Spellbind

9. My Affection

A/N:
>>>>> = Time Skip
<<<<< = Flashback
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George Weasley POV:

[November 5th, 1994]

In the weeks that passed I struggled to fake my cordial expressions when around Niyla. It became worse internally when Viktor Krum started to fancy hanging around her and Malfoy.— Malfoy, I could tolerate, but a celebrity lingering near her so often was a bit daunting. Under my eyes, had become two faded purplish-blue blotches; from where I had been having trouble sleeping. I lay awake, imagining how— when— I should tell Niyla about my feelings. And then wake up exhausted, with a volley of doubt and cowardice surging through me.

I walked along the edge of the Forbidden Forest toward the Lake, to meet Fred; we had plans to meet up after lessons were over to sell some of our joke products. Fred overheard Krum was going to be near the Lake this afternoon, so there was sure to be a good amount of students outside, for us to sell to. I paused a few yards before I would emerge from the tree line, pulling out a rectangular box from my pocket. My cheeks turned crimson with embarrassment. It was the first time I had gotten a girl a gift that wasn't my mother or sister. I had no idea what a girl-what Niyla— would like.

What made the thought of giving her something I wasn't sure she'd like, worse was; that I was going to use the time to apologize for what happened on Halloween at the dress shop. A pair of fiery-orange earrings was the best I could find in the five days that had passed since the incident. The dress I had seen her wearing in the dress shop was yellow, and I thought yellow and orange kind of go together. And she was born in the season of pumpkins... And I secretly liked that they were a color similar to my hair. However, I was still hesitant to give them to her, mostly because I kept thinking; what if she thought they weren't a good enough gift? Would she think they were a pathetic gift?— Think I was.

My pulse rushed suddenly through my chest, a bit like it had been trapped in my heart, and abruptly released, and then it pounded roughly at a high speed. At that moment I was convinced I was having a stroke; she overwhelmed my heart. She had me fumbling over every thought, every decision, every action I considered; she had me questioning everything. I sighed, placing the narrow box back in my pocket.

I stopped,— my breath staggering just the slightest. Just beyond the tree line, Niyla sat with her back facing the forest, on a damped log. I could see she was reading a piece of parchment, and then suddenly wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. I unthinkingly began moving toward her, an urge to comfort her had me moving before I could process; I had broken through the tree line and she turned swiftly in my direction.

"Hi," I staggered, slightly disoriented by her reddened eyes and my embarrassment; my voice came out a pitch too high.

"Hi, Weasley," she shoved the parchment in her school bag.

I hesitated a fraction, her sadden expression pained me.

"What's wrong?" I wished she would tell me; just as much as I hoped she wouldn't call me by my surname.— I liked the way my name sounded coming from her lips.

"Nothing," she said quickly.

"Can I sit?" I ignored her icy tone.

She raised an eyebrow, letting it fall fastly, as she shrugged and moved to one side of the log.

"I'm glad we can finally talk alone," I began to say, watching her as she eyed the Lake with an unreadable expression.

"I wanted to apologize for what happened the other day, there just didn't seem a good enough time to bring it up."