Chapter 1 : One
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I need to relax. Stay calm. - Nelissa Finnigan.
I need to relax. Stay calm.
It's perfectly normal to feel like this when you find yourself in such a situation. In my defence it is not my fault, it's Josie and her doctor fetish. She had to do it. You like to have fun, I understand, I really do. I quite like having fun myself. But she had to spend the evening with a Muggle doctor. I'm all fine with going out with non-magical people, but there is one thing that Josie doesn't seem to understand. You can't do everything that Muggle asks, you just can't. And you know who has to hold your hand when you carry out the stupid request of putting your big toe in the neck of a wine bottle? Yes, I have to! I am such the supportive friend.
Josie is sitting on our sofa nearly shaking with her arms folded and her legs crossed, just hoping the bottle will levitate itself off. But unfortunately it doesn't. She's chewing on her bottom lip nervously.
“What do I do, Nel?!” she asked desperately.
“Erm . . . I think we should go to St. Mungo's,” I said carefully, recoiling at her expression.
“No! Can't you just pull it off?”
“We tried that,” I said carefully. “and if we break the bottle it would cut your foot to bits,”
“Help me, Finnigan,” she begged.
“Why not St. Mungo's?” I asked again.
“Because bitch face works in the accident emergency department,”
“Bitch face who?”
“Tina,” she said and winced.
“Oh,” I shuddered. Tina Green isn't the nicest of people, if you get what I mean.
“I'm not having her knowing what happened. Remember when she found Greg Wood snogging me, she called me a harlot and spread round Hogwarts that I had a STI,” Josie said scathingly. “She'll probably tell everyone that it's a part of some Muggle sex ritual,”
“Well, what should we do then?”
“Let's go to a Muggle hospital,”
“You can't pull in your condition,” I said and raised one eyebrow.
“No, stupid. To get the bloody thing off!” she gasped. “Go downstairs and use their thingy,”
“What thingy?” I asked shocked.
“No! They'll kidnap me,” I said and my eyes widened. We live above two very odd men.
“Don't be a coward. Anyway, you're too blonde,” she told me and I glared.
“Fine,” I hissed and left her alone.
I made my way downstairs and knocked their door, swearing when my knuckle hit the brass number two. The door opened and my (not so) virgin eyes were met by the sight of George Next-Door in nothing but a gold leopard print dressing gown. I sincerely hope that it's tied up tight.
“Hello Nelissa,” he smirked smugly and leant against the door frame. “I knew you'd be back,”
“Erm . . actually I need to use the telephone.”
“Oh, well come on through,” George grinned and led me inside. Against all my instincts I followed him. “Who do you need?” he asked suggestively.
“Accident and Emergency,”
“Oh, press three,”
There is something very wrong when a man has a hospital on their speed dial.
“Is everything okay?” George asked. “Anything I can assist with?”
OH MERLIN NO!
I chose to ignore him and I picked up the phone (after checking I had it the right way up) and dialled, waiting for someone to pick up.
“Hello, you have reached Accident and Emergency. How may I help you?” a polite and friendly female voice asked.
I looked over at George and tried to shoo him away. If he heard what's wrong with Josie he'd probably offer to remove it just to get a good look at her feet.
“Yeah . . . hi. My friend is in a bit of a pickle,”
“A pickle?” the woman echoed.
“You see, she has something stuck,” I said awkwardly.
“What's stuck?” the woman asked carefully.
“A wine bottle,” I said in hushed tones.
I bet this will tickle them on their coffee break.
“Where is it stuck?”
“On her toe,” I muttered.
“Right. Well, what people do in the privacy of their homes is up to them,” she said and I rolled my eyes.
“What does she do to get it off?”
“How long has it been stuck on your toe?”
“It's not me. It's my friend,” I hastened to correct her.
“Fine,” she sighed in annoyance. “How long has it been stuck on your 'friend's' toe?”
Why did I even bother? No body ever believes you have a friend.
“Since last night, I think,”
“Right, well. Let me speak to Jan,” the woman said and put me on hold.
Who the hell is Jan?! Now I was left listening to a song about sheep milling in a field. My best friend may well be in this state for the rest of her days and I'm listening to a song about sheep.
“Hi,” the woman said coming back on the line. “Jan said you should come on up. One of our doctors will have to remove it,”
“And in the mean time?” I asked.
“Don't walk any great distances,”
Well, no shit. I could of worked that out my-fucking-self.
“Great, thanks,” I mumbled and put the phone down. I turned around and saw George hovering over me.
“Is everything okay, Nelissa?” he asked and wriggled his eyebrows.
“Do you need a lift to the hospital?”
“I would but you're not dressed,” I stated and hastened out of the flat.
“Well, bye!” I heard him call from behind me. I rushed back to ours and saw Josie in the same position that I had left her in.
“What did they say?” she asked urgently.
“We need to go up there,” I said solemnly like I was announcing Dumbledore's death.
“Oh no,” she gasped.
“If we apparate with any luck you'll leave the bottle behind,” I snickered and closed my eyes when Josie threw a cushion at my head.
“This is not funny, Nel!”
“I know it's not, it's bloody hilarious,”
“You're being a right snarky bitch today, Finnigan!” she hissed.
“You know we should probably go now, unless you want George to remove it?”
“Let's go!” Josie exclaimed and got up, hobbling like she only owned one leg due to her – ahem - problem.
She pulled a jacket on and turned on the spot to apparate. I tried to not laugh as she did. It was like watching a bulldog chase it's non existent tale. I did the same (without the bulldog impression) and apparated.
I appeared in an alley behind the hospital and saw Josie looking around frantically.
“What's wrong?” I asked and she glared at me.
“What if I see someone I know?!”
Wasn't that the whole point of coming to a MUGGLE hospital so we don't see anyone we know?
“Don't be dim,” I said and laughed lightly.
“Did you hear that?” she suddenly gasped. “It was a pop,”
“It was just probably Tina – bitch face apparating,” I deliberated and Josie stormed off – more like hopped – towards the doors to A&E. I followed and eventually caught up – not very difficult considering the speed at which she was walking.
We were in the queue behind a man waiting to be seen at the reception desk. The man turned around to sit down and we saw a light bulb protruding from his mouth.
I leant over to Josie. “This is why I don't understand your fetish,”
“Hello? How may I help you?” the woman at reception asked.
“Hi, I spoke to you on the phone. About a rather strange problem,” I said and widened my eyes to try and convey the message.
“Sorry, we get a lot of calls,”
“The wine bottle,” I said in a whisper, practically leaning on the desk so I was only inches away from her.
“Oh, right,” the woman nodded and took in Josie. “it was actually your friend,” she commented a little shocked. “Well, take a seat and fill out some forms,”
We took the forms off of her and made our way slowly to some free seats at the edge of the waiting room.
“Shall I use a fake name?” Josie whispered.
“Just in case anybody is watching,”
“You mean like spies?” I asked, but she just ignored me.
After a few minutes she passed them to me and stood, walking over to the desk. I glanced down at the forms and saw the name 'TINA GREEN' staring back at me.
“Guess who I've just seen?!” she said excitedly once I'd sat back down. I raised my eyebrows at her. Someone has changed their tune.
“Who?” I asked stupidly.
“James Potter,” Josie whispered like it was some big dark secret. Which to be honest, it was.
“What?” I muttered and followed her eyes. He was sat in all his glory next to a red haired woman.
James Potter is the manager of England's Quidditch squad. After being the son of Harry Potter. He's quite literally rolling in galleons in his expensive apartment. And with the World Cup coming up this summer the press were on him like a tramp on a chip. He was more than just manager though, he was bloody gorgeous. Added to the fact he was only in his late twenties. But he's also scary as hell.
I work as a sports correspondent for the 'Daily Prophet'. As sports correspondent (in other words Quidditch) I have to attend the interviews, releases, matches, publicity parties and what not. That's why James hates me, he has to attend these events too (or at least his people do). I am apparently the spawn of Satan a.k.a. a reporter.
Being the bright minded individual my editor expects me to be I should go over and get some statements. But knowing that he would probably string me up from his goal hoops I decide to hide behind a newspaper.
“Is he looking?” I asked quietly and watched Josie stare at him.
“No, no – wait,”
“What is he even doing here?”
“Why?” I hissed.
“Wondering why you're so enthused by a newspaper maybe?” she offered. “Shit,”
“He's coming over,” she stage whispered.
I casually put the newspaper down and was met by the sight of James Potter's chest. He looked at me in an annoyed way and crossed his arms across his suited torso.
“Nelissa,” he nodded.
“Good afternoon, James,” I said and copied his tone.
“I'm sorry, but what are you doing here? You didn't follow me here, did you?” he snapped.
Really? I have better things to do with my Sunday than follow you around.
“Actually I am here with my friend,” I said gesturing to Josie who had now dumped her handbag on her foot and the bottle. “she had an accident and asked me to accompany her for emotional support,”
“Sorry, Josephine," he smiled, just noticing her. "Your father is well?"
"Yes, thank you," Josie smirked.
"What's wrong?” he asked carefully.
“That is a very personal question,” I butted in and clicked my tongue. “What are you doing in a Muggle hospital?” I accused.
“I'm here with my sister,”
“Oh, is she a Muggle?” I asked, my eyes bright.
“As she is related to me I don't think that likely,”
Damn it, I meant to say squib.
“Why are you here, Nelissa?” he asked after a moments silence.
“Because Josie and I feel comfortable coming to this hospital,”
Then the name 'Tina Green' was called. Fuck.
“If you excuse me, James,” I said and pulled Josie up.
"Of course. Tell your father I said hello," James said to Josie. Then we walked in the direction of the nurse while I could feel his eyes on my back.
“Erm . . Nel?” Josie asked as we followed the nurse.
“What was that about?” she asked cautiously.
“He's always asks about my father. And he's good looking,”
“He is,” I replied and saw her smirk.
We were led to a little section with an examination table and a curtain to give privacy. 'Tina' was instructed to lie down and try to keep calm and relaxed.
“The doctor is on his way,” the nurse told us and disappeared out of the room.
“Will it hurt?” she asked.
Well, let me just get out my doctors effing textbook, Josie.
“Sorry my healing is a little rusty,”
“Thanks,” she replied dryly.
Then the curtain drew back a little and the doctor walked in. He was young with windswept blond hair and a wide perfect white smile. He looked at Josie and did a double take.
“Josephine?” the doctor asked weakly and his eyes widened.
“Erm . . . did you get to work okay, Andrew?” Josie stuttered.
Shit. This can't be good.
Thanks for reading and feel free to review. For this story I've taken inspiration from some of the books on my shelf, inclucding 'The Secret Dream World of a Shopaholic' and 'Playing James'. But the story will mainly be original x
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