Mayhem - G.Weasley

63. Bedtime Story

Ginny watched George's mind hard at work when she had come down for some water in the late hours of the night. His chin was on his palm, the other hand flipping through the pages of the book that seems to have caused so much trouble. His face was scrunched up in a frown, his eyes on the common room entrance.

One might seem to think he was waiting for someone. It seemed he often waited in the common room. Ginny once remembered a time where he was hardly ever in the common room. He was always off scheming, experimenting, or getting in trouble with his partner in crime.

But now, it appeared he hardly did that anymore. It made her heart hurt. She knew the reason behind his troubles. If only he weren't so stubborn and heartbroken, he could fix his own sorrow.

Ivy still wasn't back from wherever she ran off to. Ginny couldn't tell if George why he would torture himself like this.

Ginny took one step before the common room door opened. The scraping of claws against stone drew her attention. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw George perk up.

"Oh." Ivy made a gasp of surprise. She was still in her funeral attire, she had disappeared as soon as the memorial had finished, if not before. She still looked stunning. Her makeup was a bit smudged at the edges of her eyes, and her hair with a slight frizz from wind. She was beautiful in the way that she was wild and free.

"The fl..." George mumbled incoherently to her.

"I'm sorry?" Ivy's voice was steady. Something Ginny hadn't heard in a while.

"The flowers." George coughed, as if whatever words he was going to say got stuck in his throat.

It was painful to watch. Ginny debated whether or not to step in and save them both from the thick, tense atmosphere between them. But this was something they must endure. Something they must go through on their own to make their way back to one another.

Slowly, and as stealthily as the beast across from her, she crept up the steps back to her dorm.

*****************

"The flowers." George couldn't look her in the eye. "They were beautiful."

Despite it all, he couldn't forget what she did for Isaac. For the other two students who perished in brutal ways. It was the most pure, and elegant magic he had ever seen. Those flowers that bloomed so brightly over their pictures. The way that the marigolds and the lobelias intertwined, their vines interlocking with one another, weaving as one.

"Did you—"

She knew what he was asking, without him having to finish. "No. I didn't mean to conjure those flowers."

"How—"

"I don't know." Ivy couldn't meet his eyes. She sensed there was more he wanted to say. Ivy balanced the weight between either foot rhythmically, unsure of herself.

George could see her weighing what to do. He hoped she'd stay long enough for him to gain the courage to say what he needed to say.

Shadow, the ever intelligent creature, chose for them. He pounced nimbly on the couch across from the armchair and settled himself against the armrest. Ivy sighed quietly and followed her sidekick to the couch, snuggling up against his smokey fur. One hand idly stroked the top of his head and looped behind his pointed ears.

George couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy. All he could hear were those soft purrs, as if the cat was doing it on purpose to taunt him.

George cleared his throat. "I—um." He scratched the back of his neck. "This is for you."