Blame it on the Nargles | George Weasley x Fem Reader

34

The Great Hall was abuzz over breakfast and I slid into a seat next to Ginny at the table. Pinching a piece of toast from the cooling rack, I nibbled at the crust allowing my mind to wander as I tried to keep my eyes open. I had been up quite late the previous night with Tom and the diary, recounting an incident in the fourth-floor corridor:

I was on my way to History of Magic rethinking my conversation with Tom from earlier that morning. Lost in thought, I walked straight into someone, my books falling to the floor around my feet. Mumbling an apology, I bent to retrieve them, when a hand on my arm stopped me.

"Let me, it was my fault," George bent to the ground, collecting my things and straightening back up. I reached out to take them but he batted my hand away. "No, I crashed into you, the least I can do is carry your things to your next class,"

"Really, it's okay. I was totally zoned out. It was my fault"

"Nonsense," he smiled. "I truly don't mind,"

I tried to protest but he wouldn't hear another word. Grinning to myself, I gestured down the hall. "Thank you, it's just down there,"

"Ah, History of Magic. I always try to flick pieces of paper through Professor Bins, just to see if he notices,"

I laughed. "And does he?"

"Oh, yeah. I've got detention later today for chucking a paper airplane through his head," We stopped at the door and George handed my books back to me. "Well, good luck in there,"

"Thanks," I started to turn away.

"It was really nice seeing you," I tried to fight the smile pulling at my lips and failed.

"You too. I'll make a habit of plowing into you in the hallways now. I would have started sooner if I had known I'd enjoy it so much,"

Tom had been encouraging and congratulatory of my interaction, pressing for more details that I gladly gave until I felt I had been wrung out. He had ended our conversation with an interesting request and I had barely had the strength to dwell on it until now.

"I've been patient and helpful in your endeavors, but now I must request that you do a few things for me..."

What could a boy in a diary need me to do for him?