"Potter! Weasley! Will you pay attention?"
Professor McGonagall's irritated voice cracked like a whip through the Transfiguration class on Thursday, and Harry and Ron both jumped and looked up.
“OH MY GOD! PROFESSOR! YOU WEREN’T YELLING AT ME FOR ONCE!” I shouted.
“I didn’t ask for your opinion Willow.” She said edgily.
“And I didn’t ask to be related to Harry, but that happened!” I said annoyingly.
“Fair point.” She shrugged.
It was the end of the lesson; we had finished our work; the guinea fowl we had been changing into guinea pigs had been shut away in a large cage on Professor McGonagall's desk (Neville's still had feathers); we had copied down our homework from the blackboard ("Describe, with examples, the ways in which Transforming Spells must be adapted when performing Cross-Species Switches"}. The bell was due to ring at any moment, and Harry and Ron, who had been having a sword fight with a couple of Fred and George's fake wands at the back of the class, looked up, Ron holding a tin parrot and Harry, a rubber haddock.
"Now that Potter and Weasley have been kind enough to act their age," said Professor McGonagall, with an angry look at the pair of them as the head of Harry's haddock drooped and fell silently to the floor - Ron's parrot's beak had severed it moments before - "I have something to say to you all.”
“I’m interested!” I said just to annoy her. But she ignored me.
"The Yule Ball is approaching - a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and an opportunity for us to socialize with our foreign guests. Now, the ball will be open only to fourth years and above - although you may invite a younger student if you wish -"
LEMONADE! LEMONADE IS SEXY!
"Dress robes will be worn," Professor McGonagall continued, "and the ball will start at eight o'clock on Christmas Day, finishing at midnight in the Great Hall. Now then -"
Professor McGonagall stared deliberately around the class.
"The Yule Ball is of course a chance for us all to - er - let our hair down," she said, in a disapproving voice.
Professor McGonagall, with her hair in a tight bun, looked as though she had never let her hair down in any sense.
“Dayum professor!” I said waggling my eyebrows.
“Shut it tree.” She snapped. “Where was I? Oh yes, But that does NOT mean," Professor McGonagall went on, "that we will be relaxing the standards of behaviour we expect from Hogwarts students. I will be most seriously displeased if a Gryffindor student embarrasses the school in any way."
The bell rang, and there was the usual scuffle of activity as everyone packed their bags and swung them onto their shoulders.
Professor McGonagall called above the noise, "Potter - a word, if you please."
Harry walked gloomily to her desk, and I stalked him, because his business is my business because I’m Willow, and I do what I want.
"Potter, the champions and their partners -"
"What partners?" said Harry.
Professor McGonagall looked suspiciously at him, as though she thought he was trying to be funny.
"Your partners for the Yule Ball, Potter," she said coldly. "Your dance partners."
“AHA!” I screamed in laughter. I proceeded to hold onto Ron for support.
"Dance partners? I don't dance," he said quickly.
"Oh yes, you do," said Professor McGonagall irritably. "That's what I'm telling you. Traditionally, the champions and their partners open the ball."
"I'm not dancing," he said.
"It is traditional," said Professor McGonagall firmly. "You are a Hogwarts champion, and you will do what is expected of you as a representative of the school. So make sure you get yourself a partner, Potter."
"But - I don't -"
"You heard me, Potter," said Professor McGonagall in a very final sort of way.
“SUCK IT HARRY!” I yelled at him.
“Shut up Tree.”
“Professor Mg, my name is Willow.”
“Okay then, shut up Willow.” McGonagall smirked.
“Love ya too Professor!”
*** *** ***
I had never known so many people to put their names down to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas; I always did, of course, because I have no home and no life outside of this place.
Wow, what the hell will I do when I leave here?
Die?
WOULDN’T BE THE FIRST TIME!
Anyway, people were staying at Hogwarts, which was my main point.
The last week of term became increasingly rowdy as it progressed. Rumours about the Yule Ball were flying everywhere, though I didn't believe half of them - for instance, that Dumbledore had bought eight hundred barrels of mulled mead from Madam Rosmerta.
Though, I confirmed this was false when I stalked and asked him.
I really love Dumbledore, he’s really cool.
Though he did book some singing people....
Lemonade! Lemonade is awesome!
Some of the teachers, like Professor Flitwick, gave up trying to teach us much when our minds were so clearly elsewhere; he allowed us to play games in his lesson on Wednesday, and spent most of it talking to Harry about the perfect Summoning Charm Harry had used during the first task of the Triwizard Tournament.
I managed to disrupt their conversation by turning my table into a glass of lemonade, causing Harry to fall onto the floor.
And because I’m a compassionate sister, I laughed at him.
P.S. The lemonade was good.
Other teachers were not so generous. Nothing would ever deflect Professor Binns from ploughing on through his notes on goblin rebellions - as Binns hadn't let his own death stand in the way of continuing to teach, I supposed a small thing like Christmas wasn't going to put him off. I spent every lesson throwing bits of paper at everyone.
Fun.
I never got caught, but Seamus always did.
I’m legendary.
Professors McGonagall and Moody kept us working until the very last second of their classes too, and Snape, of course, would no sooner let us play games in class than adopt me. And I know that he wouldn’t adopt me after our amazing experience after I was stabbed that summer.
Wow, that was so long ago.
Time passes fastly.
Fastly is a word, get used to it.
"Evil, he is," Ron said bitterly about Snape. "Springing a test on us on the last day. Ruining the last bit of term with a whole load of studying."
Well, I obviously didn’t pay enough attention in class.
"Mmm...you're not exactly straining yourself, though, are you?" said Hermione, looking at him over the top of her Potions notes. Ron was busy building a card castle out of his Exploding Snap pack - a much more interesting pastime than with Muggle cards, because of the chance that the whole thing would blow up at any second.
"It's Christmas, Hermione," said Harry lazily; he was rereading Flying with the Cannons for the tenth time in an armchair near the fire.
Hermione looked severely over at him too. "I'd have thought you'd be doing something constructive, Harry, even if you don't want to learn your antidotes!"
"Like what?" Harry said.
“That egg!" Hermione hissed.
“Ugh, come on Hermione let us sleep.” I said stretching out cat-like in front of the fire.
“I've got till February the twenty-fourth," Harry said.
"But it might take weeks to work it out!" said Hermione. "You're going to look a real idiot if everyone else knows what the next task is and you don't!"
"Leave him alone, Hermione, he's earned a bit of a break," said Ron, and he placed the last two cards on top of the castle and the whole lot blew up, singeing his eyebrows.
"Nice look, Ron...go well with your dress robes, that will."
It was Fred and George. They sat down at the table with us as Ron felt how much damage had been done.
"Ron, can we borrow Pigwidgeon?" George asked.
"No, he's off delivering a letter," said Ron. "Why?"
"Because George wants to invite him to the ball," said Fred sarcastically.
BITCH HE BETTER NOT!
"Because we want to send a letter, you stupid great prat," said George.
"Who d'you two keep writing to, eh?" said Ron.
"Nose out, Ron, or I'll burn that for you too," said Fred, waving his wand threateningly. "So...you lot got dates for the ball yet?"
"Nope," said Ron.
"Well, you'd better hurry up, mate, or all the good ones will be gone," said Fred.
"Who're you going with, then?" said Ron.
"Angelina," said Fred promptly, without a trace of embarrassment.
"What?" said Ron, taken aback. "You've already asked her?"
"Good point," said Fred. He turned his head and called across the common room, "Oi! Angelina!"
Angelina, who had been chatting with Alicia Spinnet, looked over at him.
"What?" she called back.
"Want to come to the ball with me?"
Angelina gave Fred an appraising sort of look.
"All right, then," she said, and she turned back to Alicia and carried on chatting with a bit of a grin on her face.
"There you go," said Fred to Harry and Ron, "piece of cake."
He got to his feet, yawning, and said, "We'd better use a school owl then, George, come on...."
They left.
WHY DIDN’T GEORGE ASK ME THEN!
And I dramatically cried in my head.
"We should get a move on, you know...ask someone. He's right. We don't want to end up with a pair of trolls." Ron said to Harry.
Hermione let out a sputter of indignation.
"A pair of...what, excuse me?"
"Well - you know," said Ron, shrugging. "I'd rather go alone than with - with Eloise Midgen, say."
"Her acne's loads better lately - and she's really nice!"
"Her nose is off-center," said Ron.
"Oh I see," Hermione said, bristling. "So basically, you're going to take the best-looking girl who'll have you, even if she's completely horrible?"
"Er - yeah, that sounds about right," said Ron.
"We’re going to bed," Hermione snapped, and she grabbed me by the robes and we swept off toward the girls' staircase without another word.
“Ron YOU’RE A POO-FACED BIKINI KILLER!” I shouted after him.
*** *** ***
I was walking down to dinner with Hermione, when I saw George sitting by himself in a classroom.
“I’ll meet you in a bit.” I told her, and she went down the staircase giggling madly.
Bitch, I’ll get her.
I walked into the room, and George looked up at me sadly.
“What is it?” I asked concernedly “What’s wrong?”
“I’m wrong.” He said. “My heads wrong.”
“Well, I like your head.” I nodded. “It’s not a bad head.”
“No, I mean the brain is wrong.”
“Like how?”
He looked at me like there was something to say, but he didn’t say it.
“What?” I said sounding more aggressive than I intended.
“Relax Willow, it isn’t important.”
“If it wasn’t important, why did you bring it up?”
“Just leave it okay?”
“Potassium.” I sat down on a desk.
“What’s wrong with you?” he asked
“Nothing, everything’s pretty a-o-k at the moment.”
“Something’s bothering you, I can feel it.” George told my back.
“It’s bothering me that something is bothering you.” I shrugged.
“Wil, I can’t tell you-“
“Why not?”
“Leave it.”
“Sorry.” I shrugged again.
“I’m sorry I’m being a dick.”
I wanted to say It wasn’t unusual, but I decided against it.
“Thatunusuballwihme?” I asked mixing up two sentences and confusing myself.
“Say what?”
“Would you like, to go, to the Yule Ball, with me?” I corrected.
“No.” George said without hesitation.
“Wh-What?” I heard myself say.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“It’s a bit late for that now don’t you think?” I said trying not to cry. “Why?”
“It doesn’t matter why.”
Really bitch, really?
I span around.
“Doesn’t matter? Are you freaking kidding me?”
“But-“
“I WANT THE TRUTH GEORGE!” I bellowed.
“Fine! It’s you.” My heart plummeted. “I hate being around you. I hate who I am around you! You bring out the worst in me. You’re too young for me. You’re immature. You’re annoying.” He locked his eyes on mine. “You know what! I think I just hate you.”
I stood there, incapable of any emotion.
“Really?” I said unable to keep the pain from my voice. “Is that what you think of me?”
“Yes.” He said firmly.
“Wow, you’re so romantic, excuse me while I take my shirt off.” I said sarcastically.
“Willow, you’re an idiot.”
“At least I’m not a freaking arse hole who goes around breaking hearts.”I yelled back. I’m kind of bipolar. “How could you hurt me like that?”
“No, no! I-I just said it, I w-was, I was angry-“George stumbled on his words.
A very unusual voice of reason pushed through my mind.
People say what they feel when they’re angry.
“I don’t want to hear it.” I said loudly. Bipolar. Definitely.
“Willow, I Love yo-“
“No.” I said shakily. “If you loved me you wouldn’t have said that.”
“I-“
“George, for the love of God, Shut up.” I said with confidence this time. “I was wrong about you. I’m sorry you don’t like me. I’m sorry I thought you were a nice person. And I’m sorry that you will be deprived of my sexiness at the Yule Ball. Kay, thanks bye.”
And I walked out of the room with swag.
My mind was at war.
He hates me.
You’re okay with it.
No I’m not.
Be strong.
How can I?
Get over him.
That’s impossible.
You’re impossible.
How can I prove I’m better than him?
Be happy. Be strong. Act like he didn’t grind your heart into a billion pieces.
But he did.
So what, happiness is the best revenge.
Bring it the hell on George Weasley, congrats on waking a monster.
*** *** ***
I sat on the edge of my bed and put my face into my hands.
I wish it would just end.
All of it.
This life sucks.
I figured out why I’m bipolar, it’s because my life is bipolar.
It’s like, one minute, everything sucks, then it’s good, but then it sucks again.
Just breathe, I’ll never live this moment again.
Relax.
The door opened and Hermione walked in.
She looked miserable.
“What did Ron do now?” I asked.
“He just noticed I’m a female and was a total arse.” Hermione said sitting down on her bed.
“It’s genetic.”
“Huh?”
“George and I aren’t going together...cause we’re not together.” I said trying to word it right.
“Oh Willow.” Hermione said sympathetically.
“The thing that gets me, is that I’m not all that worried.” I shrugged. “I ain’t even mad!”
“Well, since you’re not unhappy, I’M GOING WITH VICTOR KRUM!”
“ARE YOU SHITTING ME? ARE YOU SHITTING ME?” I shouted.
“NO! I AM GOING WITH HIM!” Hermione yelled excitedly.
“YAY!”
We decided to try on our dresses, and Hermione looked like the sex, and my dress...I found myself hating it.
“But you look pretty!” Hermione said looking at it.
“I liked it at the beginning of the year, but it’s tacky...” in other words, I would have looked pretty on George’s arm with this dress, but now, it makes me depressed.
“We can make a new one!” Hermione said happily.
“Would you slaughter me if I got Dobby to help?” I asked timidly.
“No, Dobby’s like, family to you!”
So, Dobby apparated in front of us, and a dress was planned.
Look what you created George. I’m going to care about my looks and make you jealous.
Dickhead broke my heart.
So screw you, I’m gonna be pretty.