𝐄𝐏𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 | g. w

10. interrupted

Time moves slower inside these castle walls, and the start of this term has been nothing short of stressful. Umbridge—or shall I saw Umbitch—has been torturing us in more ways than one, the sound of her high pitched voice echoing in the halls sending shivers up and down my spine.

Not only has she been using a black quill that cuts into our skin in detention, but she's also gaining more and more power, becoming known as High Inquisitor and making up new ridiculous rules every so often.

It's absolutely awful to witness all the destruction she's leaving behind, and I can't wait for the day when she's no longer here to ruin Hogwarts as we know and love it.

It's been raining pretty much all day today, and so I've been holding up in the library in between classes, trying to keep up with whatever homework we've been assigned.

Even when I'm alone and try to keep myself preoccupied with school work, a certain someone keeps plopping up in my mind. It's like he's built-in to my brain and whenever I try to think of anything else; it proves entirely impossible to do so.

George Weasley will be the death of me.

"Hey you."

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

"Hey", I find myself smiling wide at the mere sight of him. He's tall, broad-shouldered and Godric, all those hours of Quidditch training really paid off.

No, Mia. He's your friend. Your best friend, nothing more.

I try telling myself that I shouldn't think about him this way, but I can't help it, I'm no longer in control of my feelings.

"Where are the others?" I ask, looking down at the sheet of paper I'm currently writing my Arithmancy homework on, to keep from exposing my nervous state. I can feel myself growing more and more self aware in his company with each day that passes and I wonder how I'm ever going to be able to look him in the eyes for more than a few seconds again.

He takes a seat opposite me, watching me with a sly smile on his face. "Detention. They set off a bunch of dung bombs in Umbridge's office."

"And you? Why aren't you in detention?"

"Me?—oh", he runs his veiny hand through his ginger locks. "I might have managed to get away before they got caught", he grins, making the butterflies come alive in my stomach.

"Sooo..." he says after a while of radio silence. "Fancy a short walk with yours truly?".

I find my heart starting to beat ferociously within the safety of my chest, my hands growing clammy. George is still smiling, his eyebrows raised in a questioning manner and I can't help but feel the corners of my mouth twitch into a smile. The thought of spending time alone with George again sends a tingling sensation through my entire body, and my thoughts seem to travel to places I've been too many times before, more often than not in my dreams.

"I'd love to", I reply cheekily, putting all my stuff back into my bag. I can't seem to do so quickly enough. Excitement fills me and I wonder if there's a hidden agenda behind him wanting to spend alone time with me again, or if I'm simply overthinking everything these days. Maybe my feelings for George has gotten to a point we're my self respect is clouded by 'what-if's and 'maybe's.

"Wicked".

(...)

"No its true, Snape never found out. To this day, I still think he never even suspected that we had anything to do with it."

George and I have been walking around the courtyard for what must be about an hour or so at this point, and I've shared countless stories of me and Alfie growing up, whereas he's told me stories of him and Fred pranking their siblings at an early age. I can't help but let out a snort upon hearing how they almost got away with making an Unbreakable Vow with Ron once and the warmth inside my chest grows as I watch his smile growing.

Oh and his laugh.

I would listen to that for all eternity if I could.

"You really are something else, you know that right?", he says cheekily, grabbing my hand with his. It's all warm and soft, and I can't help but lose all sense of self control as he does so, becoming a nervous wreck. My face seems to have caught on fire from his sudden touch, and my knees have grown all the more weak from simply being within a few metres of him.

He really has a hold on me like no other.

Suddenly and without any sort of warning, I feel his hand move up to cup my cheek, his eyes bearing intensely into mine. His nutmeg orbs catching fire in the moonlight, making my heart race. He must know what he's doing to me by now.

"Mia...", he starts, my name rolling off his pretty lips like a melody and I find myself wishing he never stops saying it. It sounds so beautiful coming from him, his voice sultry and smooth.

"Yes?", I mumble quietly, not knowing what to do or where to place my hands.

"There something I've been meaning to tell you..."

"Hmm?"

He inches closer, his eyes never leaving mine. I'm melting, soon I'll be nothing but a puddle under his gaze.

There's a brief pause and I can't help but think that he's finally going to kiss me. No matter how ludicrous is sounds or how much I've been doubting if there's even a tiny chance he even feels the same as me, in this very moment, I'm not uncertain anymore. For a split second, I actually think he's going to grace my lips with his own.

But then, to my great annoyance, we're suddenly ripped apart. He lets go of my hand too quickly, as if I'm poison oak or hot coal, and I find myself feeling disappointed by the sudden lack of physical contact.

I look up at him, confused and bewildered, wondering why he suddenly became so reclusive. Then I realise. We're not the only ones out for a late night stroll.

"George! Hey!", I'd recognise that voice anywhere. It belongs to someone I constantly compare myself to.

Angelina.