Caught up in a mischief called love (George X Reader)

Year three: Troubles

The school talked of nothing but Sirius Black for the next few days. The theories about how he had entered the castle became wilder and wilder. The Fat Lady’s ripped canvas had been taken off the wall and replaced with the portrait of Sir Cadogan, a short, squat knight in suit of armour and his fat, dapple-grey pony. The knight spent half his time challenging people to duels, and the rest thinking of ridiculously complicated passwords, which he changed at least twice a day. But the twins had proven themselves an equal challenge and threw equally ridiculous answers right back at him.

The weather worsened steadily as the first Quidditch match drew nearer. One on such stormy evening the boys barged into the common room, straight from their practice, accompanied by a clap of thunder.

‘We’re playing Gryffindor!’ Wayde exclaimed marching his way to the fireplace.

‘Huh?’

‘Why?’

‘Apparently Malfoy is still making a fuss about his arm.’ Ernie sighted, following the muddy trail Wayde had left behind.

‘There’s nothing wrong with his arm.’ YN shut her book in frustration, having long grown tired of the story.

‘It’s obvious why they’re doing it.’ Said Ernie, glancing out the window, into the pouring rain ‘Don’t want to play in his weather, think it’ll damage their chances…’

‘Can’t blame them…’ Hannah mumbled, following his gaze.

Wayde, threw his drenched belongings onto the floor, and followed suit, not the least bothered by the mud. He let out a heavy sight.

‘Hope Fred and George will go easy on us…’

‘They won’t have to,’ YN smiled his way ‘we’ve got an excellent team this year.’

A smile slowly found its way to Wayde’s face, but didn’t linger – as the Prefect’s voice pierced through the common room.

‘Macmillan! Hopkins! Look at the mess you’ve made!’

----------------------------------

Despite her faith in her friends, YN highly hoped the weather would work in their favour, but as the time for the game had arrived, the winds reached howling point and the rain fell harder than ever. It was so dark inside the corridors and classrooms that extra torches and lanterns were lit. But such was the popularity of Quidditch, that the whole school turned out to watch the match as usual. Still, they ran down the lawn toward the Quidditch pitch, heads bowed against the ferocious wind, umbrellas being whipped out of their hands as they went. The wind was so strong the girls held onto Justin for their dear life as the climbed their way up the stands. They blended into the crowd, hidden beneath a sea of cloaks and battered umbrellas. Figures in scarlet and canary-yellow robes appeared down on the pitch but if the crowd was to cheer, YN was certain none of it would reach the pitch, over the fresh rolls of thunder.

Without warning, 14 figures kicked off into the air, and were soon lost. Lost, as Madam Hooches whistle, Lee Jordan’s commentary and the noise of the crowd; swept by the wind. YN spent a good amount of time simply squinting towards the pitch, trying to make out shapes she could call her friends. But she could barely see past her nose.

‘I feel really bad for Ernie and Wayde,’ said Hannah, trying her hardest to keep the rain out of her eyes. ‘Playing their first game in these conditions…’

‘They seem to be doing alright-’ said Justin, clutching onto his umbrella.

‘How can you tell?!’