Good Girl || George Weasley

22

In Potions, we focus on Felix Felicis, and honestly, that's exactly what I need right now, because after Potions is Defense Against the Dark Arts, and I don't know that I've ever dreaded the class so much. And of course, Potions is also filled with being teased by Fred, George, Lee, and Roger about the Daily Prophet article. I'm really never going to live it down.

When I get to Defense Against the Dark Arts, I can hardly focus because of how on edge I am because of the whole map situation. I try to at least appear calm so that I don't look suspicious, considering I don't know what Moody thinks or knows.

He gives us the end of class to work on the essay he assigned, and I stare at my open textbook, reading the same words over and over again, unable to keep my focus.

I feel a hand on my thigh, so I look over at George, who smiles softly at me.

"It's okay," he mouths, and I nod at him, knowing that the sick feeling won't go away until the map is out of Moody's hands. It's not that I don't trust him, I just... don't trust him. Which I suppose is kind of funny, considering he himself, being a former Auror, doesn't trust anyone, either.

I glance up from my textbook, over to Moody, who's standing on the other side of the room, but my stomach turns when I notice that his fake eye appears to be directly trained on me. I reach for George's hand under the table, squeezing it hard, and he seems to know what I need, because he strokes his thumb across the back of my hand reassuringly, until Moody announces that class is dismissed about ten minutes later.

I close my textbook, scrambling to gather up my things and bolt out the door, but I'm not so lucky.

"Miss Clearwater. Stay for a few moments."

I exchange a look with George, who whispers to me that he'll wait for me outside. I nod at him before walking up to Moody's desk, trying to avoid staring at the spot where I left the map last night. He looks up at me with his one eye, the fake one moving every which way. I hear the door shut as the last student leaves, and I wipe one of my increasingly sweaty hands on my skirt.

"Sit," he instructs me, and I don't hesitate to pull out the chair facing him and do as he says.

"I don't believe I've truly congratulated you on this whole Champion business," he says once I'm sitting, "Not with the whole Potter business on my mind. Now that we're a few days out, what are your thoughts on that?"

Right. I'd forgotten that he had agreed with me after I told everyone that someone was out to get Harry, and that's why they put his name in the Goblet, knowing how dangerous the Tournament is. He was the only one to openly agree with me, even. But that doesn't ease my nervousness about the whole map thing: him having it, along with whatever's going on with him and Crouch.

"I still think what I told everyone," I admit, "that someone did it on purpose. Someone who wants Harry to get hurt. Or worse, of course."

Moody nods slowly, and I maintain eye contact, despite how badly I want to look away. I don't want to look at his fake eye, either, which makes me even more uncomfortable now that it's fixated on me.

"I agree. Now, I know you're an intelligent girl. You've got to have a theory or two floating around in that mind of yours."

I really don't. After all, I've been too busy thinking about my theories about him to really think about what's been going on with Harry, apart from telling him whatever Charlie tells me about the First Task.

"Uh, not yet, sir," I say, "Really, all I've got is that it has to be someone older, and probably someone here at school."

Moody nods again, and I'm not sure whether I've said something good or not.