Author's note: Hey guys. So sorry this chapter has taken so long. If it weren't for chuurin and my house-mate, it would be even longer... Though, my house-mate did make me delete the original and do it better, so maybe not.
He slung an arm around her shoulders, letting her curl in to his warmth as they headed back toward the castle. She knew he hadn't ever really dated, and it was weird that he was so comfortable wrapping an arm around her. But then, he had a big family and all she had was a cat so maybe he was just more comfortable with touching people in general.
"So," he said. "Tell me more about the courting rituals of Slytherins. It is an ancient art that I have been blind to for too long."
"Nice try," said Millicent. "But we Slytherins guard our secrets a little more closely than that. Why don't you tell me about the ancient art of Gryffindor courting?"
"We are a simple folk," said George. "When we discover that another person is awesome, we immediately submit a request for dating rights."
"What? You just blunder straight in? No game plan?"
"That's a rookie error," said George. "In the time it takes to make a game plan some other person might have submitted a dating request."
Millicent laughed.
"This is me submitting a request, by the way," said George, fingers tapping nervously against her arm. He wasn't looking at her so she chanced a glance up at him. From the angle she was on, she mostly got a view of jaw-line blurring occasionally when he breathed out fog.
"Processing times may vary," said Millicent as they reached the doors to the entry hall. "If you don't have a response in two weeks you need to re-lodge the request with accompanying nude photos."
He chuckled, taking his arm off her shoulders and shaking snowflakes from his cloak.
"Which will then be forwarded to the dating advisory panel." Millicent shrugged off her cloak and folded it over her arm. Fred Weasley and some of his Gryffindor friends were across the hall by the staircase, sniggering not very subtly at George.
He didn't seem to notice, ruffling his hand through his hair, eyes never leaving her. "Is there a form I can lodge to fast-track the process?"
"Sure, but it costs two compliments."
George raised his eyebrows as they headed toward the Slytherin dungeon.
"Good ones," said Millicent.
"Alright, I'm lost. Do you guys like or not like compliments?'
"Not like," said Millicent. "Unless we trick, coerce or force them from someone."
George grinned down at her. "You're charming."
"That's one."
George pulled her closer. "If I were to become the next Dark Lord, I'd want you at my side."
"Not a compliment," said Millicent. "I'm not a side-kick."
"Oh no," agreed George. "If you weren't my equal you'd be far too tempted to slit my throat while I slept."
Millicent quirked a smile at him. "That's two. So your request has been approved. Congratulations. You are the proud new suitor to one of the highest-maintenance Slytherins available. Please spend the next few days getting acquainted with all of the fine print that you missed in your rush to submit an application."
"Pah," said George. "Fine print is for the boring. I will take the nasty surprises as they come."
They didn't end up going to Millicent's dorm, finding an empty classroom to sit in instead. George hooked his foot around Millicent's ankle and she leant on the desk, using her wand to scrawl notes into the timber.
"You've figured out how to break the anti-vandalism charms on school property?"
"Haven't you?"
"Professors watch us too closely for anything like that."
Millicent shrugged and leant closer, showing him how to unknot the layers of protective spell-work on the desks. She nestled her free hand in the small of his back, fingers lightly grazing his spine through his robes. She didn't think he'd noticed until he bent down to press a kiss to her shoulder.
"You're still wearing pink to the ball?"
She blinked at him, disconcerted by the change of subject. The pink had been part of the prank; and it had been designed to embarrass George, but Millicent didn't think it would have worked. Knowing him better, he didn't seem the type to get embarrassed by something so petty. But it was an odd topic to bring up.
"Sure," she said. "That a problem?"
He merely shrugged. "Wear what you want. I'll compliment you until you die of humiliation, no matter what."
Millicent flushed and wriggled in discomfort. If he actually did start complimenting her, she was going to have to grow a thicker skin. All of this blushing and embarrassment was getting old.
George obviously didn't feel the same way. He grinned when he saw her expression. "Aw, look at you. So cute and bashful."
"I'm not cute!" Millicent wailed, stung to her core. After a heartbeat, she added, "Or bashful. Those are awful things to say to the person you're meant to be serving. If you continue there will be hexing."
"Uh…yeah, so I applied to date you, not to serve you. That was understood, right?"
"I fail to see the difference," said Millicent.
"For starters, you aren't allowed to hex the people you're dating."
"You really should have read the fine print."
He snorted and ran a hand through her hair. "I need to get back to my dorm. Transfig paper due in the morning."
She shrugged.
George got up, reaching for his cloak. "You got any free time tomorrow?"
She creased her nose. "Yeah, the five minutes walking from my Charms class to DADA."
"Perfect," said George and walked out.
Millicent kept working on her graffiti until Pansy came in.
"Where in Merlin's name have you been?"
"I was with you," said Millicent. "Until you abandoned me cruelly at the lake."
"I sprained my ankle!" Pansy wailed. She stalked over and jumped up to sit on the desk. "You won't believe how awful my night was! That Granger would not leave me alone. It's bad enough that she was all Muggle-born and breathing in my vicinity, but she just kept…" Pansy threw her hands up as though words failed her.
Millicent tucked her hair behind her ear and studied her friend's face. Pansy was chewing her lower lip, hard, face set in the stubborn lines it got when she couldn't control her emotions and she'd rather show fury than anything else. Her eyes were colder than they had ever been, and disquietingly bleak.
Millicent didn't know what to say. Pansy had never gotten anything that she desperately wanted. Now that she was this close, neither of them knew how to handle it. All Millicent knew was that being honest was the wrong way to go.
"She didn't touch you, did she?" she asked in a scandalised whisper.
"Yes!" exclaimed Pansy.
"No!" protested Millicent.
Pansy flung out her arms. "I know! Who does that? She didn't even ask if I was okay with muggle hands all on my skin and stuff. She didn't even use a gloving charm." She broke off, eyes darkening as she stared at her lap. She was sucking her lower lip now, looking lost. "She touched my ankle." Her voice was softer, partway yearning and partway anguished. "I don't know what to do."
Millicent reached out, took Pansy's hand and squeezed it. She couldn't speak. If she opened her mouth, she'd tell Pansy to try to be normal, to not screw up; and that would ruin everything.
Pansy shook herself and jumped lightly off the desk. "And tomorrow I have to be stuck in the library with her again – trying to find those stupid books. This is the worst week ever!"
She stormed out and Millicent decided that the next morning she would wake up early, go to the library and hide those stupid books better than ever before.
#
It was when she was in the library, shrinking a book so that she could bury it in the soil of the potted plant by the back window, that George found her. Because she had figured it would be safer to wait until Pansy was less of a crazy mess to tell her what was going on, she'd wound up with a face full of make-up again. Yellow this time. Millicent was pretty sure that no one could pull off yellow eye-shadow; but Astoria had sobbed like a child when Daphne had commandeered her 'Sunflower Summer' palette for pranking purposes. So maybe there were mystical creatures out there who could make it work. Probably the Veela.
"Ah," said George, stopping short some yards from her, scratching the back of his neck as he studied her warily. "You look…uh…yellow. That's very sunny."
Millicent raised an eyebrow at him, shoving the book into the pot-plant. "You're being weird."
"Ah." George chewed his lower lip, brow furrowed in concentration. "Can we talk? It's…It's kind of important."
"What – like private talk?"
"Not like that," George hastened to assure her.
Millicent rolled her eyes at him. "As if I'd let you ruin my make-up, George Weasley." He still looked kind of jumpy and anxious so she lifted a shoulder at him and headed for the History section, which was always deserted.
"I'm deducing that something is wrong." She stopped to lean against the nearest shelf, flicking her gaze across at George. An unpleasant thought struck her and she frowned. "It's not something to do with Granger, is it?"
"Hermione?" He stared at her, and it occurred to Millicent that he had no idea how much Pansy had riding on her efforts with Granger. He wouldn't exactly freak out if Granger didn't like Pansy back. "No. That's not…" he broke off, shook his head and scowled. "Look, you're not going to like this…"
"Then don't tell me," said Millicent, mouth twisting in a wry smile. "I did not schedule in time for listening to things I didn't like today. Better luck next time." She tossed her hair over her shoulder and turned to go.
"Millicent, please."
It was the raw note in his voice that made Millicent turn back – so much more vulnerability than any Slytherin would ever show. It should have annoyed her. Instead it softened her. She went back to him. "What is it?" When she reached for his hand, he jerked it away.
"People are talking about us."
Millicent tilted her head to study him; flicked through the connotations of what he had said. It wouldn't hurt Pansy and Granger. Even if the school thought that she and George were together, Granger would still think it was a prank. What else – what was she missing? "And?" she prompted.
George rubbed his hands over his face before shoving them into his pockets, looking miserable. "And I can't," he said. "You and me – we're on different spheres."
"Are you saying that I'm on the one that makes sense and you're on the one that doesn't?" asked Millicent. "Because you're using words, but they aren't coherent."
George closed his eyes and let out a frustrated breath. "I'm saying that we can't… I mean, you're fine. You're lovely. But I can't be seen in public with you."
That was unexpected. Millicent folded her arms, tilting her chin up, eyes narrowing. She was usually a pretty astute judge of character. Sure, she faltered from time to time, but never this badly. This flaw in George's character was something she should have seen; and she hadn't even suspected it. Maybe the fact that he was in Gryffindor had convinced her that he'd have no trouble braving the gossip. She shrugged. "Okay."
George dragged in a breath, chanced a glance at her and visibly wilted. "You don't know what everyone's saying."
"I don't care what they're saying," Millicent corrected him.
"Because you're not the one they're laughing at!" snapped George.
Millicent let out a laugh of disbelief. "You call yourself a prankster but you can't handle people laughing at you?"
"This isn't a prank! People aren't meant to laugh at my life!"
"They laugh at mine." If they had been in the middle of any other kind of conversation, Millicent would have felt sorry for George. Having people laugh at her was the high-light of her existence. When they were laughing over ridiculous things it almost became her reason to live. She would have thought that he got that too.
He shrugged. "You're a joke," he said. "I don't want to be one."
"Okay."
George chewed his lower lip, studying her. She dusted soil off the knee of her robes.
"That's it?" he asked, folding his arms across his chest as though he was bracing himself for something awful. "You're not going to cry – or hex me?"
She flicked her gaze over him, wondering whether he really thought that she would fight to keep someone like him. No girl would. "Do you want me to?"
He shook his head. "So you…you get it?"
"I'm lovely, but you can't be seen with me in public. I think I managed to keep up with the important bits."
"And you're okay?"
Millicent wondered what he planned to do if she wasn't. She lifted a shoulder and dropped it, mouth twisting wryly. "I'm keeping Ginny," she said.
