Author's Note: REVIEWS! You're all faboulous, dah-lings, FABULOUS! Oh, and thanks, maraudernumba5 for the heads up. I didn't really realize that I was veering towards making Fred the 'evil twin' and George the 'good one' until you mentioned it! Sorry, it wasn't intentional. Just that Fred has the crueler humor of the two. I adore them both anyway! And I'll try to tone it down a bit…
This'll be a long one coz I won't be updating for a day or three!
Disclaimer: The Ravenclaws are going to pop up. I acknowledge the Roger Davies character (as you all know) as a creation from the wonderful world of J.K Rowling! As is Jeremy Stretton, if my research is accurate. The rest are made up by moi! Thanks for reading.
Chapter 4
George rubbed his eyes groggily. The curtains seemed to have been opened judging by the light fighting to get through his eyelids. Slowly, he forced himself to wake up and gave a sudden start at the sight above him. It seemed someone had stuck a mirror an inch from his face. Or else Fred was leaning over him, making kissy faces.
George blinked slowly and to his horror realized it was the latter when Fred said:
"You're so adorable in your sleep!"
"Get off me!" he yelped and sat up, pushing his chuckling brother away. Lee was laughing, too, while he dressed.
"What time is it?" he said wearily when Fred's chuckles began to subside.
"Nearly twelve," said Fred. "Which means you nearly had eight hours of sleep which is plenty!"
George groaned. "Not for humans, Fred!" He flopped back down onto his pillow. Fred proceeded to slap his cheek. "Come on! Don't waste away the weekend dozing. Look at Lee! He was completely tossed last night and he's still standing."
"Barely," Lee muttered, dragging on a t-shirt. "I'll see you two downstairs. I want to eat before it all gets cleared up!"
"It won't," said Fred. "We've got connections, remember? The elves will keep breakfast on the table until lunch if we ask them."
Lee wagged a warning figure. "Now, now, don't take advantage. Remember, it's nice to be important but it's more important to be nice."
"We are nice to them." George sat up reluctantly. "Don't do a Granger on us!"
Their friend scoffed and made his way downstairs.
After the two had freshened up and changed, they followed, wearing matching red t-shirts because sometimes they liked to confuse people even more than usual.
The Dining Hall was particularly quiet. All the juniors were certain to have eaten earlier on in the morning and most of the seniors were still dozing or out and about the grounds.
Angelina seemed fine with nearly eight hours of sleep, as did Katie and Alicia. They were on one side of the bench, Angelina and Lee on the other and they all chatted vigorously.
She wore no make-up that day and her hair was tied back, the braids restored. She may not have been to the dance at all. And George could not understand for the life of him how one could look so gorgeous in nothing but faded jeans and a baggy black jumper.
Fred took his place on the right side of her with Lee on the left, and George sat next to Alicia so that Katie had to peer around the dark-haired girl to get a good look at him. It was not entirely deliberate because he was not even entirely awake. His feet had simply led him there. And perhaps his subconscious was afraid Katie would try and hold his hand under the table, or even over it, Godric forbid. And that would give Angelina the wrong idea. Not that she was paying any attention. She seemed entirely engrossed in her conversation with Lee and Fred.
Baskets of bread and dishes of bacon and sausage were still hampered on the table.
"Hope you slept well, Dirty Alicia," said George, turning his attention to the girls as their plates appeared. Alicia had earned that title. If Angelina was a good dancer, she would make a fantastic stripper.
Alicia blushed and played with the baked beans on her plate. "Blame, Lee. Damn mulled Meade."
"I didn't even have any and I'm not entirely right," Katie added.
"You wouldn't be, would you?" said Lee teasingly. "I think you violated your eight o'clock curfew a bit, dear."
"Bugger off," she murmured as they all laughed. Katie was the baby of the group, even though she was as physically mature as the rest. There was just something about her overall that was sweet and wholesome, and George could not help affording her a wink that had her blushing.
"Who's up for a game of Quidditch?" Angelina inquired after they had eaten.
"You're not tired?" said George incredulously.
"Not with a few bacon strips in me! I think I could tackle a mountain right now. Come on, we'll have a full-on game. Invite some of the Ravenclaws."
"Definitely," said Fred, staring at her with something like awe, as if no other woman on Earth could have come up with such a plan. "But no- and I mean no- Hufflepuffs."
"I think we're all in agreement there!" said George, standing up and feeling decidedly better.
They all gathered on the grounds near the Great Lake around one o'clock, brooms in hand. Angelina managed to get her hands on the game balls and warned them all (warned Fred and George really) to be careful with how far they hit and threw them.
"And if this Snitch is lost," she chided as if the offense had already been committed, "I'll have your heads on a platter!"
"Yes, sir!" said Alicia.
The Ravenclaws that joined them were Roger Davies, who still looked too pleased with himself for his date with Fleur Delacour, Vikki Scrut (Cho Chang's sub), Jeremy Stretton, Emmy McNamara, Joan Larkley, Trevor Adamms and Troy Piper. The last four had never played Quidditch for their house but claimed to be "decent enough".
"At any rate you'll be better than Lee," said George, dodging his friend's attempts to kick him in the shins.
It was decided that Gryffindor and Ravenclaw should merge and then split into separate teams, purple and green (Katie reckoned those were colours that would not arouse any house spirit which may lead to sabotage within the teams and a decidedly unpleasant match). Fred and George were to be split up as well.
"Two Weasleys on one team is not fair!" Davies had insisted.
"Ah, see how they fear us!" Fred had exclaimed.
All the girls, including Angelina, hung back and talked while the males argued over the rest of the positions. They finally came to a mutual decision after some twenty minutes of debate.
The purple Chasers were Angelina, Alicia and Joan Larkley. The purple Beaters were Fred and Troy Piper while Lee played Seeker ("I've waited all my life for this moment!") and Roger Davies was Keeper.
The green Chasers were Katie, Trevor Adamms and Jeremy Stretton. The green Beaters were George and Emmy McNamara with Vikki Scrut as Seeker. They found they were short of a Keeper and so the next ten minutes were spent talking on the grass while Troy went to find a suitable one.
"And by suitable we mean someone really rubbish," Fred called after him. "Well, you've got Chang's sub!" he protested at the barrage of silent glares.
Just when George was thinking of calling the whole complicated thing off Troy returned with Andy Pilch. They bewitched the tips of their brooms dark purple and glittering green and gathered in a circle to mount them.
Lee thought this was a good moment to put on his commentator's voice.
"Well, with friends and foes allied this should be an interesting game!" It sounded much less dramatic on ground level but they all grinned anyway.
"We likes a challenge, don't we, George?" said Fred, holding onto a struggling Bludger and staring across the circle.
"We do indeed, Fred!" said George, hanging onto his own ball and glancing at Angelina.
"Enough chatter, ladies!" said Roger. "Let's play!"
Angelina blew the whistle around her neck and they all kicked off…
"Nice one, guys!" said Davies, waving back as the Ravenclaws parted.
"Good show, good show…" said Trevor, smiling in spite of a bruise on his cheek.
"Thanks," Alicia called from where she sat on the grass. "See you, Troy."
Katie lay down next to her and poked her in the side. "You little flirt!"
"I am not a flirt!" said Alicia, though she grinned.
On the surface, the match went great. The purples and greens were fairly evenly matched and the idea of separate houses was forgotten. It was all round fun, more folly than intense competition. The determining factor of who won had to be the Beaters, who did everything in their power to throw the Chasers and Seeker off course. What they all failed to notice, however, was that George hit more Bludgers at his brother than anyone else.
After Fred intercepted Katie's Quaffle and passed it to Alicia (who made a brilliant score) Angelina blew him a dramatic, girly kiss for encouragement. George, before he had time to think on it, whacked the Bludger at Fred's face.
He barely dodged it. "Easy!"
George shrugged. "I'm in it to win it!" And he forced a smile.
But he noted that Fred's geniality was tainted with uncertainty from that point on, even annoyance, and he could not blame him. He tried to tone down the jealousy, he tried very hard, but it always managed to rise up again with added force. If Angelina would stop high-fiving Fred and blowing kisses maybe George would be able to keep a lid on it. But every time she came into sight he got distracted. He almost had a tiff with Emmy McNamara who could not understand for the life of her why he aimed a Bludger at Fred when Angelina was the one holding the Quaffle. George refrained from telling her to stop focusing on him and work on not dropping her bat every five seconds.
In the end the greens lost but George liked to think it was because Vikki had to dodge a Bludger from Troy Piper when she was but a few feet from the Snitch. Lee ended up catching it after two goals from Alicia and that ended the game, eighty-sixty.
Lee, Alicia and Katie made their way back up to the castle with the intention to "chill in the common room" while Fred, Angelina and George remained on the banks on the Great Lake.
"Well done, Angel," Fred murmured as he reclined on the grass, hands up behind his head. "Brilliant way to spend a Saturday."
Angelina sat with her legs crossed, hands pressed down on the grass behind her.
"It was nice," she said quietly, staring across the Lake. "Ravenclaws are lovely this time of year."
"That's 'cause they've got no representative to boast about for the Tournament." George also sat up, hands behind him on the cool grass.
"Well, we're lucky to have one ourselves," she said. "Or unlucky. Depends how you look at it. 'Cause Harry's not even supposed to be in this, is he? Someone just decided to pop him in."
"Pop him in implies it was done easily," said Fred, eyes shut against the warm sun. "But whoever tricked the goblet must have been really powerful, dabbled in some dark magic. He's got his work cut out for him, Harry does. And we'll be with him along the way. Placing bets and all."
Fred issued a slight "oof!" when Angelina thumped him on the stomach.
The Weasley twins had had helped him as best they could in his first year on the Hogwarts Express, and rescued him from the Muggles in his second. They had even handed over their Marauder's Map when he was a third-year. In fact, they treated Harry better than they did Ron sometimes, because they knew who he was and what he meant to the wizarding world. But now, with this Tournament, a feeling of helplessness settled upon Fred and George.
Still, George enjoyed thinking of Harry. It meant that he wasn't thinking about his own worries. His worries that they would never manage to get the shop going, despite their "agreement" with Ludo Bagman, they would never be anything more than the troublesome twins at Hogwarts and he would really never have Angelina.
George exhaled silently. "We should take this back." He thumped the heavy wooden box of Quaffles, Bludgers and Snitch.
"Yeah." Angelina came out of her own reverie and stood, dusting grass off her bottom briskly. She nudged Fred in the side with her foot. He grunted.
"I think I'll do a bit more lounging if you two don't mind. All that winning takes its toll on a man." And he yawned exaggeratedly.
George and Angelina rolled their eyes but George smiled inside. He would get more time alone with her now.
They lugged the chest together and halfway up to the school George began to pant a bit.
Angelina looked at him incredulously. "You're not tired, are you?"
"Me? Tired? Never!" But the slight flush in his cheeks said otherwise.
Angelina laughed. "Pathetic! I'm going to have to work you very hard in practices."
"As long as we win, you can work me as hard as you want." George resisted the urge to blush as he thought over this sentence. "That sounded different in my head," he muttered pensively, causing her to snort.
As they stood by the door of the storeroom, he noted the look of relish on her face when she brought out the keys. Wood had left all responsibility to her, and sometimes George thought she might burst into tears whenever they reminded her she would only get a crack at being Captain next year.
The storeroom was small, musty and dim, filled with old broomsticks and spare Quaffles. They shuffled in and put the box down in the heart of the room.
"I can hardly believe it," she said wistfully, locking the door behind them. "This time next year, I'll be Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch squad."
"Yeah," said George leaning against the wall. "You'll be the one making everyone's life miserable. I can just picture it…faster, damn it, faster! What the hell is wrong with you? My Gran could handle a Quaffle better! I don't care if it's minus ten degrees out! No one leaves until that Snitch is caught!"
She frowned anxiously. "I don't want to be a dictator, though."
He rubbed her shoulder encouragingly. "You will be. We're all going to hate you. But then we'll win and it'll be worth it."
She sighed. "That's the most important thing, I suppose. Winning."
"And having fun."
"Yeah. That comes second after winning." She shifted her weight onto one foot after their hilarity had subsided and stared at the floor. He knew what was coming next because she always looked down when making herself emotionally vulnerable. "George," she said. "Promise you'll stick with me, even when I'm being a bitch."
George suppressed a groan. Why did she have to be like this? She was seducing him without even trying, without even knowing it. "I promise," he said with all the heart he could muster in those two words. He put a hand under her chin and steered her face upwards. "Now stop with the owl eyes. You look like you haven't been fed."
She gave an affronted exclamation and thumped him on the shoulder. He hit her back, not as hard but enough to make her retort with a sharp, defiant poke. He poked back and then he was poking with both fingers and then tickling her and she was running away. He grabbed her around the waist, swung her round and pulled her back, wriggling his fingers across her tummy, causing her to jerk and shriek helplessly.
And suddenly the frenzy took over him like a burst of rain. George was certain now as she squirmed round to face him that he was going to do it. He would feel the plump lip against his and it would be the way he always thought it would. Nothing would halt him this time. Nothing except-
"I haven't been away ten minutes!" Fred was strolling towards them. George felt a flush of anger and shame rise in his cheeks but he did not release her. His mouth was still pressed into her hair. "And look what you two are up to." Was that the uncertainty again? The annoyance? Suspicion? He hoped not. He hoped so. He did not know. George loosened his grip.
"Let's have lunch," Angelina declared. She freed herself, clearing her throat, and pushed him away. "The winning is taking its toll on me, too."
She looped her arm into Fred's and he nodded in accordance, glancing at his brother.
They walked together to the Dining Hall in tranquility but in the back of his mind George was aware that some small, yet irrevocable damage had been done.