#my english teacher saying it was a peasant name and then realising and then apologising was so embarrassing | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

roseskiesandbutterflies · 5 years ago

Text

Killer Queen - Chapter 9: Coming Soon

Summary: Arabella Ruth White is the fifth member of the Marauders. And life at Hogwarts certainly isn’t easy. Especially when you have alcohol, relationships, unhealthy music obsessions, a fake stage persona, weird ass friends with weird ass problems and actual school all thrown into the equation. (This story is also on Wattpad and AO3 of the same name. I will always update on Wattpad first.)

Warning(s): none that I can see

Taglist: @bhmay @briarrose26 @bijoukitty ask to be on my taglist!

Inspired by: A Night At The Opera, various Marauders headcanons I’ve seen on Pinterest, this quarantine business, The Boy Who Killed God by @sirius-black-killed-god on AO3, All The Young Dudes by MsKingBean89 on AO3

Word count: 4.3k+ (holy shit)

A/N: I beg of you follow Ruth's advice on how to handle a record because some people do it Wrong. Don't be one of those people, please. Somehow, she's 16 now which is weird, but not that weird seen as she is literally a figment of my own imagination. This chapter is over 4000 words long which makes it the longest thing I've ever written.

I’m thinking about changing the point of view again. I’m currently in first but I might change it to third. First is good for funny scenes like in this chapter, but it’s not ideal for the deeper stuff I have planned later. Yes, I have a plot. Shock horror. But we shall wait and see on that one. If I do change it, I won’t edit the previous chapters to fit it because I really can’t be bothered.

Everyone, please stay safe because of what's going on and stay optimistic and occupied. For example, I'll have more time to write! It's a scary time but it will pass, like everything does at some point. OK I've gotten too philosophical. I shall stop now. This chapter is sponsored by me calling Dr Brian Harold May 'Clog Man'. This chapter title comes from Queen's 1980 album, 'The Game'.

“Good morning, peasants!” I declared as I quite literally swept into Transfiguration that morning, a crown perched precariously atop of my head, my robe billowing behind me. My dearest courtiers trailed along in my wake, begrudgingly carrying my belongings. How generous of them, I thought to myself, as if they had had any say in the matter in the first place. My loyal subjects celebrated my entrance and I gracefully sat down in my assigned seat, feet on the table, chair tipped back at precisely the right angle. I didn’t want to fall and get a concussion, now did I? Especially not on that day of all days.

Now you may wonder what on Gaia’s green earth I am on about, you may begin to question my sanity, you may finally start to piece the clues together and realise I am in fact, a total nutter. About time you did, if I’m completely honest with you, darling. However, like most of my shenanigans, the reason for all this was a well-founded one, if I did say so myself. For Twas my birthday, my sixteenth birthday to be precise, and that meant I got to be queen for a day. Not as long as I would like but hey ho, it was better than nothing. I had all the time in the world to take over the world so being queen could wait for now. Even better than this temporary monarchy, becoming sixteen came with plenty of hobbies I could now I enjoy legally, such as having sex, smoking and drinking wine in a restaurant. As if the law had stopped me before. Following the law is for the weak and my mother did not raise me to be anything of the sort.

Now as a queen such as myself, it is my regal responsibility to keep up appearances, which, to put it simply, meant to look pretty damn fabulous at all times. Hence why I was sporting a magnificent golden crown enchanted to stay on my head for the whole day and matching robe-cloak-thing. You know what I’m on about. Personally, I was rather pleased with my attire. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for one Minerva McGonagall.

An exasperated sigh from the front of the classroom was reluctantly followed by, “White, dare I ask why you are not in proper uniform?” she gestured vaguely at my majestic outfit.

“It would certainly be rather daring of you, professor,” I replied, without missing a beat. A classic raised eyebrow went my way, so I let out a sigh of my own before saying, “Tis my sixteenth birthday, dearest Minnie. If I have to attend lessons on such an occasion, then I must be allowed to dress appropriately.”

“And you consider a crown half as big as yourself to be appropriate for school?” her wonderfully Scottish voice quipped back.

“Why of course ma’am, you see it’s what I like to call my thinking cap,” I grinned broadly at her before joining a giggling Sirius who had gone to great lengths to keep it all in.

But nothing in this godforsaken world, and I do not say that lightly, could have prepared me for Minnie’s response: “Then perhaps it will do you some good.” She turned to the blackboard behind her to begin the lesson I had partly succeeded in delaying.

I, on the other hand, wasn’t doing so well. I clutched at my chest as if I’d been shot, and believe me it felt like I had been, and dramatically fell into the arms of James, as he was the unfortunate soul who sat next to me. I weakly reached up to touch his face as they do in the muggle movies, made a mental note to remind him to fucking shave and heaved out, “Jamie, I won’t last much longer but there’s something I need to tell you.”

“What, my darling? What is it?” he asked, faithfully going along with my foolish antics as always, the poor sod.

“I…love…” I whispered before going limp in his arms as if I was dead.

“Ruth, my love, no!” he hugged my ‘corpse’ while sobbing rather profoundly.

Sirius leapt to his feet (I had to open my eyes slightly for this bit) and declared, “What do you mean ‘my love’? Ruth has been the love of my life since I first laid eyes on her!”

“You foul fiend! Ruth was the second reason for my very existence after Evans, thank you very much!” James too jumped up, leaving me to flop onto the stone floor with an ungraceful ‘ugh’. I could sense Lily’s annoyance from the other side of the classroom.

James and Sirius both grabbed their wands, pointed them at one another, but instead of cursing each other, they used them like fencing swords. Just before Sirius could ‘stab’ James, I myself jumped up and cried, “Wait!” at the same time Minnie yelled, “Enough!”

Naturally, we took no notice of this.

Both boys turned to look at me, only for me to say, “I don’t love either of you. I love Remus!” I pointed at the boy in question who in turn smirked his classic smirk.

He opened his mouth to speak only to be interrupted by an infuriated Minnie, “I said enough! Sit down, all three of you or it’s detention for a week!” Now I was pretty sure she was only letting us off because she was well aware that if I was given detention on my birthday, I would certainly not go. I’d like to think it was because she loved us dearly, but my mother didn’t raise me to be a liar either. Considering the circumstances, a.k.a. my huge fucking party I had planned for later on, I did what I almost never did.

I sat down.

Not without a snarky “ooooooooh” of course.

Naturally, Minnie wasn’t all that impressed with my reply, “Evans, swap seats with White, please.”

Naturally, I wasn’t all that impressed with her reply either, “Professor, are you seriously going to move me on my birthday?”

“That is correct.”

“Miss, that’s not fair, I haven’t even done anything that bad, we’re all in one piece, aren’t we? Besides, why is it only me that’s getting moved, what’s up with that?”

“You’re not the only one I’m moving, I’m also moving Evans, am I not?” she snapped, not at all pleased with my outburst, “Now please move seats, you are disrupting my lesson.”

I pouted like a little child on the naughty step, grabbed my stuff together and plonked myself where Lily had been sitting, next to a girl who had only started in September, from Greece or Italy or somewhere. I suddenly realised Lily was now sitting next to James, so I felt the need to apologise, “Sorry, Lily!”, I said in a similar manner to a kid who was forced to say sorry to their sibling after hitting them. She just shot me a reproachful look which had me fearing for my life for a second, before turning to the lesson that could finally begin.

Obviously, I wasn’t exactly keen to take part in the lesson, so I opted for attempting to get to know my new desk partner, “You’re the new girl, right?”

I was met with a blank stare and confusion from both parties until something clicked for me: if she had just moved here from another country then she probably didn’t speak much English.

Well shit.

I tried again, simplifying my language but hopefully not sounding too patronising, “Are you new?”

The poor girl still strongly resembled a deer in headlights but nodded, “Yes?”

“What’s your name, darling?” I was determined to get to know this girl, she seemed nice enough and, knowing from experience what it felt like to be the new kid, I felt a strange urge to help her.

She cocked her head to the side in confusion, now looking like an owl of some sort. It was at this point where I gave up and just waved her off, “Don’t worry.” If Minnie was as adamant about me staying in this seat as I suspected, I’d have plenty of time later to try and talk to this girl. Maybe when she knew a bit more English. Or maybe I could teach her some? Well saying that I’m not sure how good of a teacher I would actually be. I’d probably be more of a nuisance than a help.

The rest of the school day carried on in a similar fashion, with the usual jokes played out in a more dramatic manner than usual. Fine by me. The end of lessons couldn’t come soon enough but at last, they were over. Meaning I could finally, finally, open my damn presents.

Well, I say presents, but me being the impatient bastard that I am, I actually opened most of them that morning at breakfast. Which involved about a year’s supply of chocolate, a 10-pack of condoms and no less than three boxes of tea from various posh shops in London. And a hell of a lot of magical alcohol, which was far better than the muggle stuff, but we don’t talk about that. There was only one present left and that was the one from the woman who birthed me. I realise that I have led you under false pretences of sentiment towards my dear mother, and while I do in fact over her greatly, this is not the case. It was actually because our family owl, Bob (don’t ask me why he’s called fucking Bob, Rhea named him), is quite possibly slower than a bloody snail and took the whole day to fly from Cromer to Scotland.

I ran up the stairs to the boys’ dormitory, which is saying something considering I don’t run for anything, and there it was, laying on what was basically my bed when Kingsley wasn’t around, wrapped in shining gold paper, my birthday present. Instantly I got a huge sense of déjà vu, as I knew exactly what it was.

A vinyl record.

Because what else do I do with my spare time these days?

I carefully picked it up, observing it in the stream of November sunlight coming from the window. Judging from the size and weight of it, it was definitely an album, my excitement increasing tenfold. I opened it as carefully as possible to discover that it was indeed Queen’s new album. Their iconic crest was printed on the front in a loud colour scheme of orange and pink. The title was written in black cursive: ‘A Night At The Opera’. The whole thing, though relatively simple in its design, screamed regalness.

I was so mesmerised by it that I didn’t even see the envelope on the bed until I very nearly sat on it. My mum’s familiar handwriting addressed me on the front of it and inside was a card with the most gorgeous watercolour print of the Cromer Pier which had me missing it terribly. I opened it to read what she had written and I couldn’t wipe the grin off of my face.

To Ruth,

Happy birthday, darling! It’s hard to believe you’re 16 now, I still see you as my gorgeous baby girl! I know I can’t see you on your special day, but half term is less than a month away – you’ll be home before we know it!

I’m so proud of you and everything you’ve done, and we all love you very much. Have a wonderful day with your friends!

Lots of love,

Mum, Rhea and Luke xxx

P.S. Don’t tell Mum but I got you a sort of magical cactus from Diagon Alley but I’ll give it to you when you come back – Rhea

P.P.S What Rhea forgot to tell you is that the cactus was my idea, I just didn’t have any pocket money left after going to the sweet shop - Luke

I smiled at the message and at my siblings’ additions at the bottom and found myself missing them more than I anticipated. I put on my bedside table, next to the magical photo us the boys and me which never failed to make me laugh. It was of us knee-deep in the Great Lake, around the July of our third year. James had his back to the camera but still showed his face and his lopsided grin; he was carrying Sirius over his shoulder like a fireman, the latter of which was showing his middle finger to the camera as best he could. Peter was mid-fall in front of them, just seconds before face-planting the water. Remus was to the right of them, trying his best to avoid getting wet from Peter’s inevitable splash, his face all screwed up in an attempt to protect his eyes. I was trying to hoist myself up onto Remus’s shoulders, which wouldn’t have been so difficult if he wasn’t so fucking tall, even at 14 he was a giant. The photo was magical, so we were all moving around as we had been at the time. I was lucky enough to have caught the exact moment I pulled my wand out and cast the aguamenti charm, aiming at everyone’s head but more importantly, James and Sirius’s hair. The photo was an endless cycle of me jumping up, casting the spell and being chased around by everyone before going back to our original positions.

I reluctantly turned away from the treasured photo, picked up the album and turned to run to the Room Of Requirement so I could listen to the artistry I held in my undeserving hands. Somehow, my close good friends beat me to it; there they stood in the doorway, carrying my dear record player between them with wide grins on their faces, not altogether dissimilar from the one James sported in the photograph.

I wondered for a second how the vinyl got itself onto my bed, and how the boys knew they had to get my record player, but then I realised my mother must have told them in advance. She may have been a Hufflepuff, but I do sometimes think she would have made a fine Slytherin. Surprise kids, I don’t have a prejudice against the entirety of Slytherin house, just the ones who are, quite frankly, dickheads. Not my fault if that’s the majority of them.

They popped my dear baby on the floor and sat down various surfaces: the floor, their beds, Remus’s lap (*cough cough* Sirius *cough cough*). I ever-so-carefully removed the vinyl from its sleeve and placed it onto the turntable, only touching the outermost edges so as to not get grease into the grooves of the record. Now, I can’t be ruining it already.

“I hope you know we love you enough to carry that thing all the way here,” Sirius whined, mopping non-existent sweat from his forehead using’s Remus’s poor jumper. The audacity he had to refer to my precious record player as ‘that thing’. I didn’t hit him, which is very unlike me, but I refused to sink to his level. Twat.

“Thank you darling but I think, in the midst of wanting to show off your varying levels of strength, you all forgot you could simply levitate my baby here,” I flopped onto Remus’s bed (by far the cleanest one) as Peter repeatedly smacked James with a pillow, “What did I say, James? What did I fucking say?”

Poor James just groaned at him to stop, arms up in a quite frankly pathetic bid to protect himself. He looked at me helplessly, but I just shook my head with a cheeky smirk on my face, “Nope, you got yourself into this mess, I’m not getting involved.”

Sirius, on the other hand, was laughing so much that Remus had to move him from lying against his chest to having his head in his lap to prevent him from hurting himself. I was half-convinced that Sirius was in fact having a heart attack but at this point, I was not nearly drunk enough to put up with his bullshit. Oh yeah, forgot to mention we each took a shot after breakfast seen as it’s my birthday, only increasing our chances of getting alcohol poisoning within the next weekend or so. But let’s be honest, I’m only using my birthday as an excuse to drink more alcohol at eight o’clock in the morning.

A few more smacks and one case of concussion later, we had all calmed down enough for me to play my goddamn record. Suspense hung in the air as the tiny crackles of an unused record sounded, followed by a crescendo of lightning-fast piano. Definitely not what I expected from a song entitled ‘Death On Two Legs (Dedicated To…)’, until Brian’s slightly menacing guitar burst through the speakers. The rest of the carried on in a similar fashion, fancy piano and angry guitar combined with lyrics I could only describe as savage. I made a mental note to look at the enclosed lyrics later on to see what exactly Freddie was singing, as even for my standards it was rather mean. I also couldn’t help but wonder who this was dedicated to and what they had done for Freddie to sing about them in such a manner. Must be quite the dickhead. Maybe someone like Snivellus. You can’t get much worse than Snivellus.

The next song was called ‘Lazing On A Sunday Afternoon’ and I couldn’t help but giggle throughout it. It felt very vintage, the singing was distorted somewhat, but it seemed more as if they were taking the mick out of the genre. It was a little thing, hardly a couple of minutes long, and soon transitioned to ‘I’m In Love With My Car’, which I distinctly remembered from the B-side of ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’. That song will never fail to make me laugh. How a man can be so attached to his car, I’ll never know.

Those comedic masterpieces were followed by ‘You’re My Best Friend’, which I fell in love with within the first five seconds. The adorable little piano, the adorable little lyrics, the adorable little bass, okay I could go on like this for hours, but the point is that I loved this song and would gladly be its friend, were it a person. Yeah, I may have been a tad tipsy, might have had something to do with the shots we took between lessons on top of the one at breakfast. I had wanted to maintain a state of slight tipsiness throughout the day. Moving swiftly on.

‘39’ was next, and it was safe to say that I wasn’t expecting any of it. At first, the guitar made me chuckle, then the realisation that it was just vocals, guitar and fucking tambourine, and then the fact that it was almost certainly a county song about space. Brian was singing, of course it was Brian, and I seemed to have forgotten how talented a singer he actually is. And a songwriter because let’s be real, there is no way in hell that anyone in the band apart from Clog Man wrote this.

‘Sweet Lady’ came after that, which contrasted ‘39’ so much that it basically gave me whiplash. To be honest, I should have seen that coming seeing as that was how Queen seemed to work, a heavy rock song followed by something completely different and so on and so on. You’d think you’d grow tired of constantly changing styles but somehow Queen pulled it off magnificently, as they did with pretty much anything they set their minds to. I wasn’t quite sure what to make of it, don’t get me wrong it was a cool song, just not quite my cup of tea. I felt a little bit guilty about not liking it, but I forced myself to remember that I didn’t have to like every song on the album in order to be a fan.

‘Seaside Rendezvous’ was the next song and the last one on side A. I found it very quirky and much more to my liking. I could easily imagine myself going for a stroll down the beach back at home while humming this. And potentially dancing to it down the pier. Although I would look quite the crackhead as no one else would be able to hear it; but since when did I care about looking like a twat? I was already friends with plenty of twats, I stopped caring years ago. Somewhere in the middle of the song, there was a part that sounded like an orchestra of some kind, but I could tell Roger had something to do with the woodwind section, which led to some rather interesting images in my mind. Make of that what you will. The tap-dancing part made me laugh because I highly doubted that any of them could actually tap dance, leading to me wondering how to the fuck they did that. My brain also thought it was necessary to conjure up some cursed images of Brian tap-dancing in his clogs. Fucking hell, what was wrong with me?

As quickly and carefully as I could, I flipped the record onto the B-side, which started off with ‘The Prophet’s Song’. I was so naïve to think that ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ was long; this bad boy was all of eight minutes and basically a musical on its own, worthy of the likes of the West End or Broadway. The absolute artistry of the lyrics and the music quickly made it one of my favourites so far, which was saying something as I loved the whole damn album anyway. There was a good couple of minutes of straight acapella, mainly just countless overdubs of Freddie singing ‘no I know’ at various different pitches; then Roger and Brian joining in for a chorus of ‘la la la la la’. It was strangely creepy, and I had yet to figure out if that was their intention.

That then flowed almost seamlessly into ‘Love Of My Life’, a melancholic ballad that was as beautiful as it was sad. It didn’t take me long to work out that it was a harp rather than an acoustic guitar, I grinned at the mental images of Brian learning the harp for the sake of this one song. Surely if he’d known how to play it all along, he would have shown off his musical prowess much earlier.

Naturally, the next song flipped this whole vibe that had just been created on its head. ‘Good Company’ was its name and it involved a whole band created solely by Brian’s guitar. It seemed funny to me, but I didn’t know why. A bit like with ‘Sweet Lady’, I wasn’t all too sure if I like it or not. I did notice Brian singing again; it was nice to hear his voice on the record more, not to diss Freddie or Roger in any way, shape or form. Now I wanted to hear John sing and we would be good to go.

The last proper song on the album was, of course, the absolute masterpiece (or as Sirius liked to call it, ‘an utter fucking bop’) that was ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’. Considering the sheer amount of times we’ve listened to the record since it came out, it wasn’t all that surprising that we knew all the words off by heart. This was including playing all five minutes and fifty-five seconds of it while James was in the shower, so he didn’t spend hours in there and use up all the hot water. The rule was that he had to be out by the time the song had ended, or we would send Lily the picture we had of him with his hair all wet. And he would die before he consented to such a thing. Trust me, it’s not a particularly flattering look on him. I had to remind them to resist the urge to jump around when the rock bit came on, you know what I’m on about, so as to not damage the vinyl already.

The last track was a guitar rendition of ‘God Save The Queen’, which was outrageous as it was excessive. Just layers upon layers of guitar, I would forever be impressed by Brian’s skills. Sirius, however, was still moaning over his restricted movement.

“But why can’t we jump? It’s so much more fun that headbanging alone,” Sirius whined like the petulant child that he was. I had to give him at least some credit, he may have an impressive amount of muggle knowledge, but he was still a pureblood and a Black at that. He could be so naïve sometimes.

“Darling you have to understand that it’s a sensitive little thing. If you jump, so will the vinyl, which will scratch it and it will jump at awkward times,” I explained, to which I was met with blank stares as if I was speaking in bloody Welsh. I sighed, perhaps a little more dramatically than necessary but if that doesn’t some up my whole life then I don’t know what does, and tried again, “Like with my Sheer Heart Attack record? Where it jumps during Brighton Rock and Killer Queen?”

“Ohhhh,” understanding washed over his and James’s faces because let’s be honest, if you think Sirius is oblivious then clearly, you’ve never met James.

“Yes, ohhhh,” I repeated, taking the mick out of the stupid buggers. Hey, it’s my birthday, I’m allowed to do whatever I want.

Which reminded me of the party I had planned for later. Well, I say party, it was going to be more of a ball than anything. A birthday ball, if you will. What can I say, I have a flair for the dramatics, sue me.

8 notes · View notes