else?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. I sniffed. Well. I was doing a fine job of intimidating Scorpius already. I didn't need some young upstart (never mind the fact that Al was older than I) trying to take over my job as substitute Muggle mob boss.

Rose shook her head vigorously, her soft curls slapping my face (I suppressed my loud protests. I'm a good friend). "No, no. He was just speaking with Vane; I think they were childhood friends or something like that."

Now I was the one watching Al carefully. From Vane's earlier speech about Al, I knew they'd had something together – I didn't know to what extent, but there was definitely something far too familiar about the way they worked together. A curl of jealousy reared up as Numberita and I scrutinized Al's expression.

To our relief, he just looked a bit bewildered – no sign of resentment at the fact that Vane was supposedly flirting with Scorpius. This surprise was soon replaced by recognition, then grim resolve.

"Ah," he said softly.

Numberita was practically bursting with curiousity. "Ah? That's all you can say? What do you know?" I spluttered.

He cast a side eye at me before shaking his head slightly and mouthing "later." I paused, slightly mollified.

To my right Rose was getting up, briskly slapping at her trousers to get rid of any dust.

"Well, we ought to see if we can find out more about this Grey person," she said. I scrambled to my feet, surveying the flat quickly for any blackmail material (hey – I didn't get a chance like this very often. If I saw an embarrassing baby picture I was going to take full advantage) before nodding.

"Right. The libra-" I began. Then my stomach growled quite loudly, and this time I couldn't even hope to suppress the Adela Tomato.

"Perhaps food would be a better course," Al suggested smoothly. "Merlin knows if this machine doesn't get fed soon she'll collapse and then we won't hear the end of her precious fuel tank needing to be refilled."

I scowled, hitting his arm with OBTS.

"Git," I muttered under my breath. At least Rose would never say something that demeaning.

Rose eyed me warily. "Yes, you're right," she agreed. My mouth dropped open. Traitors, the lot of them.

Al laughed. "Come on, ravenous beast. It's time to eat," he said.

I huffed, a firm scowl planted on my face.

Prat.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

12:01 PM.

My stomach filled and my impatience high, I paced up and down Al's living room, my feet sliding against the smooth dark wood as I anxiously looked between the window and the door. Seth had contact me twenty-two minutes ago with an apologetic note that he couldn't procure the tickets, so James was our only hope at this point. And the git was gone.

"He is a minute and twelve seconds late. Thirteen seconds now," I said half to myself, swiveling sharply at the end of the room to resume my pacing.

"Should we stop her?" I dimly heard Rose ask.

"Nah. It's still too amusing. When it gets annoying we can just do a quick petrificus or something."

A dull thump – Rose had probably whacked him. Numberita silently thanked her distractedly, but I was too busy pacing to really pay attention to their conversation.

A slight tapping sounded from the window. I was at the glass in three seconds, skidding against the wooden floor and yanking the window open. Lady Bacon fluttered inside, squawking disgruntedly when I fairly ripped the small envelope from her talons.

Muttering a distracted apology, I tore open the paper, grinning happily to myself when its contents spilled out – three smooth red tickets spilled onto my palm. They were for the seats farthest from the fields, but that was fine; Numberita would figure some way to get close to Grey's box.

I turned to the skeptical duo, thrusting the tickets up into the air triumphantly.

"We've got them!" I shouted. Rose jumped up from her perch on Al's leather couch, clapping her hands together excitedly. Even Al grinned at me, and I beamed back at him happily.

This was bloody fantastic! If I could only get close enough to Grey to ask her if she knew anything about old Ben; she was the chief of surgery. She was sure to know something.

I paused, Numberita crashing back to earth as I thought about the implications of this trip. How would I get close to her? The same thing had clearly occurred to Rose, for her smile had drooped slightly.

"Adela…" she began. I shook my head abruptly, refusing to let this happy moment go. I'd had enough disappointments over the past few days. If life wasn't going to cooperate, I would have to make it cooperate. So I shook my hair out and pinned it up into a tight ponytail, grabbing a stray jersey (and wincing slightly at the smell) and holding it to my chest.

"Think I could pass for a rabid fan?"

Rose and Al exchanged long looks.

"Does being a rabid fan entail wearing skimpy clothes? Because then yeah, I'm all f-"

I shot a quick silencing hex at Al. I could see him spluttering from the corner of my eye, but I didn't care – not now, at least (he'd probably find some way of getting back to me later. Note to self: check bed thoroughly for poisonous bugs and/or hippogriff dung before lying in it). A vague plan was forming in Numberita – it was far-fetched and perhaps a tad (okay, very) insane, but it was all I had. It would have to work.

I would dress up as a crazed fan who had somehow lost her way/was going up the bleachers to get a better view. I would stumble against the box, taking out one of the bodyguards on the way, and pretend to faint. As a medical professional, Grey would have to stop and help. Al would then swoop in as a helpful bystander and call an ambulance, charming Grey in the process and retrieving the necessary information.

Well, I never claimed that it was Numberita's best plan, but it was something.

"Rose?" For this to work, I'd need Rose's help. I knew I looked nothing like a crazed fan. I wasn't even entirely sure I knew what they looked like; I'd gotten the idea from an old Muggle movie I'd watched six months and twelve days ago, and something told me that wasn't the most accurate representation.

She sighed after twenty-six seconds. "Fine," she said wearily.

Then a slow, mischievous smile crept on her face, and I swallowed nervously. Uh oh. That didn't look goo-

"But remember – you asked for it!" she added gleefully, reaching forward to yank me into the bathroom behind her.

She shoved me so that I was sitting haphazardly on the countertop and began rifling through the contents of the cupboards.

"Ugh, they don't have anything I need…oi! Al!" she bellowed. I cringed at the loud volume. Al stomped over, still glaring at me balefully.

Rose took no notice; she merely undid the hex with an airy wave of her wand before summoning a scroll of parchment and a quill, scribbling several lines of curly black script on the yellowed paper. She thrust the roll at Al, who accepted it grudgingly, and ordered, "I expect you to be back in ten minutes."

Al glanced down at the parchment, his eyebrows rising and his mouth curling in disgust.

"I can't be seen buying this," he said scornfully, pushing the parchment away as if it had burned him. I stifled a laugh; was the big, bad Auror scared of going to a store?

Rose folded her arms over her chest threateningly. "Eight minutes," she said, giving him a murderous look that frightened even me – and I wasn't even on the receiving end. Al swallowed, flicking his eyes at me as if he expected me to go against the scary Weasley. I shrugged; he wasn't going to be getting any help from my end.

He scowled, muttered, "I'm charging it on your account. And – make sure she doesn't get into too much trouble while I'm gone," before turning on the spot and Apparating away with a sharp crack.

I was starting to feel a bit nervous now. Rose was yanking at my hair, pulling at my roots with enough force to bring tears to my eyes. I hissed, clutching at the cool marble countertop with whitened fingers.

xxxxxxxxxx

Al was back in seven minutes and fifty-nine seconds.

"Rose, here's your…" his mouth dropped open at what must have been quite the comical scene. I was clutching at the tub, screaming "NO! NOT THE PANTS!" as Rose struggled to pull my trousers from my legs, her face as red as her hair in her exertion.

Rose took the bag from him wordlessly, shutting the door firmly in his face.

And so the torture continued.

It was only a (very long) forty-two minutes later that Numberita finally overcame the pain long enough to come to a single (and troubling) thought.

"Wait," I began slowly, my eyes narrowing a bit. Rose slapped at my arm, and I stopped moving, trying to keep my face as still as possible as she neared it with a lethal-looking black-coated contraption.

"Why couldn't you be the crazed fan?"

Rose smirked. The bitterweed had known all along that I didn't have to be the fainter! "More fun this way," she said innocently, capping the evil contraption and storing it back in the bag.

Then she clapped her hands, turning me around to look at the mirror.

"There!" she said proudly.

I stared at my reflection for a very long time, torn between conflicting urges to cry, to laugh, to strangle Rose…

I looked like a bloody clown. My eyelids were a lurid red that made my already-muddy hazel eyes look like puke, my upper lip was scarlet and my lower lip gold ("Manchester United colors," I'd heard Rose muttering to herself as she'd smeared something on my mouth six minutes ago), and my hair pulled back into a severe ponytail and my dark hair shimmering with gold glitter. And I was wearing a Manchester United jersey. Granted, that wasn't the problem…the problem was that I was not wearing any pants. Thankfully, I was short enough that the jersey just brushed the tops of my knees…but still. No. Pants.

I closed my eyes (something slithery touched the tops of my cheeks – Rose had added lurid gold eyelashes to the ends of my own short ones) and counted silently to twenty. Do not murder best friend. Do not murder best friend. Do not – I counted to forty. Twenty was too short.

When I was (fairly) confident that no murder would be occurring, I opened my eyes again and turned calmly to Rose.

"Rose," I began evenly. She beamed. "Yeah?"

"Do you even know what a crazed fan looks like?"

She blanched, fidgeting slightly.

"Erm…no."

I nodded, still eerily calm.

"That's what I thought."

I sent a silent apology up to Merlin for what was about to happen.

Then I lost it.

"ROSE BLOODY WEASLEY I LOOK LIKE A FREAKING CLOWN! WHAT IN MERLIN'S BEARD IS THIS?" I shrieked, flinging myself forward in a wave of choking perfume and glitter (dear Merlin. She'd dumped a pint of gold and red confetti down my shirt).

She let out a yelp, yanking the door open and hurtling out of the bathroom like a crazed lunatic (which, I supposed I resembled with my gaudy appearance and livid yells) was chasing her.

"AL!" she bellowed.

Al emerged from the opposite hallway at a run, his wand drawn and his mouth forming the first syllable of my name-

Then he screeched to a stop, staring at me with first horror, then confusion, then recognition, and finally full-blown delight. The oh-so-professional Auror dropped his wand, doubling over as huge peals of laughter wracked his body.

I scowled. Sorry, Merlin. It looked like two people would be suffering tonight.

"GITS!" I shrieked, launching myself at the duo with OBTS in my right hand.

They were going to pay.

Author Note: I have to say, writing a full blown "makeover" scene has been on my bucket list for a long time now (though I've always been hesitant because of the clichéd aspect…eh, what am I saying, I secretly love it). Of course, something always comes up to ruin those plans. It seems like Adela just refuses to make these things work out for me. Sigh. As always, all reviewers will be given a teaser of the next chapter! C;

I'm always so struck by wide variety of people reading this story. It's so weird to think that people are reading this in countries I've never set foot in...thank you all so much for reading this crazed fanfic! :)

IMPORTANT: I will be going away for the next week and a half, so unfortunately there will be no update next week :( After that the schedule will be back to normal! :)

Guest Review Replies

Liz - thank you! I'm glad you like it :D

Guest - I'm so glad you like her! I love her too haha :]

Jenn - ah and I love you! (haha what if Al did do that? ;o )