It was the first day of our planned tutoring session and for some reason, I was as nervous as hell. I was lingering around the library; my crutches propped up against the table like some kind of wooden mark of territory, various books, quills and scraps of parchment scattered on the table.
I didn't have any clue how to proceed with the lesson. The only topic I knew how to instruct was the art of royally pissing off Professor Snape. And now someone was expecting me to play teacher for the day?
I don't think so. I had talked to Fred about the situation and he got as excited as a little kid in a candy store. He thought it was the perfect opportunity to put the moves on Alicia, in benefit of "the plan."
I was in a real pickle. On one hand, I was all for plotting against Spinnet and seeking ultimate revenge. On the other hand, I surprisingly was starting to consider that toying with her emotions wasn't the best way to quench my thirst for getting the last laugh. I was really torn inside, you see. But I sure as hell didn't want to admit it.
I definitely wasn't in love with her at that moment, but something was there...
It was a little past dinner time and the only people dumb enough to hang around the library were all the Egg-Head Ravenclaw students, Hermione Granger and well, myself. It was relatively quiet, the only sound the frantic scratching of quill against parchment and an occasional cough.
I'd attempted to set off a firework in hopes of lightening the somber mood, but I was only attacked by an angry mob. Seeing as how I didn't fancy getting beaten over the head with a Herbology book, I shuffled to the very back and found an empty table.
All the silence was really starting to irk me. Instead of starting on my homework, I started brainstorming ideas for practical jokes. Or at least, I tried. Five minutes into my brilliant scheming, the image of Alicia would pop into my head.
Very annoying, indeed.
Finally, before I could tear my hair out with frustration, Alicia decided to appear. Her eyes darted around the library, looking for me, her books clutched to her chest. Her hair was held back by a black headband, her lips curled into a half-frown. She eventually spotted me and made her way over. And then the anxiety really started to kick in.
As she started strolling over, I wasn't concentrating on how much work we'd have to accomplish but how amazing she looked. And when I, of all people, start blurting out intellectual garbage about how amazinga girl looks or something, then you know something catastrophic has taken place!
She plopped down across from me, being careful not to knock over my crutches and greeted me with a polite smile.
"I'm surprised you showed up," she quickly confessed, laying her hands flat on the tabletop.
I rose an eyebrow.
"And why's that? I said I'd be here, didn't I?" I insisted.
She laughed, more so to herself than at my statement.
"I know. But considering our…history, it's safe to say that I've always had trouble knowing when you're being completely serious."
I shrugged, throwing her a lopsided grin.
"Yeah, well, this time was different. Besides, you really do need to lighten up a little. It's not good for a person's health to take things too seriously all the time," I argued.
She smirked.
"I need to lighten up? George, don't you think that's sort of impossible? You're always making fun of me. You insult me; I try to redeem my humility. We constantly bicker. You manage to push every one of my buttons and you expect me to take this all in good fun?"
Her eyes had lost their playful sparkle, her smirk transforming into a pensive frown.
I scratched my head at that one. Since when did I make fun of her? What in the world was she getting at? I honestly thought all our arguing was just fun and games. I didn't really mean it when I said she was uglier than our family's invasion of garden gnomes. But hey, that was like in first year! Personally, I think my maturity level has increased. I mean, what can I say? I'm a guy. We don't usually realize we're hurting a girl's feelings unless they tell us.
Contrary to female desires, most guys aren't the most sensitive creatures on the face of the Earth. But that's because when we're around other guys, we don't have to watch around eggshells and watch what we say.
Girls like to gossip, mainly because they don't have the balls to say what they really think to another's face. Guys on the other hand, we occasionally talk but it's not our sole source of entertainment. Our world doesn't revolve around shopping and giggling about each other's fashion disasters.
"Wait, wait a minute. What do you mean I make fun of you? We argue. We fight. It's what we do," I meekly defended.
She shrugged, trying to remain indifferent about the whole topic.
"I don't know…it's just that, sometimes…I get tired of it, ok? Some of the stuff you say can really hurt. I try not to take it to heart, but being called "uglier than a lawn gnome" in front of the entire Quidditch team isn't easy to forget."
"I'm sorry about that, all right? But wasn't that in like…first year?" I reminded, emphasizing the last two words.
She gave a short laugh.
"It was two weeks ago, you asshole," she teasingly corrected.
I turned redder than my hair.
"Whoops. That incident must have…slipped my mind."
Her dazzling smile instantly turned back into a blank line.
"Well, whatever. Maybe I'm just being oversensitive," she crisply guessed.
She started to open her Guide To The Most Common Elixirs And Their Origins but I just had to convince her that I wasn't a total wanker.
"Alicia, listen. If you hadn't of mentioned anything about it, then I would have never have knew. So I'll try and…censor myself, I guess."
She looked up, her lips curling into a slow smile.
"Censorship and George Weasley are two things I thought I'd never hear in the same sentence."
I chuckled and before I could stop myself, I placed my hand over hers. I didn't actually realize my action at first and was confused as to her gaping expression of total shock.
That is, until I looked down.
I blushed for the second time that day and hastily shoved both hands under the table. Guilty was plastered all over my face with permanent ink and I found that I couldn't look her in the eye.
It was truly frightening. I was starting to lose my control around her. Instead of wooing her, as I'd originally planned, it appeared as though I was developing something for her. The tables had been turned even before I'd learned the rules of the game, but I was fiercely clinging to bitter denial.
Hey, I may be ½ of Hogwart's Infamous Twin Pranksters but that doesn't mean I don't have a heart.
I cleared my throat, my eyes darting around to see if anyone had witnessed my screw-up. But the EggHeads continued to valiantly plow through their mounds of homework and Hermione was peering so intently at some ancient encyclopedia that her nose was pressed up against the page. At least my embarrassing moment hadn't been a public show.
"Er, well….yeah. If what I say bothers you that much, I'll…do something about it. Yeah. I mean…I…oh, fuck it," I mumbled, my words colliding into one another like rocks against a window.
I didn't know what the hell I was trying to say and neither did she. We looked at each other in awkward silence for a moment. It was worse than like, walking in on your parent's getting jiggy with it on the kitchen table.
She forced out a giggle and turned to a page in the book.
"Let's just get started, shall we?"
I let out a huge sigh and nodded.
If I kept this up, I was going to have my head so far up my ass that I'd actually start generating sappy love poems like Percy did to Penelope. Ugh. The thought just made me want to puke all over myself.
I tried to offer her my trademark grin that made all the girls swoon, but I kept imaging myself buying her roses and staying up to generate Shakespearean sonnets. The girl was like a disease. First I harbored this extreme hatred for her and now I was worrying that I'd turn into my older brother.
"Good idea."
