Delicate Magic ► George Weasley

twelve. and I burn

A week ago, Iola would have said that she had never broken a single one of her mother's rules. It was simply something she had never felt the urge to do, not when she never had a reason.

Now, as she ditched her scheduled training to meet the twins as they ditched class just to watch them scheme one of their pranks, she couldn't believe she had ever thought duelling and quidditch were the only things that could bring her happiness.

Which was ridiculous considering she always believed she knew what it was to have fun, but it was like things were begin shown in a brand new light as she often found herself being dragged along behind him as she was bent over in stitches.

She had never been one to do anything so silly in her entire life.

These pranks had no sense or order that she could discern, not the kind that she was used to with guidelines and rules to follow because every aspect of her life had constantly been built upon a system of rules — the laughing and running that she did with them, the close touching, was all against the rules.

And that wasn't to mention what she knew Aveline thought out them.

Blood traitors, she had called them. The disgusting term never failed to made her stomach turn no matter how many times her mother used it.

Iola was thankful that somehow, by the grace of god, she didn't turn out to be like Aveline — at least not in anyway that mattered. Somehow she didn't seem the world as this terrible place overrun by those that weren't of a superior species, as if such a thing could actually exist.

How her mother could meet people and see them as lesser as though blood and genetics could truly play a role in their existence was beyond her. Iola had met too many people to pass such quick judgement upon someone undeserving of such.

It was good that her mother hadn't thought to check up on her in the past week. Madame Maxime has assured the girl with a twinkle in eyes that Aveline was going to be gone for at least another week attending to a few affairs at Beauxbatons in the headmistresses stead. She wasn't sure what it meant, the twinkle, but she took it as a good sign as she relaxed within the school, letting George lead her on of adventure or another.

He had taken it as a challenge to rope her into detention with him, setting her up in hopes she wouldn't be able to talk her way out of something.

Which each failure the pranks grew more outrages, and really, she was certain poor Filch thought the twins were targeting her on purpose.

"How do you do it?" He moans one morning as she happily plops down next to him for breakfast, Sofie close behind as she continues to lecture Iola on skipping training because when she said she needed to relax it didn't mean doing nothing instead of preparing for the qualifiers. "How can you be so good at talking to the troll creature?"

"It is a gift," she laughs, picking at his breakfast knowing perfectly well that there was plenty of food spread along the table. "This does not taste as it usually does. Is it a new recipe?"

"I've smothered it with maple syrup."

"Nice. Sweet," she hums, stealing more of his potatoes.

"That's good, but you must eat well. You are no taking things seriously," Sofie scolds, slamming her hand on the table.

"What's she on about?" George asks.

Iola doesn't miss the way he glances to his bother even as he speaks to someone else.

"I am to be going to the qualifiers for the International Senior Dueller Competition soon and she is worried I am not prepared," she explains, still eating from his plate. "There is not much I need to do. I am already a finalist."