AVIS | GEORGE WEASLEY

07 | CONSORTING WITH THE ENEMY

CHAPTER SEVEN
( CONSORTING WITH THE ENEMY )

SOMETIMES, WREN THINKS THAT THE WORLD IS NICE TO HER, only for it to screw it all up the next day. Not that it does said screwing often, mind you, but just enough that any sort of upset never goes unnoticed. Like in her fourth year. They had smashed Ravenclaw three-hundred to forty points in their November Quidditch match and soon lined up to be the favourites to win the cup, but fate happened to bless the team by cancelling the entire cup for the year due to attacks on Muggleborn students.

     And, you know, apparently a giant fucking snake causing it.

     Come the spring holidays during fifth year where the Dunlins had gone on their annual Easter trip County Cork, Ireland, and a barbecue gone wrong fired up a horrendous argument between her parents. The next day came the threat of divorce — an arrangement which only Arran's poor attempt to put on a family bonding puppet show managed to halt. Fern had stropped and pranced about in such a fit against participating that Wren was sure her mother nearly self-imploded. The whole ordeal sent them back to school with a permanently looming cloud over their heads, dreading an owl would bring them the final news of separation. Wren half-convinced herself that her foul mood had lost them the match against Slytherin — a defeat which sunk the team right to the pit of last place. She didn't catch a single quaffle that day.

     But now? She faces the fact that the mysterious Beauxbatons boy from last week hadn't even spared her a glance since his arrival, let alone saying hello. After the metaphorical high from Cedric's birthday celebrations the day before, Wren wants to crawl head-first into a vast void with a tub of ice cream and never, ever come out again.

     Being swamped by a horde of students trying to wish her best friend some luck before the names are selected doesn't help either. She ought to be used to the unwanted attention of Cedric's behalf by now. Not a single day passes where the group of second year Hufflepuff don't giggle about him in the common room every morning, nor a day where they haven't walked by a blushing third year. Being friends with one of the most popular boys in school has its benefits, yet the drawbacks are much worse. If she hears another girl label his body as sculpted like a Roman God, then she might have to order a restraining order for half of Hogwarts.

     (Admittedly, he does have a body shaped like a god. Wren trains with him before practice every week. It would be hard not to notice, quite frankly.)

     That's besides the point. She has never been interested in Cedric that way — or Icarus, or any of her closer male friends for that matter. Sure, she'd crushed on both Bill and Charlie Weasley when they were both on the Gryffindor team — Charlie especially (watching him catch the snitch in her first year was heavenly) — but obviously nothing came from it. No, this time he boy who catches her eye is instead amongst a few other Beauxbatons students speaking French at a volume beyond comprehension.