Falling
Chapter One: Request

Author's Note: Couldn't leave it alone, sorry! To clarify, this is a companion piece, the prequel if you like, to All the Time in the World. Jemima Lupin is an OC, so if you don't like them, best to avoid this I think! You don't have to have read the other story to understand this one.


Jemima heard him before she saw him. George Weasley seemed to walk louder than most people, jingling change in his pocket, his book bag thumping steadily against his hip. When Jem stuck her head round a bookshelf she was surprised when he caught sight of her and raised his hand as he came over, almost as if he had been looking for her in particular.

"Thought I'd find you here. Neville said you were working on your Potions essay."

"Sssshhh," she said and beckoned him further down the narrow passage between the shelves, away from Madam Pince's sharp ears. She gazed at the books on a shelf above her head, more to prevent herself staring at him than anything else. "What were you looking for me for?"

"Charming," he replied, only just below his normal volume. "And here was me about to ask you to the Yule Ball."

The bottom seemed to fall out of her stomach. Not in the way it did when Snape asked her a question she didn't know, but in a way that made her feel quite light-headed. Almost as though her feet didn't belong to her and she could float away at any moment. Of course, she had dreamed of this moment since Professor McGonagall had announced it in Transfiguration the other week, but only Neville Longbottom knew how intensely she had hoped George would be the one to ask her.

"If he doesn't," Neville had said, "I'll take you." He hadn't been able to meet her eye when he said it.

"You're joking," she said to George, looking at him with wide eyes.

"Is that your way of letting me down gently?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow in a way that gave her a swooping feeling in her chest. He really did have lovely eyebrows.

"No," she said quickly, too quickly. "I just - why are you asking me?"

"'Cause it'll be a laugh with you."

That is precisely the reason that Neville would want to go with me, she thought. She returned her gaze to the bookshelves and didn't answer.

"Do I get an answer sometime this term?" he asked, leaning against the shelves and watching her closely.

"Go on then," she said and felt a smile tugging at her lips. After all, George had asked her to the Ball. Even if he only meant as friends, it was a start. And who knew what might happen if she did something pretty with her hair and steered him under some mistletoe? Kissing George Weasley had been Jem's main fantasy since somewhere between second and third year, when she decided that kissing probably wasn't quite as revolting as it looked.

"Great!" he grinned at her and she felt herself glow.

In an attempt to hide the grin that had fought its way across her face, she reached a hand up for a book, burying her face against her arm so she could smile freely.

"Here," he leaned over her, his chest pressed against her back. She had taken off her jumper and could feel his warmth through her shirt across her skin. His tie had loosened and dribbled down the back of her collar. He glanced at the book she had been reaching for and raised his eyebrows at her.

"I don't think there's need for any of that," he said, handing it to her with a wink.

She watched him go, then noticed in horror that she had been reaching for a book of love potions.


She raced up the stairs to the fourth year boys' dormitory and burst in without knocking. Neville, who had been attempting to break his new shoes in and practice at the same time, had been waltzing between the beds and yelped as he jumped and cracked his knee against Seamus's bedpost.

"Are you all right?" she asked, pushing him back on the bed and going to roll up his trouser leg.

"Yes!" he replied quickly and pushed her hands away. There was no way he wanted her seeing the thicket of hair that had recently sprouted on his legs. "You should've knocked! I could have been changing!"

He reddened at the very thought but she didn't seem to have really heard him. He noticed that she was dancing from foot to foot with suppressed excitement.

"Sorry! But I had to tell you! You'll never guess!"

"What?" he rubbed his knee and stood up, his new shoes clicking smartly on the floor.

She grabbed his hands and began to drag him around the room. He laughed as he slipped an arm around her waist and twirled her around. Turns out, he was rather a good dancer, despite his big feet and clumsiness.

"George Weasley has asked me to the Yule Ball!" she squealed.

He stumbled slightly over his own feet, suddenly aware of his ungainly limbs, his stooping height (oh, why had he waited so long to write to his Gran for new trousers?).

"Yeah?" he mumbled.

"Yes! Which means that you don't have to take me, so you can ask someone else!"

He was dismayed by the look on her face, she clearly thought this was excellent news, that he had been waiting for the chance to ask someone else. She obviously had no idea that he'd been getting ever more hopeful, as the day drew nearer, that George might not ask her. Then he could take her and there's all sorts you can pluck up the courage to do when you can blame it on the mistletoe.

"Oh," he said. "Well, I hadn't really thought who..."

"We'll think of someone, don't worry!"

She took his hand from where it hung listlessly at his side and placed it firmly on her narrow waist. Then she placed her hand on his shoulder, took his other hand in hers and stepped close into his embrace.

"Er, Jem...?"

"I'm not very good at dancing," she said sheepishly. "You couldn't show me, could you?"