𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲-𝐨𝐧-𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞 [ george weasley ]

➵ one | summer lovin'

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𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐘-𝐎𝐍-𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐄
chapter one ─ summer lovin'
(no longer a blast)

┗━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┛

THE CAMEL'S BACK FINALLY SNAPPED two minutes after their last argument, which was twenty-three days since the last time she had seen him, or five months since Madame Puddifoot's, or seven months since Heidi's first kiss. Time's funny like that ─ it can be counted in splendid or horrific ways, depending on one's own perspective.

"I just think," Roger had started, before breaking off. He cleared his throat. Looking back, it suddenly occurred to Heidi that he sounded like a frog, and way less attractive than he had all those months ago. "I just think ─"

"Yes, I know you bloody think," Heidi had snapped. "For Merlin's sake, could you stop thinking and just get to the point?" Heidi's head felt as if it was on the verge of splitting open ─ she hated London, and the Leaky Cauldron reeked of cheep firewhiskey.

"We should break up." Roger stopped, turned red, and started again. "I mean, we should go on a break." And that was that.

Their 'break', or their brief recess, or their time apart to find themselves had lasted for two days and three hours, at which point Heidi had seen Roger out for ice cream with Isolde Crawley from two years above her and promptly gone batshit crazy, and that was the end of that.

"Just to play Devil's Advocate ─" Isolde had started, trying her best to rub butterbeer-flavoured ice cream off of Roger's face with a flimsy paper napkin.

"Don't you think the Devil has enough advocates?" Heidi cried, before chucking her strawberry milkshake over Isolde's hair, just for good measure.

"I just think," Isolde started again, wiping pink out of her eyes, "that maybe you're just not good enough. Maybe you're just not anything enough, really." And then Oliver came to the rescue, and Isolde was given a chocolate facemask.

Oliver, of course, was furious. He dealt with this fury the best way he knew how; useless chatter. "Did you know shrimp cocktails have no alcohol? I'm never having one again."

"Oliver," Heidi said from the back of the car, "shut up."

"How do you know what alcohol is?" Their mum demanded. They drove in silence.

They reached King's Cross, found their way to Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters, and Oliver opened his mouth. "Before you say anything," Heidi said immediately.

He raised his eyebrows.

"That's it. I just don't want you to say anything." Heidi said goodbye to her mum ("yes, Mum, I'll watch out for the Nargles"), and jumped on the train as best she could with a trunk, a cat, and a backpack.