Mayhem - G.Weasley

65. In Weasley We Trust

The clock tower chimed, signaling the end of another class, but they didn't move. Not even when Ivy had stopped crying. It was as if time did not exist, noise did not exist. And nothing, would come to separate them.

Anger swelled within Twyla to see them so close, not even budging a centimeter between the pair. The position was so intimate, it made even Twyla want to look away. But the rage beneath the surface kept her burning gaze focused on them.

George belonged to Twyla. Hogwarts belonged to Twyla. Hell, the world belonged to Twyla. She was the heiress on an elite wizarding family. Their contributions basically ran this school, ran the whole wizarding world. Without them, the world could crumble. She was royalty. Twyla would inherit the their fortune, their kingdom, and everything their fortune ran. Hence, all those inhabited within. . . and that included George.

Who does she think she is?

This nobody had the nerve to take something of Twyla's.

So she'd have to take something of hers.

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

A purr from Shadow brought Ivy back to earth. She didn't know how much time had passed, but George had held her through it all. Her tears had long since dried into the material of George's robes. With a sigh, Ivy pulled away, her head looking at the old stone of the castle floor. She wiped beneath her eyes, hoping to rid her face of any disturbed makeup.

"I hope it goes without saying. . ." Ivy ran a weak hand through her hair before focusing her gaze back onto George, his eyes searching through hers almost instantly. "But. . . please don't tell anyone."

George raised his hands to her face, cupping her jaw, letting the pads of his thumbs swipe underneath her eyes. Most likely cleaning the smudges Ivy had missed in her haste. His grip was tight on her face, but not a smashing weight. Heavy enough to let her know he was serious.

"I wouldn't tell a soul." A corner of his lip raised in an attempt at a smirk. "Us Weasley's take secrets to our graves."

Ivy tried to force her face to make a smile as well, but the muscles in her face would only let her lips frown.

George startled both Ivy and Shadow by shooting to his feet. Her heart skipped a beat when he extended a calloused hand down towards her.

"Why don't we play my favorite game?"

"What game?" Ivy cautiously took his hand, contemplating what it could be.

This time the smirk came easily to George's face.

"Hooky."

***********

George gently shoved the handle of a broomstick into her hand.

"Do you often do this when you skip class?" Ivy asked as she mounted the broomstick, itching to kick off the ground and soar through the clouds.

"Yes and no." George followed suit. "Most often Fred and I test out our products on unlucky students."

Ivy envied how easy the smirk came onto his face.

"But this. . ." He kicked the cold-ridden ground and floated a few feet off the grass. "Is for special occasions."

"And we're to play quidditch?" Ivy kicked off the ground as well, already feel relaxed with the weightlessness of floating.

"Must you ask so many questions?" George chuckled softly. When Ivy didn't reply with a snarky remark, he let out a disappointed sigh. "No, we're not going to play quidditch."