My name is Georgiana Wood.

My father is Oliver Wood. Yes, the Puddlemere Keeper. You’ve heard of him or you’ve seen past issues of Quidditch Weekly with his half-naked torso covering the front. Not awkward at all.

 “What makes you think you’re right?”

“Devilishly good-looking people are always right,” he answered.

“Yes, so what makes YOU think you’re right?”

I groaned and grabbed a novel out of my bag. “You’re impossible,” I muttered. “But Matteo and I are fine.”

“Just fine? You guys are always just fine. You bore me.”

“Stability bores you?” I said.

“To tears,” Leo whined. 

 He made the save and thrust his fist into the air.

Apparently Matteo could put on a show. I noticed this again as he wove in and out of the hoops chanting his own name with the crowd.

Huh.

 He shook his head. “You’re trouble, Georgiana Wood. You’re big trouble.”

 “Gee?”

“What?”

“I literally just asked if you were in here to avoid something out there,” Albus said, blinking. He hadn’t noticed my gaze. Or the stupid glazed look in my eyes.

Ugh. Objectifying my captain.

 “What’s that?” I asked.

“Our ticket to the kitchens without detention.”

“I hope it isn’t a sewing kit. I don’t want to learn to sew.”

“What part of NOT telling people about that are you not getting?”

 “That’s fine. I understand. Duty calls.” Dad smirked. “I’m proud of you, you know.”

“What? I haven’t done anything.”

He leaned down and kissed my forehead. “You’ve done everything,” he said.

 Sophia shrugged her way away from the paper and joined me. “Leo get the kissing booth again?”

“He’s going for the record.” I watched and he was already deep in conversation with a group of Ravenclaw fifth years.

“Good. I saved up for this.”

 “Is this your way of keeping an eye on Potter?”

“You were keeping an eye on me?” Albus asked Leo.

Leo shrugged. “I forgot.” He squinted. “But now I’m totally on it. Seriously. Do anything. I’ll follow you around. It’s going to be creepy at first, but it’s not even a big deal. I don’t have a creeper vibe.”

 “You need caffeine,” he said.

“It’s dark. The day doesn’t exist yet.” I buried my head in his chest, effectively messing up my hair.

 I was Georgiana Wood.

I didn’t need a boy to make the first move, to save me, or to order food for me.

I made my own choices and right now I needed to not be on the opposite side of the table from Albus.

 “You don’t have to plan a date.”

“Isn’t that what dates are? Planned events?” He ruffled his hair again.

“It’s already too much. Scale it back.”

 

 

 “Georgiana…”

“I know,” I said.

“You do.”

 “You’re dangerous,” he mumbled against my lips.

Was this what it was like to swoon?

Was I swooning?

Why couldn’t I feel my toes?