Final book! Evie had been sent away to Beauxbatons Academy for young ladies. The strain on their relationship was too much for Remus Lupin while he was still teaching at Hogwarts and had decided this was best for both of them.
During her 4th year a...
It was worth it, staying up all night to talk to George. I might be feeling like death barely warmed but to stay in George's arms, it was so worth it. He gently nudged me awake later that morning, just as we could hear footsteps upstairs. The house was beginning to wake.
"No Georgie, please 5 more minutes," I had pleaded with him, covering my head with the blanket and nuzzling impossibly deeper into his chest.
"E, I've already left it as long as I could, everyone is awake and they'll be down stairs any moment." he had explained. "We need to get ready to go to the port key, I know you're tired I'm sorry," he voice deflated a little.
At that, I had perked up, "Don't be sorry," I said quickly, not wanting him to feel guilty. "I was the one who had kept you up all night," I clarified.
A cheeky smile began to spread across his face, and I instantly gave him a gentle smack for the direction his mind was headed.
"Sorry," he laughed.
"How long do we have till we leave?" I asked.
"Ahh there you two are!" Ron chided as he walked into the front room. Me and George instantly jumped apart on the sofa. "Ginny was looking for you Evie, says she needs your braiding skills," he explained.
"Right, yes," I stammered out rigidly. " I shall go to her at once," I jumped up quickly, taking in a sharp breath. My ribs. Quickly I hurried out of the room to find Ginny, ignoring Ron's confused face.
Now I'm here, desperately trying to keep up with the group as we hike up a hillside comparable to climbing kilimanjaro! Holding onto my backpack for dear life, willing it to give me the energy and strength to make it up the hill to the portkey.
"Come on Evie," Fred shouted from the front of our group.
"Shut it Fred, I'm dying here," I retorted a playful end to my tone.
"Oooh, Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning," he teased. "Or should I say sofa," he winked and was swiftly whacked by a rather rosy cheeked George, who ushered him further up the hill quickly.
I pushed hard to make it to the top, thankful for the pause in motion once we were there.
"No time for dawdling kids, we've got a match to get to!" Mr Weasley encouraged.
Sluggishly, we all gathered around the manky old boot, each of us placing a hand upon it ready to be transported to the campsite where we would stay for the duration of the World Cup. Once we had arrived, we carefully walked through the field to the far end where our tent was pitched, saying hello to fellow witches, wizards and students of Hogwarts as we walked. For a moment, it felt like I would be back there, like we were just on summer break and I'd be returning to Hogwarts in a few weeks with the twins. I was a kernel of joy I held onto, not yet but I will be, soon.
After we threw our bags into our tent, we decided to get ourselves ready for the match. Ginny, Fred, George and I all supported the Irish. While Ron, Hermione, Harry, Bill and Mr Weasley were supporting the Bulgarians. Face painting didn't take too much skill, not for the designs we were having.
Nevertheless, I was put in charge of the paints since at Beauxbatons it was mandatory to take Art classes. I didn't complain though, it gave me time with each person, to have a little chat as I painted their team's flags on their faces. Ron didn't say much, sitting there awkwardly. Harry had asked me how I was getting on at Beauxbatons. I lied. Me and Harry didn't build the relationship I thought we would have. I was more of a nuisance for him I guess, always getting in the way, instead of sharing his burden I seemed to add to it, so when he asked, I lied. Told him it was good and I enjoyed classes there. There was no need to burden him any further, particularly when he was asking out of politeness. Hermione had commented how grown up I was, seeming much older now than when I left for Beauxbatons years ago. Mr Weasley enquired about my potion making and charms classes, as well as asking if I was looking forward to the game later. Ginny couldn't stop talking about Dean, whom it sounded like she had been writing too all summer. She had hoped to see him on the campsite but as of yet, hadn't seen him. Then there was Fred, troublesome, and meddlesome Fred.
"Soooo," he exaggerated as he sat down in the chair in front of me. "You and Georgie," he wiggled his eyebrows at me.
I fixed him with a glare, "You do realise I'm about to paint your face right," picking up my paint brush and palette, tapping the dry end of the brush on my cheek as I screwed up my eyebrows. "Lets see, I could draw something horrible obscene on your forehead, or perhaps your cheek," I suggested mockingly.
"Ok, ok," Fred held up his hands in surrender. "Seriously though Evie, the man has been talking about you non stop for weeks. It's been dead annoying really. You should have seen his face when you had written to say you would join here, I've never seen him so excited," Fred explained.
I tried not to smile at that. "Oh?" I feigned nonchalance as I began painting the Irish flag to completely cover Fred's face. When he tried to speak I merely put my finger to my lips, "Nope, sorry Freddie you'll ruin the paint if you talk now, and we can have that can we?" I professed. He just rolled his eyes at me.
Moments later, "There, all done, now go sit over there in the sun to dry it out before you start talking again," I instructed.
Fred gave me two thumbs up and walked to a spot on the grass outside our tent, in the sun. Finally, it was Georgie's turn. I simply smiled as he sat down in the chair. I stepped a little closer and he parted his legs so I could stand between them.
"What would you like?" my question barely above a whisper. I felt it then, like a lightening bolt shooting straight through me, George's heart rate had picked up at that question and I could feel it.
He looked up at me from the chair, "Whatever you want," he said as he stared at me intently. His hand placed on his thighs so close to my own legs I could almost feel his touch.
I stepped a little closer so the front of my legs were almost touching the front of the seat. The paint palette in one hand and the brush in the other, I began to give him the same design as Fred. They were always matching.
When I was done, I went to step back but George stopped me with a firm but gentle hand to my waist. His thumb moved up and down in slow, gentle swipes, he couldn't speak of course but I could see the thanks in his eyes and my cheeks began to heat from his touch.
Once we were all suitably dressed we made our way to the stadium.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
