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| �Just breathe,� he says. �In through the nose, out through the mouth.� I stare at him in the mirror. My brother, James is standing right behind me, his hand rests on my shoulder, and his brown eyes meets my green. He smiles, and I return it, weakly.
In all reality, I have butterflies. In my stomach. Massive ones. And they seemed to be playing quite a rousing match of Quidditch at the moment. You see, I, Albus Severus Potter, am about to embark on a life-changing adventure. My first date. My first real date at that. Of course, my fellow students at Hogwarts, or Hogwartians as my cousin Fred liked to call us, and I have gone to Hogsmeade village with members of the opposite sex. It was a given in a co-ed boarding school that people dated. Like, duh. But you really can�t count a trip to Hogsmeade with a girl and her giggling friends and groups of your peers breathing down your neck a date. And even if you could, the closest I�ve come to a Hogsmeade date is following James and his girlfriend and her friend around the village the entire day. No, today I am going all out. I am even flooing to her house. I know. Meeting the parents on the first date? Harsh. Especially this girl. She has four brothers, you see, all older than her. And out of Hogwarts. A couple of them are Aurors. That�s okay, though. They wouldn�t threaten me seeing as my dad�s their boss. Ha, ha, higgidy ha. Her name is Raven Williams. She is in my year at Hogwarts, though she�s a Ravenclaw and I�m in Gryffindor. We�re both Prefects, though. And in a lot of the same classes. She�s super smart. And funny. And cute. And I�ve been crushing on her madly since third year when she sucker-punched a blonde-haired Slytherin for making fun of my name and then talked her way out of a detention. James reaches around me in what I thought was a hug, but he was straightening my tie. That�s right, I said tie. Got a problem with that? I like to look good. And yes, it is a little constricting. And yes, I�m struggling to breathe at the moment. Awe hell� I loosen the tie from around my neck, pull it over my head, and throw it on to the ground. James seems frightened by my little outburst and takes a step back, running a hand through his dark reddish hair. There�s a knock on my door, but I stand, glowering in the full length mirror in front of me. Is it too late to owl and cancel? Probably, seeing as I am supposed to pick her up at seven and it is now ten �til. Awe buggar. My mum walks in. She�s pretty in her own right. Long red hair, bright brown eyes. She�s prematurely aged, from the war she fought when she was young, and then dealing with my dad and raising all of us. James, especially�he was rotten. It probably had something to do with dear cousin Fred being such a bad influence. But that�s a whole other story. �Almost ready, Al?� Mum reaches up and brushes my hair out of my eyes. I bat her hand away and fix what she�s messed up. It was artfully messy before she started screwing with it. A hurt look crosses her face for an instant, then she smiles. �Yeah,� I mutter dumbly, unbuttoning the top button of my green shirt. Mum says the color brings out my eyes. I suppose she is a girl and does know this kind of stuff, which is why I even contemplated letting her buy it for me. I move to leave the room, but James stops me. At the last moment, he pulls my shirt out of the waistband of my trousers and unbuttons the second button of my shirt, showing off a bit of my clavicle, and then winks at me. Mum is looking at me expectantly from the door. I know she and dad are planning on seeing me off in the kitchen and will probably still be waiting there when I return. I turn to go when James presses something in to my hand. I look down. �Breath mints?� I wonder, my eyes wide. He smirks and winks. �James!� Mum chastises from the hall, and I wander, wide eyed, down the stairs and in to the kitchen, the prospect of why I�d need breath mints on my mind. Dad is sitting at the table, glasses perched on the end of his nose as he reads the Daily Prophet. When he sees me, he folds up the paper and sets it down. �All ready then?� I take a deep breath and shrug. No. Not really. I feel like I could throw up at any moment. My palms are sweaty as I grab a handful of floo powder. I can feel it getting wet and sludgy in my sweaty palm and I turn to my parents and give them a weak smile. I take a deep breath and throw the powder in to the fire, whirling away. I step out onto the hearth in a very large, lavishly decorated sitting room. There is no one there, and I tentatively step away from the fireplace and look around. The room is one of elegance and class. The floor is thick, plush beige carpet, the furniture done in neutral tones, and heavy, light yellow drapes hang in front of two windows, covering much of the wall opposite the fireplace. Everything is new and clean and I want to touch it. But I hear voices coming down the hall outside the closed door and suddenly it swings open. A portly man with gray hair and a beard walks in, followed by a stick thin woman, an apron securely fastened around her waist. The man stops and looks at me, the woman nearly running in to him. He turns, whispers something to her, and she scuttles from the room. �G-good evening sir,� I say, remembering the tips James and dad had given me earlier in the evening about meeting the parents (not that dad really had to meet mum�s parents since they were well acquainted by the time he and mum started dating). The first one was speak clearly and don�t stutter, both of which I�d managed to muck up. Secondly, shake his hand firmly. Determined to not screw another thing up, I step forward and extend my right hand. He looks at it with a look of disdain, and I look down. There was a mixture of floo powder and sweat, causing a thin goopy film to cover my hand. I blush to the roots of my hair I�m sure, my neck heating up, and I hastily wipe my hand on my shirt before reaching out to him again. He shakes it this time, only his eyes don�t leave my shirt and I look down. Great. Now there�s a bloody smeared handprint of sweaty floo powder on my shirt. I wipe at it, but it doesn�t appear to be coming off. He blinks at me, as if waiting for me to say something, and I panic. I try to think of something to say. Like, how about those Cannons, but what if he�s not a Cannons fan? Or maybe, talk about the weather�but in all honesty, I had been so nervous about this date I hadn�t even gone outside today so that probably wasn�t the best topic� �What are your intentions with my daughter?� Well I hadn�t expected that. I panic again. I can feel sweat on my forehead. Boy, it�s hot in here. Even with two buttons undone, I feel like my collar�s choking me. I take a breath�in through the nose, out through the mouth�and open my mouth to say something, I have no clue what, when she walks in. She says something to her father, slapping his shoulder lightly, and the turns to me. She looks like a friggin� princess, and that�s no lie. Her curly, brown hair falls in ringlets down her back. She�s wearing a nice blue dress that has no straps and falls inches above her knees. She�s carrying a matching blue purse and is wearing heels. I suddenly realize that I�m gaping at a girl in front of her parents, and she�s talking to me. I should probably pay attention, huh? ��back by eleven. Is that okay? Do your parents want you home sooner?� I blank. Did they give me a curfew? Probably, when I was zoning out at some point during the day. �I-er�fine,� I finally manage to get out and it�s still hard to breathe in here. She smiles at me, and then turns to her parents. Her dad is giving me an evil glare, and her mum is smiling tightly. �Ready?� She asks, and I�m glad I�m paying attention to that one, because boy was I ready to get out of there. She floos to the Leaky Cauldron first, and then I follow behind her closely so her father has no chance to rough me up or anything. She�s waiting for me, patiently, by the bar and I join her and we walk out. We walk side by side down the street to a restaurant that James recommended for a first date. He said, and I quote, �It�s not too pricey if you find you can�t stand her, but it�s nice enough so she�ll think she�s being pampered.� That had earned him a slap on the back of the head by mum, but he was right. The place was noisy with patrons, but we were able to snag a table in the back. It was right off the loo, too, and I groaned. I hope she doesn�t mind� She laughed, though. �It�s right there, if I need to go,� she points out, and I smile, my heart beat increasing rapidly at the smile on her shiny, glossed lips. �What happened to your shirt?� she gestures to my shirt just as the waiter comes to take our order. We order, and she looks at me expectantly. �Oh, er�floo powder was wet,� I stutter. She smiles at me, and takes my hand over the table. I jerk it back, and she looks a little put out, but I don�t want her to feel my sweaty palms. We sit in silence for a long stretch of time, each of us looking anywhere but at each other. The food comes, and we finally have something to do. I chew my fish, and watch her slurp down a pasta dish. It�s incredibly humorous to me, the way she lets a long noodle hang down and then slurps it up without the help of a utensil. Then, she wipes off a bit of sauce that had splattered on to her chin. A familiar looking man walks by our table and enters the loo. I turn back to my fish and chips and she leans over the table. �Did you notice that man has been to the loo three times since we got here?� she tells me and I shook my head. She smiles, and then I smile. I feel a bit of pressure on my lower leg, and my trouser leg starts to slid up. Then, a cold foot presses against bare skin and I jump, coughing on a piece of fish. She looks at me, worriedly, but there�s a smile in her eyes. I try to relax, I really do. I start up a conversation with her about Quidditch. She starts talking about her mum�s team, the Holyhead Harpies (literally, her mum�s team�she owns them) and I smile at her eagerness. I could sit there and listen to her talk all night. I offer dessert and she accepts, but says we�ll need to share because she feels like she�s about to burst. I can live with that, and we order a slice of pie. As we wait, she asks about my family, and then I ask her about hers. My family really isn�t all that interesting, see. You know, my dad�s Harry Potter, the Chosen One, my mum was Lead Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies, and of course, James� reputation as Quidditch Captain and total Gryffindor hottie. Her father works in magical real estate, her mum gave her season tickets to the Holyhead Harpies matches, and two of her brothers are out of the country for the summer. The other two are flatmates in London and are the Aurors that work under my dad. I can feel myself loosening up over dessert, and I reach in to my pocket and pop in one of James� breath mints. The minty flavor cleansed my palate and made my breath minty fresh. I pay the waiter and leave a hefty tip, knowing Raven is watching me. We leave the restaurant and stroll back to the Leaky Cauldron. We decide to go in to Diagon Alley, and soon we are walking along the cobblestone street. My hand itches to take hers, and it brushes against the smooth skin as we walk. I feel her knuckles brush mine as we pass my Uncle George�s store, and I suck in a deep breath before linking my pinky with hers. I hear her giggle beside me and she lets go of my hand. Then, she firmly takes my hand in hers, linking our fingers together. I smile and her, and she smiles at me. We window shop for a while, each gushing over the newest Firebolt model broomstick at Quality Quidditch Supplies. After that, we decide to have a Butterbeer before returning home, and stop in the first pub we see. For a Wednesday night, it�s a bit crowded. I notice my Uncle George and a few people from his shop, but I don�t stop. Instead, I grab Raven�s hand to make sure I don�t lose her, and then head to the bar. I order two Butterbeers and, once we receive them and I pay, we take them to a vacant booth in the back. She slides in to the seat across from me, forcing me to let go of her hand. I reach out to take her hand, and to my horror, end up knocking her bottle of Butterbeer right off the table and in to her lap. She screeches and jumps up, sending the bottle on to the bench beside her. I apologize furiously, grabbing up napkins and trying to help her dry her dress. Let me tell you, nothing is more embarrassing than being a wizard and trying to dry a lady�s dress with napkins. Now, granted neither of us are of age (I will be in a month and a half, yay!) but we are still in a room full of witches and wizards marginally capable of drying her dress. I only say marginally because of their level of intoxication. I stand abruptly, and see Uncle George coming our way. �Oh great,� I mutter, rubbing my forehead. She looks back and smiles. �Well if it isn�t Albus Potter, my favorite nephew. Oh, and look,� he eyes Raven and it makes me feel uncomfortable. �He�s on a date. Are you old enough? Aren�t you, like, twelve.� �We�re both sixteen,� I bite out and he turns to me. As if reading my mind, he seems to understand that it�s not going very well. He offers to dry her dress, which was nice, and clean my shirt, which was double nice. I didn�t know he even knew any cleaning charms. After that, he pats my head and leaves us alone. I sit down and put my head in my hands. I fully expect Raven to just walk away, but she doesn�t. No, instead she slides in to the booth next to me. I look up, confused, and she shrugs. �It�s still wet,� she points out the puddle of Butterbeer on the bench and I nod, fiddling with my own bottle before pushing it at her. �You can have mine,� I tell her and she shakes her head. �No thanks. I really should be getting back, anyway.� My face falls and my eyes stray to my watch. It�s just after ten and she said she didn�t need to be home until eleven. I turn to her, and she�s looking at me sadly. She bites her lip and I cringe. Oh gods. She�s going to break up with me before we even start going out. �Why did you ask me out, Albus?� She asks suddenly, and I�m blindsided. What is it with her family and asking ridiculously odd questions? The relationship in shambles anyway, I decide to tell her the truth. �I�ve liked you since third year,� I tell her sincerely, and her head turns to me. �Really?� she asks and all I can do is nod. �Then why didn�t you say anything at my parents� or when we were in the restaurant? You didn�t want to hold my hand�I thought it had been a dare or something, asking me out.� �No!� I insist, hurriedly. �I really do like you. It�s taken me years to get up the courage to even ask you�� She smiles at me, and I smile at her. Then she looks away, and then back at me. �I like you, too, Al.� �That�s great.� Okay, that was probably a stupid thing to say, but it made her laugh, so it�s okay. �And it�s because I like you that I can say this and know you won�t get mad at me. But, Albus�your breath smells awful.� I look at her oddly for a moment, thinking I heard her wrong. I had used a mint. It was a minty mint. I pull out the container of breath mints James had given me earlier and then shook my head, sadly. �I am so sorry,� I say, mortified. �James, the prat, gave me trick mints�they�re from my uncle�s shop.� �They make your breath smell bad instead of good?� She guesses and I nod. She pulls her purse from her lap and sets it on the table before opening it. There�s tons of stuff in the tiny bag, and I can tell someone had put a charm on it so she could fit a lot of things in to the small space. She digs around in it for a moment, before pulling out her own tin of mints. She pops it open and offers me one. �I don�t know if it will work,� I tell her, my hand over my mouth to keep my rancid breath smell away from her. She shrugs and I pop it in to my mouth. �Hey, wait. Were you planning on�� I say as I chew and she shrugs and blushes, prettily. �I might�ve been hoping�� She pops a mint in to her own mouth and smiles at me. I lean forward and ask, �Is it better?� She smiles and tells me, �There�s only one way to really know for sure.� Then, she leans forward and seems to be waiting for something. Her lips are puckered slightly and her eyes are closed. I smile and lean forward, placing my lips on top of hers. It was gentle and innocent, and we pull away a second later. She smiles and I smile. �Definitely better,� she mutters, before she presses another kiss to my lips. We kiss for a moment, her cherry lip gloss smearing on our faces, and break apart when we hear, �That�s my boy! That�s my nephew!� Uncle George is standing in the middle of the crowded pub, jumping up and down excitedly, and pointing at us. Raven blushes, and turns her head away from the stares of the patrons. I glance at my watch and it�s almost eleven, so, amidst the stares of people around us, we get up and walk out of the pub hand in hand. Before I know it, we�re standing in the same lavish sitting room that we�d left from hours before. She smiles shyly, our hands still clasped together, and whispers, �I had a great time, Al.� I smile. �I had a great time, too, Raven.� She leans up on her tiptoes and presses one last kiss to my lips. �Owl me sometime, alright? We should get together this summer.� �I will. I promise.� I kiss her one last time�I can not seem to get enough of her�before I floo home. The kitchen is dimly lit when I enter, and my mother and father are sitting at the table, huddled at one end, sipping tea and talking quietly. Mum shoots up when she sees me and rushes over, but I�m not in any mood to talk. A wide smile is plastered on my face and I can�t seem to stop it. �How was your date?� Mum asks, wringing her hands, nervously. As if it could go bad and I would still be smiling like this. �Perfect,� I tell her. Then, I side step around her preparing to go to bed. Just as I step to the door I turn to my father, our green eyes meeting. �Oh, and remind me to thank James in the morning.� With that, I head to my room and close the door firmly behind me. I cannot wait for the rest of the summer. |
| Disastrously Perfect |