Troublemakers • Weasley & Jordan

The Breather

"Why don't you sit right down and stay a while? We like the same things and I like your style." – Why Do You Let Me Stay Here? by She & Him

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With it being a sunny Friday afternoon in mid-March, it was a perfect day for Quidditch training. Especially since George had returned to practice that past Monday, his arm healed, with an approval from Madam Pomfrey that he could get back on the field. 

But for Lee, it was cause for anxiety, of course. George's textbook overthinker. 

"You're acting like I barely spared my life," he sighed, adjusting his jersey in the dorm room mirror. "I'm going to be fine, you bloody moron!" 

"And what if you're not?" Lee argued from his bed, propped up against the headboard with obstinate, crossed arms. "You and that stubborn head of yours, always insisting that you're fine, that you can 'get this one', for your teammates, and where does it lead you? A big fat tear in your arm!" 

George merely chuckled, eyeing Lee behind him in the mirror's reflection. Lee's brows furrowed with offense. 

"And what exactly is funny about that?" He demanded. 

"Nothing." George shook his head, returning his gaze to his own appearance. He leaned closer to mess with some straying waves at the front of his hair. "It's just– your concern is really quite endearing." 

Against his control, and certainly against his own will, a warmth blossomed over Lee's ears. He looked away, swallowing. 

"Piss off," he mumbled. 

George grinned, then moved away from the mirror, having settled on his look. It was practice, anyway– his hair would get all messed up in the wind whether he liked it or not. 

"I have to give it my all, you know," he reminded Lee, rummaging through his duffel bag. Before his best friend could argue that point again, he held up a finger. "Not that I'm saying I'm gonna throw myself into the turf, but..." 

He inhaled, straightening up again to look at Lee. His expression was determined– genuine. 

"Our second to last game against Hufflepuff is just around the corner," he said. "We have to be ready." 

Lee sighed, slumping more against the headboard. The redhead was right... Gryffindor had two games left and was as determined as ever to win the cup, including George. His eyes dragged to the boy's arm, supposedly healthy, but Lee always overthought these things. 

Endearing. 

He shook the thought away. "When will you be back?" 

George paused, having moved to the door with his bag slung over his shoulder. 

Looking back at Lee, he smirked. "Miss me?" 

"I will hit you." 

"Around 7:00," George answered, swinging the door open. "No dinner without me." 

Lee waved a dismissive hand as George disappeared from the room, but couldn't deny the small smile that curved his lips once he was alone. Fucking hell. 

Not surprisingly, the time felt as if it flew by before the big game a week later. The stands were packed, as usual, the Gryffindors were decked out in reds and golds, and Lee was tucked in the stands with Parvati and his little brother. He had already done his rounds of "good lucks" and "kick their arses" to Fred, Ginny, Angelina, and Harry, along with a particular pointed "I'll kill you if you die" to George.