Flourish and Blotts//George Weasley

3 ~ The Quidditch World Cup

Early morning fog hung in the air as Aurella and most of the others marched up the hill to the portkey. She was shivering, despite the multiple layers she wore. She never remembered how chilly English mornings were until she was here. What she wouldn't give to be back at Beauxbatons, where the temperature rarely dipped below 20, even in the winter. 

The others were all too sleepy to talk, though Aurella could hear her father making conversation with Arthur as they led the group. Ginny had gone to bed too late and was exhibiting the symptoms this morning, while Fred and George had been caught trying to smuggle more of their prank candy out of the house and were silent, walking at the back. 

Aurella shoved her hands into her pockets and buried her nose inside the collar of her jacket. None of the others seemed bothered by the cold. 

Finally, they came to a stop at the top, where they found an older man and a boy about their age who had to be his son. They both had the same crooked smile and fluffy hair. The father was holding a dusty old boot.

"Ahh, Amos!" Michael cheered. "Glad to see you've made it."

The older man-- that must've been Amos-- smiled at them. "Nice to see you again, Michael. This must be your daughter. I don't believe we've met."

Aurella stepped forward to stand beside her dad and shook Amos' hand. "Nice to meet you, I'm Aurella."

Amos smiled at her over his hornrimmed glasses. His son eyed her curiously. He was rather handsome and had to be around her age. He had grey eyes-- they reminded her of Henri and she broke eye contact. Amos clapped a hand on the son's back. "This is my boy, Cedric, a Hufflepuff."

"What house are you in?" Cedric asked. His hands were shoved in his pockets as the others began to crowd around. Aurella was faintly aware of the twins standing behind her, George was close enough that she could smell a mixture of gunpowder, cotton, and vanilla. 

"I don't go to Hogwarts," Aurella responded. "I'm a Beauxbatons student, I'm visiting for the summer," 

Behind her, under his breath, George copied her response in a high-pitched accent and she drove her elbow back, directly into his stomach. It wasn't hard enough to hurt him, but it caused him to back off. 

"How much longer do we have?" Arthur asked. He glanced down at his watch. "No one else is coming from the area, right?"

Amos shook his head. "No, the Lovegoods couldn't get tickets. It's just us." 

"Alright," Arthur spoke. "Quickly now, everyone needs to touch the portkey. We've only got a minute now."

Aurella grumbled as she found herself squashed between George and Hermione. She could feel the worn leather of the shoe between two of her fingers. 

It was silent for a moment, and then it felt as though a hook had snatched the back of her shirt. She was spinning violently, being yanked along and unable to remove her hand to free herself. All she could feel was George's broad chest pressing into her back and her hair, flying into her face. 

A split second later she hit the ground-- or so she thought. She had actually landed on top of George. It took her a second to realize and she found herself with her hands splayed on her chest, staring down at chocolate eyes. Before the others noticed, she shoved herself off, stumbling away from him, grimacing. 

She quickly joined her dad and Hermione, brushing dirt off of her jeans. They had arrived in a busy field, the grass still damp below them. There were what seemed to be thousands of wizards from all over the world milling about. Tents were popping up all over the field, and some people appeared as though they had been there a while.