Raspberry Everlasting Chewing Gum

Raspberry Everlasting Chewing Gum

When I force my eyelids apart this morning, my irises are dazzled by the bright sunlight, and I already know that today will be a complete disaster.

Have you ever had the feeling right after you wake up that something is going to happen? It gnaws at your stomach. This feeling intensifies when I look into the mirror. Do you ever have bad hair days when you can do everything to your hair, but it just refuses to look the way you want it to? For me, every day is a bad hair day, so I wear a ponytail. Nobody has ever seen me without one except the girls in my dormitory.

Thus, as on each of these days, I drag my friends and myself down to the Great Hall. I don't let it show that I feel like shit or that I hear the many whispers.

“Oh, Lily looks so good,” and “Oh, her hair! I would kill for it.”

Does someone consider it a compliment that they would kill for my hair? Not this red. No, I'd prefer a warm brown or black, but I don't complain.

Well, on with my day. I walk beside my friends into the Great Hall. We throw a poisonous glance to the Slytherin table like we do each morning, artfully flip our hair over our shoulders, and float, heads held high, to the Gryffindor table.

Now that we have our morning ritual behind us, we sit down and begin our decent breakfast.

However, “decent” doesn't include all Gryffindors. Have you ever tried to watch the Marauders while eating? It's basically like watching an animal feeding.

Hey, what is Potter doing? He's looking at me! He isn't about to... He waves at me! Wait a second. HE'S WAVING AT ME?

"Hey, Evans!"

Now he greets me too! Have I already mentioned why each day at Hogwarts for me is automatically a bad day apart from my uncontrollable hair, etc.? Potter. James Horatio Potter. Did I already say that I must constantly laugh at his middle name?

This tall, muscular, dark haired, slightly tanned, funny, and charming wizard is the nail in my coffin cover.

Ha, you probably thought I swoon, didn't you?

I see things realistically, and he just looks that way.

But what is my hand doing at the moment? My hand just won't... No, hand! Please don't. Please, don't wave at him! I will do anything for you. I will manicure my nails, but please, please don't wave at him!

My hand moves up higher, still higher, and smoothly brushed my displaced hair down. Oh, that was lucky. I thought my hand would wave back. That would have been a terrible disaster. I could have been seen! But I don't want to purge into hysteria now.

Oh, James looks depressed. I can see it out of the corner of my eye. But I don't show compassion, which would make his already large head swell even more.

Alice says something at that moment.

"... And Frank said... "

Oh, she's only talking about Frank. It's no world-moving thing, but I will continue to tell about today. You don't want to hear about Alice and Frank.

After breakfast, we leave the Great Hall, without forgetting the loathing look toward the Slytherins, and - now you thought the hair flip thing would come again - suddenly the Slytherin table breaks down unexplainably.

Emmeline has fiddled with this trick for a long time. It isn't easy to pull a prank in the Great Hall while under the noses of all of the teachers.

Oh, I guess a Sixth Year broke his toe. Actually, I should have put a foot down when I got wind of Emmeline's prank. See, I'm Head Girl... but I don't like to be pedantic.

Out of the Great Hall and out of Potter's sight, we go down to the greenhouses while congratulating Emmeline and expressing our deep impression with her work.

"I wonder who that was?” I ask simply.

"Well, you should know best,” says a voice.

Sirius Black, the other nail in my coffin! How do these four guys always manage to follow us without us noticing? Are we really too busy with ourselves? I will probably never find out.

"I have no idea what you mean, Black.” Emmeline bats her eyelashes.

"That was rather obvious,” flirts Black.

I hate it. If he lets his charm play, he can wind even McGonagall around his wand.

"Only for one who is rather experienced with stuff like that?” I say in a snappy way.

"Ouch, that hit me hard,” answers Sirius and touches the spot over his heart, stumbles, and falls against Remus.

"Watch where you're stumbling, Padfoot,” says my sunshine, Remus, but I can hardly understand him now because he is chewing on something. It is large, pink and smells suspiciously of raspberry.

We end our mad conversation and go into the greenhouse 12.

Now you're probably thinking, “Hey, what's she telling us? Everything sounds like a completely normal day.” But in a minute I will get to the moment of my fears.

The Herbology period ends with the fact that we must work together to save ourselves from Devil Snare and Octodigitales. Troubled by adrenalin rushes and heat waves after this fight, we get rid of our cloaks and flee from the greenhouse. We float past the Marauders, and suddenly I have that feeling again. I was hit with something right on my backside!

Surprised, I turn and try to examine my backside, and there it is! On my skirt, on the place where my left buttock would be and is, sticks... everlasting raspberry chewing gum!

My eyes move slowly and threateningly from my butt to the Marauders. Shock is written upon Remus's face. Pettigrew blinks expectantly. Black has a fat grin on his face, and Potter wrinkles his forehead. I feel the need to mention that he doesn't look particularly sexy with this expression, but he comes over to me while my so-called friends just stand there and grin. Thanks a lot! I need help! I have a wad of chewing gum the size of a troll booger stick on my left buttock!

Black follows Potter. Are they intending to help me? With large steps, they come to us, but my knight in shining armor suddenly stops. His personal jester bumps into him, my knight stumbles forward, somehow turns to his jester and knocks me over. I fall straight forward because the armor of my knight weighs a ton, and my knight lands on me back to back.

Well, now please guess which part of our bodies was also affected in this case? Correct, our backsides touched in magical way!

"Oh, Merlin! I'm sorry Lily!” James squeaks, frightened, and tries to rise.

But unfortunately, it doesn't work. He strives like a small ant with an extra large cookie. Where is the damn problem, I ask myself? I am pressed more deeply into the dirt. Hello! I need air!

"Can someone please get J. Horatio P. off of me?” I call desperately.

"I told you not to call me by my middle name!” James hissed. "And I'm trying.” And he falls back again.

He did that on purpose. I know it!

"Padfoot! Will you help me?"

A tug followed.

"Moony, help me..."

A second tug.

"Wormtail, help us..."

What does Potter weigh? Is he a whale?

A third tug, and I stand on my feet.

Alice and Emmeline are having a laughing fit. It's nice that my friends can amuse themselves at my expense. The Christmas presents are canceled! Canceled, I tell you.

With all my remaining pride, I snatch my bag and cloak. I need to take a bath.

Without a word I try to flee, but I can't. Does sudden paralysis afflict me? What am I, grown to the ground?

Yes, one could say so. I turn somewhat and push with my shoulder on Potter's.

"Why can't you let me go?” I ask him.

"I would be glad to, but I can't."

"Why not?” I want to know.

"Because you're stuck to me."

Insolence! Who does he think he is? I am not stuck to him! But when I continue to try to turn and squeeze off the supply of blood to my legs with my skirt, I can see it!

The everlasting raspberry chewing gum has made me a prisoner! I am stuck to James Horatio Potter's backside!

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Chapter 2 - A Nail in My Coffin

HELP! I need help. Please, someone inform McGonagall…er, if I'm thinking clearly. Please, someone call the police…I mean the Aurors! Erm, no…the Minister of Magic. Yes, he will be able to help me… or, oh no. Better not. The UN… exactly, the UN is my rescue! Start the LERF - the Lily Evans Release Force! But people have more important things to do. Don't you think?

Or Mummy! Exactly, I want my mother. She always knew how to get spots out of my clothes - grass, oil or ketchup. She always had a panacea. But I'm babbling.

Still shocked, I stare at the chewing gum on my skirt. My favorite skirt! Even if all skirts look the same, this is my absolute favorite skirt!

“Okay,” I say slowly, as if I'm explaining something in Charms. “You go left; I'll go right. Then the chewing gum will break. “

I move forward, but nothing happens. I turn around in order to make sure that I'm not slaving alone like a turtle that lies on his back and desperately tries to get up. But James apparently struggles just as much as I do. Our efforts in vain, we bounce back together like… as if we were stuck to something. Ha, ha. Yeah, just snicker if you can't hold it.

“We can't do it that way,” James says matter-of-factly and apparently gives up. But then he says coolly, “Take off your skirt. “

I look at him. My eyes nearly pop out of my head. Everyone around us stops breathing. Only a bee hums happily past us.

“WHAT?” I explode.

“I didn't mean it that way…”

“I certainly will not take off my skirt in front of you!” I poke him in his muscular chest.

“Okay, Evans. Then don't. It was just a suggestion to help us get free.”

“Well, then you can take off your trousers instead!” I return. See what he says to that.

“I certainly will not drop my trousers in front of you!” Potter folds his arms. Sirius whispers something to himself. It sounds suspiciously like, “Who believes that?”

“However, I should… oh never mind,” I say, unnerved, while new smiles form on the lips of our friends.

There must be another way. Slowly, I calm down and brush some dust off of my blouse, which reminds me of the fact that I need to visit a bathroom.

“I absolutely must look in a mirror,” I state and gather my things.

I have resigned to the fact that James Potter will stick to me until I find a solution.

“Are you coming?” I ask him. Surprised, he blinks at me briefly, but collects his things.

≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈

“I'll never ever go in there!”

“Yes, you will. I need a mirror.”

“Why? You're beautiful enough as it is.”

“Nice try, but I want to go into the girls' bathroom this instant!”

“But there are girls in there!”

“And that's why they call it `the girls' bathroom',” I say patiently.

“But they will get hysterical if they see me in there!” he explains to me with eyes full of fear.

“Come on, they won't bite you,” I try again.

“No, I won't go!”

“Fine, then I don't care! I'll go anyway!“

Grindingly, I try to enter the bathroom, but I don't reach my goal. James is like a rock in the surf.

“Come with me to the boys' bathroom.”

“I will never set a foot in there!” I snap and cross my arms.

≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈

Well, now guess where I am. In the boys' bathroom on the second floor. And I also never set foot in one because I'm levitated five centimeters above the ground.

“AHHHH, a girl!” cries a younger student and runs off like a maniac.

“That's your fault,” I accuse James and dry my face. “I could get a detention for being in here!”

“Everything you've ever wanted.” He smiles and stares at my hair, which I let free.

Oh wow, who would have thought it? My hair lies the way I want it.

“James! Ja-ames! JAMES!”

“Yeah?”

“We need to go to Transfiguration!” I remind him.

“Oh, coming.” And we jog from the toilet. Well, more like James runs in front, and I float behind him like a balloon filled with helium. I just hope I don't sound like I'm filled with helium. Haha, just a joke. Oh, I think I'm going nuts. This is all driving me crazy, you see?

People stare at us. Mh, let me think about how we look together. James and I come out from the boys' bathroom together. My hair is spread in large curls over my shoulders. James's hair looks as untidy as ever, his cloak sits crooked, and part of his shirttail hangs over his waistband. We walk - or float, rather - closely next to each other and J.H.P has a hypnotic expression on his face and grins like a nincompoop.

Looks natural, as if we are stuck together because of chewing gum! What did you think?

Our so-called “friends” are already in the Transfiguration classroom. I move to sit in my usual place, when I get dragged off and suddenly sit beside James. Sirius will complain that his place is occupied.

“Hey, that's my seat!” he calls, insulted.

See! I just said that. I'm a genius!

“Padfoot, sit next to Emmeline.”

“Whoopee!” And he rushes off.

Merlin, please give him a brain.

I am silent and take things from my bag.

My backside is in contact with the cold wooden surface of the chair. Hopefully, I won't get a splinter in my bottom. That would be embarrassing. Despite everything, we still excite no attention. All are busy with themselves. Hopefully, it will remain this way.

Suddenly, James moves to the side. Naturally, I move also because I simply cannot help it. And, tada! I fall to the side, push James of his chair, and…ouch! What was that?

But the pain that rushes through me is for once unimportant because I am busy trying to entangle myself from James. We lie like a sandwich on the floor. Someone whistles appreciatively. I'll bet it's Black. Hey, there's even some applause.

“Hey, you finally hooked up!” someone calls.

James and I look at each other. We are absolutely pissed. With as much elegance as possible, we try to rise without making ourselves look even more ridiculous than we already look. But how was it with the turtle or with the ant with the cookie?

We get better and finally sit again. Ouch, there is the pain again. It comes from… oh, you don't want to know. Oh, please no… that is… that is simply EMBARRASSING!

I try not to sit on my right buttock. Will this day never end? Oh, it's only 10 o'clock. HELP! But I cannot admit the fact that I have a splinter in my right buttock.

But what happens if I don't go to the hospital wing and Pomfrey doesn't take a look at my injury? Then it will inflame… and then it will pus… and then I'll get blood poisoning… and then I'll die!

As I said to you, Potter is the nail in my coffin!

Meanwhile, Professor McGonnie, as I call her, arrives in the classroom. She doesn't take any notice of my AWKWARD SITUATION!

Potter pushes a folded piece of parchment to me. What does he want? He can keep his garbage on his half of the table. I push it back again, unopened, and look to the front of the class.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a hand move and hear the sound of parchment again! The garbage is back on my side.

Stubbornly, I push it back.

He pushes it back to me again.

I push it back.

He pushes it again to me. Now, we press at the same time in opposite directions. We regard each other with set expressions. But then James gives up.

Hallelujah! I won. But that noise. Rustle of parchment! I look on the table. The sheet is unfolded.

What's wrong? Can you stop shoving the parchment back! Gonnie is already looking at us! I only want to know what's wrong with you. JP

Nothing is wrong with me! I feel just marvelous! LE

Yeah, sure. I can see your pain-distorted face!

If you really want to know, I have a splinter in my right buttock!

You're joking.

Do I look as if I'd degrade myself by telling you that I have a fragment of wood in my chocolate side unless it were true?

James looks anxiously at me then he scratches something on the paper.

Shall I take a look?

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Chapter 3 - Tit for tat

I feel like I'm standing in the forbidden forest with a horde of Acrumantula climbing over me. I stare at the sentence. Shall I take a look? What kind of a question is that?

I could A) write back B) hex him so hard that that his great-grandchildren will have headaches or C) let him actually check.

But suddenly he tries to tear the parchment from my hands. I hold on to it because I'm still considering my next step. A, B, or C? Which surprises are hidden behind curtain number three?

All the same, I hear a sound. A growl. Are we growling at each other? I believe James just growled at me. Where am I? In a magical menagerie? Despite everything, we fight for the parchment as if it were the last tart at the Halloween feast.

"Stop it!” I whisper.

"Give it back! I didn't mean for it to sound like that. I didn't think," James hisses back.

Perplexed, I release our booty. What was that? Am I dreaming? Did I inhale hallucinating plants in Herbology? James Horatio Potter just admitted that he did not think. And I'm still alive to hear that! I will tell my great-grandchildren of this day!

James scratches violently on the parchment and pushes it back to me. The sentence "Shall I take a look” is crossed out so that no living creature that is able to read can glimpse at it any more. Yeah, he nearly scratched through the paper!

Now I read the new line.

Do you need to go to the hospital wing? I will accompany you; I can't let you go by yourself.

What did I do to deserve this, I ask myself. Did I cross the street when the traffic light was red? Did I never eat up my lunch when I was little? Did the old woman with the many scarves and the insect eyes ill wish me like she had threatened to when I snatched the last bottle of cooking sherry away from her for my mother?

I grasp my quill, ready to murder by words.

As you will perhaps remember, we are stuck together. Thus, it would not be possible for me to go to the hospital wing by myself.

James looks at me after he has read my piece of mind. He grins sheepishly, and his hand clumsily ruffles his hair. Oooooooh, how I… hate it when he does that and when he looks at me like the way he is right now!

"Sorry, I forgot", he whispers.

"How could you forget? I would never voluntarily sit next to you!"

"But I know that you always voluntarily look at me during class." He grins and wiggles his eyebrows.

Me? Voluntarily looking at him? Ehm, well no... Nope! Never.

"That's not what we're talking about," I answer, but he still grins. "The topic is me and my butt!” As the sentence escapes my lips, I feel the heat creeping into my cheeks. I did not just say that, did I? Potter suppresses his laughter, and I come to the conclusion that I have really said what I'd hoped I hadn't. Is idiocy contagious, I ask you? I have a feeling that this virus has infected me and has already begun its destructive work.

J.H.P. holds on to his belly. He is hardly getting enough air and starts to turn red. With all of his power, he tries to hold back his laughter. Insulted, I cross my arms; the sentence was not that funny to have a laughing fit. But now he gasps for air and coughs painfully. His hands fly to his throat. He chokes. His lips start to turn blue. He is looking at me for help.

"What is it?"

His answer goes down in a cough. I notice that a few pupils are looking at us. Well, now I must probably save him. So, I clap him strongly on his back. I can't let Potter suffocate when everybody is watching. A second impact causes him to spit out a lemon drop.

McGonnie finally gives us her attention. It was about time! If one doesn't make noises while he is suffocating, he is already lost.

"Go to the hospital wing, Mr. Potter. You look awful. Miss Evans will accompany you!"

With inhuman speed I pack my things and wait impatiently for James to stuff his things in his school bag. The lack of O2 seems to have affected his motor nerves' speed. I really appreciate his near suffocation because my buttock really hurts me right now. As we are leaving the room, I get the feeling that McGonagall starts to say something, but she stops herself. I'll bet she wanted to comment on how a part of my skirt sticks to Potters trousers.

Finally outside! Liberty!

"I nearly suffocated!” he says reproachfully. “I almost died!”

Isn't he a drama queen?

"I saved you!” I defend myself and continue walking. But James doesn't move and that means I can't get anywhere.

"But reluctantly!"

"I thought you were joking." And I drag him with me.

"Is turning blue and gasping for air a joke to you?"

"When it concerns you, one never knows." I shrug my shoulders. He acts as if I were actually required to react quickly when my archenemy is close to asphyxia. In what world I'm living?

We walk in silence to the hospital wing. The pain becomes slowly intolerable! What kind of poisoned wood do they make us sit on in class? Is this the kind of wood that they use to fabricate poison arrows in Papua, New Guinea?

"Tell me, why are you dragging your leg behind?” James asks me. "You walk like the bell ringer of Notre Dame!"

Now I am being compared to Quasimodo! Can you believe it?

I glare at James and hobble on. The winged doors of the hospital ward are in view. Oh Merlin, release me from my suffering. I'll do anything; I swear anything!

"Miss Lily Evans!” a voice roars behind us. "And Mr... Ehm."

We look over our shoulder. Slughorn!

"Potter!” James answers, somewhat provoked.

He doesn't like Slughorn because he's the only teacher that can't remember his name.

"Professor." I smile.

"Miss Evans, what happened to you?” he inquires. "What kind of uncomfortable situation you are in?"

"We're stuck together," I explain simply. He doesn't have to know the other factors because the fact that James knows is enough for me to have to handle.

"I see." His walrus-like beard crinkles somewhat. He suppresses a grin. "Shall I release the both of you from your suffering?” he offers generously.

"Yes, please!” I sigh.

"At tomorrow's party you must absolutely tell me how you got yourself into this situation," he reminds me of the stupid Slug Club. Oh, I hate these meetings.

"Sure I will." I smile.

James moves away from me when Slughorn directs his wand toward the connecting piece between us. THE EVERLASTING CHEWING GUM!!!

An ice-blue flash bursts at the pink thing. I already see myself dancing wantonly and in liberty, but the charm bounces off my prison, shoots at the walls, and slams back from all of the stones until it races up to James and brushes the top his head. Thick brown hair falls to floor.

My breath gets caught in my throat. Slughorn blinks incessantly as if he wants to say, "That isn't possible!" And James makes a frightened face. His hand moves upward and feels his head. He notices the bald strip in his otherwise flowing mane. He looks like a skunk. Or better, what a punk! He just needs to color both parts of his remaining hair differently, and we can send him underground.

"Holy Agrippa!” Professor Slughorn says finally.

James is lost for words. I believe he is having the shock of his life. Even if I stood absolutely naked in front of him, he would not get distracted. He would still be overwhelmed by grief about the loss of his hair.

"James?” I touch his shoulder softly. "Is everything okay?"

"My hair!” he caws and looks to the floor and then to Slughorn.

"Well, you should better hurry up on your way to Madame Pomfrey. She will be able to help you." And he rushes off as fast his legs can carry him.

Potter however kneels to the floor, and I inevitably get dragged along. His hands are touching the pieces of hair that lie scattered on the ground. Pitifully, I put an arm around his shoulders.

"They served you well! In wind and weather. Nevertheless, they were brittle because you constantly ran your hand through them, but they were strong and shining! Let them rest in peace," I say, unable to hide a grin.

He looks insulted and gets up. My skirt rises with him, and James has the best view of my pink underwear.

Note to me: Never be spiteful. The punishment follows on the foot!

Instantly, I stand up. My personal punk keeps a straight face. The loss of his hair has obviously deeply affected him. Otherwise, a slippery comment would have come by now.

Without further word, he grabs his bag and goes, with me on his heels, to the hospital wing.

The doors are near! Only a few meters. Just a little further and we will be there! But what's that? A piece of parchment is attached to one of the wing doors. Large, fat letters shine for us to read.

I, Madame Pomfrey, strike!

For higher salary and less work time!

Even Filch earns more than I do, Albus!

For an emergency supply you must go to St. Mungos!

Regards,

Madame Pomfrey

James and I look at each other! We are doomed! I will die miserably of blood poisoning! James's hair will regrow, but what will happen to me, Lily “The-World-Will-Miss-Me” Evans?!

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Chapter 4 - Punk and Kitty

I am doomed! I know that I've said it again and again, but the extinction of my existence continues to become ever more possible. A picture emerges before my inner eye. In a small, calm cemetery under a willow is a small grave surrounded by a low, weathered fence. Ivy climbs around the base of the white stone, but somewhat further above it one can read in fine lines:

Here lies Lilian Agatha Evans

A fragment of wood made me pass away,

It stuck in my buttock, what can I say?

Yes, one will definitely read that inscription unless something miraculous happens within the next hour. Beside me, James fiddles with something on the doors - the lock.

"What are you doing?"

"Can't you see, Kitty?” He alludes to my underwear.

"No! Otherwise I wouldn't have asked, Punk Potter."

He murmurs something to himself until he can come up with an answer. "I want into the hospital wing!” And the lock clicks, the door swings open, and a place of medical refuge opens to us.

Hastily, we slip inside and close the door. All of the beds are empty; it smells like herbs and disinfectant. In a corner, bandages sit, neatly rolled. Hopefully, there isn't a defensive charm on them so that they might attack us on the smallest inadvertence. I definitely wouldn't be able to handle being tied up with J.H.P. like mummies. What would people think of us?

"Come on...” James drags me through the room to a cabinet. He opens it and rummages around until "AHA!"

"What?" I yell, frightened, and whirl around…well as much as I can.

"Here, I found it!" And he presents to me a small blue bottle.

Harriett's wonderful hair tonic

A drop on the baldhead,

And then to bed.

Your hair will regrow during the night,

And in the morning you won't have sight.

Not suitable for the regeneration of eyebrows & lashes.

I giggle again like a small girl, while Punk Skunk Potter opens the bottle. "Shall I help you?" I offer; it's the least I can do after his terrible loss.

"No, I'll do it myself," he growls and pulls me to a mirror not too far from us.

"Well, okay." I cross my arms and wait. He will see what happens when he's rude to me.

With the greatest meticulousness that I've ever seen, my little punk drips something on his half bald head, and instants later new, brown, shining hair grows. I immediately spy the content expression on his face. The old grin returns. Oh, but what is that? A few small drops blot from the bottle and, you guessed it, meet his brows!!!

"NO,” he yells, while his view becomes obscured by his fast-growing eyebrows. Now he looks quite like a Bobtail! First his eyes are covered, then his nose, his mouth, and finally his chin.

"You've always wanted a beard, haven't you?” I inquire informally.

He uses both hands to divide his eyebrow fringe like a curtain and looks angrily at me.

"This is all your fault!"

I think my ability to hear has temporarily gone bad.

"I beg your pardon? It's what?"

"You bumped into me!” he continues to accuse me.

"And my Kneezle whistles!” I hiss. "It was your fault! What can I do when you are a motor muff?"

"I am THE captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team," he says, as if that would explain everything.

"And if you were the emperor of China, that would change nothing about it. You look like Cousin It from the Addams Family!"

James looks at me, perplexed for a change. "Like who?"

"Not important." I ignore his question and search for something in a drawer.

"What are you looking for?" he asks me.

"Can't you see that?"

"No, otherwise I would not ask, Kitty."

"Stop alluding to my pink underwear." And I pull out a pair of scissors.

James raises his hands in surrender. "Eh, I didn't mean it like that."

I look at J.H.P. and then to the scissors in my hand and finally figure out what he's talking about. "Ha-ha, what do you think I am? I'm going to get rid of your hair. Now stand still!" I instruct.

That Punk Potter allows me trim his eyebrows shows how desperate he is, don't you think so, too? And I must say, so that you appreciate my work, that it is rather difficult to shape eyebrows! Oh, but what one wouldn't do to make sure that the witches and wizards around one are well. Exhausted, I put the scissors aside while Punk Skunk Bobtail Eyebrow Potter regards his newly shaped eyebrows.

"Thanks." He grins again. "As good as new."

"Don't mention it," I wheeze and try to figure out what I'm going to do with myself. My buttock hurts and slowly forces me to take a step that makes also my despair obvious.

I could: a) Jump out of my shadow and ask him directly to help me,

b) Act as if everything will be okay, and then, secretly in the quiet in the night, die a painful death and have James carry my corpse around…if he doesn't change his trousers, or c) Outsmart him to offer me his help because then it wouldn't look like I were so depressed/desperate/in misery/devastated or whatever other word occurs to you in addition to the former ones.

"And what do we do now?" I ask hypocritically. "I'm still in pain!"

"We could go to St. Mungos," James suggests.

"So everybody can see us? That would be ridiculous!"

"I don't think so," he says confidently and pats me on the shoulder.

"But I don't want to go to St. Mungos!” I wail. “They have many more important things to do!"

"There's no other way. Everything will be fine!"

"It's only one fragment of wood. Anyone could get that out!" I nearly roar, reaching desperately for his collar and trying to shake some sense into him.

"What do you want to do?" he wants to know, seemingly frightened by the way I am acting.

"Ask me again!"

"What do you want me to ask?"

Are men thick as a brick? Can't he read it off of my forehead? What does he want me to do, sing it to him?

"Look!” I growl for a change.

"What?” he chokes. He completely seems to lose his cool. He's turns pale, his eyes are wide open on shock, and his mouth is open like a drivelling dog. If only his tongue would hang out of the side out of his mouth with saliva running down his chin.

"Lookatitandgetitout!"

"Wha?”

"Look at it and get that damn thing out!"

"Oh, okay. But how?" he inquires.

Damn, I didn't think about that. OH NO! Now I am really doomed... except... well...

"You have to take off your trousers," I determine.

"Never!"

"Do it for me!"

"That is not fair," he howls.

"Why not?!"

"Because! You have to take off your skirt, too."

Great, James has set the conditions. I'm sure he just wants to look at me to get a good shot at my knickers again now that his problems are solved. He recovered wonderfully from his asphyxiation and hair loss. But what can I do?

"Well okay, but if I hear rumours circulating about my underwear, I'll have you emasculated faster than you can say `Gryffindor'!" I threaten.

"I swear," he says seriously and begins to open his trousers.

Oh boy, if someone were to come in right now! I don't want to think about how embarrassing that would be for me. For J.H.P. it wouldn't be so bad; he's accustomed to that. But I? Not so well. I surrender to my fate, and the skirt falls to the floor. He already stands in his Merlin shorts. My laughter is inevitable, and he glares at me.

"I wouldn't be laughing if I were you, Kitty."

This immediately takes the wind out off my sails. What annoys me the most is the fact that I have a small cat on the left side of my knickers. Damn! A man was never supposed to see that piece of clothing! But I will be annoyed later. My momentary concern is that James Potter is kneeling behind me and looking at my right buttock. Please, holy Agrippa, don't let anyone come in just now!

I notice James's hand.

"Don't dare you feel me up!" I warn him.

"Simply staring at it won't help to get rid of it," he hums and rummages in a drawer.

"What are you looking for?” I turn a round.

"Tweezers."

Well, now I am calmed down. Wait a moment. TWEEZERS?

"That wont cause me more pain, will it?!”

"Oh, miserable agonies you will suffer," laughs Potter.

"Then how is it different from the rest of my day?"

"Dunno," he shrugs his shoulders and kneels down again.

Again his hand... I know he's doing it intentionally. I just know it. It's so crystal clear that he would use my state of distress. Ouch, there was a pinch.

"Tada!" my inadvertent rescuer says. "There is the scallywag!" And he shows me a hardly recognizable fragment.

"Sure that's it?" I ask quizzically, because I can't imagine that THIS small thing caused me that much pain.

"Positive, Kitty!" And he claps me on my backside.

I shut my mouth before I can say what I had been about to say. I don't want to appear ungrateful and reach for my skirt. But I cannot pick it up. I really don't know who invented these chewing gums, but they stick like... everlasting chewing gum.

"James, our clothes are stuck to the floor."

"Yeah, sure!" he scoffs.

"Well, then try it yourself."

Punk Potter pulls with all his might, but nothing moves an inch.

"Well, what now? It's a little chilly in the castle," I say.

"We need to get to the Gryffindor tower somehow," he tells me with narrowed eyes, as though trying to think of something clever.

"Yeah, I know, but how do we do that?"

A few seconds pass and his expression is still the same, then:

"We must somehow get to the Gryffindor tower."

"Well that's nice, but you already said that. What now?"

"Erm, we must somehow..."

"James, you're not helping!"

"I don't know!"

"Well then admit it."

"I already did."

"Good!"

"Good!"

We stand there in our underwear and glare at each other. But then my eyes see the scissors, and a brainstorm nearly kills me.

"I have an idea," I say and seize our rescuer. Even if it is my favourite skirt, it's for the best that I sacrifice it. A little here and a little there and I will be free.

"What is it with me?" Punk Potter says grumpily.

"Okay, okay, I'm already on it."

I make a few cuts, and a few seconds later I'm wearing my skirt. James buttons his trousers and turns around to see how bad the damage is.

"It's not bad,” I assure him, though I can see a Merlin head winking at me. But James doesn't need to know that.

"You've still got something there," James says and does something to my skirt. It's not much, I know. "So, everything's gone now." And he tosses something away.

"Thanks!"

"No problem. You would have done the same for me."

Well, I'm not really convinced right now, but I'm not the one who has a Merlin head peeping through a hole in my trousers.

Heads held high, we slip out of the hospital wing and agree not to speak about the incident. That will remain our embarrassment. We nod at each other and go off in different directions. I have to laugh when I look over my shoulder, because Merlin waves at me again.

However, at the time I didn't realize that James had cut a hole into my skirt so that one could see the small white cat on my pink underwear.

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