Midnight in the Kitchens
oOo
George shoved his hands in his pockets, cursing Snape with ever foul word and misfortune that he could think of. He'd had to spend three hours, three hours, scrubbing out old cauldrons caked with old, rotten smelling potions. It was ridiculous! He hadn't even done that much damage. So what if a couple Slytherins had to be rushed to the Hospital Wing? They'd probably done something to deserve it, anyway. Snape just had no sense of humor. He could have had a jolly old time laughing with the rest of the class as two of the stupidest Slytherins in his year staggered about the room covered in rainbow-colored boils, but no. He'd just given George a week's worth of detention.
George kicked the wall of the stone corridor absentmindedly. Maybe he could pretend to be sick until Snape forgot about the detentions, but he knew that would never happen. He wouldn't mind the detentions so much if they were with Fred, but since he had been sick with the flu the day of the prank, so George had decided to carry it out on his own. But after thinking it over and replaying the scene of the blundering idiots running around blindly waving their arms around wildly, he still concurred that it was worth it. Very worth it.
In fact, George decided to celebrate with a little midnight snack. Instead of talking the moving staircase up to Gryffindor Tower, he kept walking straight, walking down the stairs to the Great Hall, and then to the portrait of the fruit bowl.
He tickled the green pear in the center of the painting, and then stepped back to let it swing back to reveal the opening to the Hogwarts kitchens. Of all the things he had been expecting to find in the Hogwarts kitchen at midnight on a Wednesday, it was not Alexis. Especially not a sobbing Alexis curled up in front of the small fireplace while Dobby was offering her his once-white hanky.
Dobby turned his large, water eyes to George, who stood frozen in the doorway. He'd never seen Alexis cry before. Ever. Hell, he'd never seen her express any emotion except maybe neutral and completely livid. "Master Weezy!" cried Dobby, hurrying toward George, tripping over his wool socks that were several sizes too big for his minuscule feet, one yellow with orange polka dots, and the other brown with a black heel and toe.
George sent a panicked glance at Alexis, who was staring up at him in a mixture of complete horror, embarrassment, and shock. "Alexis, what's wrong?" asked George, walking over to her in only three large strides. She was already on her feet by the time he'd reached her. She furiously wiped at the tears that were still falling steadily from her red-rimmed eyes.
"Merlin, this is just my luck," she muttered, trying to push past George, but he stepped in front of her.
"Alexis," he said slowly, "what's wrong? Why are you crying?"
"I'm not crying!" Alexis shrieked, stamping her foot like a child who had been denied sweets. "You just…of all the people to see me like this…Weasley, you…just get out of my way!" George didn't move. Alexis tried in vain to stare him down, but as she glared into his clear blue eyes she felt herself crumbling even worse than before. As the tears slid faster and thicker down her face, Alexis finally gave up trying to hide the fact that she was crying. "Damn it, Weasley. Why is it always you?" she sobbed, turning around so her back was to George, and she was facing the small fireplace once again. She wrapped her arms around herself as she felt herself losing control. She slid to the floor, shaking with suppressed sobs. Why was George being so quiet? He was supposed to be rubbing it in her face that she wasn't as tough as she made everyone believe. And she was supposed to be yelling back at him. But she didn't feel like yelling. She just felt like crying. And crying. And crying. And she didn't give a damn if George Weasley stood there and watched her the whole time.
But her sudden change of attitude wasn't what shocked her the most. It was the pair of arms that she felt closing around her waist, and the sensation of being lifted, and then let back down. It took a few moments for Alexis to register what had happened: George had scooped her up into his lap. She was curled up around George, crying into his chest while he held her, rocking her softly like her Mum had used to do when she was little.
This only made Alexis sob harder. In the back of her mind, she realized that she was probably ruining George's shirt, but it was his own fault for putting her here in the first place. Alexis continued to cry until she was almost certain she'd run out of tears. She gasped unevenly as she tried to calm the sobs that still wanted to escape her, but she eventually began to calm down; the rocking movement that George was causing was helping considerably.
"Why do you always know the right thing to do?" she mumbled miserably into his now-damp shirt. She could feel the vibration in George's strong chest as he chuckled.
"I'll take that as a compliment," he whispered by her ear, starting to rub soothing circles up and down her back.
"Keep doing that and I'll fall asleep," Alexis murmured, her eyelids growing heavier with every movement. George's chest was warm against her hand and face, and she subconsciously nuzzled closer to him. Yes, she would deny it all in the morning without a doubt, but for now, she would just enjoy the moment. In fact, now that she thought about it, she couldn't even remember what she'd been so upset about in the first place.
After both had fallen silent, Alexis spoke up again. "You do know that I'll have to kill you if you tell anyone about this, right? No offence."
George rolled his eyes. "None taken." Of course, he could have replied with a million different sarcastic comments or versions of blackmail, but he didn't want to push his luck. He was more than fine with just having Alexis curled up in his arms.
For now, that is.
oOo
Don't push your luck, Georgie...
Disclaimer: I do not own HP, I only own Alexis.
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