Young Writers Society

HERE for a rundown of the idea!



-unadulterated loathing-

Everything was fine and dandy until my sixth year. Well, not dandy, parse, but normal. We hated the Malfoy’s and they hated us back, perhaps with greater force. It was a natural conflict, like how oil and water don’t mix. We didn’t go together, and we never would. It was normal. Artless. Simple.
The oldest male Malfoy was my age, so we were, unfortunately, in the same year. Therefore, we were in most classes together. We were both on the Quidditch teams, both captains, both chasers, though I wouldn’t be surprised if he bought his way on to the team. Those were the only things we had in common, besides the fact that we hated each others guts.

I hated him so much, I didn’t even bother learning his first name. Later I found out it was Orion. Okay, first, who names their kids ORION? Then again, who names their kid Calypso? That’s me, by the way, Calypso Marie Potter. Ugh. I hate my name. You would too if you were named after an angry goddess of the sea. Our whole family’s like that. Calypso, Aphrodite, and Circe Potter. The only ones with almost normal names are Adela, Perry, and Max. Who are all Weasleys. So they’re not really Potters. Athena’s a Weasley, but she’s special, so she gets a goddess too.

Back to my hatred of Orion Malfoy, a gitted pea-brained, self righteous, bastard-spawn from hell. Everyone loved him, swooned over him like some heaven-sent angel, but we saw [s]him[/s] them for who they were. See above.

---

Circe was ten not old enough to go to Hogwarts quite yet, but old enough to come see the train pass. She knocked on my door, which was always closed, and came in even though I shouted "go away" through my pillow.

"Uncle Ron said to get up."

"I don't care what Ron said. He's a slimy git. Let me sleep Circe," I replied lazily, rolling over so my face was shielded from the light Circe let in from opening the curtains. Her voice was soft and sweet, like she was always singing. She sighed.

"The train's leaving at eleven. You have trouble getting a good seat in the first place. And you know Uncle Ron likes to drive."

I could feel her smile as I sighed and resigned. Ron didn't exactly drive... well... Circe and all her red-haired glory-ness was knit-picking around my dresser drawers for the clothes I would wear today. She did this for the past two years. She, of course, was already dressed; faded blue-jeans and a pastel yellow t-shirt. Pastel's looked good on her. As I threw my blanket off of me, all my clothes were laying out at the foot of my bed. Black skinny jeans, doodles and patches covered them. I usually wore them to my History Of Magic lessons, and one of Dad's old Polo's. A large white and red one, with wholes strategically placed along the hem line and collar. This happened to be my favorite. Circe knew that. Circe wasn't like 'Dee. 'Dee was annoying. Circe was like a best friend to me.

"Why can't 'Mione drive? She's better at it" I asked. Circe flung a bra at me as I stood up. It hit my head, and I pulled it under my night shirt. Circe's brown eyes rolled in her head at my statement.

"Uncle Ron likes to practice. Practice makes perfect, remember?" Another object at my head. Black undies this time, to match my bra. I pulled my pajama pants down and changed further, my butt facing her. We were both girls and related, so there's nothing wrong with that.

"Well, all that his practice is making is more Confundus charms, suspicious Muggles, and wrecked cars. He's hit 7 in the past nine years.I've been counting."

"Yeah, I heard you and Athena made a game of it." She said as Dad's shirt hit my head. I slipped it on and it covered to about mid-thigh. It could be a dress if i had a mind to do the adjustments.

"Yup. It's actually quite fun. We have pens and pads and we write down the demerits and tickets he's supposed to have. Thirteen so far. Ten for speeding." My pants, this time. I pulled them off my hair and stepped into them. Zipped and buttoned them as Circe smiled.

"Ten for speeding? Have you told him yet?" She asked.

"No. We're not going to tell him."

I walked over to my mirror, which was stationed at my dresser. Through the mess I picked out my eyeliner, and mascara, and swiped them on in a few simple moves. My brush was already packed and which was almost positively in the SUV already. So I finger brushed.

"Why not?"

"What's the point of opening up the store if you give the goods away?"

"Oh. Huh?"

My iPod was with my wand, under my pillow. Circe was sitting on my bed, sitting on her hands, waiting for me to be done. My hands reached under my pillowcase and pulled out my Nano. The blue earphones went in my ears as my wand went in my Charmed pocket. It went in without complaint, and I felt nothing. I pressed play, and it picked up where I left off last night, right in the middle of Dolly Parton's "Best Little Whorehouse in Texas" song, "Li'l Bitty Pissant Country Place". I turned the volume down to a bare minimum, so that I could still hear my surroundings.

"What's the fun of mocking someone if they know you're mocking them?" I walked out the door, and she followed.

"That makes more sense."

"Yup."

We walked down the stairs, and Ron and Hermione were fighting over which car we should take in the kitchen.

"The Acura had better mileage, Ron, and it's easier to handle." She slammed something down. It sounded like a plate.

"Well, I think we should take the Volvo."

"Ronald," she sighed, "you can barely handle my Mini Cooper and you want to take Harry's Volvo? You know Cali won't-" She froze mid sentence as she saw me in the archway leading into the kitchen. Nobody talked about him around me, and I'll tell you why later. I took a breath and resumed as if she didn't say his name.

"Hey 'Mione. Ron. Wherefore art thy apples? I'm starving."

She regained her composure and pointed to a basket on the table. "Right here sweetie."

"Sweetness." I said. I reached out for a nice green one and took a big bite out of it.'Mione smiled, probably at the fact that I wasn't bothered by my father's name. Which I was. I just didn't show it. I've been practicing for seven years, so I'm pretty good by now.

"So, where's Mum?"

"She had to go to work early, dear. But she gives her loves and kisses." 'Mione replied.

"Sure." I muttered, walking out of the kitchen and into the living room. Circe had left my side and went to play with Max. Max, of course, was a red-head, tall, and a little goofy looking. The mirror image of what I thought Ron would have looked like as an eleven year old. He was so happy he was going this year, but that meant Circe would have no one to hang out with. The things you loose when you get what you want...

I had the feeling Mum didn't like me that much. Circe and 'Dee were practically mirror images of each other, and they both looked like Mum. 'Dee was the favorite. I wasn't. I looked exactly like Dad, and I knew that was why she hated me. I even had glasses.

Ron came into the living room and grabbed a pair of keys, frowning.

"We're taking the Acura."
---

Ron wrecked twice, ran three red lights, and sped at 35mph through a 15mph zone. Circe played this time. We all 'squished' in the Acura. The Expansion Charm works wonders. I didn't even have to touch Perry! I sat between Circe and Athena, giggling silently at Ron and 'Mione's little squabbles. Eventually we got there, and we unloaded the car on to carts. The Muggle's didn't even realize how many of us came out of the little Acura, and how much luggage we had. Or the fact that we disappeared thought a brick wall. Now that I would notice.

The train was just about to leave as we got in. We had to hurry and I had to touch Perry. I was so determined not to touch him. Oh well. The press, of course, was waiting on the platform to bombard us with questions, which hindered us even further. I wanted to punch one of the blond reporters. She was in my face. Perry had to pull Dad's shirt to hold me back. We eventually got all our stuff on. Perry and Adela went to the prefects carriage, and Max followed 'Dee like a puppydog any other day, so they went to hang out with her friends, and I waved to Circe through the train door. She waved back ecstatically. "LOVE YOU!"

That would be in the papers tomorrow.

As the platform was just disappearing, an evil, loathsome, vile let velvet-y voice came from behind me. "How touching."

I pulled my head out of the door's window to see the loathsome Malfoy and his cronies. Admittedly, he had grown up in the past few months, but defiantly not in maturity level. I could see that by his idiotic, plastered-on, yet slightly flattering smirk that I've come to know and hate. I crossed out the flattering in my head, and held my luggage closer. He apparently took notice to the lime green and neon pink polka-dots.

"Aren't you a little too old for polka-dots?"

"Aren't you a little too young for a mustache?" I shot back. He stroked his upper lip, where the reminisce of little white hairs were coming in. I smirked, a mirror of his, and shouldered passed him and his goons to find my carriage with my friends.