A/N: Written for evol love's "Knock You Senseless" challenge from HP Fanfiction Challenges forum. Loosely takes place sometime during OotP.
Staring Contest
"…I think that one's a chain of daisies," she suggested after a long contemplative pause.
"A what?" he asked in turn.
"A chain of daisies. What, haven't you ever made a chain of daisies before?"
The silence that chased her question forced her into an amused corner; she could feel his deadpanned stare, even if it was directed into the heavenly skies.
"All right. Strike that one from the record," she sighed, her smile floating in the exhale as the cloud rolled slowly over their heads.
"Consider it stricken," he returned, rolling onto his stomach with a dramatic groan.
"Cheers." Hearing the movement rather than seeing it, she followed suit and flipped over.
Two pairs of feet rocked back and forth beneath a warm and sunny sky, the soles of their Quidditch practice-calloused feet cradled by the soothing green grass. They were sprawled out in the pasture near the lake, a spot often used by the twins for relaxation. Caressed by the shadows of peak-a-boo leaves on the nearby tall tree, Angelina and George laid angled next to each other, their heads nearly touching.
"Ange…"
"Yes, George?"
"I'm so bored."
"So I've noticed."
"Well?" he asked, twisting his head to look at her.
Hearing the shifting grass, Angelina turned to face him. "Well what?"
"How might we alleviate this issue?"
"Sorry?"
As he flipped onto his back again, he whined, "Can't we do something to solve this boredom?"
"I thought that was what we were doing right now."
"Which is what exactly?"
She gracefully adjusted herself to face the sky, closing her eyes. "Getting some sun. Some non-painful sun before I force you all into a Hellish Quidditch practice." She exhaled a sleepy, content sigh as the rays painted rosy blushes across her cheeks.
George stared at her as though she'd gone mad. "You? Needing sun?" His eyes roamed her lovely dark complexion.
She turned back and stuck her tongue out at him. "Funny. You know what I mean."
He continued to watch her, enjoying the private moment he had to observe the way the sun coated her skin in a warm caramel glow. He smiled broadly.
"Ange."
"Yes, George?"
"I challenge you to a staring contest."
That caught her attention. Her eyes popped open, drawn to the smirk that could be found in his eyes. "A staring contest."
"Si."
"With you?"
"Oui."
"Has the boredom really gotten that bad that you'd reduce us to such a sad game?"
"Hai!"
"Oh shut it," she replied, rolling her eyes while rolling onto her stomach. While George was normally quite well-mannered and witty, boredom always set him into a more immature and dangerously reckless mode, something more akin to Fred's typical behavior. George mimicked her actions, rolling his eyes with great exaggeration, as he shifted his position onto his stomach. Resting on their elbows, both Angelina and George faced each other. "So…staring contest."
"Rules?" she asked.
"What part of 'staring contest' don't you gather?" he teased.
She hit him in the shoulder. "Don't be a jerk."
"Sorry, sorry, I deserved that. First person to break loses."
"Winner gets what?"
"Sweet satisfaction of crushing his opponent beneath his bare feet."
"Don't you mean crushing 'her' opponent?"
"Ooo, is this the trash talking starting?"
"Just suggesting you be gender neutral, George."
"You and your feminist views, Ange."
"Are we going to do this already?"
George leaned forward, staring deeply into her eyes. Caught unaware, she gulped at the close proximity of his face to hers. "Sure. But do you really want to do this, Ange? I fight dirty."
She half-laughed, half-coughed. "Is that supposed to be news to me? George, you highly underestimate my knowledge of your evil streak."
He smirked his devilishly dreamy smile. "You mean what streak I've shown you. There are some things that are…better left unshared," he replied carefully, incapable of preventing his eyes from darting to her lips. She gulped again.
"You are a dirty rascal," she admitted, deciding to turn the tables. She leaned forward herself, bringing their faces into an even closer distance. It was George's turn to gulp. "But I can play just as dirty. Are we going to do this so you can go ahead and lose?"
George always admired her when her sassy side came out to play. "Fine. We start at 3. Count em. Three," he began, closing his eyes.
"Two…," she continued, closing her eyes as well.
"One!" they said together, opening their eyes and asserting their gazes onto one another.
Nature around them moved slowly at a relaxing pace. More clouds raced overhead, their shadows hugging the two Gryffindors' bodies with each pass. The wind blew occasional soft puffs against their hair. Meanwhile, an intense spark of fire passed between their eyes as neither broke his and her concentration. She narrowed her eyebrows, daring him to try something. He raised an eyebrow, daring her to stop him. His lopsided smirk slowly unfurled. Her nerves heightened on alert. He was up to something.
"You know, you're awfully cute when you're trying to be menacing."
She had to catch herself from blinking at his unexpected compliment. Furthermore, she had to admit she was glad she was already pinkish from the sun; otherwise, he might gather the (theoretically correct) presumption that she was blushing because of him. "And you're infuriating when you're trying to psyche others out," she retorted.
"'Others'?"
"I don't mind it so much if it's an opposing Quidditch team. But not your own captain!"
He shrugged, still not blinking. "Sorry that you're such a cute captain. I can't help being distracted."
"You're filled with almost as much bull as Fred!" she added.
"I'll take the compliment hidden somewhere in there," he replied with a smirk.
"Good luck finding it," she countered.
They continued to stare at each other in silence. She couldn't help but admit to herself how nice this was despite the competitive angle. George's eyes weren't the worst way to pass an afternoon's moment. On the contrary…
"On the contrary," he spoke out loud, jarring her from her reverie as though he had just been inside her mind. "I think I'd rather enjoy your beauty without thinking about myself or Fred, if you wouldn't mind. You're ruining the moment."
"Me? I'm not ruining the moment. That's all your ego," she replied, really beginning to feel her eyelids strain.
"So you admit that there's a moment happening here," he asked. While it was supposed to come off slyly, Angelina detected enough sincerity to wonder what really was happening.
"Well…I'd imagine so, yes."
"Hmm," he replied. He leaned forward a fraction. "Do you concede yet?"
She shook her head. "I don't quit. You know this."
"I do. It's one of the things I love about you," warmth hugging his words tenderly. "Well then, might I suggest a draw? It's almost time to go for practice…" his face was creeping closer to hers.
"You giving up, George?" her voice was more hushed as she leaned forward herself.
He shook his head. "No. But I'm a little too distracted right now, honestly, to not close my eyes and…" he began, leaning forward with more intention, their noses nearly brushing. Angelina slowly began to close her eyes...
As a bludger careened into the back of George's head, forcing his reactionary "Oomf!" to be muffled into the dirt and causing Angelina to momentarily flinch with shock. The bludger bounced straight into the sky. Angelina pushed herself off the ground onto her knees and, with a smooth gracefulness that could have been missed by the normal eye, she caught the bludger in both hands just before it pummeled George's head again.
"Oi. Cap'n, isn't it time for practice?" Fred Weasley shouted, casually strolling up beside his twin whose face was still inhaling grass.
She coughed, trying to regain her composure from the disruption. Angelina glanced at her watch, resting the bludger against her hip. "Mmm, you're right. Get the rest of the team, will you? Be there in a minute once I fetch my uniform."
"All right," Fred replied, looking down at his brother with a hard glare that George could feel strike the back of his head just where a growing bump was forming. Fred nudged him in the rib with his foot. "Oi. George. Get up already."
Angelina set the bludger down beside her only to lean forward and carefully lift George's head from the grass. She carefully angled his face so that his cheek could rest on the ground, allowing for easier breathing. "Guess it's a draw, George. Rematch to be announced," she admitted, giving him a brief-but-tender pat on the head before slipping into captain tone. "Be dressed and on the field in 10." Angelina sighed, retrieving the bludger while standing up. She glared at Fred. "And don't pull those types of stunts again, Fred, or I'll have you doing laps til you see stars running round your head like the Whomping Willow got hold. We need all our players in one piece."
Fred raised his hand to his head in a salute. "Aye aye, Captain Ma'am."
She rolled her eyes but smiled at him as she walked past. "Mental you are," she said lowly.
"You know you love it," he flirted.
"Only if it wins us the next match," she threw over her shoulder. Fred made a light jog to catch up with her.
George sighed softly, his breath sweeping against some blades of grass. Shame that moment was ruined, he thought to himself, considering how Fred's jealous possessive streak would be on overload for the rest of the day. He smirked as he jumped off the ground. Shame that Fred didn't know the payback he'd be getting on the Quidditch field. Well, at least George wasn't bored anymore. He smiled warmly as he thought about the flecks of gold that sparkled in her eyes, twinkling like stars swimming in a pool of delicious chocolate. And at least I got an excuse to see her without interruption for a while. He ruffled his hair in the spot her fingers had just caressed and he smiled all the way to the locker rooms, thinking to himself, Maybe, someday…
~*~*
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