Pretty Kitty (completed)

Chapter 17

"Why aren't you telling him?" George looked up from where he was scowling moodily at a rug adorning the floor of the Gryffindor common room. Lee Jordan stood over him, an amused smile playing on his lips.

"Why aren't you asking out that Loony bint?" George snapped back, knowing exactly what Lee was asking, but unwilling to answer. Lee shook his head, obviously willing to shake off the harsh retort. That was Lee; laid back.

"Seriously, how hard can it be?" Lee asked as he sat down on a chair next to George. George's eyes scanned the common room, only to rest on Harry, who was sitting at one of the tables and laughing with Ron about something. Ron was looking distinctly nervous for some reason, his laughter shaky and twitchy.

"Like you would understand, Mr Make-Love-Not-War," George muttered, going back to glaring at the floor. Lee laughed at the words, used to the jokes on his hippy-nature.

"Look, I've been watching you dithering about Harry for ages now, and I think he's beginning to pick up on it, too. Fred, of course, is getting a laugh out of your pain, but I'm not that cruel. Just tell him; Fred-"

"Yeah, well, I'm not Fred," George cut Lee off. Lee rolled his eyes, realising that comparing George's actions to Fred might not have been the best idea.

"Fine, I know, but-" George stood up and shot a vicious glare at Lee that quelled the boy. Lee watched with shock and a slight hint of fear as George turned and stormed away, right up to Harry. Harry looked up as George gently grabbed his arm and dragged him away to the staircase leading to the boys dormitories.

"Reckon he's got the balls to do it?" Fred asked, popping up. Lee laughed, watching a bewildered Harry being dragged away.

"Maybe, this time."

XxXxXxX

"George, what's going on?" Harry asked as George lead him into the seventh year boy's room and shut the door behind them. George released his arm and paced the length of the room to sit on his bed. Harry hung back by the doorway.

For the past couple of days, Harry had noticed George's behaviour becoming stranger and stranger. There were often times when George would catch him on his own, start to say something with a serious look in his eye, and then stop and walk away, a faint flush on his cheeks.

When Harry questioned Fred, the young man had laughed and patted Harry's head, but didn't reply. Apparently, it was down to George to tell Harry.

This had lead to Harry panicking that George was trying to find the best way of breaking up with him; maybe the novelty of him being a cat boy had worn off, and George was realising just how insanely boring Harry was compared to the twins.

Harry bit his lip as George clenched his fists and stared off into the distance, eyes flitting to Harry whenever the boy shifted. Every nerve in Harry's body was standing on end, and he had the strangest urge to, again, escape to the highest spot he could find. However, ever since the debacle in Diagon Alley, Harry had taken to ignoring this urge. It only brought trouble.

"Harry," George started, and Harry startled, the fur on his tail poufing out. He growled lightly and attempted to smooth the fur he could reach back down. George didn't say anything else.

Harry opened his mouth and then closed it again, before shaking his head. Seeing the worried look on Harry's face gave George a sudden burst of courage, and he opened his mouth to let forth what he'd been trying to get out all week.

"Harry-"

"It's all right," Harry told him abruptly. George stared at him in confusion. Harry wasn't looking at him now, instead staring at a poster adorning the wall by Lee's bed, of the Holy Harpies. The seeker flew by, robes exposing a dangerous amount of cleavage. George remembered drawing chest hair on her, just to annoy Lee.