Good Girl || George Weasley

30

George remains cold and distant for the rest of the day. And the day after. And the day after that.

And then it's my birthday.

I wake up in my own bed, and despite it being my birthday - my seventeenth birthday, making me officially an adult - I feel none of the excitement that I usually would, even though my birthday is usually one of my favorite days of the year.

Normally, the castle would be nearly empty, or I'd be at the Burrow, but because of the Ball this year, everyone is still at school over break, meaning I have to deal with saying thank you to happy birthday after happy birthday while trying not to look like I'm completely miserable and dreading my birthday party tonight. The plan is to get drunk enough to try and forget about the fact that George has hardly talked to any of us over the last three days, even though none of us have any idea why. Or maybe, I'll get drunk enough to finally confront him. I suppose we'll have to wait and see.

Roger and I walk to breakfast together after he gives me his present (a broom care kit, which he apologetically admits that he was already planning on getting me before my broom was broken), and I stop dead in my tracks when I see that someone is sitting in my usual spot between the twins. Someone with dark hair, who's turned almost completely in her seat towards George, chattering away excitedly about something.

I look up at Roger, pursing my lips, and he pushes his tongue against his cheek, looking down at me.

"You don't think-" I start, and Roger just shakes his head, but I know that we're thinking the same thing. I suck in a deep breath as we continue towards the table, only to find out that we're right once we get there.

I learn almost immediately after sitting down - between Roger and Lee - that George asked Bell to the Ball last night. My stomach turns, and I keep my eyes on my plate, pushing around my food with my fork, not daring to look up at him.

I knew it was coming. Somehow, I knew. Months ago, maybe he would have asked me, first, before Fred could. But ever since the kiss, even after making up, things haven't been the same. But still, the image of him in dress robes and her in a beautiful ball gown dancing together with his hands on her waist, makes me want to hurl. I can't even tell if I'm disappointed, or sad, or furious, because after all, do I really have the right to be?

We're just friends. And apparently, that's all we're ever going to be. Even if once, I thought maybe there was a chance that I could be his, and that all the touches and sneaking out together and exchanged glances meant something more than friendship. Even if all the people around us were convinced that he felt the same way about me, too.

"Oh, happy birthday, by the way, Katie," Bell adds, smugly, and I mutter a thanks, not even bothering to look across the table at her. Bitch.

I'm quiet for the rest of breakfast, and pretty much the rest of the day, until I have to get ready for my party. I kind of wish I could just bow out and tell them that I'm not feeling well, but I have an obligation to go. Plus, I know just how much effort they always put in to my birthday parties, so I'd be a complete arse not to go. 

Anyway, it's just George being a complete tosser. Not the others. And it's not their fault, either.

The only bright side of my day leading up to the party is a huge package that comes for me at lunch, along with two smaller ones, and a few letters. One of the smaller ones is from Mrs. Weasley: a tin full of my favorite homemade sweets of hers', and the other from Remus: two slightly worn copies of Muggle books that he recommended to me last year, but that I never had the chance to read yet. Letters come from Bill, Charlie, Penny, and Percy - Percy's being ridiculously formal once again, but he lets me know that he'll be attending the Ball tomorrow as Crouch's assistant, so that he'll see me then. I can't help but look forward to seeing him again for the first time in a few months.