Author's note: Enjoy!
Disclaimer: The following characters belong to J.K. Rowling, and this story derives from her original works, storylines, and world. You can tell I'm not her because #transrights
Warnings: NA
Perfectly Perfect in Every Way
George was putting the practise bats back on the walls of the cluttered shed Madam Hooch used to store Quidditch equipment, where there were hooks to hang them by. Earlier, he had had some trouble putting away the Bludger he and Fred may or may not have borrowed to set loose in the potions classroom since Snape had reportedly been mean to Ginny again (besides, since when did they need a reason to annoy their favourite potions professor?) This may or may not have led to said Bludger getting loose in the equipment shed and making a mess, thus putting George severely behind schedule. Alas. C'est la vie, or whatever it was the French said. They were a wise lot, weren't they?
He hadn't realized that he had been running behind enough to coincide with the start of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team's practise time, but there was perfect Cedric Diggory with his perfect teeth and perfectly tousled bronze hair. He was wearing a yellow Hufflepuff t-shirt with the sleeves chopped off, showing a rather perfect tan even if they were far enough along in fall that he should have been as pasty as the rest of them.
"Oh, hello," Cedric said pleasantly. "George, right?"
"Right," he said. "Cedric."
"Right," Cedric said with a smile. "Did Gryffindor book the pitch tonight?"
"No, I was just… doing some cleaning," George said.
"Oh, that's wonderful of you. Cheers," Cedric said. "I was meaning to do that, but Professor Lupin's asked me to help tutor some of his first years and I've been busier than usual. I'll try not to undo all your work when we finish our practise."
George offered him a stale smile but Cedric didn't seem to mind. He reached for a case of playing balls, grabbed some bats for his Beaters, and grabbed some hoops—presumably for flying exercises—which he slid down one muscular arm and down another shoulder.
"How's Harry, by the way?" Cedric said.
"Harry?" George asked.
"Yes," Cedric said. "You know… Potter? I feel awful about the fall he took, but I don't know him well enough to ask how he's doing. I keep meaning to ask Oliver, but we aren't in many classes together…"
"Merlin, you really are obnoxiously perfect aren't you?" George said. "You've got hair like that, arms like that, you care about cleaning, and now you're asking about our scrawny little Seeker?"
Cedric seemed vaguely taken aback, but then he decided to smile.
"Should I not ask about your Seeker's wellbeing?" Cedric asked.
"Well, you could be a little bit mean, you know," George said.
"How would I go about doing that?" Cedric asked.
"You could… well, Merlin, you'd have lots of options. You could smear your win in my face a little bit. You could have a laugh about how Gryffindor's short a literal broomstick now and will have to share during our next game, or offer to teach our team how to hold onto broomsticks properly..." George said.
"That does sound mean," Cedric said. He bent down to scoop up the case of balls and hauled it onto one shoulder, rather effortlessly—which only annoyed George more. "Wouldn't have thought of any of it myself, though I do like the line about sharing a broomstick. That's a good one, George. It's quite a funny mental image, you know."
"You're infuriating," George said.
"Maybe you can teach me how to be mean later," Cedric said. "I've got to go be perfect somewhere else now, so I'll see you later."
Cedric turned away and let the shed door shut behind him, leaving George puzzled. Had Cedric Diggory just… made a joke?
Merlin, maybe he wasn't too perfect to have a personality after all…
WC: 618