"I beg your pardon?" she asked attempting to make out the person face.

"I don't believe I stuttered, however if you really must hear it again," he stated using the chair's arm as assist to stand up. And as he stood up, his hair shining from the light that the fire was producing, she determined it was identical to the shade of the fire. George Weasley placed the pillow, which had lain on his lap previously, back on the couch where it had originally belonged and held his book entitled 'The Noble Sport of Warlocks'.

"Allison are you alright?" he questioned with sincerity.

"Yes. I'm one hundred percent peachy," she grinned as she searched her mind for what had been said during her loss of thought, "you just frightened me a bit."

"Right." He said as if obligated to. "But don't think your getting out of answering my question so easily."

"Your question, R…right," she paused, looked away, then looked at him. "What was your question?"

He chuckled and then repeated his question. "Why didn't you kiss him?"

"He told you?" she asked.

"I'm one of his best mates, why wouldn't he tell me?" he said answering her question with another question.

"well I…well I just thought that maybe he was mad about the whole thing, so he would take it out on the Quidditch field, instead of telling someone." She stammered through her sentence.

"Your thinking is way too wishful my dear," he chuckled. "Actually he took it out on the Quidditch team."

"I don't get it," she replied.

He held up the book in his hand and said "do you really think I would be reading this if I wasn't forced to Allison? It's the teams reading assignment."

"And Katie and Alicia?" she inquired.

"What about them?" he said confused.

"The title says 'The Noble Sport of Warlocks'" she stated emphasizing the word Warlock.

"Oh right," he laughed, "Well I didn't really think of that. He probably didn't desire to offend them…" he paused. "So I imagine he gave them something different or nothing at all. Now little missy," he said after a few moments, "Before you go changing the subject again, if you would do me the favor of answering the question that's been picking at my brain. Why didn't you kiss him?"

She pondered the question for a while, and took into consideration each diminutive aspect that she had in her memory of the occurrence. She argued with her self for quite some time about her feelings on the situation and finally looked George straight in the eyes with sorrow and answered, "Truthfully, I don't know."

"You don't know!" he shrieked, frightening Allison causing her to jump backwards and drop her books that she had clutched, the whole time, with puissance. "I mean you don't know at all?" he lowered his voice to room appropriate tone. He looked down at the pile of books that had been thrown in front of him and his brow became quizzical. "What's this?" he asked her bending down to pick the object in question up.

"Nothing!" she replied a little too rushed, reaching for the magazine. "Just some additional potions reading," she lied.

As he flipped the magazine over to see the cover, she mentally hit herself. "Potions? It says 'Quidditch'" he frowned and looked towards her direction. "Is it yours?" he questioned.

"No, No. I must have grabbed Katie's Quidditch magazine as a substitute to my potions one." She chuckled tensely.

He laughed out loud then held the magazine within an arms reach. "Your secrets safe with me, you don't have to feel the need to lie Stapleton. Besides, I have the utmost respect for any girl who can understand Quidditch and actually enjoys it."

She stared at him in shock; as if almost positive he would laugh in her face and then run around waking the tower up to spread the news. She had even begun to hear him screaming 'The nerd is a closet Quidditch freak! Tell all the professors!'.

"What?" she questioned, disbelieving.

"I said don't worry, I'm not going to expose you 'real' you," he laughed at the last part.

"Thank you," she said meekly.

"Now return the favor and finish answering my question," he demanded, "I'm much more interested in that."

"I told you, I don't know." She stated simply.

"That's not good enough," he crossed his arms.

"What in addition do you want?" she requested.

"Well, I'm not really sure." He pondered. "He said that you looked scared when he first thought about doing it."

"Yes I've heard that," she shook her head when he opened his mouth to start a question, "Forget it. I guess I was scared because it's Oliver. I mean, well, I'm not saying I don't like him, like that. Its just we've never been like 'that'. Does that even make sense?" she argued with herself.

"No," he shook his head in unison of his statement.

"Yes well, I imagine it doesn't." she agreed.

"Well I was just speculating." He said walking away from her towards the boy's dormitories stairwell. "I should," he pointed up," you know, head up. Big day tomorrow, First practice and all."

"Yeah well, sleep well." She smiled.

"Yeah you too, thanks."

"Night," she whispered as she watched him disappear. She sighed heavily, turned to stare at the couch, and started walking towards it.

"Hey Stapleton?" she heard from behind her.

"Yes?" She answered placing her hand on her chest, playing around with her necklace.

"Come to our practice tomorrow. You know after your done with your potions studies." He laughed putting quotes around the potions part of the sentence.

She picked up the pillow and threw across the common room to his face.

'Oomph!' she heard, and with a satisfied tone said, "Good, I hope that hurt."

"Seriously though, come. I believe Oliver might be pleased about that."

"Okay." She replied plainly.

"Goodnight, once more" he smiled.

"Goodnight." She at last finished her journey to the couch which was so greatly lit by the room fire and sat down. She shifted slightly as if to make herself relaxed, and after a second did just that.

Without worrying about anything she opened the magazine and began to read it. 'A Mr. Philbert Deverill will replace Puddlemere United's old manager, a Mr. Tomalin,' she read.

And just as fast as she had started to read, she began to feel herself tire, so she lightly closed her eyes for a moment. As she did the fire, being the nuisance of silence that it is, popped and crackled, forcing her to open her eyes out of habit. Through her peripheral vision she saw a figure step forward to the side, near the arm of the couch.

"I couldn't sleep," Oliver declared.

"Too excited?" she found herself questioning as she folded the magazine, and carefully placed it in the crease between the arm and the cushion, and even more wary not to lure interest to it.

"About what?" he asked furrowing his brow.

"Your first day of practice…"

"Oh right. Yes, yes, of course." He said sitting down on the cushion next to her.

The unfamiliarity of his closeness, however, frightened her and was basis of her shifting her weight.

The awkward silence made both of them feel impelled to say something. In feeling pressed to do so, they both started a sentence of small talk, making the conversation sound jumbled.

"I'm sorry, go ahead." Allison said slightly chuckling.

"No, No, what were you saying?" He queried.

"Truthfully, I wasn't quite sure what I was going to say." She smiled looking up from her hands.

His eyes caught hers and he grinned back at her. He slowly began to move his hand over and across her lap, but she read it all wrong. She pressed her hand to his and laced her fingers with his. He stiffened and stared at her.

"That's not what you were thinking of doing was it?" she slapped herself mentally as she quickly removed her hand from his and placed it on her thigh. "Sorry," was all she could bring herself to say.
He stared at her for a moment, as she stared down in embarrassment, he then placed his hand on top of hers and laced his fingers through hers like they had been moments before.