Bernadette whisked her books and her wand from her desk and marched out the door. The few students who hung around to wait for the verdict scattered upon her exit. Her dark robes swirled around her in a dark unfurling of shadows. She held her chin high and pressed her lips together in a thin line.
Detention. Detention? How could this possibly be happening to her? Bernadette Wilson did not get detention. She did not bring attention to herself, she did not break rules, she did not disobey orders and she certainly did not get up in the middle of class to snog random boys. And even if she did, George Weasley wouldn't have been at the top of her list.
She heard his footsteps scuffing behind her. Bernadette tried to quicken her pace but in a few long strides he caught up. She saw a glimpse of his red hair but refused to give him the satisfaction of a glance.
"Stay away from me," she hissed and weaved between a throng of students passing.
"Oh come now, that's no way to treat a bloke after a kiss like that," George quipped. Bernadette could just hear the grin in his voice.
She whirled on him once they were in an open patch of hallway and glared. He skidded to a halt in front of her, hair whisking in front of his face before he cleared it away. His blue eyes gleamed with mischief that she wanted to scratch out. He towered over her and that infuriated her even more. She craned her neck to look up at him.
"Just leave me alone," she said, "It's bad enough you humiliated me in front of the entire class, but you had to get me sent to detention too."
She whispered the word as if she was uttering the Dark Lord's name. She threw up her arms and turned to walk again.
"Detention, I mean honestly! I've never gotten a detention in my whole life."
George snorted as he fell into step with her again.
"You mean to tell me this is your first detention?"
"Yes."
"You really need to get out more, love."
Bernadette stopped short again and balled her hands into little white fists at her sides. He was still grinning that stupid crooked grin of his. She was so angry she couldn't even find her voice. George shrugged in her silence.
"There is a bright side to all of this, you know," he murmured.
"Do tell," she frowned.
He dug his hand inside his robes and pulled out a wrapped collection of pink lollipops. He held them for her to see and grinned proudly, puffing out his chest a little.
"Lusty lollies are a success!" he said triumphantly, "You were our very first test subject. And I'm happy to report the results were just what we'd hoped for."
Bernadette's face turned beet red.
He winked, "And more."
Bernadette shrieked with rage and turned away from him again. This time she refused to stop. All she wanted to do was get to the detention room, then she could sit in silence and not have to talk to the stupid sod. She made a notion to try and straighten out her hair as she passed through hallway after hallway, trying to get George off her tail. It was an effort in vain. His long legs covered distance that she couldn't escape from.
He hovered at her side, walking next to her with a practiced saunter and thankfully had enough sense to say quiet after the last outburst. Though he did break their faux obliviousness to one another just once to grab her arm and pull her out of the path of some rowdy first years that came tearing down the hall. She detested the shiver that went up her spine at his hand along her elbow and wrenched out of his grasp.
"Don't touch me," she threatened.
He held up his hands as if to surrender. The sparkle in his eye was unmistakable. He was enjoying her misery. He was feeding off her temper.
They arrived in the detention room without any more altercations. Professor Flitwick presided and he checked the both of them in.
"George," he greeted the red head without a hint of surprise and scrawled his name on the parchment paper in front of him. He raised his eyes and fixed them on Bernadette.
"I never thought I'd see you here, Ms. Wilson," he said.
She felt George's smug eyes on her. Bernadette resisted a scowl and just thanked her lucky stars that Flitwick didn't ask what they were in for.
"You two will clean the fourth floor bathrooms together," he murmured and scratched the quill in finality.
Her face paled. No, no, no, no. She opened her mouth to speak up. If she could just explain that they were in detention for their inappropriate classroom behavior he'd be obliged to split them up and administer punishment separately. But George grabbed her arm and dragged her off before she could get a word out.
"We're on it, sir!"
Bernadette allowed him to drag her as far as the door before she ripped out of his grip again.
"I thought I told you not to touch me," she spat.
"Sorry, love, had to get you out of there before you said something you'd regret," he explained.
"What, like –for the love of Merlin, Professor don't pair me with this pervert?"
"Something like that," George said with an offhanded grin, "In all honesty I was just saving you from a mundane, boring few hours of detention. This is your first detention after all, and I being the gentleman I am, I'm obliged to show you the ropes."
"Gentleman," she scoffed.
She marched off toward the bathrooms. He met her inside, smug as ever. There were mops and buckets waiting for them. Magic was forbidden with punishments like these –they were going to have to go all out cleaning and scrubbing. Her stomach turned at the thought of hours upon hours with George Weasley scrubbing toilets.
"Let's just get it over with," she grumbled and picked up the first mop and dragged it out from the bucket.
The mop caught the edge of the bucket and toppled the brown soapy water all over the floor. And the bottoms of her robes. Bernadette stood there for a moment, genuinely stunned at how things could just keep getting worse. George snickered.
"Well that's one way to clean the floor," he chuckled.
She didn't even have the strength to comment back. She just stared at the wet, heavy fabric and the empty bucket lying on its side. George took a step forward. His face almost looked sympathetic, if it weren't for that ever present twinkle in his eye. He produced his wand from his robes and waved it with more expertise than she would have given him credit for. The water spilled back into the bucket which turned right side up again and her robes dried.
She turned up her chin.
"I could have done that myself, thank you very much."
"Don't mention it, love," he said cheekily and began to mop the floor on his side.
Just for a moment, while he was drawing the old head of the mop along the tiles, Bernadette felt something. Something that surpassed the wild fits of rage and the immense disdain she had for the boy across from her. It was a flutter. A simple, nervous flutter in her chest. Like the beating of wings. And she found herself noticing his strong jaw line, and the way the muscles that you wouldn't expect a guy so gangly to have showed through the sleeves of his robes, and the rich color of his hair…
She shook her head and began to mop. Her eyes fixed on the floor. She was just seeing things, that's what was happening. The after effects of the lusty lolly were taking over. Just after effects. George Weasley was vile and irresponsible and pretty much undermined everything she valued with one hint of that crooked smile. There's no way that flutter in her chest was her…fancying him.
Right?
