Undesirable (George Weasley)

8

The twins had woken me earlier then I had anticipated, yet was glad for the nap I was able to take. Running from the room, they announced that they had to immediately have their faces painted, so I worked my "magic" and gave them each the Ireland flag. Laughing at their ridiculous outfits, I followed the rest of the group as we made our way down and into the stadium.

"You're quite the artist, you know?" George said, and I smiled back up at him.

"It's just the flag, George. And besides, Ron's outfit might just be better than yours and Fred's." He gasped audibly at this, and Fred gave a soft push from behind.

"Take that back!" He yelled, grabbing the hat from Ron, who looked back in confusion as to why he suddenly was the target of the twins' mischief.

Making our way up the stands, my fear of heights began to become incredibly evident. Taking the stairs two at a time in hopes of reaching the top quicker, my face suddenly collided into Hermione's back. Mumbling an apology, I watched as she turned to me and pointed down from the stadium. Suddenly, Ron cried out from a few paces ahead.

"Blimey dad, how far up are we!" Following Hermione's finger, I found what, or who, she had been trying to get my attention from. She whispered down to me.

"That's the Malfoy's, I would stay clear of them. I wouldn't worry much with having the twins though, but his bullying does tend to run into the upper grades."

Just as she said this, Lucius, who was by far more intimidating then the books revealed, answered Ron's cries instead.

"Well, put it this way; If it rains, you'll be the first to know." He sneered at Arthur, who continued pushing upwards towards the crowd. Hearing his father, Draco followed suit.

"Father and I are in the Minister's box. A personal invitation from Cornelius Fudge himself!" He floated, and his father's flat expression glared down upon his son.

"Don't boast, Draco. There is no need for these people. Do enjoy yourself won't you? While you can." Already having Hermione's attention, I glanced her way.

"What does he mean, while we can?" She asked. I knew what would happen, but have been advised to keep events that would affect the timeline to myself. Knowing that no one suffered the attacks, besides the family of muggles, I decided to let this attack play out. When it came to changing the past, it was a hard enough task in itself. Changing events that can possibly distrust the process may only lead for worst happening in the future, and I didn't plan on having anything worse than what I had already known will occur.

"I haven't the slightest idea." I said, avoiding eye contact and staring ahead at the steps above me.

The match was, what many would expect, unimaginable. Watching quidditch for the very first time, at a level as high as the National teams, only made my love as an athlete grow. Throughout the match, I found George's eyes drifting to me, continuously making sure that I was okay and having fun. He called them "excitement checks," as he claimed I was not allowed to not have fun at one of the biggest Wizarding World events there is. Even though I told him each time that it was one of the best experiences I have ever witnessed, he still continued asking even after about the tenth time. I didn't mind though, because each time his cheeks that weren't covered in paint would beat red, and his pupils would dilate. I always made sure to grab his hand in reassurance, and each time he squeezed it back.

I was lounging against the chair in the living room, watching the twins mock Ron's unnatural obsession with Krum. Even Harry enjoyed watching his best friend squirm under the taunts of his older brothers, as I've never really seen him relaxed until now. Ginny came down the stairs from the bedrooms, complaining about the noise outside of the tents.

"The Irish is really celebrating, huh Dad?" Fred exclaimed, turning towards Arthur who had just come through the tent.

"It's not the Irish. We have to go, now, everyone out." Arthur's face was serious, and I felt my stomach churn. Running to the entrance, a collective gasp ran through the small group. Tents just feet of us were lit on fire, and the heat of them burning made my eyes begin to water.

"Fred, George you're responsible for Sabrina and Ginny. Everyone to the portkey, now!"

Immediately, George grabbed my hand while Fred grabbed Ginny's and we hurried to the only area not currently being lit on fire; the forest. Bodies collided against us, and the fear of being separated from them grew more and more as we headed deeper in the group. People fell, and others didn't even bat an eye. An elbow was roughly shoved into my face, and I cried out in pain. As the heat began to subside, I knew that we were closing in on the forest surrounding the event. My breathing had become rigid, and my chest felt like it was burning from the inside out. When we finally entered the woods, I collapsed on the ground in exhaustion.

"Bloody hell!" Fred exclaimed, and began pacing in the small area we had run to. George joined me on the ground, leaning against a tree, and Ginny stared off into the ever growing fire. My hands began to shake, as the initial adrenaline began to wear. Sensing my anxiety, George pulled me into an embrace, grabbing my hand against his.

"Breathe, alright. I'll do it with you. In, hold, out. In, hold, out. There you go." He rubbed my back as I tried to get my chest to stop burning, and muttered my breathing into my ear. When I finally could breathe again, Fred suggested we try and find the portkey. Agreeing, our group slowly started walking the forest line, finding that others had the same idea as ourselves. George held my hand the entire time, as we attempted to find the others.

Off in the distance, a scream could be heard, and light illuminated the night sky. Clouds formed into a skull, a snake emerging from the mouth. I lowered my head, covering my eyes with my hands, and hoping to never have to see that sight again. I am naive to have those thoughts, yet I never imagined the fear that the characters must have felt. Living it was terrifying.

"Stop, that's my son!" Arthur's voice carried through the silence that hung after the mark had vanished, and we quickly made our way over to the source. Two aurors had their wands pointed at both Ron, Hermione and Harry, claiming Harry to be the source of the mark.

"The mark came from here, check his wand." The auror announced, grabbing Harry's and casting the last spell on it. When the mark didn't appear, and Harry was proven innocent, Arthur quickly shuffled the group away and back to the portkey. Only after uttering profanities under his breath, of course.

When we arrived back at the burrow, Molly was in hysterics. She reached for each of her children, making sure to involve Harry and I in her quadling, and cried to the twins at how horrible she treated them before their departure. After a warm tea, and an inspection of every person's cuts and bruises, we were sent to bed and expected to sleep off the terror of the night.

I tossed and turned for a while, until I knew that sleep wasn't going to come easily. Avoiding the creaks like George had taught me, I slowly made my way into the twins room. George was upright in his bed, lamp on with a book in one hand and a tea in the other. Fred's light snoring could be heard from down the hall.

"I couldn't sleep." I said, as George's head moved up when he heard my footsteps.

"Come here." He said, while placing the book and cup on the beside desk. He pulled me into a hug, then slowly lowered us to a position where our faces were inches away.

"You can sleep here, alright? I couldn't sleep either." He said, reaching for the light. I thanked him, as he opened his arms for me to come into. Resting my head into his chest, I fell asleep to his steady heartbeat and Fred's light snores.