Chapter Text
“She’s canceled quidditch, the crazy bitch!” Angelina huffed as she entered the common room, the Weasley’s and Alicia Spinnet behind her.
“Who has?” Fiona asked
“Umbridge,” George said from behind Angelina.
Fiona stood to approach them. “What about the secret meetings?” She asked in a low voice.
“Harry says it's still on,” Fred said, falling into a cushy red chair and throwing his feet up onto the ottoman.
“Who gives a flying piss about the meetings!” Angelina exclaimed, throwing her arms out in frustration. “Quidditch is canceled!”
“There there, Ange,” Alicia remarked, patting her shoulder.
George peeled away, pulling Fiona aside as Angelina continued to rage with George.
“So you’re doing it then?” He asked quietly, his hands in his pockets.
“Of course I am,” she looked down at her hand, the injury fading into a scar.
“Good.”
Fiona stifled a smile. “Sorry about quidditch,” she added quickly.
George shrugged, his grin fading only slightly. “There are more important things to worry about.” Fiona nodded. “Anyways, now I’ve got to find use for my time. Suppose I could do more with Fred on our inventions.”
“Suppose.”
He made a sideways glance, raising his eyebrows to create a facetious expression. ”unless, of course, there’s something else I could be doing…”
Fiona laughed, taking the bait. “Gee, I don’t know! George, would you want to hang out?” she asked sarcastically.
“Why Fiona, I’d say that’s a splendid idea,” he replied with an incredibly posh accent as he mimed smoking from a corncob pipe. “What do you suppose we do?”
“Say you help me with potions?”
George dropped the bit, frowning as he spoke. “Well that’s no fun, Jackson.”
Fiona thought for a moment. “Maybe I can go to Herbology club and show you what I’ve learned…? On the astronomy tower…?”
George grinned. “Now you’re talking,” he replied with a low voice. “This time, let's go to the kitchens after.”
“Deal,” She said, trying hard to suppress a grin. She didn’t want to give up how excited she was. For whatever reason, she felt that was sacred.
She’d secured the blunt from Athena after divination, promising she’d help her with homework in return. Athena was adamant about that, especially since Trelawney had completely checked out of actually attempting to teach. Something about the review Umbridge had done.
After dinner she raced to change and ran up to the astronomy tower, though when she got to the top, she realized she was underdressed. The rain had died down from earlier and the wind was mild, but it was the cool bite of the air that seeped into her bones. She decided to light up the joint before George got there, hoping it would warm her up.
“Couldn’t wait?” George said as he approached, his school bag over his shoulder.
Fiona turned, still leaning on the balcony railing. “Sorry,” she said. “I’m freezing. Thought this would warm me up.” She eyed the bag on his shoulder. “What’ you bring?”
George took the pack off his shoulder, placing it on the ground and tapping it with his wand. At once, the bag unzipped, a small lawn rug floating out and unrolling onto the floor. Along with the rug came a few silver tins, laying delicately on top of the neat plaid rug.
“Wot’s all this?” Fiona asked in a phony English accent. She tried to suppress the honest smile that was surfacing to her lips. He looked adorable, standing there with his striped button down, and an adorable grin that stretched ear to ear.
“Food from the kitchens,” he said. “And something else.” He tapped his bag with his wand, a potions text book floating out and laying gently on the rug.
“Potions?” Fiona said as she stepped closer to hand him the joint. He took it, his fingers touching hers for a moment.
“You said you wanted help,” he replied.
“I did, didn’t I,” she smiled, kneeling down on the blanket and picking up a tin.
“There’s finger sandwiches, cookies, crisps, and chocolate,” he said, pointing to each tin as he remained standing.
Fiona looked up at him smiling. He smiled back, but remained standing. She frowned. “Is this just for me, or are you going to sit?”
George laughed awkwardly, biting his lip. “Er… don’t laugh…” He said quietly. Fiona frowned and laughed in confusion. “So… Fred and I have made this Fever Fudge that’s supposed to give you fevers…”
“Uh huh…”
“...And well, we’ve been unable to aid the side effect…”
Fiona suppressed a grin. “Uh-huh….”
“Which is pus-filled boils that form on your…”
Fiona cringed. “Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“So, I do want to sit it’s just…”
“You need help sitting.”
“Er… yeah.”
Fiona stood up, trying to ignore the idea of giggling. It was a rather gross thought, but the way George was going about it was hilarious. She stepped over the tins next to him, holding his arm as he slowly bent his knees.
“Ow, ow, ow…” he said with each beat until he was finally seated.
Fiona snickered silently before sitting opposite him. It was a small rug, so they were fairly close.
A quiet moment hung over them as they passed the joints and dug into their snacks. Eventually Fiona asked, “Ange told me you were able to have practice today.” George nodded. “How was it?”
“Soggy,” he replied. “Besides, riding a broom made my predicament–”
“You don’t have to tell me,” Fiona interrupted, suppressing a laugh. George grinned awkwardly. Fiona continued, worried she’d embarrassed him too much. “Suprised you even went forward with practice, it was raining so hard.”
“Considering Umbridge almost cut us for good,” he replied as he reached for a finger sandwich, “there was no way Angelina wouldn’t force us to practice.”
“Don’t know how she managed last year,” Fiona added, reaching for her own sandwich, “since there wasn’t any quidditch at all.”
George shrugged. “She wasn’t captain last year, so I suppose she wasn’t as worried.”
“Suppose,” she agreed, reaching for a couple of crisps. They ate quietly together, and Fiona found herself finally able to take the scene in.
“Why all this?” she asked. George looked down at the tin and the rug. “I thought we were just going to smoke.”
“I thought sitting could be nice,” he shrugged.
Fiona frowned. “But you can hardly sit as is,” she replied, motioning to the awkward seated position he was in. “And why the food? I thought we were going to the kitchens after?”
“Er… I was hungry.”
Fiona shook her head. “We just had dinner.”
George groaned. “Blimey, Jackson!” He exclaimed, looking up at the tower’s ceiling. Fiona blinked, surprised by his outburst. “Merlin forbid a lad try to impress you!”
“Impress me?” She laughed. “Why would you want to impress me?”
“You’re serious?” He said, a little irritated. Fiona nodded with a frown, still confused about what he was getting at. George shook his head before taking a long drag of the joint. “Never you mind,” he sighed, handing the joint back.
Fiona felt confused as she took the hit, but maybe that was the effects of the weed hitting her.
“Let’s crack this open, shall we?” George said, picking up the potions book and flipping it open. He was less irritated now, but Fiona could tell an edge still remained him. “What are you learning now?”
“Love potion,” she replied, still studying his demeanor.
He snorted once before flipping to the page. “Figures,” he said under his breath. Fiona noticed he was cleanly shaven. It didn’t look bad, but the stubble suited him better. Her heart thumped as she made a new realization. It only made sense, and, after all, she had her suspicions.
“Weasley,” she began, her voice smaller than before. He looked up at her, his blue eyes glimmering in the low evening light. “When you’d said this was all to impress me… is it because, well, maybe you fancy me?”
“Welcome to the plot, Jackson,” he replied without blinking.
Fiona hesitated. “But… I thought you didn’t. At least last year you said you hadn’t.”
George sighed. “I was a right foul git last year.” Fiona swallowed hard as she digested it all. Her heart beat quickly, and she began to shake. George hesitated at the sight, his demeanor lightening. “You cold?” Fiona didn’t respond. She wasn’t sure if she was cold, or excited, or scared. Without saying anything, and with minimal struggle, George scooted over to Fiona, placing his coat onto her shoulders.
She turned to face him, his face inches from her, still shaking. She looked at his lips, the red stubble just starting to grow back. “You should let your beard grow out,” she said.
George looked at her, surprised by this remark. “Okay,” he replied.
At once their arms were around each other, lips locked. Fiona hardly saw it happen, but she didn’t fight it. She wanted nothing more than to stay in his embrace, his lips pressed on to hers, his hands on her back. She then grabbed his collar and pulled him closer to her, suddenly wanting to intertwine herself with him. The more she pulled the harder he kissed, and it wasn’t long before she felt his hands slip under her shirt and up her back. And suddenly she was back in the greenroom, forcibly pressed up against the wall, Kyle’s hips grinding into hers.
“No wait,” she said, pulling away. George too pulled away, his eyes wide. Her heart pounded and her body continued to shake. And all of the sudden, tears began to form in her eyes.
“Jackson, are you alright?” He asked softly, his eyes wide with concern. “Did I come on too strong?” Fiona felt herself choke on her words, her tears falling down her cheeks. “Did I hurt you?”
Fiona shook her head. She felt paralyzed; pissed that such a memory would interrupt this moment, a moment she hadn’t quite realized she’d been waiting for. Moreso, she was embarrassed that she had to stop. George looked at her, his eyebrows raised with worry. “I have to go,” she said before standing and running away, leaving George on the tower.
“Jackson, wait!” He had called as she ran, but given his predicament, there was no way he could catch up to her. Or so she believed. She had made it down the stairs and around the corner when George caught her wrist.
“No, George,” she said through tears as she tried to pull out of his grip. “Just let me go.”
“I can’t,” he said as he pulled her back, his hands now on her shoulders. Fiona worked hard to avoid his gaze. “I can’t mess this up again.” She gave up trying to run, though she still wouldn’t look at him.
They were in the vacant hall just below the astronomy tower. The torches were lit fairly low, and all Fiona could see was the incandescent light that revealed George’s concerned expression.
“I cocked up last time, Jackson,” he continued. Fiona looked away. “I had you, and then I lost you, and then I had you, and then… I can’t lose you again. I won’t lose you again.” Fiona inhaled deeply, the tears now streaming down her face. “What’s happened? Have I done something?”
“You…” Fiona began, wiggling out of his grip to sit on the window ledge. He didn’t follow. She breathed once more, trying to collect her thoughts. She was mortified of what she was about to explain. “You haven’t done anything.” He remained standing there, his eyebrows high. “Remember the situation I got into this summer?” He nodded once. “Every once in a while I’ll get a flash back.”
He stiffened. “A flashback?”
“To the green room. When… he…” She squeezed her eyes shut trying to make the fear go away.
“Stop,” he said suddenly, taking her healing hand. Fiona looked up at him, wiping the tears from her cheeks with the other. “You don’t need to tell me everything if it hurts too much.”
Fiona nodded, finally starting to calm. Her head felt only a little clearer, and she felt even more embarrassed. “I’ve ruined everything, haven’t I…”
“Not at all,” George said as he squeezed her hand. “I’m still mad for you.” Fiona smiled up at him as he smirked at her, her heart fluttering at the sound of those words. His nose looked strong in the low torch light, and his jaw even stronger. “Look, let’s just try again another time. A proper date, yeah?”
Fiona nodded again, her smile feeling stronger than before. “Don’t tell me you’re going to take me to Zonko’s.” She said as she stood.
George laughed, standing so that he towered over her. “Zonky’s is mint, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
They continued to joked with each other as they made their way back to the common room. Fiona felt shy around him again, wondering if she should hold his hand or not.
When they approached the portrait, he paused.
Fiona looked up at him, his face stoic. “You okay?”
He turned to her quickly, like he snapped out of a daze. “Can we wait to tell everyone until after our first date?”
Fiona smiled and frowned. “Okay…”
“I love our friends, but they can be a bit…”
“Opinionated,” Fiona answered.
“Right.”
She chuckled, “I wouldn’t mind waiting to tell Lucy,” she admitted. “She can be a bit…”
“Opinionated,” George answered that time.
Fiona laughed bashfully. “Well, we can at least walk in together,” she said, stepping towards the portrait before being pulled back by the arm, George planting one last delicate kiss onto her lips.