**Author's Note: Sorry for the delay, guys. I actually forgot that I was in the middle of writing anything and I'd kind of dug myself a hole. Luckily, I got myself out of it. The next couple of chapters will be up soon, as I've already finished them.**

"I want to see you all at four tomorrow, instead of five!" Wilma shouted. "Remember, practice makes perfect!"

"She's getting more and more like Oliver every day," Fred muttered to his brother, who laughed.

"George, over here a moment!" Wilma called. "I need a word!"

He sauntered over to her, resting his broomstick on his shoulder. "Look, I know I wasn't playing my best today, but trust me, I'll be ready for the game--"

"No, it's not that," she said. "I don't think you should come to any practices for a while."

He stared at her questioningly. "You're not kicking me off the team, are you?" he asked rather worriedly.

Wilma shook her head. "No, don't be silly, George. I just think it would be best if you didn't play for a while. It might," she began, pausing a moment to search for the right words, "worsen your condition."

"My what?" he inquired.

"Your emotional state right now is very unstable," she explained.

"Are you mad?" George asked seriously.

Wilma crossed her arms. "George, don't be difficult. I talked to Professor McGonagall and she quite agrees. Until further notice, I don't want you on the pitch for any reason while this team is practicing."

"You can't have a team with only one Beater!" George protested. "We'll lose!"

"I have that all taken care of," Wilma stated.

George shook his head. "I can't believe you, Will."

"Now, now, we'll manage just fine without you," she said happily. "Besides, you need the break. If you ask me, we could all use a bit of a Quidditch vacation." George mounted his broom. "Where're you going? Aren't you going to walk back with me?"

"No!" he called, taking to the air. He flew all the way to Gryffindor Tower and went straight through the open window, not bothering to use any sort of door. He dropped his broomstick and asked Neville Longbottom, who was doing some Potions homework, "Where's Ron?"

Neville looked up. "I think he's in our dormitory. At least he was when I left him."

George nodded and started up the stairs. He'd go in there and say, 'I'm sorry for ruining whatever you and Hermione had together. That wasn't my intention at all. Since you're my brother, I hope you can forgive me.' Yeah, that would never work with Ron. He opened the door, not even thinking to knock. "Ron, are you in h--?" he managed to get out, before nearly falling back with shock.

Ron and Hermione, who had been kissing quite passionately, jumped apart. Ron, of course, turned beet red, while Hermione's cheeks turned a pale pink. She stared at Ron nervously, not knowing what to say.

"Well," George said uncertainly, "I guess you've made out--I mean, made up." He fled the room as quickly as possible. Once again, he sought out the solitude of the lake. He had gone there the last time Hermione had broken his heart.

George threw a rock into the water and watched the tiny ripples as they neared him. "What do I do now?" he asked himself. "No Quidditch, no Hermione, no real friends. If they were, they'd be here." Then he reminded himself the reason he was out there was to be alone. He shut his eyes and rested his head on the tree behind him. For no real reason at all, he started thinking about the end of school. What would he do after Hogwarts? He had never really even thought about it. Well, he and Fred had talked about the joke shop, but he had assumed that neither of them really believed that would ever happen. There was always the Ministry of Magic. Though George didn't fancy himself sitting behind a desk all day like Percy did, or chasing down wizards with a thirst for enchanting Muggle artifacts like his father did. "Well," he'd continue to tell himself, "that's a long way off. I've got plenty of time. For everything," he added.

~

"George, are you coming to the game?" Katie asked him a week later. "We'd really love to see you there."

He shook his head. "I don't know, I'm pretty emotionally unstable right now," he replied. "For your safety, you might want to remain ten feet away at all times."

She laughed softly. "You're such an idiot." She stood up. "Remember, I want to look up into the stands and see your smiling face."

"You?" he asked. "Before you said, 'we.'"

"So?" she shrugged.

"I knew you couldn't resist my charm," he said. "Don't fight it any longer, Katie, you love me."

Katie shook her head. "I see you're back to your old self again." He laughed. "See you later, George."

He waved and she left with the rest of the team. He wasn't sure yet if he would go or not. He wasn't by any means emotionally unstable, but he certainly wasn't feeling like his 'old self.' Besides that, Quidditch wasn't nearly as fun to watch as it was to play.

George took out his homework and started working on it. But as hard as he tried, he couldn't focus on it at all. He happened to look up and saw Hermione quietly making her way out of the tower. "You don't have to sneak out," he said to her.

Hermione stopped and looked at him. "I didn't want you to see me after…well, you know."

He nodded. "It's okay. I would've done the same thing. Only, not to Ron," he added quickly. "That would be disgusting." He laughed a little, but she didn't.

"I'm sorry, George," she said sadly. "You've been through a lot this year--and your last year at Hogwarts, too. It must be rotten. And I'm part of the problem. That's why I've been trying to avoid you--I didn't want to make you feel worse."

"I already feel bad enough," George admitted. "Trust me, it couldn't get much worse." He paused, trying to think of something else to say. "So, are you off to the Quidditch match?"

Hermione nodded. "Shouldn't you already be there?"

"Oh, you haven't heard," George said disappointedly. "I've been temporarily suspended."

"Why?" Hermione asked incredulously.

"Apparently I have a chemical imbalance," George replied. "So says Will Shakespeare."

Hermione laughed a little. "No, George, I don't think William Shakespeare ever said a thing like that."

"Not that Shakespeare," George said. "Gryffindor's captain, Wilma."

"You call her Will?" she inquired.

"Yeah." He stared at her confused face. "Oh, dear, it must be that imbalance again. I guess I am emotionally unstable after all." He glanced at the door. "Well, you'd better go. Otherwise you'll be late."

Hermione nodded. "Are you sure you don't want to come? You can tag along with Ron and I."

George shook his head. "No, thanks. I've got work to do anyway." She waved. "Have a good time. Bye." Tag along? he thought to himself. Now, I'm the third wheel? This isn't right at all. "Nothing is right," he heard himself say aloud. Everybody was gone--they were all at the match. And who wouldn't want to be? Gryffindor versus Slytherin. He was sure it would be an exciting game. There was always the possibility that Draco Malfoy would try to get Harry killed.

He went to the window and watched the tiny players fly around for a while. He heard Lee Jordan shout out the score a few times; the last time he said, "Morton scores! Slytherin leads Gryffindor one hundred-seventy to ten. Even if Potter catches the Snitch, Slytherin will win by ten points! Ooh!" he exclaimed. "Gryffindor's really taking a beating out there! It seems Fred Weasley really is nothing without his twin!"

Abruptly, George got to his feet. He couldn't stand it any longer-he was going to play.

~

Wilma glanced down toward the center of the field and saw a boy standing there, holding his broomstick and screaming his head off. "Time!" she shouted, and flew to the ground after Madam Hooch had blown the whistle. Oliver Wood met up with her. "George, what the devil do you think you're doing?!"

"Thank God you're here, Weasley," Oliver said breathlessly--he had just come tearing down to the pitch upon seeing George. "Get on that broomstick and keep those Bludgers at bay!"

"No!" Wilma protested. "Absolutely not! Who's the captain here, anyway?"

"Under my rule, that team won the Quidditch Cup!" Oliver fought back. "What kind of captain are you anyway, telling them it's okay to lose? If they think they can lose, they won't work. And if they don't work, you can say good-bye to that trophy!"

Wilma could almost see the golden trophy fluttering away before her eyes. "All right! Fine! George, you're in! Tell Mendeleev he's out!" She shot a furious look in Oliver's direction before taking off again.

Madam Hooch blew the whistle once again and play resumed. "Well, looks like George Weasley is back in the game!" Lee shouted. "And Gryffindor has control of the Quaffle! Johnson passes to Spinnet--Spinnet back to Johnson--Johnson scores! Nice one, Angelina! Sorry, Professor."

"Try to be a little more unbiased in your commentary, Mr. Jordan," Professor McGonagall said. "This is your last warning--the next time I have to talk to you, I let Creevey replace you."

"Yes, Professor," Lee said. When he turned around, he just barely caught Angelina scoring another goal. "Gryffindor scores again! If Potter catches the Snitch, Gryffindor will win. And he might do just that-Potter's seen the Snitch--he's diving! And there's Slytherin Seeker, Draco Malfoy, plummeting after him. Come on, Harry--er, and Draco."

Suddenly, the crowd of Gryffindor's nearest Harry started screaming and cheering. "Potter's caught the Snitch, giving the win to Gryffindor by ten points!" Lee bellowed.

George flew to the ground and ran toward Harry. He grabbed him and cried, "You always pull us through, Harry!"

The rest of the team crowded blissfully around the Seeker and Oliver's screech of joy was heard echoing inside the walls of Hogwarts.