I love you, I'm sorry - G.W

Full Machine

"It's just that I'll always choose you"

Qudditch this year lacks the excitement and passion it seemed to ooze than previous years, Flora thinks. Huddled on the Gryffindor stands with her two closest friends. Sheltering from the ever present chill. Whilst she wasn't one for the sport, the air around Quidditch season could always be felt. She put it down to the even more thrilling games of the Triwizard Tournament. Not that she cared much for either but with her 'boyfriend' representing their house once again, she was decked in full red. Opting against putting his number on her body again.

This did not escape the notice of his friends. They all sat fairly close together these days, her own trio along with the pack George associated himself with. It was Alicia Spinnet who bent down from the row above them to whisper in Flora's ear.

"No expression of true love for little Georgie this time eh?" her light tone was teasing and designed to make her blush. In which it succeeded in doing, Flora decidedly blamed it on the cold.

She laughed back, enjoying the banter his friends could so easily produce. She saw how they're group fit perfectly together. "After the last match, he'll need to earn it this time around." I say. Both of us equally remembering Gryffindors sore loss to Hufflepuff.

A flurry of green and red zipped around the pitch on this early morning. Flora's eyes search the field for him but it is no use given the sheer speed of every player in the sky. They produce unwanted flushes of air, making the shivers that line her skin more prominent.

She manages to keep up mindless chatter with Alicia until the sound of Lee Jordans voice takes her focus. "A solid bludger from the Slytherin team knocking- George Weasley off his broom! Cheating scum!" The sound of McGonagall reprimanding him becomes background noise to Flora as she attempts to fixate on said ginger. Except she can't place him at all.

The sound of clattering takes over her consciousness as she sees his broom slamming to the ground, with him nowhere in sight. At that she starts to exit the stands, heading to the commotion. Glancing every few steps back to the pitch, wondering if she'll catch even a glimpse to know he isn't too badly injured. That's when she notices the sneer Lucian Bole is sending her way, looking far too pleased with the situation, beaters bat swinging through the air menacingly.

"Titillando." she whispers before she can think about it twice. If she was honest, her form of retaliation was mild at best. A simple tickling hex is nowhere near the reaction he deserved for hospitalising George. At the thought of him, she hurried towards the commotion.

Her curiosity won out and she kept peering over her shoulder to watch the scene unfold. Slytherins beater losing control of his broom, flying dastardly about the pitch, knocking into his fellow players and sending a few tumbling. A perfect distraction to ensure another Gryffindor goal. His manic laughter and convulsing body became the focus of the match whilst she continued on to her own Beater.

Entering the short passage beneath the stands, she sees Madam Hooch and Madam Pomprey huddled around a stretcher. Blocking her view of the long figure she prays isn't George. She quickens her pace only to find that it is him, arm hanging limply at his side, bent in all odd ways whilst his eyes remain peacefully closed. But if he was in pain he wouldn't look so calm. Why isn't he hurting?

The pounding in her chest only gets heavier the longer she is apart from him, unable to do anything. Her heart feels as though it's lept inside her throat. Constricting her breaths.

She follows the two women carrying her boyfriend the entire way to the castle. They protest her company but she is relentless and fights right back. Determined to stay the whole way.