Blame it on the Nargles | George Weasley x Fem Reader

31

A/n: Well, this is definitely a random update but my friend and I promised each other that we would write more so here I am... I don't have a spectacular excuse as to why it has been so long, but if I have any readers left at all, thanks for being here and I hope you enjoy! 

~ Charley <3

Arriving back at the castle had a lovely, familiar feel to it. The only difference was our journey to the castle itself, which was by carriages pulled by large, bony horses that stared vacantly ahead with their big, milky eyes.

It was nice being back at my familiar house table with its gold hangings and smiling faces. We cheered for the new first years who shuffled in looking tiny and terrified and joined in with the Weasley's excitement when Ginny was sorted into Gryffindor.

We finally made it back to the common room and I sat with Susan on her bed as we discussed the whirlwind of things that had happened over the summer. We went to sleep more excited than we had been in a while to go back to our classes.

It was nice exploring the school now that we had already been there a year. We weren't late to our classes anymore and it was very entertaining watching the first years struggle with the staircases. Besides being back at in my classes, it was great being with my friends again. Now that Ginny was at Hogwarts, she would study with us in the library and we often hung around outside together on the weekends.

Our DATDA teacher, Professor Lockhart, was the subject of many of our conversations. Hermione definitely had a bit of a crush on him, along with every other girl in the school. Whenever Ginny asked me if I admired anyone, I shook my head, but to be honest, I didn't really believe myself. So I just smiled and denied everything, and she seemed to accept it.

In reality, I couldn't get rid of that fluttery feeling in my chest that seemed to flare up every time I caught a glimpse of the Quidditch pitch out the window. I could hear his voice in my head, cheering me on as I had hit apples at him that day at his house. I couldn't stop thinking about George Weasley.

I didn't want to talk about it for fear that he would somehow find out, so one day when I felt particularly lovesick, I dug through my trunk for a spare parchment. I didn't know what I was going to do about how I felt, but I figured I could start by writing it out.

My hand settled on an empty notebook at the bottom of my trunk and I sat myself down in the common room. I paused hesitantly over the page, my quill suspended in midair before I lowered it to the page and began to write.

I don't know what this is or what to do about it. I've never felt like this about anyone before...