The Untitled Johnson Project

(Working Title: Worthy of a Good Cliche)


WELL, here we are again: I had started it a while ago and just wrote one chapter. I haven't got an outline or anything, I'm winging it. Just so you know, there won't be any scheduled chapters or anything--I don't want you to get your hopes up. I'm quite busy--it's just whenever I feel like writing, I'll write. I can't guarantee anything so if you don't want the disappoint, read no further. I don't want to tease you. But here it is--we'll see how it goes.

Enjoy, my faithful readers. I love you guys!

Also, the story involves a lot of the same elements, but it's going to be completely different--so you don't have to worry about that. It'll seem to be going the same, but it will continue to follow canon--I just couldn't let Fred go because I love writing with him in it.

"He doesn't want only you, Angelina—he wants every girl that's worth it. You're worth it. The only difference is I want only you, all right?"

-- George, later in the story.


I have lost all my inhibitions—all of them. I can't fathom what has been going through my mind because—well, frankly I don't think I've been making good use of it. Not even use of it in its entirety—with the exception of my animalist instincts. I've lately been fuelled on pure instinct. Basic instinct. Just think for a second what you would do if you didn't actually think—but you just acted. Dreadful, I know. If society only acted like this as a whole. However—honestly, though I can hardly say I've a life that I'm living—I feel more alive than ever. But it's just a terrible thing to think about. And you don't even know the half of it. Not even a quarter even. You only know I've gone mad and that's enough to know I doubt anyone other than myself would want to be any more involved. I don't even want to be involved. However, there is no turning back.

I realized I was at the point of no return once I had agreed to walk into his house for a cup of tea, speak casually to his mother, and walk upstairs to get "something". I could have dealt with this except for the fact that his mother had shouted her goodbyes from the bottom of the stairs. The fact that she wouldn't be back for another week on a business trip was more than what I wanted to hear. His father was never present in this household. Mum had "trusted us to behave ourselves". She had known me as the black girl from across the street, Angie, who was so kind and gentle and a really nice, well-behaved girl who was "welcome anytime you please, Darling!"

I took advantage of this invitation. I hadn't planned on it, either. He took advantage of me, but I let him. I never hindered his attempts and perhaps assisted him along the way. I suppose his mother would rid me of the "kind and gentle" title if she had knowledge of what her son and I did.

The exact moment the inhibitions were lost, my face was pressed against someone else's pillow and my heart rate was quickened as if I had scored several consecutive goals for the Team. It wasn't the first time and it wouldn't be the last. It was just the time that I realized what I had honestly done—what I was continuing to do—and that I had no intentions of stopping. I knew what I was doing was wrong—not because it was the act—but because it was built on a foundation of lies. This boy had no idea what he was getting himself into. Physically, he completely understood; I suppose that was all we were going to remain because he couldn't follow me to Hogwarts. He couldn't know of Hogwarts. He knew every inch of my body and I wouldn't whisper a word outside of "Hello" once I was welcomed by the floor mat.

That was the summer.

It's now October.

In saying that, I mean to say that school has started back. I've left my Muggle relations in that suburban paradise after delving into a much thought-over lie. Boarding school in France to completely immerse myself in the culture. Right. He bought it.

Well, as for this year, there are some interesting happenings up at the Big H this year. The Triwizard Tournament is there for all the boys to boost their egos and all the girls to actually kick some ass. I, myself, am entering. Honestly, I am better than half of these boys at Quidditch and perhaps they are good at waving a wand from all the practice, but there is no way they can spit spells out of it as well as I can. So there.

Of course, there are those who wish to challenge me. Like the twins, as per usual. They aren't even of age, but they swear they can concoct something that'll get them entrance into the Tournament. Good Luck, boys—you're going to need it.

As soon as the word 'tournament' was spoken through Dumbledore's lips—I knew it was on. I was down for the competition from the start. I had just turned seventeen, so I was to compete and this made the twin's seethe.

"Ang, honestly—who are you kidding?"

We had just gotten back to the Common Room. I threw my bag from my shoulder onto the arm of the comfortable—and extremely tattered—armchair. I put on my boss face as Fred said the words. George just stood next to him with his arms crossed, smug as anything.

"What, you don't think I can compete?"

"I just don't want you to break a nail or something; that would be horrid." The twins chuckled in unison.

Alicia stepped up, like the best friend she was. She, too, crossed her arms but spoke softy, "It's just a shame you aren't of age, boys. Just a shame." She looked at her nails and shrugged, blasé about the entire subject matter.

"If you knew us, you would know that a little thing such as age wouldn't hold us back," George replied this time. He looked us both up and down, the smugness present on his face.

Alicia scoffed and I rolled my eyes. She spit out, "Please. You can't be serious."

I fell back into the chair and continued my menacing gaze from below. Fred smirked and walked over to me, placing his finger under my chin and lifting it up before manoeuvring around the chair to whisper in my ear, "Afraid of a little competition?"

I gasped, "Never."

"We'll see tomorrow," Fred said as he got from behind me and walked to stand next to George. "Let's go work on our plan, shall we, twin?"

"We shall," George answered, barely parting his lips. Fred turned to go to their dormitory but George lingered only a moment longer to stare defiantly. Finally he turned and I continued to gaze after him until they were both out of sight.

"Ugh!" I exclaimed. "I loathe them."

"You love them, Ang. Face it." Alicia giggled and sat in the chair next to mine.

I shrugged and responded, "All the same, really."

"They are both gorgeous; you have all the right to be infatuated with them."

She had a point. But I wasn't exactly infatuated with them. You see, there is something about the twins that makes them completely irresistible. Perhaps it's the fact that there are two of them. After all, two is always better than one. Especially when they are the poster twins for perfection. From the way their ginger hair moves in unison to the stride that is unmatched—I, personally, break a sweat every time I see them. Gorgeous doesn't even begin to cover it.

But there are a few terms you could use to describe the twins. Though they are charted territory, their appeal doesn't lessen. Usually when you know the majority of the student body has had a piece, you'd let it go. No. Not with them. You just keep wanting and wanting more. At least I do. I would say I couldn't speak for every other girl, but that would be a lie. I've heard it said. The endless number of conversations held in the girls' lavatory between classes hold true for this statement.

They are untameable. Undomesticated.

But if I had the chance I'd take it.

No.

Questions.

Asked.

But which one?

Fred, the ring leader. He was so much more aggressive and assertive—and sexy. He was the rough one. He could get it, for sure. It's apparent that Fred has had the larger amount of girls, by far. There's nothing remotely virginal or pristine about this boy. He's been there—several times before, with several different people to experience it with. Fred has more than enough girls to fill out the calendar year. He's so dirty but I still want it, I do.

I have a feeling I'm going to get it, too.

Let's say that our friendship has only been intensifying by the minute since third year. There have been certain occasions where I couldn't control myself and/or there was alcohol in my system while Fred was around. I had enough dignity to stop before anything mildly serious would happen, but next time I'm in that situation, I don't know if I can exercise that kind of self control.

There has just been so much tension between the two of us. Perhaps it's just like I'm equally as aggressive. But I have a pretty sensitive side, too. It's suppressed but it's there.

That's why George is almost equally appealing as Fred is. George has had his fair share of the girls, too. But he's more—classy—than Fred is. I'd say he was romantic, but it's not exactly that, either. He's just something you want. If for no other reason, it's because you've had Fred and you want to experience the difference.

I wouldn't mind that too much, either.

But we're all just friends. Friends that are attracted to each other to excruciatingly painful levels.

I do have platonic friends, I promise.

Like my girls. We're not attracted to each other because we're all heterosexual here. Good thing, too. It would make things a little awkward in the dormitory. Just a little, though.

Alicia is pretty much the best girl ever. She has a thing for the twins as well. Though her concentration is more on George. They kissed once. It happened a year ago. She still talks about it. To this very day. I never told her how close Fred and I were to hooking up, though. Fred and I only know that. Anyways, Alicia wants desperately to be at George's side. On the other hand, she's always shown an interest in Oliver Wood. With good reason, of course.

I looked towards Alicia, realizing she was trying to get my attention.

"What? Stop shouting, I hear you!" I laughed.

"Sorry, you were out of it for a second," she said. "Are you ready to go up yet? Got to get some sleep if you want to put your name in that cup tomorrow!" She was always so enthusiastic.

"What does sleep have to do with putting my name into the Goblet of Fire, Alicia?" I questioned.

"You just want to be well-rested, is all."

"Of course," I responded. I proceeded to lift my things from the floor and follow her into the dormitory but remained where I was as I heard whispering coming from the boys' dormitory direction and was anxious to investigate. I refused, however.

"Ang," she whispered, "do you honestly think the twins will be able to get their name in the goblet?"

I sighed, "Knowing them, yes."

She bit her lower lip. The silent pondering gave me the inclination that she was about to bring up George.

"So, what do you think about George?" I am a genius.

"He is—well, he's George," I responded smartly.

"Obviously, Ang. But—well, do you think he might like me?" She asked like I was an agony aunt and I couldn't tell her. I read Fred better than I read George because it's easier. Fred is all about the physical, George is a bit more hidden—there is more to his eyes.

"He could, Alicia. It's possible. You're a semi-attractive girl. He talks to you, doesn't he?"

"'Semi-attractive?'" She gasped, "'Semi-attractive', Ang? George is gorgeous! How could I compete?"

"Uh, you're so simple. I decided not to go full-on les. You're pretty, Alicia. George would be lucky to have you," I said.

"You think so?" Her presence brightened significantly. "I really like him, Angelina. I'll never admit it, but I do."

"Alicia, you just admitted it."

"I mean to him or anyone besides you. I want him more than—a lot." She slouched in the chair and supported her head with the palm of her hand.

"I can relate, I suppose." And I could. I wanted Fred just as bad—just because he was something I didn't want to want but did anyway.

"Compare George to Wood. Which is better?" I was thankful she didn't proceed with my statement.

"They both have very good qualities, Alicia."

"I know. But which is better? Which do you think could hit harder—you know?" She giggled obnoxiously.

"Wood. He's got that aggressive side."

"George can be aggressive."

"Alicia, do you want me to answer George for every question or speak the truth? You're so thick sometimes, woman."

Alicia shrugged. "I'm going up to bed, Ang. Night."

"I'll be up in a second," I said.

She got up and walked towards to dormitories. I could almost hear her thoughts as she looked dreamily around the room. She's so simple but it's cute to be so in like with someone. I only wish I had that kind of dedication to fancying a boy—but I honestly see everything as a quest. Usually I'll have one and then move along after I've used it up. The one boy I think could occupy me would be Fred Weasley and I want not to want him—because everyone does and I hate doing everything that everyone does. It's tasteless and not very classy. But I like Fred—not like like, as Alicia does George. But I enjoy his company and we're good friends.

As I straightened up the things around me, I heard a noise sound from behind me. I turned round and saw Fred, his hair looking very ginger and bright with the firelight. "Hi," I said, startled.

"Hey, Ang." He sat beside me.

"Hi, Fr—" Before I could even finish his name, his mouth was on mine. I don't know how he managed to do it so fast, honestly. But he kissed me fiercely. My back was bent over the arm of the couch from the sudden impact of his body against mine. Heat immediately radiated from the base of my spine to flush my cheeks. I grabbed the back of his hair as a reflex. I didn't know what I was doing, but I went with it and he just kept going. Our mouths duelled and his was hot on mine. I noticed he had pressed more against me and my back ached as it hit the wood of the armchair.

He kissed my bottom lip and it ended suddenly. I would have distanced myself if I could out of shock—but he had me firmly pressed against the chair.

"Fred?"

"I'm sorry. I just wanted to kiss you, is that all right?" I couldn't read his face. Not one emotion was played on it, just a blank and beautifully perfect face.

I shook my head, stunned. "Um, I suppose. Yes."

"Good," he said. He leaned in and kissed my top lip simply, his hand on the side of my face. He then got up and proceeded back to where he had come from.

"Good," I said to myself.

This just made things so much more complicated.

It would make it exceptionally difficult to not want him if he kept approaching me such intensity.

It would make it exceptionally difficult with the taste of him still in my mouth and my body aching for more.

This just complicated things to an entirely different level.

I don't think I can handle the temptation.

I do want him, I do.

But I don't want to.