Mayhem - G.Weasley

11. Talk of the Town

Ivy casually slipped her hand from Fred's not too long after they left the dorms. He frowned at the lack of contact, but kept going, bickering with Ginny about something. Fred often got distracted while they talked, butting in to other conversations while interrupting his own. Much different from George she noticed.

She ended up next to Neville, trying to make polite conversation. She listened patiently and intently as the boy stuttered through his sentences. He was quite a smart lad, once you gave him time to speak.

She could tell from the way he held himself that he didn't have much self-confidence. She'd have to help remedy that.

Neville warmed up to her fairly quickly, his stumbling words becoming less and less frequent as he told her about gillyweed. She'd occasionally ask questions like where to find it, how long does it last, etc. He beamed so wide when she had asked to learn more.

Ivy couldn't help a small smile on her face as she watched him talk about something so passionately.

They were about halfway to the dining hall when she noticed people staring at the group. Their eyes darted to her and her outfit, and then to Harry. Ivy could tell they were talking about her when their eyes made contact, and their hands went over their mouths in a hushed whisper.

George stepped up next to her, blocking them from her view.

"Blue."

Ivy was dumbfounded at how the color was randomly brought up. "What?" She peered up at George, her brows knitted in confusion.

"Blue is Fred's favorite color." Ivy didn't know why he told her that.

"I did not know that."

"Oh please, like I don't know you're trying to get him to fall in love with you." George joked, pulling on her cardigan.

"Already done." Ivy teased, sticking her tongue out between her teeth.

George nudged her with his shoulder, sticking his own tongue out. They fell into a fit of soft laughter for a few moments before settling down.

"What's your favorite color?" She asked, looking up into his warm eyes, the same ones that his brother and sister bore.

"Red." George said without hesitation. "What's yours?"

"I don't think I have one." Ivy bit her lip as she thought.

"That can't be true, everyone has a favorite color!" George's eyes locked onto her lip before roaming up to her eyes.

Ivy made a "hmm" noise as she thought, tapping her cheek as she listed colors in her brain. And then one flashed in front of her, instant sorrow filling her aching heart. Her hands went down to her sides and knotted in her dress.

"Green." She whispered.

George instantly picked up on her change of mood. "Like grass." His joke came across softly, almost cautious.

"No, not like grass." A sad smile appeared. "Like emeralds."

George didn't say anything, but looked ahead as if he were intruding on a moment.

"What's your favorite flower?" He asked after some silence.

"A lobelia." Ivy was thankful for the distraction from her harrowing thoughts. "Yours?"

He didn't get offended like most men when asked about flowers. He didn't scoff and say he didn't like them. Instead he answered with a hum, "Marigold."

"Those are pretty." Neville pitched in from beside her.

If she was being honest, she forgot he was even there for a moment, lost in her own world.

"What's your favorite flower Neville?" Ivy felt bad she hadn't included him in the conversation.

"Can it be just a plant instead?" He rubbed his nose in earnest.

"I don't see why not?" Ivy gave him an encouraging smile.

"Then a Mimbulus mimbletonia. My great uncle gave me one, and I rather enjoy it."

"I'd like to see it someday." Neville furiously blushed and nodded his head in agreement.

Before she knew it, she was at the dining hall. As soon as Harry entered the room, all eyes turned to him. He prickled at their attention, and walked forward shakily. Then their eyes turned to Ivy who strutted with the group. She paid no mind to their attention, a bit used to it by now, and plopped down next to Harry. George sat on her right, much to Neville's disappointment.

Ivy heard whispers all around her, just like in the corridors. They were much easier to drone out now because of the clanking of silverware against plates and pleasant conversations.

Ivy was more focused on Harry than the delectable smells radiating off of the food in front of her. He was staring off into space, pushing around potatoes on his plate.

Ivy nudged Harry with her shoulder, breaking him out of his trance. He gazed over at her appreciatively before stabbing a potato and bringing it to his mouth.

"If you're so famous, you should be used to the gossip by now." Ivy whispered with a smile.

"You never get used to it." Harry tried his best to smile.

"Well at least you're not alone." She gestured to herself and then the eyes that fixed on her.

And just like that it had come full circle. Ivy was talking like Dumbledore, whom she was currently frustrated with.

What are the odds?

"Yeah." He nodded his head slowly at first, and then more vigorously, as if realizing what she said was true. And it resonated with him. He always had friends that stood beside him. He always heard rumors and whispers around him. But now, those rumors and whispers weren't just about him, but Ivy as well.

Harry gave her a toothy grin before digging into his food. Satisfied with herself, she turned her attention back to the aroma in front of her.

Her mouth felt dry and she smacked her lips, picking up a goblet in front of her. She turned it over and shook it, confused as to why it was empty. She glanced at George whom was sipping casually on whatever was in his goblet. She heard a throaty chuckle bounce off of the cup as he watched her struggle.

"Tell it." George gestured with his chin to her empty glass.

"What?"

"Tell it what you want to drink." George explained.

"What are you drinking?" Ivy wanted something flavorful to drink, never indulging before in the past. She usually kept to water and occasional coffee drinks she made herself.

"Cranberry-apple juice." George dipped his goblet to show her. The ruby liquid sloshed against the sides, threatening to spill.

"Mmm that sounds good." She held the goblet out in front of her ceremoniously, a bit more dramatic than normal to make George laugh. "Cranberry-apple juice please."

George snorted as she spoke aloud. She whooped in delight as she watched her goblet fill. She brought it to her nose and sniffed. It smelled just as she expected, sour from the overpowering cranberries with a hint of apple. Then she brought it to her lips and took a small sip.

She couldn't stop the moan that escaped her lips. "This is good." She said with her eyes closed. Ivy took another sip before opening her eyes. She noticed her table-mates were all looking at her in an odd way, their conversations halted.

She licked her lips, trying to swipe any drops that escaped her tongue. "What?"

"Nothing." They all murmured at the same time.

Ivy couldn't help but think it wasn't nothing, especially the way a few of the guys had started to sneak glances in her direction as she drank.

She shrugged her shoulders and continued to enjoy her cran-apple juice. Unbothered and in a state of bliss. She didn't have to steal this food, she didn't have to pay for it while looking over her shoulder.

No, she just had to sit there and enjoy.

So she did.