made by the awesome frenzy! @ tda.
As the parasite gains a stronger hold of your heart, a paroxysm may occur, which is a sudden increase in intensity of the disease. Unwanted and uncontrollable emotions will swell and set a light inside of you, catalysing reactions in your body that you may find somewhat unconventional and completely sporadic.
Say hello to gastric-rhopalocera, commonly known as the butterflies in stomach sensation.
It's taking a long time to get over the fact my patch is gone. That skanky piece of eczema stuck to me like a creepy hooker for more than a decade and once I got attached to it, it moved to another client. The client? My stomach, what a ho.
I think I just used a prostitution metaphor to describe my eczema. There is an explanation to my madness (ha, not really), the muggle café that we are currently sitting in has a skanky waitress. Don't believe me? She's wearing a mini skirt, a garter, and a tight t-shirt. She's bumming off Louis it's hilarious, he's even using his French accent (as it picks up bimbos apparently).
Arisa, my back-up best friend (her term, not mine), rolls her eyes and stirs her coffee, feeling mature because she is. While I'm drinking apple juice with a straw, feeling immature and pathetic, beyond pathetic.
Arisa glances at her watch, reminding us that we only have half an hour before the train leaves. Her practicality and maturity astounds me. She used to be like me and Louis, mental. Arisa grew up and left us in Neverland. Peter pan reference for all you deprived wizards who never learnt any cool muggle stuff.
Slurping the ends of my drink, Louis pokes me to watch him. He keeps making googly eyes at the waitress. Vom.
“I have been blessed with beauty, brains and skill with the opposite sex,” he says, swirling his drink around in his fingers, lounging back in his chair.
“Chauvinistic pig.” Arisa snorts. I can't beat that insult so I high-five her.
It's girl flower power. Except, not really.
“You two are just jealous,” he says, pointing a finger at both us.
“Says the singleton,” I quip back and this time Arisa high fives me.
Louis goldfishes and I continue. “So, do you plan on becoming saliva swapping partners with the waitress?”
Arisa shakes her head, anticipating his answer. I hope he has enough sense to say no. That girl was easy, I thought boys liked challenges. Have some dignity. Here's a theory: if less woman threw themselves about like bad grapes, the men of the world would shape up to get girls. Less creeps like Louis. I mean I love the guy, but seriously I wouldn’t want anyone to date him. He's a sleazeball.
“No,” he says.
I grin and Arisa raises an eyebrow. We wait a bit, wondering if he is going to give us some elaborate explanation, instead he pays the bill. I am a poor child, unfortunately, we walk out of the café towards the platform, noticing and spotting various people from school and thus, ignoring them.
School is strange, it makes you a different person. At Hogwarts I guess I would be what is considered 'popular' because Louis and I are both quidditch players, Gryffindors and lastly, Louis is the last member of the extensive Potter-Weasley family left in this generation of their family still attending Hogwarts. Secretly, though he will never admit it, Louis feels an immense amount of pressure because he wants to be better than the rest of them.
Keep that to yourself.
We board the Hogwarts express feeling cool, because were on time and we have no parents seeing us off. That doesn't make me feel happy, it makes me feel unloved. Arisa and Louis told their parents not to come, my parents are too busy to come.
-Stop, while I have a pitiful emotional moment here-
Getting on to the train and finding a seat, for the first time is not a hassle, with each seventh year step, younger years feel the vibrations of authority and step aside. It's like being The Hulk, but pretty.
“Come on, in here,” Arisa beckons us into an empty compartment. Arisa takes one side. I don't sit next to her, knowing it’s safer to sit next to Louis. I stretch out my spider long legs on Louis and he puts his feet next to Arisa, who then put hers on my lap, creating this jenga-style rectangle of legs and feet in the compartment.
This is why we are the coolest people ever.
We sit in silence and I stare out the window, looking at the platform and the weeping, melancholy faced parents, making me wonder what one earth my parents are doing.
Each tear tumbles and rolls.
For a second I think that could be a line of poetry, but as I think about it more, the more awful it is. That line will never make it into any of the poems of Sophie Finnigan. My collection is too good for that.
The thumping on the compartment door startles Arisa and cracks through the silence. I smile and Louis scowls, Arisa stays indifferent. I slide my legs away, making our leg structure fall apart. Ah, it was good while it lasted.
“Aaron!” I squeal, jumping up and throwing myself on him in a great big hug. I’ve been told that I give bad hugs. People say it feels like I’m trying to escape. Screw you, I am a great hugger. I could be a tree hugger if I wanted.
“Hey, Soph,” he says and I pull away awkwardly, biting my lip. Louis grunts. Stupid boy, he complains when I hug a guy, yet he flirts with any skankasaurus that comes his way. Hypocritical. Hippo- critical. Ha, Louis is a hippo.
“I've got you a present,” he says, twisting the little box in his hand.
Don't be jewellery.
Please for the life of me, don't be jewellery. He'll expect to wear it and I'll lose it. And I'll feel bad about losing it and then he will replace it, starting a crazy cycle of losing, finding and wearing jewellery. I have a headache from the thought of it.
He urges me to open it and I'm not allowed to be rude. My mother taught me better, or so she likes to think. Hence (ok, so my love of connectives is a bit irrational), I carefully rip it open. It's a bracelet with charms.
“Oh my gosh, thank you,” I fake and I practically hear Arisa and Louis smirk. I slide it on my wrist, immediately feeling the chunky weight of it yanking on my hand. It's like a horcrux. He got me a hackin' horcux. See, my poetic skills. I just used alliteration.
“I know how much you like muggle accessories,” he says, smiling.
Well, that's sort of true. I said I liked muggle hair clips. It's the thought that counts. He paid attention to get that piece of information, therefore I approve.
Louis stands up and pulls my hand, turning it round, looking at the bracelet unimpressed. I don't approve of Louis picking my hand up like I'm a doll. I shake him off.
“She doesn't like jewellery,” he says.
Dipshit, who told you to speak?
I need to be angry at him; despite the fact that I might sort-of appreciate his honesty. I forcefully paint an expression of anger on my face; furrowed eyebrows, pouted lips and a poisonous glare. I also push him with a fair amount of strength.
“Is that true?” he asks sweetly. Aaron is so cute; he has shiny blue eyes and slick black hair. And he’s just so innocently adorable.
“Sort of,” I mumble, “I always lose jewellery.”
“It's fine,” he says, “I'll make it up to you with a box of sugar quills.”
I die. Sugar quills are my obsession. It is unnatural how much I love them.
“Ignore him, he's just jealous that he's not going out with me,” I say, giggling and turn to give Louis the you-can-go-away-now glare. He turns around, returning to the compartment.
As I hear the sliding door, Aaron pulls me towards him and our faces grow closer. My cheeks turn red and my heart climbs up my ribcage like monkey bars, making me feel like a nervous little girl in a park all by herself. A flock of ravens swarm in my belly as it twists and convulses.
Get a grip. I need to get a grip, it's just Aaron.
The compartment slams shut and my throat dries like a desert in the summer. Before my lips reach his, Louis leans forward, out of nowhere, next to me and punches Aaron right in the face.
I flinch. It's all silent; everyone else in the carriage disappears like smoke. Aaron stumbles back and I wince, ready to kill Louis, but grateful, ever so wistfully grateful that my best friend just punched my... ok, just Aaron.
Aaron McLaggen, I know his name rhymes, its part of the attraction, I guess is my crush of some sorts. He's asked me to the last two Hogsmeade trips and wrote me letters throughout the holidays. Our relationship is unlabelled, but it's sixty two percent hugging, 8 percent kisses on the lips, twenty percent hand holding and damn, there's a missing ten percent, which he has yet to fill, by labelling our relationship. He initiated it by asking me to Hogsmeade and he better clearly say that I am his girlfriend, for me to accept the title.
Aaron walks away being the bigger man, saying he'll talk to me later.
I push Louis out of my way again and sit in the compartment next to Arisa. The anger on my face real, with flaring nostrils and knitted eyebrows.
Holy shiznits, I'm going to kill him. My fingers clench into a ball and I want to punch him to show him how it feels. He doesn't say anything; he sits down in a huff. Like he just got hit, like he just had a moment ruined by his best friend.
The boy has ADD.
I'm so angry I resemble a new-born hippogriff. Two words; disgusting and ferocious. I feel like Fleur.
“What the fuck was that for?”
He shudders hearing me use the f-bomb. I'm not one to swear in English, any other language, but I avoid English expletives in the way you avoid getting kissed by your creepy old great-aunts.
“Her face turns red like a ripe tomato, in anger, embarrassment or another emotion, you'll never know,” Arisa commentates. I ignore her.
“You obviously didn't want to, you looked as uncomfortable as hell,” he says, lounging back in the chair completely avoiding my eye contact.
“He retorts with a pathetic but true comeback, will she accept and forgive or stay angry?” Arisa continues, I'm too mad at Louis to snap at her. I wince at the thought that it was obvious I didn't want to kiss him, but like that tacky muggle line, it's me not him. Genuinely.
“She's thinking,” Arisa says.
Remember what I said about her being mature? I take that back ever so slightly. She's also a cynic and extremely sarcastic, which sort of ruins her maturity,sort of.
“I am,” I reply to Arisa's third person narration. “And now that I have thought, I have concluded Louis is full of bullshit, and should apologize to me and Aaron.”
Louis pouts, oh grow up.
“Sorry,” he says meekly. I can't even dwell on how stupid he has been. Everything has been so awkward since the event I call 'Tripped over and ended up straddling and kissing Louis' or TOESAKL pronounced toe-sackel. It works, trust me.
“I don't know, I don't feel like forgiving you,” I say and his eyes widen.
He should be afraid. I look over to Arisa, who nods in approval.
“TD and a bite,” I play with my words like a murderer with a knife in their fingers, carelessly but oh so careful.
He twitches, he should be so frickin' afraid of me that he should have peed his pants already.
“She offers a treaty, possibly a deal to complete this apology, harsh, but wise.”
Curiosity eats at Arisa as I see her scratch, desperate to ask what TD is, but she won’t because she doesn't ask questions.
“Anything but TD,” he stutters as he tries to say the next word, “t-ta-ta-tampon duty, how about three bites instead.”
I shake my head holding my ground; Arisa bursts in to a dark sardonic October laugh, because she doesn't giggle anymore. It's scary, but I skim over it like a pebble on the water, I will eventually have to deal with Arisa.
I take pity on him and agree. I will bite my best friend three times, it's not a joke. I will physically dig my teeth into his skin.
He outstretches his arm, rolls his sleeves and turns away. I don't understand why we do this. I guess because it's not pleasurable for the both of us, it means we don't keep the anger we have even if we accept the apology as sometimes people still harbour a slight grudge. Biting the other person ensures otherwise. This theory has been tried and tested numerous times and it's been proven to work, to an extent.
I close my eyes and press my mouth onto his hand. Arisa gags slightly, which is fake and for show, to highlight her disgust, she's probably cackling like she would have done on the inside. I gag slightly too due to the soapy taste of his hand. I recoil back to my seat.
“Gosh, you taste of soap, you get away with one bite but you have to apologize to Aaron in public,” I say, trying hard not to wretch.
“You poor thing,” Arisa says, with no actual sympathy.
Ouch. It's as if she just bit me.
Bite, fight, right.
Eureka! Poetic inspiration arrives like a beats hits a bludger, fast and goes away quickly. I stand up and excuse myself, saying I'm going to change with notebook and pen in hand and none of my school uniform.
The most annoying thing is as I walk away my subconscious suddenly brings up the fact that Louis Weasley rhymes as well. Lou-ee Weas-leee. Four syllables, symmetrical and a great deal of assonance. A hell of a lot better than Aaron McLaggen any day.
The feeling swirls inside of his stomach as he curses his stupidity. This wouldn't have happened a week ago, he thought. There she was, slipping like sand away from his firm grasp, the way he liked it. So he punched her boyfriend, at least he thought they were going out. He could never be sure with her.
Arisa leant forward, her eyes full of secrecy.
“So are you going to ask her out?” she says, the sarcasm absent from her voice.
“No,” he says, “why should I?”
She pushes a piece of her dark hair out of the way, her head tilted in delicate thought and eyebrows furrowed at his foolishness, “I'm not one to play love doctor, but your actually idiotic enough to deny the fact you feel something towards Sophie?”
“I don't have feelings for Patch,” he says adamantly.
“Your denial is disgusting,” she says, leaving the compartment as well.
This beta'd by Jacinta Jade.
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