A/N: I know I've been terrible at updating the stories you've all wanted me to, especially Live, Love, Laugh, Let Go but the truth is I'm still pretty far from the plot element you want to read, so I offer you this bit of George/Katie fluff I concocted lately. It's very light, but hopefully it will curb your desire for George/Katie at least for a while. This is especially dedicated to ImprovGeek who asked for a Valentine's Day update which I failed to deliver…I hope it wasn't too painful for you & I offer you this as recompense! Sorry it's so long, I've become a ridiculous rambler lately…
"You know," said Fred Weasley to his twin one day in Potions class. "I hate to be a nag, but I can't help noticing that you still haven't acquired a date to the Yule Ball, which is now…" he counted on his rather long fingers, "Six days away."
"That's because I haven't asked anyone," George replied carelessly, leafing through the pages of their shared Potions book. "And you love to be a nag. This is the third time you've brought it up in as many hours."
"Merely concerned about the welfare of my nearest and dearest relation, beloved brother," Fred replied jauntily, leaning on the edge of their cauldron which was simmering away peacefully.
"I thought that was Percy," George quipped. "Can you stir that? It's supposed to be purple, and it's…orange."
Fred sidestepped his brother's jibe and stirred their potion clockwise, instantly returning it to a deep purple hue. "Even ickle Ronnie-kins has a got a date now, you know," he continued. "Mind you, Harry had to ask for him, but still…never thought I'd see the day the Great George Weasley was outdone by his younger brother."
Still, George would not rise to his twin brother's bait. "Believe it or not, Fred," he said calmly. "I don't consider myself outdone when I don't care about the thing in the first place."
"I don't understand you lately," the other redhead complained. "Isn't there any girl you fancy going with?"
"Nope," George lied, avoiding Fred's piercing gaze. "And what are you so worried about, anyway? I'll find some third year bird who can't go without being asked, we'll go with you and Ange, I'll have my merry way with her, and have done. End of story."
Fred rolled his eyes. "Whatever, mate," he said "Except you and I both know you'll end up tagging along with me and Ange alone, sulk through half the event, pick up one someone else's date, have your merry way with her, and then have done, never to talk to the poor lass again."
George nodded. "Sounds about right, yeah."
"Just do yourself a favor and ask a girl properly, okay?"
Before George could retort, however, Professor Snape wandered near and drawled lazily from the corner of his mouth, "If the two of you would spend a tenth of time paying attention to instruction as you do discussing your inane personal lives, you may find that the potion we are brewing today is located on page 48, not 84 and thus you may not have failed today's class."
A quarter of the class looked up from their work to see how the famous Weasley twins would retort. Looking supremely amused, Fred took the book from George's hands and then peered into the cauldron.
"By Jove, I believe you're right, Professor," he said merrily. "Though in all conscientiousness, you can't very well punish us for being ahead of the curve, can you?"
Professor Snape's lip curled in its traditionally degrading manner. "I believe you'll find I can, Weasley One," he sneered. "Weasley Two, as you appear to be master of the textbook for the day, what do you have to say for yourself?"
In no mood to play his traditional self, George was prepared to mutter a lame excuse and call his twin off for the day. Fred had been finding far too many excuses to be entertaining after securing Angelina as his Yule Ball date; but at the moment he looked up, he happened to catch the eye of Katie Bell, whose bright blue eyes were dancing with suppressed laughter. Always taking the chance to make Katie laugh, George swapped his annoyed expression for a smirk.
"I'm afraid I'm all out of excuses, but for the one my brother has already supplied, sir," George said obsequiously. "And have nothing further to say for myself, except to thank you for your illustrious teaching abilities that have enabled us to progress thus."
Fred grinned. "You really are a wonder, sir," he added.
"And quite dashing—"
"If we do say so ourselves."
"Smashing cloak."
"And gloves."
"The fabric, I daresay, is—"
"Enough!" Snape said with finality. "Detention tomorrow, both of you. Seven o'clock, my office."
Right on cue, Katie burst into laughter. Alicia Spinnet quickly clapped a hand over her friend's mouth, but it was too late.
"And as you seem to find the situation so amusing yourself, Miss Bell, you may as well join them," he added, without looking in her direction.
Katie sunk low in her chair, frowning.
Fred rolled his eyes, but sniggered slightly. "Kates never could control herself. Nice bout of dyslexia, by the way. I suppose you don't care we're failing now?"
George scarcely heard his brother, however; he was busy giving Katie Bell an encouraging half smile from where he sat. Fred observed him suspiciously.
"Say," he said accusatorily. "The reason you're not asking anyone isn't because Kates is going home over holiday, is it?"
"No," George denied vehemently, his pulse suddenly skyrocketing.
"Because I really don't think it's healthy, the way you two cling to one another in situations like this," Fred continued. George's heart rate returned to normal. "Always together—dances, Hogsmeade weekends, anything that requires a date, really. I mean, it's not as if you two fancy each other. So what gives?"
George shrugged, helping Fred clean out the contents of their cauldron. "We get on well," he answered. "And it's a lot easier than trying to find a ruddy date all the time."
"But it's not as if you would have trouble," Fred argued. "With the random birds you come crawling out of the broom cupboard with. It's like you're a bloody couple. You're restricting your options, you know. And hers."
George ignored him. Soon afterward, the bell rang and Fred ran off to go bother Angelina. Not feeling like waiting for Lee Jordan to clean up the disastrous after effects of his own potion making, the redhead sauntered out of the classroom on his own. Katie soon caught up to him.
"You've really got to learn to control that laughter of yours, Kates," he grinned, observing the petite brunette next to him.
She let out a puff of air in a frustrated manner, rumpling the fringe across her forehead.
"Miserable old git," she said. "On my last day before holiday, too! Mum will be pleased about that—I'll have left half my things here because I'll have been in detention instead of up in my dormitory packing."
"You could always learn to do your packing ahead of time, you know," George pointed out with a smirk.
"You know I won't," Katie countered, and gave the password to the Fat Lady. Both entered the Gryffindor common room. Fred and Angelina had beaten them there and were now doing some rather obvious flirting in the corner. George and Katie flopped down next to one another on a couch opposite Lee and Alicia.
"You could always just stay here, you know," George said coyly, looking over at Katie with his best pleading face.
"I know you want me to stay so you don't have to go to the trouble of asking someone to the Ball," she said, rolling her eyes. "But I can't leave Mum on her own over the holidays, you know that."
"I don't see why not," George said cheekily, playing with the loose ends of Katie's short and somewhat messy hair. "You could send her on a singles' cruise to Barbados—she could bask in the glow of the sun and the attentions of five dozen suitors, and you could accompany me to the Yule Ball: your hair for once coiffed and neat, silver high heeled shoes, and a pink chiffon dress. We could dance the night away."
Katie wrinkled her nose.
"Well, maybe not pink then," George conceded.
"I was more distressed that you knew what chiffon was," Katie said dryly.
Alicia laughed. "George, you can't take Katie away from her mother. I'm sorry to side with Fred on this one, but get a move on and find a date!"
"I think my date's got a few friends not going as yet," Lee offered. "I would hate to see you disgraced, mate."
"Why are you all against me?" George muttered darkly.
XxX
George had a free period the next afternoon and, having gotten rid of Fred, was spending it walking idly through the halls and brooding over what to do about his rather large Katie problem. It was all getting fairly ridiculous. He was, as his twin so often reminded him, George Weasley, and thus confidence had never been much of a problem. Neither had been acquiring girls. In fact, George had a bit of a reputation for it.
He had just never assumed that his desires would one day take the form of his best friend. Hiding it, ignoring it, and trying to will it away had all produced equally unhelpful results. George was stuck. It was therefore obvious that at that moment he would run into the object of his frustration.
Katie Bell was on her own in the middle of a seventh floor hallway, standing on her tip toes and jumping up and down in an effort to reach something over a doorway. George observed her for a few moments, smirked, and strolled over.
"Hey Bell," he said casually, leaning against the wall and putting his hands into his pockets. "What's going on?"
She rolled her eyes. "Wipe that smirk off your face, George Weasley," she snapped.
"What smirk?" George asked innocently.
Katie sighed and ran a hand through her hair, joining George in leaning against the wall.
"Ange and I were racing on our broomsticks up here a few hours ago when Filch caught us," she explained. "She got away, of course, and I had to toss my broom over this ledge to hide it."
"And then you stood in front of the doorway and said 'I don't know what you think you saw, Mr. Filch, but it certainly wasn't me'?"
Katie shrugged. "Something along those lines, yeah. Anyway, now I can't reach it."
George backed up, observed Katie's Cleansweep 7 neatly hidden within his grasp and then looked down at his height-challenged friend.
"Rotten luck, mate," he grinned.
"George!"
"You've really got to start learning to bring your wand with you at moments like this, Kates," he remarked casually.
She laughed slightly. "I suppose you're right," she conceded. "But why get into good habits when you have a friend who's six foot five?"
"No, I don't think so," George said teasingly. "Not today. You've got to learn to fend for yourself, m'dear. This is your little problem."
Katie put her hands on her hips. "You got me into detention," she stated.
"Oh, I suppose you're right," George conceded. "But that wasn't entirely my fault, so it will have to be a team effort. Here, you curl into a ball, I'll toss you up toward the doorframe, and then you can sort of…uncurl…grab your broom, I'll hop onto the back, and we go zipping off to Hogsmeade to buy you the pink chiffon dress so that you can come to the Yule Ball with me."
Katie narrowed her eyes. "I've got a far less ridiculous counter-proposal for you."
"I'm open to other fabrics, I suppose."
"No. You kneel down and help me reach the broom."
"Oh alright. Deal."
Accordingly, the lanky redhead knelt down and allowed his friend to climb on his knee and grab his hand to steady herself. A jolt of electricity shot down George's spine as Katie's fingers locked with his, and he shivered involuntarily.
"No looking up my skirt," she warned.
"Wouldn't dream of it love," he answered, however sorely tempted.
Within seconds, Katie had recovered the Cleansweep and leapt off of George's knee.
"Thanks mate," she grinned. "And, erm…you can let go of my hand now."
"Oh," George said stupidly. "Er…right."
He released Katie's hand and she smiled at him cheekily.
"Well," she said. "I'm off. I've got packing to do before I leave tonight and thanks to you and Fred, I'll be spending my last couple of hours before break in detention…"
"You're welcome," he called after her as he watched her retreating form disappear down the hall, silhouetted against the backdrop of snow falling softly outside the wall-length window. George let out an unintentional sigh.
"You could always tell her, you know," said a dream-like voice somewhere near his elbow, causing George to jump a foot in the air.
He whirled around to find an impish looking Ravenclaw third-year standing next to him. She had waist-length tow-headed hair and an expression of pure unconcern on her face. Tiny radishes hung from her ears.
"Erm—hello," George said uncertainly. "Sorry to ask but—er—do I know you?"
The girl ignored the question. "Katie Bell is a self-reliant, but emotionally vulnerable third-wave feminist, single-and-pretending-to-be-happy-about-it, overly optimistic dreamer, overworked and underappreciated Quidditch star," she continued in the same manner. "She buys any magazine that says "healthy body image" on the cover, changes her handwriting every two weeks, but has worn the same pair of tennis shoes since she was thirteen. And every two years she takes up knitting for…a week. My summation is that she's particularly vulnerable to romantic overtures during major holidays and since it's Christmas, I think you should tell her."
George gaped at the small blonde girl before him. "Tell her what?" he asked stubbornly. "And how do you know all of that about Katie."
"I can tell by the way she does her hair," she answered simply. "You were easier to figure out. Your eyes follow her when she walks."
"Meaning…?"
"You like her. You have for four years and have been conscious of it for two." She blinked.
"You're nutters."
"A lot of people say that," the girl said carelessly. "But I have ninety percent accuracy in my observations."
George just raised an eyebrow and made his way toward the stairs. "Okay. Erm…I'll see you around…"
"You ought to believe me," she called after him. "You have the chance to gain what you've wanted for four years. And your twin brother would finally leave you alone."
"Right…"
Nutter, George thought, disappearing down the staircase.
XxX
"Please stay," George asked Katie again while they were disemboweling frogs in detention.
"No," Katie said firmly.
"Please stay," George pleaded.
"No."
"Please, please, please stay?" George fell to his knees and wrung his hands in front of his friend who remained coolly reserved.
"I think the lady said no, brother dear," Fred said from across the table.
"Isn't disemboweling frogs a first-year type of detention?" Katie asked, ignoring George who was currently grabbing her around the ankles. "Do you think this is reflective of Snape's trust in us?"
Fred laughed and George interrupted with, "Is this about the pink chiffon?"
"Get on your feet, George, it hurts to see you like that," Fred commented, inserting his knife into the belly of a fresh frog.
"It's the silver high-heeled shoes, isn't it?" George continued, getting to his feet.
Katie turned to face him. "It's not, George," she said. "It's more about the fact that you're exploiting our friendship so that you feel less lonely."
She said this in a joking manner, but George knew there was a grain of truth to this. Katie was never entirely sarcastic. Fred picked up on this, looked subtly from Katie to his twin, and made an excuse of going to empty the bucket of frog guts next door.
"Come on, Kates, you know that's not what it's about," George began.
"I know, I was just joking," the brunette said dismissively, slipping a new frog onto the cutting board in front of her.
"No, you weren't," George prompted.
Katie sighed and flicked a stray bit of fringe away from her eyes. "Well okay," she said. "That's just a little bit what it feels like sometimes. But I know it's not the real reason."
"It's not," he assured her. "It's definitely not."
Katie frowned slightly. "Then what is?" she asked.
"Hmm?"
"The real reason."
"Oh," George began. "Erm…"
His mind began racing for an appropriate answer, a little quip which would both amuse and satisfy her and not leave himself open to speculation. Then he suddenly thought of the strange girl in the hallway that afternoon and what she had told him. You could always just tell her, you know.
George paused, his palms beginning to sweat. Katie looked up at him impatiently. Oh bloody hell, why not?
"It's because I like you," he said finally, doing his best to disguise any semblance of trepidation in his voice.
Katie rolled her eyes. "Oh George, I know you like me. But you like Alicia and Angelina too, and you don't take over their romantic lives."
George waved his hand dismissively. "Oh no," he said. "Not like that. I mean, I like you. You know, as in I fancy you. I, er, was never really planning on telling you that but erm—well I figured it was Christmas and I should probably…you know…come clean."
He shrugged, and stared at her, blanching inwardly at how utterly unromantic that speech had been.
Katie simply stared back at him, an odd expression on her face that resembled both confusion and disbelief. She absentmindedly picked up her knife from the table and began turning it over in her hands.
"Really?" she asked finally.
George nodded to confirm his feelings. "Yes."
She raised her eyebrows. "Wow," she said. "Erm…I don't really know what to say to that, George. I don't know that I've ever thought of you that way before."
George's heart sank to the ground. "Okay," he said finally.
"I'm sorry," Katie said, frowning.
"I guess that really didn't convince you to stay and go to the Yule Ball with me, eh?" George tried to joke, laughing awkwardly.
"Sorry," she said again in a small voice.
"It's okay," he said with more resolution than he felt. "That's alright, I'll just—er—go, then."
Breathing unevenly, George put his head down and headed out the door just as his twin reentered, looking around confusedly.
"What happened?" Fred asked.
XxX
Christmas Eve found George Weasley having quite performed up to Fred's expectations for him. He was currently sitting along the sidelines in his loud vest and tie, arms folded, observing the fray before him. Bored and having abandoned his own pretty third year date hours ago, George was content to wait for the rest of the event to wind up. He would have actually been more content to go up to his room at that moment, but he knew he would have to endure endless bereavement from his brother if he took that route.
Since Katie's departure, George had been doing his best to rally his spirits and remain his normally cheerful self. Still, he had been even sulkier than he had the previous week and his friends had noticed it. Katie had apparently not told anyone of their encounter, because no one had said anything—or seemed to know anything—but they were constantly attacking him about his lack of Christmas cheer. George had simply brushed them off with a wave of his hand and sarcastic remark.
Now, bored and alone, he thought of her again and wondered how best to approach the situation when she returned. Getting over the crush was imperative; having things return to normal would be a bit more difficult. While he was brooding over this matter, someone tapped him on the shoulder. Sighing, George turned around to greet the disturber of his peace.
It was Katie. His eyes grew wide. She was standing before him with a smirk on her face, strappy silver high heels on her feet, and wearing a black chiffon dress. Her normally messy hair was combed until it shone and was coiffed in waves. George opened his mouth to speak, but found he could not.
"I know it's not pink," she began. "But it's chiffon. And I think I've got the heels right."
George laughed. "No, no, I like black," he said. "It matches your heart for not bothering to tell me you were planning on turning up."
Katie shrugged. "Well, it was a last minute decision," she explained. "Mum was annoyed that I kept sulking around the house and when she asked what the matter was, I could hardly think of what to say. Then I realized it was because of you."
"Me?"
"Yes, you tosser. I realized that every time I'm out with someone else, I'm silently comparing him to you. And that the reason I agree to be your date to all of these ridiculous functions tended to be somewhat deeper than laziness or malcontent with everyone else."
"I see. And then?"
"And then I told Mum about this epiphany and she sent me straight here. She's with your family at the moment actually, if I'm not much mistaken. So she's not alone."
"And you're here."
"And I'm here."
"Even wearing what I told you to, as well. That's invaluable in a woman."
"George, are you even going to pretend to be pleased that I got dressed up and came all the way down here to tell you that I fancy you in spite of myself? Or is the joke reflex so ingrained in you that you can't actually feel anything?"
George laughed. "On the contrary, I'm quite pleased. I'm only unhappy you didn't make it until now. I think there's only one song left."
"Well then we had better dance, hadn't we?"
"My lady?" George said, offering Katie his arm. She laughed and took it, and he led them to the dance floor.
Holding her close, he closed his eyes and buried his face into her sweet-smelling hair, kissing her lightly over and over again. The music played on and the pair of them rotated slowly in the middle of the dance floor while their friends stared on in amazement.
"I knew I made the right decision," George whispered into her ear.
"What are you talking about?" Katie asked.
"This crazy girl I met on the seventh floor last week told me that you took up knitting every two years and were emotionally vulnerable at Christmas so I should take a chance at winning you over."
"She told you I was emotionally what?"
"Do you take up knitting every two years?"
"Yes," Katie answered, blushing deeply. "For about a week."
"Uncanny."
"In the interest of kissing you faster, I'm not going to argue about the emotionally vulnerable bit, though."
"Excellent decision, my dear," George answered, dipping her low. As he brought her up again, he leaned in and caressed her face, placing a kiss gently on her lips. "And you really do look fantastic in chiffon."