Oh I know.
Fanfiction.net moi is no more. Basically I'm no longer using them. They suck.
This is something I thought of after coming home from the first day back at school (today). I'm sorry for not updating PP&VV, but I want some space from it for a little while. That'll be great for me…
So, without further ado, I'll give you a new masterpiece, a story in a different category to what I usually like but still romance. This is probably about as funny as PP&VV, for those who like my humour. Well, this is firstly and foremost a humour story, but secondly romance.
Summary: With all the stalker-qualities of a murderer, James decides to follow around his beloved until she notices him. However unlikely this feat may seem, James's annoying best friends and the snake he finds in the pet shop are always there to give him their support…in not exactly the best ways. AU LJ
Disclaimer: I own the plotline and anyone you don't recognise. The rest belongs to some unknown woman called Joanne; I'm just making them famous for her…not.
Please read, review, and enjoy!!
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Prologue, The Qualities of a Stalker
The qualities of a stalker are: pride, stealth, speed, the ability to hide yourself without a second's notice, to be able to pursue persistently until you get what you want, and to be able to effectively hunt and haunt. I can do all of these exceptionally well; if I could get a NEWT in stalking I'd already have an `O'.
I have always been told that when I'm older, I will always have a career as a stalker. This may sound stupid, but think of how many people would employ good stalkers; Aurors, the FBI, Secret Agents, the police, maybe even the army…they'd love me! In fact, I quite fancy the idea of all the top Aurors wanting me to help out. I might go for that job, when they offer it to me. I have no doubt that they will; I'm really good. Not to, you know, boast or anything…
Another thing that I have going for me is that I have no trouble with saying that I'm popular. Unfortunately, it isn't technically true…even unpopular doesn't cut it; invisible is more like it. I think people see through me most of the time. I mean, I'm popular in the whole `I have sixty cousins who love me' thing, but apart from the sixty cousins, the girliest baby sister ever, and the two most irritating best friends in the world, nobody really likes me or even knows who I am.
Half of the cousins who love me are on my mother's side, and most of them are boys. They look up to me for some stupid reason; like I'm the perfect soul they should all watch and copy the methods of. The girls, on my dad's side, seem to think that incest is okay. I haven't yet come across one that hasn't hurried over and tried to stuff my hand down her bra. Well, Melinda doesn't do that, but Melinda is gay and her girlfriend would kill me with those horrid nine-inch sharp and pointy things she has stuck to the bottom of her shoes if I even touched Melinda…
My sister is this prissy prep called Evelyn Alexandra Elizabeth Potter. The only things she ever wears are plaid skirts, white shirts, and bootleg blue jeans with two-inch heels. It's like she doesn't own anything else, which isn't true as she has more things than my friends and I put together. She just turned fifteen and has already been out with more boys than she has hats, which is quite a lot.
My best friends are Sirius Orion Draco Black and Remus John Lupin. They're great guys, really, but a little insane. Remus is in love with his book collection (I've seen him kiss it and talk to it) and his chocolate which he can't live without, and Sirius is in love with coffee and…um, I don't know. Vodka, I think. Or maybe Firewhiskey; that's quite likely too. But mostly coffee; he has to have a pint of it every morning after he wakes up.
Compared to a prep who thinks the world is pink, a caffeine addict and a book freak, a stalker looks quite normal, right?
Wrong, and I'll tell you why.
Firstly, there are my eyes. They're narrow slits and they have barely any colour in them, though the little hazel I have is magnified by the awful glasses I wear. My eyes grow in size every time I'm mad until the irises are the size of my whole eyes, which isn't much but looks scary.
Secondly, my glasses. They're pink and flowery because there weren't any others at the time we were buying them. There was pink, pink and swirly, or pink and flowery, and my sister chose the flowery ones for me (Mother had insisted that her precious baby girl choose them, even though I would be the one wearing them), so I've been stuck with them for three years and they still make me look like a loser.
The other thing is that my parents must have decided before I was born that I'd make a great prep. So they gave me a horrendous name. You know what they called me??
Okay, what's the worst name you can think of?
Hopkin? No.
Fulton? Again, not right.
Knox? Not ridiculous enough.
Maitland? That is weird, I agree, but again, it isn't my name.
Osmond? Oh, I should be so lucky.
The name they burdened me with is actually much worse than any you could come up with.
Gladwin.
Yeah, like my psycho parents expect me to make friends by saying, "Hi! The name's Potter, Gladwin Potter." I don't think so!!
Could they have prepared me more for suicide?
Well, yes. They decided to engage me to Melinda. You remember, my lesbian cousin with the homicidal girlfriend?
Now there are no surprises left in the world.
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Now I've told you all of this psycho background information, I'll tell you why I'm a stalker.
No, none of that was the main reason, though you may have thought, just some of the things that contributed to making me this way. I'd like to think of the main reason as such:
A girl in my year.
She's the smartest, most beautiful, most popular girl in the school. She is in a league way above everyone else, even my sister. She walks around on three-inch heels, with a blue plaid pleated skirt the length of Evie's ankle boots and a tiny red shirt that shows her belly-button piercing and barely covers her elbow. Sure, she's a slut, but she's beautiful too. She has curly auburn hair to her shoulders and almond-shaped emerald eyes. She has an amazingly well shaped body and the softest looking skin.
She's called Lily Hannah Marie Evans and she's the one thing I want in the world.
She sees right through me. I mean, she's spoken to me once at our House table; she asked me to pass the ketchup to her and I wasn't able to speak for a day after. I was so happy that she had even asked me, even though she'd been too busy talking to Nathalie Florence and Rosalind Pearson to thank me. I'm sure she would have had she not been so deeply enthralled in the topics of Derek Russell's mysteriously large ham sandwich and a girl in Second Year who had a TV, whatever that was, the size of a horse with stripes and two broken legs that was carrying three thousand CDs and a machine gun.
I'm sure she would have.
I realised two things late last night. One: I couldn't live any longer without Lily, so I'd make her notice me so that she would talk to me and love me and I'd finally have the affections of the girl I fancy. I'd do whatever it took, no matter how much it hurt or damaged my nonexistent popularity.
Let Project Getting Her To Notice Me finally begin!!
And two: I was failing my best subject, Transfiguration.
Oh bugger.
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I really hope that you enjoyed that, and I enjoyed writing it, too!!
ly,
x Cazzy x
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