The Misadventures of the Weasley Brothers
by
FireValkyrie
Chapter 34: Blood and Venom
sSs
"This belongs to you," George admitted with a soft smile, placing Live's Sexpert license in her hand. She lightly blushed at seeing the offending item which he shouldn't have had, and quickly tucked it into her robes pocket, too chagrinned to be mad at him. "I think you've enough on your mind without wondering where this has gotten to."
Though indeed she'd had plenty on her mind, her Sexpert license was the last thing she'd been worrying about as of late, so it surprised her to see it turn up now. She couldn't be mad at him. The gesture in itself only made her love him more. And especially not with the charming way he was smiling at her, though she thought she should give him a smack on principle anyway.
He cocked his head at her and drew her into his arms with a smile. "Judging from the look on your face, you'll understand if I hold onto these," he said, gently holding her wrists between his hands.
She pressed them flat against his chest with an amused smile. Yes, he was quite intuitive. "I bet you think you could charm a dragon out of its eggs with that smile," she told him with amusement, kissing him on the side of the mouth.
He grinned pleasantly, and allowed her free so that he could stroke her cheek. "If by eggs you mean robes, and by dragons you mean yourself, then yes, I would say that's on top of my To-Do list."
She couldn't help but giggle as she swatted at him. "You're terrible! And you're going to be late. Do you really think Angelina will forgive you if you miss Quidditch practice? Let alone forgive me?"
"Are you saying we should take another day to stay in bed?" He grinned wolfishly, and it took all of her collective will not to seriously consider that idea, the sport of Quidditch be damned. "I can think of no better way for working up a good sweat."
She grinned at his brass, and looked about to make sure nobody else had heard that.
They were standing outside the Gryffindor common room entrance together. George had Quidditch practice with the rest of the Gryffindor team today, who had already left for the pitch, and he had taken his dear sweet time getting ready as well as delaying their eventual separation as long as possible.
Live had smirked to herself as she had shamelessly watched him dress from her comfortable position in his bed's pillows, not just for the free show, but as well as the fact that he knew well what he was doing, even though her sense of propriety (whatever little she actually still possessed) had made her want to look away. But she'd taken his impish grin as a challenge, and watch she had. Little to say, she'd never had a more enjoyable time in the Gryffindor commons. She knew now that she'd never get the image of him out of her head. Naked from the waist up, clad in only his Quidditch pants and boots, every muscle on display to the delight of her eyes…She was sure he had been flexing and stretching more than was necessary to get dressed. Oh how she'd nearly pounced him, her hands itching to trace and re-trace every toned muscle on that delicious tanned body, not to mention that those muscles were just begging to be lick--
"Your face betrays your thoughts, my love," he had told her with a mischievous grin. She had immediately reddened in being caught, though he had looked quite pleased with himself, the sneaky git. No doubt the lecherous path her thoughts had taken had been all part of his plans. Dammit.
What he hadn't counted on was the fact that she would pounce him, making him even later for Quidditch practice than he already was. It had been the best wasted ten minutes he'd ever spent.
He grinned at her and she smirked. "Don't fall off your broom, George," she told him, knowing full well his mind would be anywhere but the pitch today. He groaned as if in pain. He didn't feel like practicing, and he knew Angelina would give him hell for being late. "I'd come down and watch if I didn't think the shock of my beauty would surely knock you off your broom," she joked, jabbing at him to get him to lighten up.
He gave her bum a squeeze and she shrieked. "'t wouldn't be so bad," he affirmed her with a grin. "You can tell your team how badly we're going to cream them in the upcoming game." She stuck her tongue out at him in displeasure, and he quickly caught her mouth in a kiss that took her very delightfully off-guard and left her rather light-headed.
"George!" Lee shrieked in extreme agitation from down the hall.
George looked up, his hand still gently cupping Live's chin, who was quite faint with loveliness at the moment. "What?" he asked his friend.
"What?! What do you mean 'what'?? You were supposed to be on the pitch half an hour ago! Angelina looks close to having a fit! And I would know!" Lee harangued. He liked to watch their practices, not to mention that he was there in case any of them had post-practice pains that he could heal. It helped him refine his skills as a healer, he'd said. And another five minutes and he'd been dealing with Angelina's brain aneurysm.
George gave Live an apologetic look as his fingers caressed her hand. "My lady, I must bid you adieu."
She gave him a side smile and a quick kiss on the cheek, whispering for him to focus, even though she knew he wouldn't be able to.
He grabbed his broom from its rest against the wall, gave Live one last longing look, and took off with Lee, who was muttering random obscenities and haranguing George the whole way there. Live giggled at him, but she had things to see to, and that meant searching out the ever-elusive DADA professor.
sSs
"Honestly mate, with the way you played today I'd swear it was Ron swinging at those bludgers," Fred told his twin as they were heading off the pitch to the lockers.
"Hey!" Ron shouted indignantly, frowning and aiming his broom at Fred's head.
"Don't," Angelina stopped him with a hiss from behind Ron, who was quite red in the ears. She wasn't in the best of moods herself. "And you, George-! The way you played today shows me we need a lot more practice if we expect to beat Slytherin in the upcoming match! If they didn't have the pitch right now, it'd be your arse out here for three more hours! Your skills have gone to crap!" There were multiple groans heard.
"Yes, George, why weren't you on top of your game today?" Fred remarked with an obviously knowing tone, trying to cause trouble for his twin.
"It's being on top of something that has him so unfocused," Harry murmured to Ron with a grin. Ginny gave him a jab in the back for his cheek.
"I mean it!" Angelina said with feeling.
"The match'll go better than practice, Ang," Katie assured her. It hadn't been that terrible anyway. She smirked at her friend and said more quietly, "It's that new girlfriend of his. The Slytherin." Angelina couldn't help it, and both of them broke into giggles. So that was why George couldn't focus. Everyone knew how wild Slytherin girls were, even if she happened to be Kara's sister.
"Hey, she's not like that," Ginny said, coming to the absent girl's defense. She then gave her brother a scrutinizing look.
"Don't look at me that way, Gin. Makes me want to join a Monastery to get rid of all these naughty naughty thoughts," George teased in horror, tapping his head. She rolled her eyes at him and ran ahead to the lockers, more than finished with her big brother's disturbing company.
"Trust me, mate, memories are all you'll want once she starts harping in on you," Fred advised. "It's all Kelena's been doing lately. Honestly, I'm only one man!" he cried, as he threw his gear to the ground outside the lockers emphatically. He held onto his beater's club an extra moment and pantomimed smacking his darling woman upside the head, emblazoning his wood-carved name into her skin. He nearly hit Harry in the process, who was trying to make his way into the boys' showers.
"Watch it! Injure our Seeker and we'll lose for sure," Ron affirmed, still unconfident in his Keeping abilities. Harry patted him on the back and swore that he wasn't as rubbish as he thought. George only grinned, adding his own club and equipment to his twin's pile, his mind hardly on the lockers and back to the subject he most fancied to daydream about.
sSs
"Professor! Professor!" Live called after Tonks as she caught sight of her. The elder witch didn't turn, and Live rolled her eyes while jogging over. "Tonks."
"Huh?" the multi-colored-haired witch answered with surprise, turning. She hadn't heard Live, and was still adjusting to responding to 'Professor'. Live was huffing indignantly, and Tonks only grinned. "What's up?"
Live was about to say something snarky, but thought better of it. "I need to ask you something. In private," she told her. Tonks raised her brows, and then gave Live a wink. "And it's not concerning anything going through that Metamorphmagi head of yours."
Tonks merely giggled. "Fine fine. Wanna follow me to my office? I was just headed there anyways." Live nodded and followed, making small talk about the weather, the stultifying students, etc.
Once warded safely inside the office, Tonks leaned against her desk and smiled at Live. "So, what's up?"
"Do you know anything about a prophecy?"
Tonks gave her a blank stare, and then appeared bemused. "Well I know seers make them, and that they're sometimes a little-"
"I'm talking about the prophecy involving me and George," Live said point-blank, knowing her professor-friend was trying to throw her through a loop, and honestly, she didn't feel like beating around the bush. It became obvious as much to the elder witch that Live had somehow come to such knowledge, and was too smart for such deceptions anyway.
Tonks looked at her with mixed pity and guilt, a knowing look replacing the fake, absent one on her face. "I was hoping you'd never have to find out." Live was relieved that she knew what she was talking about. Tonks gave her a look. "How did you find out?"
Live looked guilty, yet determined. "I overheard Snape and McGonagall talking in Dumbledore's office." She felt betrayal once more rise in her. How could they not tell her?
"I figured you'd find out one way or another. Dumbledore asked us not to mention it. After your accident and all in Hogsmeade, especially, he thought we should leave well enough alone."
"You're the only one I can turn to," Live pleaded, suddenly fearful that she wouldn't give her the information she so desired. "There's no one else I can trust anymore."
Tonks didn't want to meet her eyes. She felt bad that the witch seemed to feel so full of betrayal. "Live, I'm so sorry. It's just…you can never be sure with prophecies. It was decided that you ought not know. For your own good." Live looked at her beseechingly. "But since you know anyways, I might as well tell you." She looked at Live with pity. "There was some party in the very early summer. A bunch of us Order members were there, a few goblins, some of the older wizarding families and their kids, and of course, ministry officials. Trelawney was there, too." Live was listening very intently, putting it all down in memory. "It was getting late, and Trelawney had had a few," she alluded to the Divination professor's drinking problem, "when she suddenly went all rigid. Ever seen someone give a prophecy?" Live shook her head, and Tonks looked uncomfortable. "Well, it's not pleasant to watch. She got quite a few people's attention, though I think more than enough of them just figured she was drunk.
"I can't recall her exact words, but I clearly remember something about the offspring of the Like-and-Like and pure blood and one of rare status and something about a multiforme," she listed. Live felt her stomach drop. "If I owned a pensieve, I'd show you. I'm sure that would show more accurate than my telling. I'd had a few myself…"
"I'm only half-blood," Live suddenly pointed out in dawned realization.
"I know," Tonks said as if it made no difference. "But you're also a multiforme. And you're the only half-blood in Slytherin, you know. That's rare status if ever I heard it."
Live couldn't help smirking in thought. "Yeah. Kara swears that the sorting hat put me there because I'm so wicked they had to let me in, regardless. Even if there was a chance I might take over." She laughed mirthlessly. "What else did it say?"
"Well, the destructor will come from the first seed in virgin soil. From snake-skin and pure-blood. George is pure-blooded, and you're obviously the snake in all this. And if we gather from that…" A wry grin suddenly spread across her lips, and Live prepared herself for the nosy question she was about to be asked in the damn sing-song teasing tone of Tonks. "Have you and George doooooone it? Are you a viiiiiiiirgin?"
Live felt her cheeks getting hot, and she frowned. "No we haven't done it!" she assured stolidly. It suddenly made very clear sense to her about what McGonagall had told George about keeping his hands off her and his hormones in check. She had more than one reason for not wanting Live's virtue besmirched, and by dear George of all people. Tonks grinned cheekily, and Live couldn't meet her eyes for what little modesty she possessed, even if the witch's cheek was amusing. "We both are."
Tonks gave a little happy squeal that caught Live's horrific attention. The elder witch was clasping her hands together under her chin with bright eyes and a wide grin, her hair taking on an even-lighter bubblegum pink color. "How cuuuuuuuute!!!"
Live couldn't help but snicker in mortification, even as she rolled her eyes. Tonks' mood was as mutable as her hair indeed.
"And you're in looooooove!! You're so adorable!" Live looked away, and Tonks suddenly got serious. "Wait, but then that means if you do do it…I mean, it's implied that…" Live felt her face flushing again at the subject, but Tonks continued most seriously, trying to make sense out of this realization. "I don't think it really matters whether George is a virgin or not, but the fact is obvious that once you do it, since, I mean, you're the one that has the baby, not the dude, that you're going to breed the destructor of the wizarding world," she said as if even she thought it stupid and preposterous. Live looked horrified. Tonks grinned with sudden cleverness and said with true exaggeration, "Sorry to deny you the wonders of sex my dear, but it's the fate of the wizarding world at stake."
Live looked utterly horrified, and Tonks wasn't sure if it was because of the prospect of never getting to experience sex or of the possibility of having Rosemary's baby. "Oh the wizarding world can shove it up their ass!" Live declared vehemently.
Tonks grinned, but Live looked truly upset. "I'm sorry honey, I was just kidding," Tonks sincerely apologized as she bit her lip. "I know this is all confusing."
"This all sucks, is what it is," she muttered.
Tonks grinned heartily. "In all seriousness, it's part of the reason why I'm here, teaching." Live gave her a peculiar look. Tonks looked at her helplessly. "Mad-Eye had one of those feelings he gets, about doom and all, and with what Dumbledore is already dealing with concerning Harry alone, he wanted extra protection in the castle this year. Especially after those things that attacked you lot at Arthur and Molly's." Live thought back to how the Weasley's home had been overrun by creatures whose presence still couldn't be explained. She thought Dumbledore smart in that respect. "He thought you were all in especial danger after the state Kingsley was put in by those things, and he knew what he was doing."
"You still don't know why those things were there? What they wanted?" Live asked with offhand interest. Anything to get her mind off the horrid subject of her future offspring.
"It's still being investigated as to exactly what they wanted. Since then and the possible You-Know-Who scare for Harry and you all, I had literally two days notice to be here." She rubbed the back of her neck in weariness. "There was something, though, in the prophecy about the special attraction of malevolence to the multiforme…and those things weren't exactly on the side of light, were they?"
Live's face fell, and Tonks looked regretful in having to be the one to deliver this news.
"I didn't want you to know," she gave Live her explanation. "You weren't a multiforme at that time. Nobody even considered the possibility…You could have only been a duoforme at best, then. And no one was aware of that…" Seeing the look on Live's face made Tonks heart bleed. "I don't want you thinking you're locked into some prophecy that we don't know much about for certain. We know it's been made about you, but so have many others for other people! And nothing has come of them! They gather dust at the Department of Mysteries…" She tried to comfort Live. Prophecies didn't have to come true. They didn't rule people's lives. And even with all the definite signs pointing at this prophecy, it still didn't mean it was written in stone.
"Am I not gonna get to have children because of some damn prophecy?" Live murmured with true misery. She wanted children badly. Not at the present time, of course. She felt she was too young. But she knew her life would be empty without babies in her future. And she knew enough about the wizarding world and prophecies to know to at least heed them if one could. She felt near tears. Tonks gave her a hug.
"Listen, you know what, maybe you shouldn't worry about any of this. Just pretend you never heard of it or anything. Maybe it won't happen if you don't try to prevent it. It's a definite possibility. You know how these things work sometimes," Tonks said with regretful consol. A sob escaped Live's throat. "That's what Snape figured, anyway." Live stiffened. She still felt betrayed by him. "And I guess Dumbledore feels that way too, at least."
"Dumbledore tried to separate me and George for all his 'knowing'," Live ground out in bitterness.
Tonks looked at her, taken aback. She knew how the young witch must be feeling, and felt she owed her own explanation to their secrecy. "He's had us all watch you two very carefully for a while, but we were unable to really tell. And you know gossip around this castle. He needed to know if your attachment to George was real or not. I'm so sorry Live. It's not fair for all this secrecy and, I know what must feel like betrayal, to fall upon you. But he needed to know if it was real."
"And what then?" Live asked, suddenly furious, stepping away from Tonks. "What if it is? Is he still gonna try to separate me and George?! For the good of the wizarding world?" She felt suddenly desperate. "We'll elope. That'll show all of 'em!"
"Now don't get hasty," Tonks said, trying to calm her down. "Dumbledore would never separate two people in love if he could help it."
"It's his helping it I'm worried about," she said bitterly, though she doubted Dumbledore would deliberately ruin her happiness, even with all her misconceptions.
"I don't want to give you false hope, Live, but prophecies are misinterpreted all the time. Though I think it safe to say it clearly involves you. There's been too many signs to think otherwise. But maybe it doesn't involve George at all, and maybe you two can be happy together. Maybe 'like-and-like' is referring to something else."
"I don't know. What else could the Like-and-Like be if it's not referring to George? McGonagall said he and Fred were the very definition of it," Live said with hopelessness.
"Well it sounds to me like it's referring to more than one person, like, the context is that there has to be two of something for this to come to pass. That's what Dumbledore thought, anyway. He thought that maybe 'like-and-like' was talking about twins. And Fred and George are both Gryffindors on top of that." She looked thoughtful, analytical. "But what if it's not talking about twins? It is implying that a like-and-like is a two-person context, isn't it? What ways are you and George similar that could account for that? Maybe you and him make a like-and-like thing? That would mean a kid from the two of you, instead of it being necessarily a kid resulting from him being the father and a twin," Tonks thought aloud, ready to brainstorm ideas, though she was even confusing herself as her mind turned. She gave Live a sad, but alternative thought. "Maybe you could still have kids, but it can't be with George?"
Live frowned at the thought. "Well we're about the same age even though he's a seventh year. That would make us alike. I was a late-bloomer," Live explained, now trying to think scientifically and distance herself from the problem. Her problem. "Though the difference of our house years…"
"No, that still wouldn't account. I think that's kinda a stretch. That could apply to anybody, really."
"Well what about our House differences?" Live repeated in hopeful contradiction, trying to disprove the theory that she and George were alike in some way. "We're not alike there," Live pointed out hopefully. "And he's a twin, I'm not," she added, thinking up any other significant way they were different. "I'm blonde, his hair's red…" she was grasping at straws. "I mean, come on now, if anything me and George did eventually resulted in children, how on earth would they be wicked? Babies aren't born evil, and George is so good…" she spoke from her heart. Her babies wouldn't be evil. She wouldn't allow it. Damn this stupid crap and damn Trelawney for making the prophecy. She stopped for a moment of thought. "There's plenty of ways we're dissimilar when I think about it." She gave Tonks a thoughtful look.
Tonks had a disappointing look to meet hers, and said very gently, "You and George share a like magic-type." Live's face went blank, and then fell. "You're identical there. The silver."
"But that was so recent! I mean, what the hell kind of time frame does this prophecy refer to anyway?!" Live looked quite angry. "George and I couldn't account for a like-and-like! We're in different houses! That's a big enough difference that our kid couldn't be a 'destructor' or whatever you called it ! It wouldn't be the child of a like-and-like union if we're so different! So this prophecy can shove it!!"
Live was thinking hard, her mind racing at the possibilities of this and not sure if she was trying to convince Tonks, or herself. She was keeping her mind away from a very real possibility: that she just couldn't opt to have children. Period. If like-and-like was referring to she having shared characteristics with another, then it could mean anyone at all, not just George. If she had something in common with anyone, something that this prophecy referred to specifically, things could turn out bad. She didn't like the thought. She wanted to be a mother some day.
A boisterous laugh escaped Tonks throat, and Live shot her a very dirty look that demanded her laughter be explained. Her future motherhood was not cause for amusement.
Tonks thought that, as a professor, she shouldn't take such a vindictive, wicked look, but as a friend to the ailing young woman, she couldn't help but feel for the poor girl.
"I just thought of another tragic way you and George are both alike," Tonks said, trying to remain serious while making light of the situation. Live scowled at her, resistant to her baiting, as the smile broke from the elder witch's face. "You're both VIRGINS!!"
She was pointing accusingly at Live and laughing, and Live's scowl quickly turned droll, rolling her eyes at her laughing professor. She had to give her credit though; she was trying to make the situation less serious for Live's sake. She appreciated it greatly, but still felt every right to be snarky.
"Oh shut up. If you think it would be beneficial, maybe I should just sex the first guy that gives me the time of day and do away with that tragic fact. There are several ways we could get rid of any similarities me and George share. We'll just see what this damn prophecy thinks of that!"
Tonks giggled and snickered helplessly, knowing it was most improper with such a serious subject weighing down on Live. Even the blonde witch's sarcasm was amusing. She couldn't help it. "I'm sorry," she snickered, "that wasn't right of me. Forgive me."
Live dismissed it. She knew it was a funny observation. She had to give her that much credit. Even as worried as she was, she still appreciated a good jibe once in a while, and it was meant well, in the quirky witch's own way.
"You know what, I bet we're thinking way too hard about all this!" Live affirmed stoutly, shutting her mind to it. "I bet this damn prophecy is ridiculously simple and we're looking too much into this. Hell, it wouldn't be the first time something like this had happened."
Tonks nodded, her mirth subsiding for an understanding smile. "Just ignore it, Live. That's the best advice I can give you. Just pretend like you never heard of it. Don't worry about this. Live your life, Live." Tonks smirked, thinking she was clever.
"Very original," the blonde witch remarked sarcastically. She had a weak smile on her face. "But I can't just ignore it. Not with everything I already know. But I'm going to try and live around it." Tonks gave her a sad smile, and Live looked at her determinedly. "I still want to hear the real thing, word-for-word," she affirmed, "but for now, I'm just not going to worry. I'll put it out of my mind for the meantime. And so help me god, if I do decide to sex George up, no one and no bloody prophecy is going to stop me!"
Tonks gasped at her audacity and tried to stop the laughs coming from her throat.
"And you can tell that to all the other snooping professors too! I know how you all gossip!" she declared adamantly, taking her leave of Tonks' office dramatically, leaving the elder witch to subsiding giggles until she poked her head back in to wave and say thanks, then left for real.
sSs
"Oh! Hermione! Kelena!" Live exclaimed in nearly running right into them.
"Geez, Live, thank the good lord you don't own a broom, or I'd be run down!" Kel declared.
Live stuck her tongue out, but remembered suddenly the item in her pocket. "Kel! Look!"
"Where the devil was that license?!" she inquired, snatching it up and inspecting it for damage, wear and tear, and true authenticity. She gave Live a look. "George had it, didn't he? Where was he keeping it? Fred had mine in the wall. Prat."
"He just gave it to me."
"Gave it to you?! Where's Fred?! I'm gonna smack him so hard…"
"Kelena, I don't think that's a good idea what with the game against Slytherin coming up," Hermione noted. Kelena looked exasperated and went on her way, leaving Hermione to meet her in the library.
"She seems a little…crotchety, these days," Live commented.
"Sexlexia, an advanced case," Hermione told her with all seriousness. "She and Fred. In all honesty, I'm quite worried about them. Fred swears he's going to divorce her, and she swears they'll stay married just to spite him."
Live frowned. She forgot she was married to George, whether or not they were only 'going out'. She smiled slightly in thought.
"Ginny says they get along on their own, though," Hermione confided. Live brought her focus back to the bushy haired Gryffindor before her. Hermione winked in hint.
"I'll have to work on a better cure," Live promised with a grin, which led her back to her original train of thought. "D'you know where George is? Is quidditch practice still on?"
"He's most likely still on the pitch. Angelina is dead set on kicking your Slytherin arses," she told her friend with a sporting grin.
Live smiled back. "I wish your team the best of luck, though I think it will make no difference in the outcome," she said in a friendly, teasing way. She honestly didn't care that much about quidditch. Hermione laughed. "But I think I'll check the pitch then," she said confirmedly. "Oh, and I want to talk to you later, okay? I need your opinion on a few things," she added seriously.
Hermione nodded in understanding, and Live took off, subconsciously navigating her way through the castle. Up stairs, taking shortcuts, down again, through corridors. Her muscles knew where she was going, but her mind was on other things, and how she would reveal to George what she had been told by Tonks. She didn't know how to tell him, let alone imply that they could never have babies or get married or anything.
Not that she considered the idea of marriage. No, of course not. Not at all.
"Oh! Excuse me!" Live genuinely apologized in bumping into someone in her hurry. Her mood quickly changed and she frowned when she saw the side-smirking face the body belonged to. There was no mistaking the countenance of this man for any other than the despicable thing he was. She was startled from words, her body reactively recoiling.
"Unnecessary, Miss…" He waited for her to introduce herself, though she'd rather kiss a slug than make this man's acquaintance.
She gained back the use of speech, as well as deep seated loathing and a death glare to make even Snape proud. "Hunter, Mr. Malfoy," she replied curtly out of sheer manners and good breeding. It was startling, how much Draco looked like his father. She suppressed a shiver. Saying she didn't like either of them was being kind.
His eyes perused her-- a little too long, or was it her imagination? -and he held out his hand for her to shake. "It is a pleasure to meet you, my dear. I see my reputation precedes me."
The way he said pleasure made her uneasy, and she hadn't imagined that. She didn't want to shake hands with him, but he didn't look about to retract it any time soon, daring her to exhibit rudeness. Out of pride alone she abruptly kept her manners, raised her head with regality. "In volumes, sir," she replied sardonically, quickly shaking his hand and moving to retract it, but he didn't let it go so easily. She gave him a scathing look, hoping she froze his icy blood in his veins, though a spike of worry lanced through her.
He merely stared haughtily at her, trying to intimidate her with that cold smile. "Live Hunter. I've heard so many things about you. Draco says you're quite talented." She felt a shiver go up her back, and removed her hand from his grasp with a jerk. "For a half-breed," he added with a holier-than-thou smugness, retaining his elegant posture. She was keeping her anger and pride in check. She'd walk away, but she didn't trust exposing her back to his wand. She didn't like the look in his eyes. "Amazing you even made Slytherin House at all. Mother's a muggle, isn't she?"
"It doesn't matter what she is," she affirmed with cold rigidity, unnerved that he knew of her heritage.
"And yet you're a multiforme, aren't you?" he asked rhetorically, his interest in the matter barely concealed, looking her over once more. She was surprised that he knew such a thing about her. "Yes, yes, that's a very rare trait indeed. Especially for a half-breed such as yourself. Rumor has it you possess skills Slytherin himself would be wanton to employ."
She crossed her arms protectively over her chest, refusing to be made uncomfortable at his weak innuendos and perusal of her feminine attributes. She wished now that she hadn't made herself up so good for George.
There was no doubt that the son got his characteristics from the father, and if Draco had learned anything from his father, Live had much reason to feel fear and threatened. "Rumors say a lot of things, Mr. Malfoy. I'd think you of all people are aware of that fact."
He fixed her with a cold stare, she referring to the scandals that he'd been involved in left and right according to the recent papers. Not to mention the bribes and other corruption that the general public was privy to knowing. He sneered at her. She'd obviously struck a chord in him, picked at his reputation, the ministry giving him more than enough bother, and he was done with the act of politeness and manners. "Rumor also has it you're trying to marry up into pure-blood. No wedding ring, even? Pity, to think, those penniless blood-traitors were the best you could do."
She felt deep-seated ire rise in her, afraid of what she might do if her hand twitched one more time towards the wand concealed in her pocket. She knew that while a vast store of spells were at her command, she wasn't going to fool herself in believing he didn't know more, and would think nothing of it to employ some of the nastier ones, if not unforgivable, dare she attack him. She didn't want to think what he would do if provoked. The thoughts in her mind made her shiver. Not to mention what trouble she might be in if she dared curse one of the governors of the school.
"George Weasley is more man than your money can ever attempt to make you," she spoke with cold, hard precision, meeting his eyes with bravado.
He smiled with ugly challenge and surprise that she'd dare speak to him in such a way, superiorly looking down upon her with those piercing eyes. She began to feel very uncomfortable under his gaze, and it was the most threatened she'd felt since he'd begun exchanging insults with her. She didn't want to know what he was thinking as he looked at her snidely. "It plagues me, Miss Hunter, to know what other rumors I've heard about you which prove true."
Her eyes widened subconsciously at the indirect threat, and she felt alarm as he gazed at her with cold, wicked eyes. Something black and foreboding suddenly caught her eye, and she was never more glad to see her Head of House coming her way. She couldn't believe her good luck, relief flooding through her.
She met his eyes as he came through the corridor, feeling helplessly trapped and looking at him as if to say 'please, help me'. His eyes settled on the form of Malfoy senior, and he didn't need any further appeal to aid his student, eyes glued on the blond man on the stairwell. Malfoy had no business speaking to her about anything, especially with the events that were currently in motion. What was he up to?
"Lucius," he addressed with deadly care as he walked up to the side of the fair-haired man. Live took a subservient step back, view of her form half-way obstructed by her god-sent Head of House. She still felt mild betrayal by the man hiding her, but she could ignore that for the safety net she felt he cast around her from the present company.
The blond man in curious view smiled falsely and greeted the potions master congenially. "Severus. I was just getting to know one of your students a little better," he informed with cold pleasantry, his voice full of suggestion.
Live suppressed a shiver. It would be a cold day in hell before she allowed him to know her in any way, let alone 'better'.
"Run off to your common room, silly girl," Snape commanded with a derisive look behind as if to say 'why are you still here?' Without second thought she obeyed, though she walked as opposed to run like he suggested and her instincts demanded. She wasn't going to show Malfoy that she was afraid. Rather, she'd show her pride and continue to her destination without another look back, as if he didn't bother her at all when really she wanted to race away. Her show of bravado cost her the crawling of her skin.
Lucius watched her go, and Snape scrutinized him with agitation.
"Sharp little bint," Lucius remarked to Snape, his voice not without undertone. The dour man next to him was not interested.
"What are you doing here, Lucius?" he asked sharply, but discretely.
Mr. Malfoy commanded back his sense of propriety. "Seeing to business with your employer." He smiled snidely as if delivering a most witty insult to the potions master.
Snape looked mildly annoyed. "The law?"
"The Governors are not pleased with this marriage law, Severus, as I'm sure you're well aware. We're doing everything in our power to put an end to it. Though the ministry is giving us more trouble than mere gold can easily fix." He acted all business and propriety.
"I fail to see where that involves harassing my students," Snape told the man with silky quickness, annoyed at the very least that Lucius even dared to mess with the students of Slytherin House. They fell under Snape's jurisdiction and his alone.
Lucius merely smiled, raising one eyebrow. "My, my, Severus. Have you lost the lust for sport?"
Snape gave his 'friend' a disinterested look. "The dunderheads of this school are hardly what I would call sport, Lucius, let alone the vices of a sixth year."
He grinned smugly in thoughtful consideration, then his face went sour. "We will put an end to this law, and then plans will carry on from there." He cocked his head to the side in acknowledgement and respectful dismissal. "Until then, Severus."
Snape nodded in false-interest, and Lucius Malfoy took his leave of the man. Snape watched the blonde man until he was well gone, and thus went off to seek other devices of his own.
sSs
"Lee Jordan!" a jovial voice boomed.
Lee nearly jumped out of his skin, so jarred was he from his thoughts as well as from the great voice. He turned with a smile, and shaken reverie, to the Hogwart's groundskeeper.
"Hello Hagrid," he replied, face turned upwards to greet the large man.
"'Ow 'ave yeh bin, lad?"
"Good enough, and yourself?" Lee asked, wondering where this was headed. Had Fred or George experimented on Hagrid's pets again? It wouldn't be the first time. Or did this have to do with some side business they were currently pursuing?
"Oh good meself. Bin busy, what with the unicorn's matin' season and all. The poor fellows keep injuring' each other fer mates, yeh know?" Lee nodded and Hagrid smiled toothily at him. "Actually, I was jus' wonderin' how that white wolf of yers was gettin' along." Lee gave him a blank look, then he blanched and mentally cursed Kara.
"Um, she's, uh, fine," Lee stuttered, praying there would be no follow-up questions.
"I bin workin' on a salve fer her fur. Pr'fessor McGonagall said she was shaved completely bald." A loud snicker suddenly escaped Lee's throat, and he started making coughing noises to cover it. He couldn't help but remember how Kara had looked utterly bald. And she had been so livid…
He coughed more to suppress the snickers, and Hagrid patted him heavily on the back, nearly making him drop all his things.
"Alrigh'?" Hagrid asked.
Lee took a deep breath and grinned. "Yeah, fine." Hagrid looked expectant. "Oh, um…she lives in the forest, you know. Pretty wild," he offered, back on the subject at hand. There was no way he would be able to steer conversation with Hagrid where dangerous beasts were concerned.
"Can't say I've had the pleasure of meetin' the little thing yet," Hagrid said with what sounded disappointment.
"Uh, she runs wild with some of the other wolves…and, um, she's vain, so since her fur is gone, she won't willingly show her snout for a while more."
"Well my salve should 'elp 'er grow that fur back, as well as get rid of anything odd that the wraith caused. Dumbledore said it was bad, that." Lee merely nodded. "So when yeh have the time, come by my hut and we'll get 'er fixed up."
"I-I'll do that first chance I get, Hagrid," Lee promised. Hagrid nodded happily, and left Lee to his devices.
Lee smiled until Hagrid was gone, and left to find Kara with irritation in his veins.
"Ah-- uh! Er, sorry Live," Lee muttered with annoyance as he ran into her. He kept on his way, quickly by-stepping her, and Live called out to him.
"Seen George?"
"Lockers probably. Slytherin's taken the pitch. Seen your sister?"
"Not recently," Live replied with disinterest as Lee took off for Gryffindor Tower, no doubt to deliver some sort of justice to her little sister. But she didn't bother with that now.
Heading towards the quidditch pitch helped to calm her mind and crawling flesh somewhat by the time she was actually outside. The fresh air served to soothe her nerves, smooth her skin, and she didn't feel as hasty, but more methodical. She felt in control again, renewed, her thoughts pushing away the severe discomfort she had felt around Lucius Malfoy. She wasn't going to let the bastard get to her. She had bigger fish to fry.
And while telling George what she had learned from Tonks was a major priority on her list, she was going to go about it slowly and thoughtfully, fully in-depth and scientific. She had to realize that she had time. She didn't have to rush through everything sloppily. It wasn't as if any old prophecy was gonna jump her from behind any moment and the whole world would come crashing down. She had to be logical. Think.
The world wasn't coming to an end. It was only in the process of coming to an end. She had to distance herself from the problems she faced, think, and she'd no doubt come up with a solution.
A familiar face caught her eye, huddled next to another, and she grinned, calling out. "Viv!" Her friend looked in a pleasant daze that caused her to smirk as the other witch came closer, dragged by Rebecca. "What have you been up to with that look on your face? Or should I say, whom?" she asked, feeling cheeky.
"She keeps distracting the team. I had to get her outta there," Rebecca informed.
A foxy grin came to Live's lips. "Been ogling Pucey's bum, eh?"
"Oh Live, you're so lucky you have George!! They all just look so delicious in their quidditch outfits!" Vivian declared with dreamy envy. Live knew the benefit of such a statement directly. George looked damned good in his quidditch gear. And Pucey did have a nice bum, she had to admit. Though it was nothing compared to the vision George conjured in her mind, half naked and faintingly dishy to boot.
She got a dreamy look on her face, one to equally match Vivian's. But Rebecca's voice cut through her reverie.
"She flashed him. He nearly fell off his broom."
Live's eyes went wide. Vivian looked sheepish.
"Stop giving me that look, Live. You've done worse," she remarked, still sheepish.
"We'll lose for sure," Live remarked accusingly in jest. Vivian didn't look the least bit repentant, just dreamy. "So our team's on the pitch now?" she queried.
"Yeah. Why?" Rebecca cocked her head in a playful way. "Gonna sell us out to your boyfriend's team? Tsk tsk, Live," Rebecca chided sadly. "The day I saw you spying for Gryffindors was the day I swore Vivian would pass Arithmacy." Vivian looked offended and smacked her. Live scoffed at her friend.
"Have you seen George?"
Rebecca shook her head. "Pucey's seen a lot today-" she received another jab from Vivian, "-but we haven't seen George. Maybe he's still in the lockers? I don't know. When we got there, they were off the pitch already," she remarked of their team. "…though we nearly suffered casualties…" she muttered for Vivian's ears. The wound-up witch poked Rebecca disdainfully, but with a grin.
"It would have been worth it," Vivian promised with a smirk. She straightened up and gave Live a friendly smile. "Wanna eat early dinner together? You know, before you disappear for hours on end with George…"
Live nodded with an unapologetic smirk, and all girls said their goodbyes as they parted, Rebecca and Vivian squabbling over Pucey's "hot hot bum" and nearly getting him killed as they disappeared into the castle.
Live grinned to herself as she made her way crunchingly over the grass. Maybe the rest of the Gryffindor team would be out of the lockers by now. She hadn't seen them…But perhaps George was still showering…
She felt a wicked grin slide into place with her hot cheeks. She hoped she'd catch him unawares. During practice and games, passwords for the lockers became unnecessary anyways since they were always coming and going, so she could slip right in without his noticing.
Feeling quite naughty with cleverness, and purposefully unacknowledging of any stupid prophecy or 'horrid forewarning', she sped up her pace a bit. Her enjoyment of her naughty ideas momentarily sagged as she saw a tall male figure coming towards her, her sight slightly obscured by the low sunlight. But though he held George's height and stature, she could tell it wasn't George, and her joy for her naughty shower-plans once again rose.
"Jason?" she muttered to herself, seeing who it was.
"'allo, Live!" the voice of Putterly greeted her. She smirked as he got closer.
"Hey," she greeted. A playful smirk came to her face. "Don't tell me you've been ogling Pucey's bum too."
He looked momentarily surprised, but then grinned and shrugged helplessly. "What can I say?" he stated innocently.
She smirked. "Hey, have you seen George by any chance?" she asked hopefully.
"I've been too busy ogling Pucey, thank you," he told her acerbically. She rolled her eyes. She knew they didn't like each other. Oh well, who was she to expect them to get along? Ha.
"Well I'll leave you to it then. Hopefully you didn't get flashed by Viv, too," she told him as she dismissed the conversation, eager to get to George…'s quidditch clad body…
"Wanna catch up on all that potions work you've missed? Tonight?" he suggested more amiably, more or less shouting at her back to get her attention as she walked towards the pitch.
She turned with a grin, walking backwards as she called to him. "Even though I've missed a lot, I think you could use the studying more than me," she called back, playfully jibing him. He gave her a grin and the finger, to which she laughed helplessly, flipped him off the same, and stuck out her tongue. "I can't cover your ass every class session," she called. "Study!" she hollered in command, then turned and happily sped up her walk once more, hoping to catch George in his skivvies at least.
She heard hollered, indiscernible profanities, to which she grinned at having agitated him, and jogged the rest of the way to the pitch.
In approaching the field she could see the players flying about in their green robes on the pitch. She only hoped George was still down here abouts. Though her hopes of getting him alone faded, since she seriously doubted his teammates would leave him to walk back alone, especially when her team held the pitch, unless he was wallowing in self-pity or something akin to stories of old she'd heard...
Memories caused her to grin. She'd heard rumors that the graduated Gryffindor Oliver Wood had once spent a whole afternoon trying to drown himself in their showers after a horridly lost game. She found it funny, but she didn't really know if it was true. When it came to quidditch, she didn't much care for it, but others staked their whole lives in it. She'd rather be playing than watching, and many a time during games she'd stayed in the dorms reading. So who knew what really went on down here?
Going to the entrance to the Gryffindor lockers, she found herself barred from entering. She tried passwords past with no luck, and figured she must've missed them. But George's beater's bat was still there, lying near the entrance wall. She picked it up and played like it was a sword, making swirly motions with it. The damn thing was heavy. No wonder George was so strong and wonderfully built. It caused her to grin. Yes, she had one hell of a strong, skilled Beater, and she liked it.
She waited, figuring he was still in there somewhere, taking his damned time, for five, ten, fifteen minutes, watching her housemates fly about when she'd catch a glimpse from her otherwise unadvantageful vantage point, wondering if she could possibly get away with cursing Malfoy from his broom, as if anyone could even see she was down there…Anything to entertain her while George must be finishing up. No chance of sneaking up on him now…And she could always blame it on the spectators. There were always spectators.
She sighed and walked about the structure of the building, kicking at dirt and grass, smacking his club against the wall, hearing her housemates getting shouted at by their captain. She grinned, tracing her fingers over the carved swirls of George's name on the bat. She wondered if he'd done it himself.
She screamed as she was grabbed from behind, the sound muffled by angry shouts of captaining from her housemates aloft, loud jeers from those watching the practice, the beater's bat falling from her grasp from shock.
She made a feral noise and elbowed George in the belly on principle alone and turned to wallop him upside the head.
"Oi!" he shouted, shielding himself with both arms.
"Damn fuck-fucking-fuck George!" Live stuttered in anger, giving him another adrenaline-prompted smack. "You scared the fuck out of me!"
He looked agitated, about to go off on her for smacking him when he had merely hugged her in surprise, but decided to tease her instead, looking exasperated and horrified. "Really? Well damn it all, that wasn't my purpose!!" He made the most forlorn expression he could muster.
She opened her mouth for another round of florid cursing, but stopped as she got his teasing innuendos, her relief in that it had only been him, calming her down. She smacked him again, but lighter, a slight smile on her face, the adrenaline ebbing in her veins. She thought someone else had grabbed her. After her encounter with Malfoy senior and what Malfoy-the-ferret had done, she had every right to be jumpy.
"I could kill you," she told him on principle, feeling stupid for having screamed so, panting from the surprise.
"And all I ever wanted was a hug," he said extra pitifully. She couldn't help the wide smile claiming her face. He was too irresistible with that impish look, his hair wet from the shower, clothing clinging to him…she could smell the clean scents of soap and water on him, and the smell of his musk was all over him from the gear he still wore.
She raised her head up to his and pressed herself against his chest slowly until she was as close as she could get, looking at him with a tight-lipped smile, but not kissing him. His arms were well ensconced about her waist by now.
"What were you doing out here anyway?" he asked with an amused grin.
She lightly rolled her eyes at him, very lightly touching him, tracing her hands down his back and over his glorious bum, down more heavily to the back of his thighs. "You're thick sometimes, George," she told him with playfulness, giving him a squeeze he reacted to almost immediately. He frowned at her with a smile, then snaked a hand up the back of her head, bringing her lips forward to meet his with purpose. He devoured her mouth like he hadn't seen her in weeks, and though the kiss lasted only a few moments, she melded to him like putty, every nerve in her body set on fire. He felt very much the same. He'd be a fool to try and act like she didn't cause him to unwind.
"…I love you," he murmured. She could only sigh in response, clinging to him lest her jelly-legs drop her to a useless puddle on the ground.
A wolf-whistle reached her ears, and Live's attention was brought to the form of Adrian Pucey hovering aloft on his broom, looking down at them through the vantage point in the air with a wide grin, doing grand thrusts on his broom vulgarly, mocking them with delight.
Though his peepery should have pissed her off, Live snickered, her cheeks red, and gave him the finger while laughing and wondering how he was doing that and still managing to stay on his broom. George, too, gave Pucey the finger, raised high in the air so the other boy might see it. Pucey quickly stiffened on his broom and did a sort of sloth-roll, narrowly avoiding being hit by a bludger. He got back on top of his broom, only for loud yelling to reach their ears. He zipped off on his broom.
Live smirked.
"That bastard git," George remarked, letting Live go, and grabbing his own broom, which was resting against the wall. He felt like teaching him a lesson.
"He's just being funny, the ass. But he's not so bad," she offered. For the usual gits in Slytherin, he actually wasn't that bad. That's why she teased Vivian so extra mercilessly. "He had a near-death experience when he nearly fell off his broom today. Got flashed by Vivian earlier," Live told George nonchalantly. He cocked an eyebrow at her, and she grinned, her blood still boiling for him. "Like this!" she said with naughty intent, pulling her blouse down in front to flash him.
Eyes wide, they were locked on her breasts for the moment she exposed them, then he looked up to the sky to make sure none of those gits had gotten a peak. She was giggling, and he let his broom fall indifferently to the ground, grabbing her and pinning her between him and the wall. He was never more grateful for her taste in stretchy, form-fitting materials
His mouth was on hers quickly, hungrily, and she greedily devoured him as well, her hands in his hair, his robes, all over him. She entwined a leg around his to bring their bodies closer together (damn his heavy quidditch gear now!), her blood racing, heart pounding. George moved to her neck, and she moaned loudly, her hands grasping at him through his robes. She wanted him closer.
He was pressing her hard against the wall, nibbling at her neck, his hands inside her robes, up her shirt, down her skirts, groaning himself, nearly biting her, and she loved it all. He was pumped from practice, she was delirious with pleasure, sure she'd become blind from the sheer ecstasy of him.
It was a moment before she realized he'd stopped, one hand flat on her belly, keeping her in place between him and the wall, looking skyward with dilated eyes. She looked, too dazed for her own good, to see Pucey, once again high above and this time clapping as if he were watching some show. George had a hand raised skyward in the universal gesture, and Pucey put his hands around his mouth, shouting at them to get a room.
George might have ignored him, or taken his suggestion to heart, or he might have used his wand had he thought of it, but when the captain of the Slytherin team came to personally smack Pucey upside the head, not to mention see what the hell was so interesting, George decided to give up.
"Damn bloody Slytherins…" he muttered, grabbing Live's hand in his and pulling her into the shadows where they couldn't be subject to perusal.
She snaked her hands back under his shirt to feel his skin, the both of them a little less frantic in their movements. She raised her face to his to be kissed again, which he obliged, but not for as long as she preferred. She frowned, coming back to her senses.
"To be continued?" she asked cheekily. He groaned as if being tortured, and she grinned, pulling his hips to meet with hers. "Should we take his advice?" she offered with a cocky grin.
He raised a brow at her, and looked skyward as if ruing the day. "Don't tease me," he told her.
"Who's teasing?" she asked rhetorically, the teasing tone gone from her voice. He looked at her eyes, deeply green, heavily dilated; her lips were bright and tender. She smiled at him. "I happen to know Vivian and Rebecca are taking an early dinner…."
The sides of his lips twitched to a smirk. He knew how long those two took to eat. He regarded her with desire, his blood boiling for her, subconsciously thrusting his hips towards her making her mewl with delight. At that moment, he would have killed for her, died for her, done anything she asked him regardless of the consequence. She'd utterly bewitched him and it was driving him mad. "I mean it, Live. Don't tease me."
She felt a naughty streak growing in her a mile wide. She let him go and picked up his broom from the ground and swung herself upon it, pushing off from the ground and hovering there before him. He was watching her every move with hard interest. And she knew he was too. "It's not fair with you boys and your quidditch. Nothing beats having a broom between your legs for hours on end." She looked at him seductively, all determination and desire, smirking devilishly. She would refuse him nothing, and she fancied he knew that fact.
He moaned at that, and tried to grab her off the broom and tumble her to the ground. So help him, Pucey and the whole damn Slytherin team could watch, he didn't care. Sadly for him, she pushed off just beyond his reach, then hovered back down when the wolfish look in his eye had taken on a little less predatory gleam. She got off the broom and held it, watching him as hungrily as he was her. "Get your gear, George. Let's go back to the castle."
He approached her, and she didn't try to get beyond his grasp. He wrapped an arm about her waist and looked deep into her eyes. It was almost her undoing.
"I love you," she whispered.
He barely touched his lips to hers, causing her to sigh with longing. "Ooh I love you, too."
She smiled, and then took his hand in hers. "Come. Let's go." He gave her a hungry look. She smirked. "I don't think we should give Pucey anymore free shows today." He grunted in agreement, barely listening. He couldn't take his eyes off her and the naughty, dirty things he was thinking in his mind. "Your bat, George," she reminded him. He blinked, blank. "Bat," she repeated, pointing to the item that had long since fallen to the dust.
As if suddenly waking from a dream, he blinked at her with a goofy grin. "Oh yeah," he muttered. She snickered as he bent to pick it up, and she admired his backside with shivers. She wanted him. God she wanted him. There was just something about he himself combined with quidditch gear that drove her nuts. He grabbed his bat, and her view was sadly obscured.
"Got everything?" she asked with a grin. He grinned mischievously back, and pinched her bum with his free hand, which caused her to shriek and run from his grasp.
He let out a shriek of his own as his bat started twisting in his hand, reforming and taking shape as a hooded snake. He tried to drop it, but it quickly twisted about his hand, coiling and hissing, until it was looking right at him, fully poised.
It was a cobra. George had a large, black cobra coiled tightly around his wrist.
The blood drained from her face. Live didn't know what to do, and she didn't have time to think. The snake lunged at George's face, and he dodged it, shaking his arm and shrieking guttural noises, trying to pry it off without getting bitten.
As he grasped at it, trying to quickly fling it off, it sank its fangs into his arm. George's yelps of pain made Live's blood run cold, and before she knew what she was doing, her wand was out and pointed at his arm. She cried serraté! and the upper body of the cobra was seemingly hit with invisible razors, serrated chunks and pieces of its flesh splattering the wall, pieces of it turning back to wood and sawdust, the smaller blood spatters staying crimson on the pitch. The huge lump of cobra flesh still wrapped around George's arm twitched and writhed with dying nerves.
George was on his knees trying not to cry out, gritting his teeth and hissing in burning pain, grasping his arm and shoving the remnants of the snake off him. He was now lying on his side on the ground, grasping his arm and writhing in pain, crying out as Live shook with panic.
She was grabbing at his arm, trying to get to the bite before the poison had chance to spread, but he kept shaking her off and grabbing at the wound rigidly. "George! George!" she shrieked to get his attention. He was too strong for her and kept pushing her away, writhing as the fire in his skin crept up his arm.
Live was base thought and pure instinct, forcing him to stop moving, trying to soothe him, making him lay flat, still. She knew he was spreading the poison as he writhed. She cried out to him again, and caught his eye. "Give me your arm!" she demanded, grabbing it and wiping his own and the spattered snake's blood from his arm to reveal two angry looking punctures leaking blood. She wrapped her own arm around his to keep it steady, and locating the puncture wounds, latched her mouth onto it and sucked at the holes.
George writhed even as he wanted to jerk his arm away, trying to remain still, biting his lips so he wouldn't cry out, tasting blood in his mouth. He felt short of breath and slightly dizzy, panicked. She sucked harder on the wound, and he cried out in such pain that it tore her heart in fear and panic. She held his arm tight as she let go, spitting the mixture of blood and venom upon the grass. And once again, she latched her mouth over the wound, the skin around the punctures puffy and red, and she sucked hard, tasting his blood and sting of venom, turning to spit the poison and once again repeat the process. What else could she do? What spells did she know that could help? There was no spell for snake bites. She had to get as much venom out of him as she could.
She heard a wolf-whistle once more, and looked up to see Pucey grinning down. His eyes widened, his jaw dropped when he saw her mouth smeared with blood.
"Pucey please!!" she cried to him. "Help me!"
He looked behind him at something, and she turned her attention back to George, who was trying not to writhe, but the pain was near unbearable, tears in his eyes from the burning. She latched her mouth onto the wound once more. She didn't know how much venom snakes pumped into one when bitten, but she wasn't going to take a chance with most of it getting George, and a cobra's venom at that.
She spat the blood once more onto the grass, and this time upon Pucey's quidditch boots. She looked up in fearful panic and surprise, gratitude for his presence.
"What the hell did you do?" he asked with alarm, his eyes dancing about the scene as he stood with broom in hand.
"A-a cobra--!! Please, I can't explain--"
"Sit up, Weasley," he commanded, moving Live out of the way and grabbing George's bitten arm. George was panting, lightly sweating now from fear and the poison.
Pucey held out his hand to Live. "Give me your bra."
"What?"
"Give me your bra. Now!"
George tried to wrest himself away from Pucey. "Who do you think--"
"Shut up, Weasley. Do what I said, Live," Pucey demanded, his grip tight as a clamp on George's arm just above the bite. He was trying to stop blood flow and the poison from spreading. Live quickly writhed out of her bra and gave it to Pucey, who tore it for the elasticity and wrapped George's arm tight. He crouched and attempted to get to his feet.
George rubbed at his drooping eyes with his hands, trying to focus his vision. "I can't see straight," he ground out. He seemed feverish. Live put her hands to his face in fear, inspecting him without any idea of what to do.
"Give me my broom," Pucey told Live. She grabbed it from where it lay in the grass and gave it to him. When it became clear his intent was to ride both he and George on it, Live looked incredulous.
"Can you--?"
"I can fly, you take his broom," Pucey commanded.
"Just take him quickly--"
"I can hear the poison in your speech, too. Hurry up," he commanded, pushing off unsteadily, hanging on tightly to his field rival.
Live thought a moment. She wouldn't have noticed before, but since it was brought to her attention, her tongue felt numb, like she'd been to the dentist. And her throat burned. It couldn't be a good sign. She grabbed George's broom from among the blood, wood, and remnants of her bra, making to fly after Pucey. She heard angry, inquisitive shouts from above and behind her, and saw her other housemates shouting curious things, and curses most vivid. But she didn't pay them too much mind. She had to concentrate on flying, following in Pucey's wake over the grass and high into the air, circling the castle. She was too worried for George to take notice of how high up they were flying, nor to let her fear of heights get to her now. The Slytherin in front of her disappeared through a window, and she followed mindlessly, landing moments later in the hospital wing with Madam Pomfrey's indignant shouts of care and irritation reaching her ears.
George was propped up on a bed, still grasping his arm, looking about to throw up sick, still crying out in pain. He kept saying that he couldn't see; his vision was blurry; was Live with them?
She came to his side, and tightly grabbed his hand. She felt dizzy. Nauseous. Pucey grabbed her and forced her on a cot next to George, and went sprinting from the room as Madam Pomfrey forced a foul-tasting substance down her throat. She found it very hard to swallow. Hard to breath even. Her mind wondered if she hadn't swallowed some of the venom in her verve to help.
"Madam Pomfrey--!" Live cried for her attention, sitting back up.
"Mr. Pucey said a cobra," she inquired of Live as she was undoing the quick job Pucey had made of George's arm, replacing the homemade tourniquet with her own magical gauze and splits.
"George's beater's bat turned into one right in his hand! Out on the pitch," Live tried to elucidate. Pomfrey's nervous clucking worried Live. "Is he gonna be alright?"
"I'm going to have to give him a few potions. Unfortunately, I have no anti-venom sorts here. Mr. Pucey's gone to fetch Dumbledore."
Dumbledore? Why him? How bad was it?
By the time Pucey showed up with Dumbledore, Live had worked herself into a fit of tears.
The ancient wizard regarded her with a concerned look, but once his attention was focused on George, Live had to deal with Madam Pomfrey's over-zealous concern for her and her fussing and potions which made her sleepy. Once Dumbledore had had his time with George, and the Gryffindor was sleeping soundly and safely, propped up against his bed with numerous potions and healing agents pumped into him and on/around his bite, the old man gave his attention to Live, who eyed him with anxiety.
"George will be okay, won't he?"
He took a moment she was sure he'd utilized only for suspense, and nodded, which caused her some relief. With the assurance that he was going to be okay, she regarded the old wizard with suspicion and a skeptical look as he sat on the end of the bed with tired movements indicating his age-weariness.
"I'm not going to poison you, my dear," he told her in response to the way she figured she'd been glaring. She lowered her eyes, but his voice commanded her attention once more, and he was utmostly serious. "I need you to tell me what happened."
Guarding her thoughts of the passion they'd nearly shared, she told Dumbledore all she could about what had happened with George, all the conditions, everything. He listened intently, and when he'd been told all she could give him, he offered her a smile and an invitation to tea, leaving her once more in the hospital.
She spent the rest of the afternoon and most of the next day by George's side, though she needn't have stayed for her own health at all. She promised Madam Pomfrey she'd be good and quiet, allowing him to rest and let her potions do their work. Cobra bites were not a daily occurrence, nor did an individual, magic or not, completely heal in under 24 hours. So Live was quiet and hopeful, and spent her time just being next to him until the sedatives wore off (she was sure Madam Pomfrey drugged him extra since he was one of the rowdy Weasley twins), and waited for his health to return fully to which she could finally speak with him on matters most serious, not to mention smother him in love.
Until he was well again, she refused to move from his side, and being that she was the more (perceivably) docile one of the couple, Madam Pomfrey allowed it. Besides, being as how she was stubborn as hell, there wasn't much anyone could do to make her leave when she felt it her privilege and duty to stay with him, 'guard' him in a sense.
Hermione had come and gone, as well as George's other siblings and Gryffindor chums who'd checked in on him (though Live had had to keep Fred from drawing things on his incapacitated twin's face).
Hermione had brought up several points that had gotten Live thinking, as well as dreading. While it was a good idea, she didn't much want to speak to Dumbledore about the whole prophecy as well as everything she had been sleuthing around for and he no doubt was aware of. As an alternative, the young Gryffindor witch had suggested that Live ignore the prophecy in total otherwise (Hermione wasn't a fan of Divination or forecasting the future anyhow). While her council proved beneficial and lucid, Live wouldn't decide her full actions until she had George's full thoughts on the matter.
But that would have to wait until he was released. For now, she had to resign herself to watching him and thinking hopeful (read: naughty) thoughts.
sSs
A/N: With the original breakdown of four writers to one, some obvious changes and whatnot were made over the three years this has been written, some characters given less screen-time just because they were superfluous and I didn't feel like continuing writing them. So, some might be wondering, what happened to and where is Terry?
Brazil.
-FireV.