My Love ✧ George Weasley

85 - Dumbledore's Army

Adriana

I had been walking through the corridor, just listening to my friends' conversation, before my wrist was suddenly grabbed and I was pulled into an alcove. I almost, for some reason, thought that I was about to get kidnapped by a Death Eater, when I relaxed, realizing it was just George standing in front of me.

"What's the reason for stealing me away from my friends this time?" I asked.

"I've got something important I needa tell you," George replied, grinning. "I guess it also needs to be told to your friends, but I'm using this as a reason to get some brief alone time with you."

"I'm alright with that," I smiled. "So, what's this important thing you need to tell me?"

"The trio's found a place to hold the Defense meetings," he said, barely able to keep his excitement in. "Tonight, at eight o'clock, we've gotta go to the seventh floor, opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy being clubbed by trolls."

"You mean the tapestry of him teaching trolls ballet?"

"Yeah, sure, that one," George said, shrugging. "All that matters is that you know where it is, where we're meeting."

"Oh, I know exactly where it is," I said. "Hence why I know exactly what the tapestry is depicting. I've spent quite a bit of time studying it."

"You study tapestries in your free time?"

"Yeah."

George shook his head, amused, before he stepped closer, placing his hands in the sides of my face and leaning down to kiss me. I happily raised my head to make our lips meet, smiling into the kiss. We kept it fairly gentle, and it seemed as if George was about to deepen it, before I started giggling slightly. He pulled back, a questioning smile on his face, as I kept chuckling.

"What's so funny, love?" he asked, unable to keep in a few chuckles himself.

"I don't know," I replied, grinning, before I started to laugh again. "I don't know why making out in an alcove is so funny to me."

"Is that what you're laughing at?"

"Yes? No? I don't know."

George shook his head again, my laughter contagious as he grinned and wrapped his arms around my neck, pulling my head against his chest while he rested his head on top of mine. I returned his embrace, wrapping my arms around his torso, and we stayed like that for some time, until my giggles had finally died down.

George was the first to pull back slightly, and I followed his lead, our arms still around each other as we gazed at one another. The grin on his face made my smile widen even more, if possible, and I felt a swell of emotions that I hadn't really felt before.

"Well, would you look at that," George said, lifting one of his arms to pick up a piece of my hair. "It's pink." I quickly moved my eyes from his face to where he was holding my hair, and saw that it was, in fact, a light pink color. "Did you do this on purpose?"

"No," I replied. "My emotions did it."

"Like on the train," he started, dropping the piece of hair and returning his arm to rest on my shoulder, "in fifth year, when the dementors made their presence known."

"Exactly like that."

"So, white means afraid, correct?" I nodded in response. "What does pink mean, then?"

"No idea," I said, shrugging, although that wasn't the truth. I'm pretty sure I know exactly what pink means.

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