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LOVE & BROOMSTICKS by StepUpx_Gryffindor

Format: Novel
Chapters: 35
Word Count: 216,870
Status: WIP

Rating: Mature
Warnings: Strong Language, Mild Violence, Scenes of a Sexual Nature, Substance Use or Abuse, Sensitive Topic/Issue/Theme

Genres: Humor, Romance, Young Adult
Characters: Lupin, Sirius, F. Longbottom, Lily, James, Pettigrew, OC
Pairings: James/Lily, Sirius/OC, Other Pairing

First Published: 07/23/2006
Last Chapter: 03/09/2015
Last Updated: 03/09/2015

Summary:



You know what I hate? Having James Potter as your playmate as a child, & then having him turn into an egotistical pig as soon as we both set foot in Hogwarts. All the jokes, teasing, cat-calling... I can't stand it! I can't stand him. James Potter may have that devlishly handsome grin going for him, but I'm not falling for it! I've survived him for 5 years & I'm sure I can make it through my Sixth Year without him... I think?


Chapter 27: Clueless And A Tad Too Sassy

The muscles coming out of his school shirt basically call out to me. It’s as if we’re walking through a long tunnel, but in reality, I’m walking through a large hallway and he‘s at the opposite end. Everything is in slow motion. I haven’t been getting much sleep lately, so everything’s making me kind of fuzzy. But this, this is just torturous. He has his schoolbag across his shoulders with his collar loose but not unkempt. His tie is undone slightly and his shirt sleeves are rolled up lazily to his elbow. Every step I take echoes in my ears; as if a large rock being thrown against a wall is accompanying my every step. My breathing isn’t necessarily picking up, but slowing down. I can feel it. Either something’s wrong with me because of my sleep deprivation, or James is doing something on purpose to get me to stare at him. I think it’s a combination of both.

It’s like a scene in a film where the guy and girl are walking at the opposite ends of the hallway. The only difference between what’s happening right now and what happens in the movies, is that the climax of the scene has not occurred yet: the meet in the middle.

I’ve only just seen him at the end of the hall, yet I see him as if he’s under a magnifying glass. And I can’t help but just look at him laugh and walk with his friends. He seems happy. But there’s something that doesn’t seem right. Jessica and Emma are talking, just like Remus and Sirius are. And yet we’re both pretending to be in the conversation. I’m walking emotionless with my friends like a zombie, and he’s trying to pretend he’s in on the joke his friends are talking about. I hope to heavens that he takes a right turn soon. I don’t know what’s come over me all of a sudden, but it’s not normal. Well, not normal for me, anyways. Should I be looking at him like this? Seems like I can’t take the heat. Because I feel like I should be sweating.

Awkwardly enough, I don’t mind it.

He bites his lip and he slows down his walk only slightly, to look at his feet as he walks. He doesn’t see me at the end of the hallway, nor does he know I’m watching him. I’m getting nearer, closer to him. It’s a long corridor, but the corridors of Hogwarts can only run for so long…

There could be many teenage flicks that could accompany this headline, preferably from the 1980’s - but I’ll leave that for you to play with on your own. I have some larger things to tackle at the moment.

I hear his clacking feet. James grazes his somewhat scruffy 3 o’clock shadow in a hazy manner before sighing, and looking up. I can only imagine what I look like. A combination of a ginger-haired garden gnome, maybe? Without the hat, of course. And the midget/elf height thing. I don’t remember the last time I wore makeup and I fell asleep with my hair wet last night, so it’s loose and tussled, basically wavy all around. Messy and a bit tangled, but manageable. I should have probably thought about dabbing concealer under my dark circles. I like to call them my bag(gy) lady eyes. If it wasn’t for the uniform, people would think I was homeless.

I wish he didn’t look so…relaxed, poised, and well rested. I know that there’s a part of him that is unsettling. Like me. It’s just affecting me more. And all the while I keep going back and forth between thoughts of what he was to me and what I thought of him throughout the years, he doesn’t take his eyes off of me. The bag on my shoulder no longer feels like a thousand pounds. I don’t see any other students around to pester or annoy me with their shoving and yelling. I see him looking at me and I almost stop walking all together. He bites his lip as a reaction to me, probably my looks. Maybe he’s having a laugh? At the destruction he’s caused? Hell, I’d boast about it if I was him. Not gonna lie.

Alas, he looks tired too, when I look at him. I know this because I’m closer to him now then I was two steps ago. I’m counting down the feet its going to take until it happens. Until we pass and meet each other half way. He’s looking me straight in the eyes now. What else is there to do? Do I look away and push through his shoulder, or do I keep looking at him as if nothing’s happened this year? It’s been a week since the last time I’ve talked to him. I feel as if something’s missing when I don’t see him, I hate to admit it.

But then I shake if off, and realize I have no attachment to him. Hell, I don’t even LIKE HIM. So why do I feel like I’ve lost something, when it reality I lost nothing? It’s ridiculous. I only just end up angering myself in the process. Making myself feel like a blinking idiot. Is it ethical to have fights with yourself? Because I’m really pissing myself off.

His eyebrows shift slightly, and I can almost move my cheek to his, we’re so close. The meet in the middle. It’s happening in slow motion and I can’t handle it. Nanosecond by nanosecond is passing and we do nothing but stare at each other. It’s like a mix between hate, frustration, and awe. In other words, a very complicated look. It’s storming outside and we’re all headed to the last class of the day. Imagine how awake we still are from our early morning classes to have enough energy for these stupid looks! I can’t take my eyes off of James, though, and he can’t seem to care enough to say anything. I’m tired of initiating everything. It’s a hassle.

The fact that I want so badly to just talk to him is bizarre beyond anything. One second he’s the cocky Potter I know and hate. The next, he’s this strange boy who’s trying to figure me out. I don’t get it. Maybe it’s a reaction from being so close to him when we were children. He used to be my best friend, you know? Maybe that’s taking a toll on me…? Eh. I just can’t fathom how I’ve been feeling lately.

We stare at each other for another three nanoseconds, and just as I’m about to turn my head away, I swear to Merlin, he looks down at my lips. I let out a little gasp and he notices; I turn around just in time to go completely red in the face and scurry off like Madam Pince when she catches two people snogging in the library.

Right at the end of my head turning away from him, he had looked back at me, square in the eyes. I saw it from the corner of my pupil. I swear on my Aunt Betsey’s famous Pumpkin Pie cupcakes.

Why did he do that? WHY? He has a girlfriend. James and I had a snog…one time. Just once! And to be honest, it wasn’t even by choice. And that was way before all of this Leslie Toudren business.

I’d love to wake up one day without regretting what I did or didn’t do yesterday, you know? It’s like that feeling, repeatedly. I wish I knew how to fix or not fix what ever the hell is happening. I feel like we’re poker chips that were thrown in the air. Our velocity has changed to zero and we are not moving at all. As if we are dangling in mid-air, and we’re just waiting for the fall.

WTFDTAM.

Translation: What the fuck does this all mean?

(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)

I walk in to Potions and my bag falls off my shoulder before I even reach my desk.

“Red,” Sirius greets.

“Black,” I reply.

He smiles coyly, his eyes twinkling. He leans back on his chair and props his feet up on the desk. As usual.

The storm outside is still going on. It’s thundering more than it was an hour ago. I hope there isn’t some sort of legitimate weather threat announcement at dinner. I can only imagine not going to sleep again for the billionth time in a row because of thunder. Every night…every night there’s always something that’s stopping me from resting. I need to buy ear plugs, that’s the solution. Indeed, I have decided - I am buying pink ear plugs at Hogsmeade this weekend.

“So how’ve you been?” Sirius nonchalantly asks me. I turn to him and don’t even bother to push away the hair covering my face.

“…that’s a good look for you. I’ll take that as a ‘no’ then?” He raises his eyebrows enchantingly. What’s he happy about?

“Get that smile off your face. It’s creepy.”

He smiles, his teeth brilliantly white. “Why should I? I’m happy.” Sirius rests his hands behind his head. Class starts in 2 minutes and he’s ready to get comfortable to take a snooze already! His usual time is the last ten minutes of class. Not before class.

“I’m glad you’re happy,” I say flatly. I continue to burying my head in my arms. My cheek is pressed against my desk like a child at Christmas who’s staring at a toy on the other side of the Plexiglas.

“I believe that,” he says in monotone.

My head stays buried and I don’t say anything, so Sirius Black just continues.

“Why, of course I’ll tell you why I’m happy! I’m glad you asked-”

This is me rolling my eyes.

“- because it’s pretty big news.”

“Oh, really,” is what I regurgitate boringly, except it comes out incoherent because half my face is paralyzed by my oak desk. He doesn’t care.

“Yep,” he responds fruitfully. “I got asked to spend Christmas with Emma.”

I feel a tiny drop of saliva land on my desk.

“Oh!” I try to sound happy and chipper, but I don’t even feel the need to lift my head up. “That’s actually really nice,” I muffle. I take a deep breath, as the lack of oxygen through my jungle of arms is becoming a problem, and finish by saying, “The fact that her parents are thinking about this ahead of time is a good thing. It’s a solid month and a half away, Christmas, and they must really want to meet you.”

“Yep!” He speaks even more fruitfully this time. “I’m really excited. I usually spend time with Prongs during Christmas break, but now that I actually have a stable girlfriend, he totally understood when I said I’d go with Emma.”

I just swallow my saliva and continue breathing like a naked mole rat.

“Not that you care or anything,” Sirius wheedles. “But I just thought I’d share that with you.”

“I feel honored.”

He sighs and turns to me, and I just know him enough to sense he’s doing so. I feel him staring at my ear. I don’t know why, but I feel a tickling on my earlobe.

“Tickle, tickle!”

Oh, never mind. That’s just Sirius tickling my ear for real. No big deal.

I swat his hand away.

“At least try to be mischievous when you tickle someone,” I snap.

“Sorry, I can’t hear you. There’s a puddle being formed below your face and it seems to me like you’re drowning.”

“Continue with your damn story, then.” That way I don’t have to talk.

“That was it, really.”

I raise my head up and it’s like I’ve woken up at 5 am in the morning again, before turning back around, flipping my pillow to the cold side, and going back to sleep. I wipe my drool with my sleeve and I sit up straight. Well, straighter. Our Potions professor comes in, claiming that he’s misplaced his hair burning formula vials in his ‘other’ suitcase (the ‘other’ suitcase is what we use to describe Slughorn’s suitcase of death, since he only puts really bad marks in that one, especially if the majority of the class failed), so I’m a little worried. I should be more worried though. Hush sounds fill the room as everyone almost panics in terror at their possible score.

I’m like, dudes, let’s take a nap. You know?

“I’m afraid I’ve mixed up my papers somehow, lads- er, and ladies, as well! I shall be back in a moment.” Slughorn scurries away. I take advantage of his absence from the classroom for about five minutes. As in, lets try and fall asleep on objects people like to write on. Like desks.

I feel my eyelids getting really heavy…

“What do you do for Christmas?” Sirius asks, interrupting my trip to nirvana.

I basically claw my eyes to get them back open.

“Even though it’s a while away, I’m curious.” Sirius is truly interested, so I give him the benefit of the doubt.

“I go home, clean the house, take care of everything, pretend to smile, and try to relax with my oblivious father and my bitch of a sister, with presents that no longer give off a genuine vibe,’ I reply honestly. I open my eyes more to see a clearer view of the boy in front of me, with the back legs of his chair being his only means of support. I watch his face, and Sirius doesn’t seem worried or disconcerted at what I’ve just said. I’m waiting for his face to move. But it doesn’t. He just nods. And accepts it.

I appreciate him for this.

“Can’t be as bad as the ones I had in the past. It used to be horrible,” he chuckles to himself, reminiscing. “Regulus used to always chip his tooth somehow, by chewing on candy canes too quickly, and not waiting for them to melt. He was an impatient child.” Sirius looks at his feet laying on the desk, then down at the ground, and crosses his arms.

“I was usually neglected. The only gifts I ever got after my Gryffindor initiation were silk pajamas I’d receive every year from my mother. And maybe a picture Regulus would draw of me and him. My father got me nothing.”

I feel like my dad gives me nothing, too, sometimes.

“I’m sorry for that.”

“Don’t be,” he grimaces. “My mother got me those pajamas as some sort of consolation prize for having them as parents, anyways. Not because they wanted to give me something, you know? I understand what you mean when you say that the gifts you receive are no longer genuine.”

“Yeah, especially when you’re sister buys you a bikini waxing kit for Christmas and comments on how hairy you’ve become,” I blurt out easily. I keep forgetting it’s Sirius I’m talking to, but I’m too sleepy to care. I’m chill. CHILLED OUT. Relaxin’ and cruisin’. You know, diggin’ it. Diggity dog.

When did I turn in to a British rap sensation?

Sirius bursts out in laughter. “Are you for real? A bikini waxing kit? Harsh, Evans.” He shakes his head in mock disappointment. “You’re not THAT hairy,” he chuckles.

“THANKS.”

He just laughs more at my reaction.

“You’re adorable, Evans. Funny as hell sometimes, and a pain my arse all the time, but you’re not bad. You remind me of a puppy! A puppy that needs to be hugged.”

Is he my friend? I hope not.

“I think we’re friends,” he chirps.

“We’re not,” I correct.

“Oh, I think we are…” he sing-songs.

“You’re barking mad.”

“You’re like a pug, actually. Not just any kind of puppy, but a pug.”

“Stop talking, please?”

“The little pug,” Sirius concludes. “Yes, that’s definitely you. You’re a cute little redheaded pooch.“

I give him my WTF face.

“Luckily, I can relate.” How so?

“Really, now?”

“Eh, never mind.” He waves off, suddenly nervous, as if he’s forgotten who he’s talking to. “The only important thing is that we’re buddies!”

The day he comes in for a hug, I’m running from him and screaming about being infested with cooties.

“…No.”

“My wittle gingew pug,” Sirius pouts, speaking to me like a toddler with a speech impediment.

“I don’t know what’s worse, the fact that you’ve related me to a ginger-pug, or the fact that you’ve just spoken to me in that tone of voice,” I comment.

“You love it!” he challenges.

“Not really,” I tell him. I try not to smile at the image of a ginger pug. You gotta admit, it’s a funny visual.

“That’s what they all say…” Sirius trails off. And after a while of Slughorn-free, impossibly comfortable quietness, I turn my head to Sirius again.

I’m going to ask this, merely out of curiosity.

I don’t look him in the eye and say, “What does James do for Christmas?”

Sirius Black knits his eyebrows together. “Evans, you live right next door to the boy, and you don’t even know what he does for the holidays?”

I bite my lip and think about our eye-locking war thing today in the hallway.

“I guess not,” I shrug, pursing my lips together in a small amount of guilt. I should know. But I stopped caring years ago.

Sirius reluctantly begins talking. “Well,” he sighs, “I’m guessing that this year he’s going to be spending Christmas at home, as usual. Maybe a few dinner parties here and there, some holiday fiestas, too.”

I nod, understanding. “Ah.”

“Yeah.”

There’s just one question that’s itching to be asked. I start chewing on my lips.

Don’t ask, Lily, don’t ask!

“Is he taking Leslie home to meet his family this year?”

Sirius cracks his knuckles and shrugs. “I don’t know. Depends…he usually doesn’t have girlfriends around the holidays. He makes sure of it. So they may not be together by the time Christmas rolls around.”

My heart jumps a little bit, and I mentally slap my face.

“And do you want them to be together?” I ask slowly, trying to sound nonchalant, and only merely interested.

Sirius guffaws and places his feet from his desk to the ground in one swift move. His chair snaps back on all fours, the sound carries throughout the chatter-filled room.

“Psh, no,” he scoffs.

I’m surprised. “No?”

“No way, man. I can’t handle that chick,” he explains. “She’s intense. Too…what’s the word…”

Slutty?

“Available. All the time.”

Slutty.

“She just latches on to him, and I’m like, whoa there, lady. Retract those man gripping claws. Evans, it’s unimaginable. I’m telling you this in the hopes you’ll be sensitive and try to be understanding, because I need some sort of confidant. Have pity on me, I beg of you. It may just make you feel sorry for me. Who knows? The only thing I know is that SHE HAS GOT TO GO.” Sirius emphasizes the last five words and makes the airplane ‘take off’ gesture with his hands.

Now he’s trying to animate and recreate the sounds of an airplane before lift off.

“Boop, boop, boop.” And here come more hand motions.

“Sirius, I think that’s a dump truck sound effect, not an airplane sound effect.”

“Boop, boop- well, damn!” He stops mid hand move. “It’s not important. What’s important is my sanity. And keeping myself from going crazy with the infestation of PINK that has entered my group of friends.”

“What ever you have left of you’re sanity, you mean.”

“HAH, that was funny,” he says sarcastically.

“So what does Leslie do to really irritate you?” I ask. Is it bad that I’m glad to ask this question?

“For starters, she just craves attention. She always winks at James in the halls, thank God they don’t have classes together! I’d just about pull her hair if I saw her crawling all over him in front of me. I see that enough when we go out. And she always tries to enter our mischievous conversations for world domination! Always sticking her nose in our boy talk. I wanna trip her down the stairs when she does that. On top of the snooping, it’s almost winter and she’s still wearing mini-skirts. I think that’s a problem. Well, maybe not for some guys, but most can tell when someone’s trying to look cute and trying to look trashy.”

“So you’re saying she’s a tart?”

“Duh!” Sirius mocks rather loudly. “What’s in that noggin of yours? Pumpkin juice? Of course she’s a tart.”

He looks at me reluctantly, twirling his quill, regretting his words for a second.

I purse my lips and look at him kindly. “I won’t say anything to anyone,” I promise. “Tell me.”

“Yeah, a little bit of a tart,” he confesses to me, shrugging his shoulders.

I nod my head. “Okay… I mean, at least be thankful she’s not one of those bitchy types straight off the bat like other girls. At least she tries to be nice.” Maybe if I show him the positive, he won’t completely hate her. I’ll be honest, I’m glad he doesn’t like her at all, but I don’t want him detesting her completely. Makes me feel like more of a bitch than I secretly am.

“I actually do appreciate that about her,” he adds. “But she forces her kindness to get her way sometimes. Not cool. We’ve all had our fair share of girls like this, but James hasn’t been with anyone in a while. Let alone someone how wants to go to Madame Puddifoot’s every time we go to Hogsmeade. The group can’t stand her. At least, I can’t.”

“How do Remus and Peter feel about this?” I inquire further. The fact that Sirius is talking to me and trusting me really means a lot. I think he’s so open about James with me because he knows its me. It’s Lily Evans, ex-best friend and ex-never girlfriend. James Potter is the only connection we have, besides Emma. And we’re completely okay with that.

“They agree with me.”

“Oh?”

Sirius begins again, “Well, kinda. Not like one hundred percent, but they agree that she’s too much. And we can see it in Prongs, too. It’s like he’s pretending it doesn’t bother him, but the group knows it does. Everyone knows, except Leslie herself. I just don’t get it…”

“Don’t get what?” I furrow my eyebrows.

“I don’t get why he’s dating her,” Sirius says, more to himself than to me, as he stares at his desk in thought. I couldn’t have asked the question better myself.

“My sincerest apologize for the wait!” Professor Slughorn announces loudly, emerging from his office. “I’ve found the right file…”

Another set of groans fill the classroom.

(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)

“Is there a reason you haven’t eaten a thing in the past fifteen minutes since dinner’s started?” Jessica startles me out of my trance. Tucking away the hair in my face, I sit up straight and realize how loud it is in the Great Hall. All I heard before was a buzzing, but the voices are reaching my ears now. The sound is coming back to me gradually.

“You’re not hungry?” Emma questions, sitting across from Jess and I.

“No, it’s not that. I’m definitely hungry.” I nibble on my chicken in an idle fashion.

Jessica leans in closer to me. “Well, what is it then?”

Emma sets down her fork and thinks for a minute what she wants to say.

“Is it school?”

“What’s school?” I’m confused.

“Is it school that’s making you go a little loopy?”

Jessica scoffs. “Psh, it’s either that or some hardcore medication she nicked from Madame Pomphrey.”

“Am I loopy?” I ask, out of the question. “I didn’t notice.”

She throws me a look. “Jessica and I have been seeing you walk with no emotion in your face for the past several days. We don’t really know what’s up with you. You can’t possibly be thinking that much, that you can’t even touch your food when you’re obviously hungry.”

Emma looks so thoroughly concerned, that I feel guilty for being so distant.

“I don’t know,” I shrug my shoulders. “It’s not like something is up with me, I guess I just might need some time to myself. Maybe a little longer? I’m not sure. It’s just that I’m at a state of mind where I kind of can’t move forward and can’t move back.”

“Is it stress?”

“Kind of,” I respond, looking down at my plate.

Jessica loops her arm through mine in a sisterly way. “Are you mad about something?”

“Yes,” I concur after a while. “But I’m not so sure what I’m mad about…”

“Do you feel bad about yourself, like is it a self hate thing?”

Is it? I can’t tell.

“Uh…No? I can’t describe it. It’s not like I don’t like myself, more of like how I handled the situation. Like a self blaming thing. But at the same time, I know it’s not my fault. What ever it is…”

“Oh,” Jessica chirps. “At least that’s something. I mean Emma and I had no idea at all what you were going through, or if you were going through something. But at least now, we kind of get you.”

“Yeah, we wanted to say something to you, Lily, but we weren’t sure if you felt like talking,” Emma tells me honestly, looking reluctant.

“I’m sorry,” I apologize. “I really didn’t realize my problems made you guys feel like you couldn’t be around me. I can’t explain this feeling, but lately, I have just been feeling helpless. I don’t know what it is, but it’s causing me to think about EVERYTHING in my life.”

“Lily, do you miss him?” Emma whispers.

The thought makes me choke on my own spit.

No, literally. I just choked on my own spit.

“Get her a glass of water!” Jess almost screams, slapping my back nonstop. Thus, I choke on my own damn salivary glands even more. I’d love to explain to Jessica Finelly that slapping someone’s back when their choking does not help (in fact, it makes it worse), but I can’t breathe enough to mumble that information to her.

By the time Emma stops freaking out enough to pour me a cup of water, Frank Longbottom slides next to her, right across from Jess, and sits patiently with his hands folded. I’m still being repeatedly slammed into the table with my forehead because of Jessica’s scary strength.

“I think Lily wants to keep her brain, so stop pounding it out of her.”

Slapping stops in an instant. I am completely thankful for Frank.

“Who let you out of your cage?” Jessica retorts.

*sigh*

“Who let you out of your coffin?” Frank snaps.

“Who let you out of incarcerated bondage?” Jessica narrows her eyes.

I lay my head on the table, cross my eyes, and purse my lips like a fish. I usually resort to making funny faces to myself when they get like this. It’s…entertaining. One time, I did it in front of the mirror in the common room when they were fighting and I swear, I totally pulled off Dori from Finding Nemo.

“Who let you out of the dog pound?” Frank counters.

“Who let you out of the padded room?”

“Who let you-”

“ENOUGH!” Emma bellows, reaching for Frank’s ear. She yanks that earlobe down so hard he lets out a five second loud screech that sort of resembles a canary being plucked of it’s wings.

“You two need to STOP trying to pretend to hate each other! I can’t take it! I have to deal with Lily not being able to deal with her emotions and knowing I can’t do anything to help, then you two come strolling along and you’re both so obliviously infatuated with each other that your arguments are just excuses to hear each other talk, and lastly my boyfriend keeps having to tell me his woes about his best friend when he can also do nothing about it! I’m at a loss, and I need to fix at least one of these three problems I’ve just listed…soon. Or else I’m going to have to resort to some friendly violence. Or physical assault. I’m tired of being the proper lady all my life. I’m sure that Sofia Loren had her off days when she wanted to shank someone as well - so I’ll do what’s necessary, and Merlin help me, I’ll be damn classy going it!” She finishes off with a big huff and a pulling of her skirt.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go see what my boyfriend is up to,” Emma says lastly, before stalking off down the table. “Please, try to behave yourself and stay sane.”

Jessica just stares at her walking away, while Frank reaches over the table and eats Jess’s green beans when she’s not looking. I stop making weird faces against the table, although I see no point. Emma’s speech kind of went through one ear and out the other, unfortunately. I feel sorry that I’m putting her through this, and that she has to deal with the Frank/Jess scenario, but none of us are actually willing to work things out. At least not now.

“What was that about?” Frank fills his entire mouth with bread, talking as if everything Emma said wasn’t important or embarrassing.

“I don’t know…But she’s fierce,” is all my best friend says. We all heard her rant, and we know what she was trying to convey, but Frank and Jess and I are just so shit-stirred and scatter brained that we just don’t care about the truth anymore. Which sucks, because I feel like it’s going to hit us in the face eventually, and it’ll be brutal.

“Are you stoned?” Frank asks me bluntly.

I peel my lips apart. “Excuse me?”

“You must be on something illegal. You are way too unresponsive for my liking.”

“I can’t believe you just said that! That is the second time someone has insinuated that in the past ten minutes.”

My mouth drops. How could someone ever assume that about me? That’s just insulting. And out of the three of us, he says that I’M THE ONE that is unresponsive? I understand that there was no initial shock when Emma blabbed about the two secretly hormonal beings in front of me, but come on! At least acknowledge it!

“Eh, not the first time this year I’ve seen someone a tad too ‘out there’, and I just wanted to check.”

I need to hang out with new people.

“For your information, I am not hyped up on pharmaceuticals, and I am not ‘out there’ either.” I consider my words carefully. “Okay, I am out there. But not that kind. More like in between gravity at the moment. Not sure how to explain it, but when I figure it out, I’ll let you know.”

“You may want to let Emma know,” Jess advises. “She’s getting…brassy. As in, someone put on their sassy-pants this morning.”

“I’m sure Emma would care and worry a great deal less if I told her, true… But let’s not forget that I’m not the only problem she’s worried about…” I push.

She looks lost, so I turn to Frank, but he’s not paying attention.

“I think there’s a hole in my pants,” he says inconsequently, staring down at his crotch.

Am I the only one that heard what Emma said before she left to go see Sirius? She told Jessica and Frank out loud that they’re being phony with their feelings! Yet, they are still as nonchalant as ever. Either that, or they don’t care. I can’t find the point of reason in any of this, and the fact that they care more about me than their own personal shit is just downright remarkable. The two snogged, for crying out loud. The amount of death threats in a day surpass the line of terrorism and national security. Forgive me If I’m just a tad worried about their lack of bashfulness. Is there no shame anymore? Or have we all grown accustomed to it? Accustomed to it too much to react?

I don’t know, it’s too difficult to speak so I’m going to stop thinking about it. Jess gives me a passive look but I ignore her and continue to nibble on my carrots. Frank keeps awkwardly poking the hole in the crotch seam of his pants, with a frown on his face.




A.N -
Ehh, this chapter was kind of a filler, I'll admit. But I was in a calm mood, and I wanted to write a chapter just to show how she's taking everything in before things get even more complicated... Sorry if it sucked! :/ NEXT ONES TO COME WILL BE GRAND! PROMISE.

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