Mid-afternoon. A seemingly innocent classroom full of restless sixth years. It all seemed rather mundane to Bernadette Wilson. She'd already read ahead through that week's material, and though she had a penchant for Professor McGonagall's teaching she found herself hopelessly distracted through the whole lesson. It was an odd demeanor to find her trapped by.

She was a sixth year Ravenclaw and at the top of her class. It was not for lack of effort. The young woman studied more hours than she allowed herself to sleep and was always devoted to her schoolwork. She was usually attentive to a fault, always asked questions and never missed a beat during class hours. Never broke a rule once in her whole life either. Strict parents had shaped her into a perfect young lady who could do everything from produce a perfect charm to balance a book on top her head.

But for some reason that afternoon she couldn't seem to find her center. Her sharp-as-a-tack attention span dwindled away like fraying string. She placed her dainty chin in her hand and blew a sigh out of a mouth as red as rose hips.

Had she ever had the time or desire to be popular, she might have had a chance. Bernadette was a pretty thing, made up of soft lines and white skin. If she were a flower she might have been a white lily. Her hair was as blonde as white wine and hung in a smoothed, waved ponytail down her back. Her eyes were full and youthful, one stark blue and the other a rich hazel.

She was built like a dancer with long, willowy legs and a lean torso. When she walked she floated across the ground. To a stranger she might have been assumed to be some pureblood royalty. Of course, she'd been at Hogwarts long enough to build her true reputation. A regular old stick-in-the-mud Ravenclaw with perfect marks and arguably nice hair.

Bernadette was watching a leaf blow by the window when George Weasley leaned over from the seat to her right. He blocked the aisle between their two tables with an outstretched arm.

"Oi, Bernadette, right?" he hissed at her.

She wasn't often found associating with the Weasley twins, or anyone like them for that matter. The fact that she and George Weasley were assigned seats next to one another was sheer unfortunate happenstance. He hadn't made much of a nuisance out of himself so far, at least not directly. And she found it easy to ignore his in-class quips that had the rest of the student body giggling like mad in what Bernadette considered valuable learning time. She ignored him all together when she could. The Weasley twins were infamous for their rule breaking, reckless behavior and childish pranks. Bernadette never wanted anything to do with them, so she kept away.

But there she was, minutes towards the end of class, being whispered at by him. She couldn't just ignore him.

"Yes," she whispered back, albeit suspiciously.

"Want a lolly?" he asked.

Now, the number one rule in Hogwarts is to never, ever under any circumstances take anything edible from either Fred or George Weasley. But unfortunately for Bernadette's character, tacked on to her bookish qualities was an embarrassing clumsiness around boys. All boys. Even ones who she shuddered at the thought of. Even George Weasley.

She turned to look at him. Though she cringed at the thought of his reckless attitude and complete disregard for all things studious, Bernadette had to admit George Weasley was looking rather dashing these days. He and his brother had let their hair grow out similarly and though red wasn't ever her color, it definitely suited him. It made his blue eyes pop in the regal, handsome structure of his face. He wore a crooked grin on his mouth like it was the newest fashion. That was just enough to get Bernadette past his previous indiscretions and the fact that they'd never spoken a word to each other before this.

Flustered she reached out a hand and accepted the pink sucker. He winked and leaned back into his own seat. Across the room she saw his identical brother give him a look. She couldn't quite read it. No one ever could. You never quite knew what the twins were up to, and that's the way they liked to keep it. Most people swore they had some freaky psychic link.

"Thanks," she said with a little waver to her voice. She looked to the front of the classroom to make sure Professor McGonagall hadn't caught her not paying attention and then glanced down at the lollipop.

Tentatively, she stuck it in her mouth, very aware of George's eyes on her all the while. The candy was strawberry flavored. She rolled the taste around on her tongue and struggled to pay attention to the end of the lesson.

Seconds after tasting the lollipop, her cheeks started to heat up. Bernadette thought nothing of it. That was, until the rest of her body started to grow hot. The warmth spread down from her cheeks to the tips of her toes. Her white skin grew sticky and uncomfortable. She felt like she was on fire. Her breath started to grow heavy in her lungs, hard as she tried to quiet it. She gripped the edge of the table and tried to get a hold of herself.

"I want you all to make sure you've read your material for next weeks lesson," Professor McGonagall was saying. Her voice sounded miles away.

Bernadette turned her head at George who she found grinning from ear to ear. An overwhelming and foreign urge drowned her willpower all of a sudden and before she could stop herself she ripped the lolly from her mouth and rose from her chair. Both objects clattered to the floor and Professor McGonagall went silent at the noise. The rest of the class turned to watch as Ms. Goody-Two-Shoes herself marched in front of George Weasley, shook her hair out of her ponytail, growled a little and proceeded to straddle the boy.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew what she was doing. But whatever was in the lollipop had complete override and her subconscious could do nothing but sit and watch as she swooped down and snogged the daylights out of the trickster. It was hard to kiss him because he was laughing, her primal instincts noted. Eventually, she was going so hard at it that she managed to flip both of them over. In a fluttering of robes and white blonde hair they crashed to the floor, mouths interlocked, Bernadette's hands roaming where no girls hands should roam in public.

"Ms. Wilson, Mr. Weasley, get a hold of yourselves!" Professor McGonagall screamed. She picked up her skirts and ran forward. "Really now, Ms. Wilson get off of him this instant or I'll –Ms. Wilson!"

It was at that point Bernadette tried to find George's sinewy, Quidditch disciplined frame under all those pesky robes. Professor McGonagall promptly ripped her up by her own robes and yanked her back. Panting, Bernadette struggled for a moment. The dark pupils in her pale eyes were as big as dinner plates as she tried to get back to George. But slowly, as the few licks of the lollipop wore off, her pupils returned to normal size, her breath relaxed and her struggles ceased. She stood in a shocked silence with her hair a mess and looked around at the thirty or so pairs of eyes trained on her in awe.

"The rest of you are free to go," McGonagall sighed wearily.

In a midst of hushed giggles and whispers the rest of the class collected their things and shuffled out. A few of them hung by the doorway, Bernadette noted, no doubt wondering what her and George's fates would be. Bernadette watched them all go. Her cheeks heated up as red as George's hair as he climbed to his feet beside her and McGonagall

She stared daggers at him. All he offered her was his infamous crooked grin. He sent his brother a wink over her shoulder as he exited the class last.

"I've never seen such a display of inappropriate behavior!" McGonagall broke Bernadette's glowering and George's grinning. Her shrill voice echoed in the empty classroom.

"I'd expect this from you, Mr. Weasley but not in a million years from you Ms. Wilson. I'm very disappointed in the both of you."

Bernadette hung her head. Humiliation made her willowy body sag. George flipped hair out of his eyes with a practiced flick of his head and obviously tried to quiet his grin.

"You two will march yourselves straight to detention," McGonagall muttered in finality, "Off you go."

Detention? The word fell to the bottom of Bernadette's stomach like a lead weight. She'd never gotten a detention in her life. How could this be happening? She couldn't have dreamed the whole scenario up in her worst nightmares.

She took another look at the boy by her side, with his perfect hair and stupid grin. Somewhere a thought trickled The stupid git was a bloody good kisser, wasn't he? But she squashed it bitterly. This was all his fault. Did he even have a motive, other than to cause chaos? Did he do anything besides make a fool out of himself and everyone around him?

Only one thing was certain. From that moment on, Bernadette Wilson was sure she absolutely loathed George Weasley.