We're doing some relationship building and some fluff for this chapter now that we're over the big hurdle. Nessa could use a break from the anxiety (and I could use a break putting myself in her shoes when she's anxious LOL) and I just need some girly fluff at the moment. Also, more Rita Skeeter! Who is a lot of fun to write for some reason, and I'm sure you can all guess how that's going to turn out.
Also, I am writing another smutty oneshot of ONE of these couples for anyone who that interests. It won't be posted for awhile because it occurs after this series and it will give too much away (who dies or doesn't, how Voldemort dies, which couples last, you know that sort of thing LOL). I'll probably post something sooner than that at some point for those of you who have been asking for another one, but the idea for this one hit, so I'm working on that first before I lose it.
Bookcozy: Thank you! I was so nervous that it just didn't come across well in terms of writing it. It was so hard to write from that perspective for some reason. Maybe it was all the anticipation from the build up, I don't know. But, yes, I do just love the four of them together. There's just a balance there that works for me. Also, enjoy camping!
Chapter Twenty Four
By the time Nessa had calmed herself enough to go back into the champion tent, Harry was exiting. He waved her off when she made to ask what Bagman wanted, saying he'd tell her later. The tent was mostly empty now aside from Cedric, Madame Pomfrey, and Fleur, who was apparently being checked over for injuries by Pomfrey.
"Where have you been?" Madame Pomfrey said the moment she came in. "You can work on Miss Delacour. I need to check on Mr. Diggory again."
Nessa really did not want to have a conversation with Fleur, she knew that much, but Madame Pomfrey had bustled off before she could even formulate a protest. She gave Fleur a cool look, but made her way over to her anyway, giving her a cursory glance. She really was beautiful — Nessa had always thought that Tori was the most beautiful woman she'd ever seen in real life, but Fleur might have taken the title, despite her displeasure in admitting it.
"Where does it hurt?" she asked her curtly, trying to distract herself by washing her hands so that she could convince her face to at least look polite.
She hadn't quite forgotten — or forgiven — Fleur's comments the night of Halloween, or the tantrum she'd thrown in order to get Harry in trouble or disqualified. She hadn't spoken to her since, and tried very hard not to look at her entirely if she could. Ron was doing that enough for all of them anyway, and she had no desire to befriend the older girl anyway.
"I am fine," Fleur said, her accent very thick. "Madame Pomfrey iz worried for nozing."
Nessa snorted indelicately, but moved over to the girl anyway; Madame Pomfrey was very rarely wrong about anything so if she had reason to suspect that Fleur was injured in some manner, it wasn't her place to argue. Not to mention she hardly had the training to be arguing with the matron anyway.
"I doubt that," she said, moving Fleur's arms around to look and see if there were any injuries she should be aware of. It irritated her that her limbs moved so smoothly even when she was controlling them — like they had a mind of their own. It also irritated her how smooth and blemish-free her skin was. And that she was irritated about those things to begin with.
"You do not like me."
The words had not been a question, said so surely that it almost sounded like she was used to this treatment from women. Nessa didn't bother denying the fact that she didn't because it seemed fairly obvious, and because she had no reason to feel badly about that fact. She had very little pity for the other woman when everything she'd seen from her so far had been shallow and self-centered.
"No," she said. "I don't."
"Why?" Nessa looked up at her with an incredulous look, but the question seemed genuine. "Because I am beautiful?"
That made her laugh before she could stop it. It was a ridiculous statement, and still about as shallow and self-centered as she should have come to expect from her.
"Zat is funny?"
"It's ridiculous," Nessa said with an eye roll. "It has nothing to do with your looks —"
"You do not agree that I am?"
It was her irritation with the line of conversation that made her push down a little too hard on the girl's thigh. She hissed in pain, but tried to cover it up when Nessa looked up to give her a sharp look.
"I thought you said there was nothing wrong," she said, her voice thick with irritation.
"It iz no –"
Nessa didn't bother listening, instead folding part of her skirt up so that she could get a clear view of what was bothering her. The moment she caught sight of the burn on her leg, she huffed in irritation and raised an eyebrow. It had clearly happened when her skirt had caught fire, but that wasn't what she was asking her, and Fleur seemed to understand anyway.
"Madame Maxime can 'eal it," Fleur said haughtily.
"Yes, well, so can the rest of us," Nessa snapped, moving away from her to grab a tin of burn paste. It was thick, goopy, and orange, and Fleur looked at it with distaste, but Nessa didn't give her even a moment to complain. She dipped her fingers in and spread the paste over the burn as carefully as she was able, but the wince Fleur made was not lost on her. Nor was the way she gripped the edge of the bed she was sitting on in an attempt to stave off some of the discomfort.
Burn paste was not in itself painful, but having something thick spread across a burn was exactly the most comfortable thing either.
"You did not answer ze question," Fleur gritted out after several seconds of silence.
Nessa did not particularly want to answer it. It didn't seem entirely conducive to the patient-student-who-should-not-be-Healing relationship that she was trying to set here. Not to mention, she was sort of distracted by how soft and creamy the girl's skin was. It was truly unmarred and it felt like it shimmered somehow, which was horribly distracting.
Distracting enough that she was starting to debate whether or not she might fancy girls, despite the fact that she had had no previous interest in any of them before this point. Whatever Veela magic she possessed felt like it was scrambling her head a little.
"It has nothing to do with you being beautiful," she said, clearing her throat and forcing herself to focus on what was happening in front of her. "I already said that."
"Yes, but you did not say what it iz that you dislike about me," she said primly. "So I must assume zat it iz my looks, no?"
"No," Nessa huffed, screwing the lid back on the tin and giving Fleur a hard look. "You need to wait twenty minutes before you can leave. And only after I check it again." Fleur didn't seem to care much, too focused on her round of questioning to pay much attention. When she kept staring at her expectantly, Nessa growled low in her throat and set the tin of burn paste down on the table far harder than was necessary. "Not everyone cares what you look like, you know. I have no reason to care what you look like. I don't like you because you're shallow and self-centered and —"
"You cannot say zat when you do not even know me," Fleur said harshly. "Zat is what you all say because you are too ashamed to admit zat I threaten you —"
Nessa snorted and gave her an exasperated look.
"You cannot seriously believe that," she scoffed. "I don't know you well, but the only thing I've heard from you since you got here is how much better you think you are — Beauxbatons food is better, and the decorations are better, and the accommodations are better —"
"Zey are," Fleur interrupted, and Nessa pointed a finger at her warningly.
"I'm not finished," she snapped peevishly. There was a momentary surprise that flickered across Fleur's face, and she raised a curious eyebrow at her to continue. "You also had not a concern in the world for Harry when he was selected as champion so long as you got what you wanted. You've given me zero reason at all to like you, so don't sit here and try and tell me that I'm threatened by you because you're beautiful because I could care less what you look like."
Fleur said nothing to her for several long moments and Nessa busied herself by straightening things around the cubicle, trying to force herself to calm some of the residual irritation from the ridiculousness of the conversation. She shouldn't have even bothered saying anything. It didn't matter in the grand scheme of things, whether she liked Fleur or not, and —
"I like you."
It was disbelief that sent her whirling around to gape at the woman behind her. She was eyeing her up and down in an appreciative sort of way, and it confused the hell out of her.
"I'm sorry?" she said, her mind not quite understanding how the words could possibly make sense with the ones that she'd said.
"I like you," Fleur repeated, as if the words were self-explanatory.
And they might have been except for the fact that she had not been saying anything remotely kind, and it really didn't make much sense that Fleur would find being talked to in that way at all appealing. Nessa certainly wouldn't have.
"Maybe I should check you for a head wound…" she mused out loud.
Fleur snorted, throwing her golden hair over her shoulder. Nessa was momentarily enraptured by the way it moved, like cascades of liquid gold, and had to shake her head to focus again.
"My 'ead is fine," Fleur said seriously. "I just zink zat you are 'onest. Most women…zey simply speak behind my back as if I cannot see zem. You say I am shallow, and yet zat is all I 'ave ever known from other women, no? Zey see my looks and assume I am…'ow you say sans cervelle in Eenglish?"
It took Nessa a moment to get her brain working enough to realize she'd asked her a question.
"Brainless," she said blankly.
"Oui," Fleur agreed. "Brainless and beautiful. Arrogant, no? Women 'ave never given me reason to be kind to zem when they have only ever shown me unkindness."
Nessa supposed she hadn't particularly considered the flip side of her judgment of Fleur. She imagined calling her shallow for taking pride in her looks made her equally shallow, and she supposed if she were looking at things a bit more objectively, that she could argue that Fleur was simply standing up for herself on Halloween in the same way she had been for Harry. A certainly interesting consideration, especially because — when she truly considered — she had never judged Tori for similar characteristics, including her arrogance about her looks or her offhand rudeness.
"If I 'ad asked zose women, zey would 'ave lied to me," Fleur continued cooly. "Smiled and zen made rude comments about me when zey thought I could not see zem. No one 'as ever told me zey find me shallow to my face. I like zat about you, even if I zink that it is quite rude."
There was something somehow shameful and respectable about having the older girl call her out for falling in line with the stereotypes that other women had set for her. Particularly because it was not a place she wanted to be. It had been a snap judgment on her part, even if Fleur had made some particularly rude comments herself.
"You're right," she said quietly. She had nothing else she could say in this instance because, while Fleur may have been a bit abrasive herself, Nessa had not been much better. "I'm sorry. I suppose I'm not much better, am I?"
"No," Fleur said honestly. Nessa snorted at the bluntness of the answer. "But I do admit zat I can come across a bit...abrasif. Your culture is different 'ere and I am not at 'ome 'ere. I do not know anyone and my peers do not like me unless zey are men. My comments about 'Ogwarts are not because I do not see its appeal, but because I am not comfortable 'ere. And I certainly do not wish 'Arry any 'arm. I would not want my seester in such a competition eizer."
Nessa stared at her for a long moment, eyeing her shrewdly in an attempt to get a read on her. She was certainly much different than she'd expected, and some of her residual irritation was fading. She was honest, a bit blunt, but Nessa had no reason to distrust her when much of how she felt was clear on her face.
They were certainly very different people in the grand scheme of things — one of them haughty, outspoken, and confident, and the other self-conscious, reserved, and standoffish — but she had a difficult time disliking her when she was so openly admitting her own weaknesses, and so willing to explain them to someone else. It required a certain amount of bravery that Nessa herself was not sure she possessed.
"I didn't know you had a sister," she said conversationally, attempting to let go of some of the tension she'd started with her immediate coolness toward her.
Fleur relaxed and smiled widely at her, an action which made any of her previous beauty pale in comparison. Truly, it made her regular appearance seem downright hideous.
"Oui," she said fondly. "Gabrielle — she is eight. She will be 'ere for some of the competition, I am sure. She 'as been begging ma mère to come to visit. She 'as barely been 'olding 'er at bay, I suspect."
Nessa huffed a laugh.
"Harry was quite stubborn at that age," she recalled fondly. "Though I don't think he's grown out of it. It only gets more annoying." Nessa moved toward the French girl again to eye the burn mark on her thigh. It was healing quite nicely, the rough, shiny layers of red skin paling back to her regular color and smoothing out again. "You'll probably be fine. No bandages or anything that will constrain the wound. Once the burn paste fully dissolves, you can do whatever you want. Nothing crazy until then, although after a dragon battle, I'm sure lowkey is what you're hoping for."
Fleur tossed her hair over her shoulder again and stood, the blue skirt she was wearing falling back into place and covering her wound. Nessa took a step back from her, feeling distinctly more intimidated by her now than she had been before; she was much taller than her, and everything she did was so smooth and graceful. It made her feel more like an uncoordinated chicken now that she didn't have the upper hand when it came to her limited knowledge of healing.
"Zank you," Fleur said, giving her a polite nod. "I will speak to you soon, no?"
Nessa nodded because she had absolutely no idea what else she should be saying. She hadn't gotten the impression that Fleur liked her so much as she tolerated her for her ignorance in the same way that Nessa had tolerated Fleur for hers. But clearly she'd misinterpreted that because Fleur gave her a smile that nearly took her entire breath away before gliding off and out the tent.
"She's a bit overwhelming to look at, isn't she?"
Nessa jumped and swore viciously when she dropped the tin of burn paste she'd been holding when Fleur had been leaving. Cedric was staring at her with half-amusement, half-understanding as she turned to face him. She felt guilty for some reason, as if maybe she'd been caught flirting with Fleur instead of just gaping after her like an idiot.
"Course, she's never smiled at me like that, so I suppose it must be worse," he said when she just looked at him some more. "I thought Veela only affected you if you were attracted to women."
Yeah, she'd thought that too. But she didn't think she was as much attracted to Fleur as she was overwhelmed by her — her confidence, her looks, her blunt honesty. Although she was sure that her beauty didn't help much, not when Nessa herself was an awkward, plain Jane in comparison.
"They do," she said, clearing her throat. Cedric raised an eyebrow at her and smirked, and, realizing that it sounded like she was confirming her interest in women, she blushed a little and added, "Not that it matters, but I'm not attracted to her. She's just…a lot to take in all at once, isn't she? Besides, the only other time I've seen a veela in person was at the Quidditch World Cup. I don't think I was paying much attention to their magic then."
Cedric snorted.
"Fleur's only a quarter veela — it's much worse otherwise," he said before giving her a serious look. "How's Harry? He seemed alright when Bagman was talking to us but —"
"He's fine," she said, refusing to look at him as she sanitized the room. "It was just a cut."
"Better than me, I suppose," he said, running a hand through his hair. "Nearly burned off half my face —"
She didn't know what possessed her to do it, really. The fact that she felt so awkward that they were standing so far apart and looking at each other as if they were mere acquaintances; the fact that she hated herself a little for letting him face a dragon without even a moment's consideration for his well-being or even thinking about warning him first; the fact that she'd — for a horrible tens seconds of her life — thought that he'd died right in front of her before she'd even had the chance to smooth things over with him.
Whatever the reason, she didn't particularly care because she flung herself at him, nearly sending them both tumbling backward as she squeezed the breath right out of his lungs.
"Oh, God, I'm so sorry," she said quietly, relaxing slightly when he laughed and squeezed her back so tightly that he lifted her clear off the floor. "I should have told you about the dragons, and I totally forgot and you —"
"Nessa, really, it's fine," he said calmly, setting her back down on the ground and pulling back enough to look at her. "You were worried about Harry, and I don't blame you. Although, he did pretty well so maybe we underestimated him a bit."
She didn't bother telling him that Harry had nearly driven himself into the ground with panic. He might not have vocalized it quite as much as she had, but she wasn't stupid enough to believe him unbothered. Nor did she want to mention that Harry had help with the entire thing — not when she wasn't sure if Cedric himself had had help from any of his friends.
Instead, she grabbed his face in one of her hands to take a look at him. She hadn't seen much when she'd been in the stands, but it had looked like it had taken up the entire side of his cheek. She couldn't even tell now that he had been injured at all, other than the fact that the skin that had repaired itself looked much softer and cleaner than the rest of his face. Cedric grabbed onto her wrist and pulled it away from his face with a smile.
"Seriously, Nessa, I'm fine," he said. "Madame Pomfrey —"
They both jumped at a blinding flash of light from beside them and turned to look at the cause of the commotion.
"Well done, Mr. Diggory, well done," a woman Nessa had never seen before purred at him. "You wouldn't mind a word, would you? How you managed to get past your dragon, what you were feeling, if you ever thought you'd see young Vanessa Potter again — that is who you are, yes, dear?" Nessa had absolutely no idea what she was supposed to be saying, but it didn't appear to matter much anyway, as the woman merely kept speaking. "The world would love to know all about you, Mr. Diggory —"
"No thanks, Ms. Skeeter, thank you," Cedric said politely, his smile charming despite his refusal. "Nessa and I were just —"
"Skeeter?" Nessa inquired before she could stop herself. "Rita Skeeter?"
She didn't know why it surprised her. She hadn't thought of the woman once since the article about Harry had come out, but she looked almost what Nessa would have imagined in her head. She was a clearly well-kept woman, her blonde hair set in elaborate curls that were rigid from whatever product she used to style them. She wore jeweled spectacles studded with rhinestones, that made her penciled on eyebrows much more obvious, and the nails of her fingers were painted crimson and were at least two inches long.
Everything about her was at odds with her physical characteristics; her nails made her thick fingers and masculine hands stand out and her curls made her heavily jawed face more prominent. She wore a horrible green leather dress that had maroon furs around the neck and sleeves, and she was clutching an even more horrible crocodile skinned handbag, from which she pulled an acid green quill and waved her photographer away lazily.
"You've heard of me? How sweet," she said, touching the quill to the tip of her tongue and letting it hover above a pad of paper that Nessa had not seen her pull out. "I'd simply love to get your opinion of Cedric, although I'm sure I can guess. You two look quite cozy — don't worry, dear, I won't tell that delicious looking boyfriend of yours. We all have needs, don't we?"
"Excuse me?" Nessa said, totally affronted by the insinuation and not at all sure how she could possibly know about her and George to begin with.
"We're just friends," Cedric said hastily. Either because he could see Nessa's impending explosion or because he could see the situation getting worse if he didn't smooth it over, Nessa couldn't tell.
It was as if he hadn't spoken the words at all. Rita merely smiled at him, giving him a patronizing pat on the cheek, and clicking her tongue disbelievingly.
"Don't be shy now," she said. "No one will judge you, I assure you. There's nothing quite as riveting as a love triangle —"
"There's no triangle," Nessa snapped. Cedric covered her mouth before she could say anything else and smiled at Rita tightly.
"Yes, no triangle," he agreed firmly. "Just two friends. She was just checking my burn —"
"Ah, yes, nasty thing, isn't it?" Rita said, switching gears quickly, although Nessa did not for one moment believe that she had deserted her previous line of questioning. She was like a dog on a scent, a sort of malicious twinkle in her eye that told Nessa that she would do whatever she had to for a story, whether it was honest or not. "My readers have been simply dying to hear about you —"
"Is that why you didn't write anything about him the first time?"
Cedric was desperately losing his battle to keep Nessa's temper contained, and there was a part of her that knew she should at least attempt to heed whatever silent warning he was conveying to her. Remus had already told her not to get on the woman's bad side, and he would kill her if she did something stupid, but she had so little patience for her life — or Cedric's or her brother's lives — being made public for some sort of sordid, disgusting public debate.
"Well, now, I'm sure you can understand that," Rita purred, her face falsely apologetic as she looked at Cedric. "Her brother being the youngest champion — and Harry Potter, no less — that grabs the attention —"
"His life is not a game," she snapped back. "Neither are my parents' deaths —"
"Would you like to tell us how you feel about your parents?"
Nessa gaped at her for a long moment, and she could hear Cedric let loose a heavy breath and something that sounded distinctly like "Oh boy," as if he were well aware of what was going to come next and had no way to stop it.
"You cannot be this dimwitted," Nessa said to the journalist angrily. The saccharine smile immediately fell off the older woman's face, and there was something sinister about the way she was eyeing her now, like watching the gears turn in her head as she tried to turn a story ugly out of pure spite. "Report whatever you want, but stay away from my brother. He has enough to be worried about without you slithering around like a snake trying to turn his entire life upside down. And Cedric is too good a human being to be around the likes of you, so you can stay away from him too. You're a disgusting, loathsome, vapid human being, and I have no intention of letting you make a mockery out of mine or my brother's life. Is that enough words for you?"
There was a long silence, as Cedric grimaced off into the distance as if hoping he were anywhere else. Rita was glaring at her harshly, her quill stopping its movement altogether, her crimson claw-like nails pausing their annoying thrumming on her arm as her entire focus zeroed in on her.
"You should learn how to better respect your elders, girl —"
"Respect is earned," Nessa snapped. "And you've given me no reason to respect you at all. I'd be surprised if you had anyone's respect. You think I don't hear the way people talk about you —"
"Nessa," Cedric warned with a hard look, as if he were afraid she were going to cross a line that she didn't see.
Rita merely smiled at her, her lip curling threateningly.
"I can make your life a living hell, Miss Potter —"
"Well, I certainly invite you to try," she purred back, her smile just as threatening as the one that was being directed at her. "Now if you'll excuse us, we have far better people to be talking to than you."
She grabbed Cedric's arm before the older woman could respond and pulled him out of the tent. There was a momentary thought that she probably should have told Madame Pomfrey about Fleur, but she'd deal with that later. So long as she didn't have to be in the presence of Rita Skeeter, she didn't really care about anything else. And Fleur wasn't dead, so it wasn't an immediate concern.
"Well, our picture will be in the Prophet tomorrow," Cedric said, casually, tugging on her arm to get her to slow down. They'd made it halfway to the castle without her realizing how quickly she was stomping away from the champions' tent. "Also, we left my egg back there."
"Did you want to go back and get it then?" she said rhetorically, trying to take deep breaths to calm her irritation.
"Not when she was whispering at her quill the way she was, no," he said pointedly. "You shouldn't have pissed her off —"
Nessa whirled on him angrily.
"She shouldn't be such a disgusting human being," she said hotly. "She wouldn't have cared about you at all if she hadn't seen us hugging —"
"I don't particularly care about being in the paper, Nessa," he said calmly. "Particularly if it spares me from her. Harry's interview certainly wasn't all that glowing."
"Don't remind me," Nessa huffed, stomping back toward the castle again.
He followed her silently, looking for all the world like he was wondering what horrible thing Rita Skeeter might write about them now that Nessa had pissed her off. He didn't say anything until they reached the Entrance Hall.
"Hey," he said quietly, grabbing her wrist before she could storm up the stairs. She stopped to look back at him, her eyes still sparking with anger, and he pulled her back into his chest for a tight hug. She blew out a large breath and squeezed him back. Despite her anger, there was a comfort in knowing that they weren't still avoiding each other. "Don't let her get to you, alright? It's her job. She doesn't let go of grudges very easily —"
"She won't write anything bad about you," Nessa said into his chest. "You don't have to worry about that —"
"I don't care about me, Nessa," Cedric said, rolling his eyes. "Rita Skeeter isn't the kind of person you want to annoy, trust me. I've read her articles my entire life, and they're none too kind, even to people she doesn't have a problem with. You have enough to be worried about as it is —"
"I'm fine," Nessa huffed.
"You haven't been sleeping —"
She pulled away from him to give him an incredulous look.
"How do you know that?"
"Weasley told me," he said, grimacing at her. When she gaped at him, he chuckled, "Don't look so surprised, gorgeous. He didn't want to tell me, I don't think, but I asked. He also told me to get my head out of my arse, and when I told him to mind his own business, he accidentally," the word was accompanied by air quotes and a roll of his eyes, "hit me with a Reductor Curse in Charms."
"What?" she said angrily.
Cedric waved her away.
"Doesn't matter," he said. "I turned his eyebrows blue in Transfiguration. Anyway, that's not really the point. The point is that some things are better left unsaid, particularly when it comes to Rita Skeeter —"
"I think maybe you should be telling her that," she griped. She waved him away when he made to say something else. "I got it, okay? I'll be on my best behavior from now on. And I'm sorry if she drags you into —"
"She was going to write about us regardless, I think," he said with a grimace. "I'll probably have to use a daily Cushioning Charm in case Weasley accidentally hits me with more spells," he added, although it seemed to be mostly to himself. "And, look, since we didn't get to talk about it before, I just wanted to say that I — I mean, I don't know how it could have happened, but if you say Harry didn't enter the tournament on purpose then I believe you. And I'm listening, if you ever want to talk about it."
She didn't. She'd debated it in great detail since they'd argued about it, and no matter how she imagined it, he didn't take the news well. And maybe it was selfish of her because she didn't want to put their already awkward friendship even more on edge by telling him she thought Voldemort was coming back, but it was easier — on both of them — if she didn't mention it. Particularly because she didn't have enough details to make a compelling argument. There'd be time later to go over everything with him when, or if, the thing she was afraid of came to pass.
Until then, she was happy to keep him in the dark. He was the only person in her life that was unmarred and untouched by the darkness surrounding her brother and his life, and she intended to keep it that way for as long as possible.
"Thank you," she said softly, hugging him one last time. "And I'm glad you're okay. You scared me half to death."
He chuckled.
"A burn is the least of my worries," he said. "I expected much worse."
"Tori will be very upset to know that it's healed. She wanted me to ask you to keep it."
He laughed loudly, shaking his head.
"Sorry to disappoint her," he said. "Tell her I'll try to hurt myself again next task. Maybe a gash across the face —"
Nessa hit him on the arm with a scowl.
"Don't you dare," she said. "Tori will have to find someone else to live out her fantasy with."
He surprised her entirely when he leaned down to kiss her on the cheek before walking backward toward the corridor that led to his common room.
"Knowing Hastings, I'm sure she will," he said with a grin. She tried to keep her surprise off her face and waved awkwardly at him as he made to turn away. "I'll see you soon, yeah?"
He was gone before she'd even garnered a response.
Nessa should have told her friends about her run-in with Rita Skeeter, but she hadn't the heart to do so when she arrived back at the common room.
The twins had gone truly overboard on their party throwing this time around, and they'd acquired as much help as they could get in order to do so. The common room was loud, filled with cheers and yelling when she entered, and every surface had been covered with mountains of cake and candy, flagons of pumpkin juice, and bottles of butterbeer. Lee Jordan had let off some Filibuster Fireworks, so that the air was thick with stars and sparks, and smelled of smoke. Dean Thomas had put up some impressive new banners, most of which depicted Harry zooming around the Horntail's head on his broom, though a couple showed Cedric with his head on fire.
Nessa chose not to mention that particular detail and pretended like she didn't notice it entirely.
It took her no time at all to find her friends. They were, as always, in the center of the room, playing Truth or Dare with a large group of their House. She'd not mentioned anything to them when she'd noticed the older students passing around a bottle of firewhiskey that she was sure the twins had pilfered and was only making the game far more embarrassing. She'd watched carefully for several minutes, but none of the younger students appeared to notice and the twins were — oddly — very careful about keeping that particular part of the game a secret.
So long as it stayed that way, she wasn't entirely concerned about going full-prefect on any of them, so she'd made her way toward Ginny and her friends instead. They'd been gathered around the food table, giggling and gossiping, and she'd been hounded with questions about Cedric and if he was feeling better and how well she knew him. She was thankful when Tori broke away from the rowdy group in the center and pulled her away from the younger girls who had no immediate desire to stop talking about Cedric, no matter how often she attempted to change the subject.
It was because of this, she was sure, that she ended up tipsy from some ridiculous notion of Tori's that she needed to "loosen up." Although not entirely incorrect, she hadn't really considered that she hadn't eaten in days so it took very little time for her to end up feeling giddy and light-headed. Either that or she'd let her anxiety and residual relief that the task had ended far better than she'd expected color her judgment a little.
Tori seemed quite proud of herself, particularly when Nessa's drunken thoughts led her over to the food table to eat a cupcake and a sugar quill. Not exactly her healthiest choice, but food was food, and she'd made Harry tell her in great detail what Bagman had wanted; she was happy — her brother was alive, her and Cedric were no longer arguing, the first task was over, and Harry didn't have to worry about another one for three months. Her life had gone from utter chaos to bliss in a matter of hours and she didn't care about anything at all at the moment, except maybe getting sleep, but she was distracted by the sound of George's laugh as he broke away from the group in the center and grabbed a bottle of butterbeer.
"Bloody hell," he said in surprise when she launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck in a hug. He dropped his bottle of butterbeer back onto the table in an attempt to keep himself from falling over it, and used his other arm to wrap around her waist. He was so much taller than her that the tops of her toes were barely brushing the floor when he straightened. "Love, what's wrong?"
"Nothing," she said, grinning up at him. "Just missed you."
He narrowed his eyes at her, carefully scrutinizing the pink flush to her cheeks and the happy glaze to her eyes. She was much looser than she had been in weeks and her grin was more goofy than happy. It took him very little time to understand what was happening, particularly when he looked up at Tori, who had been occupying a table in the corner, and she raised a shot glass in his direction with a grin and sent him a thumbs up. She had a particularly uncanny ability to convince Nessa to let loose and have fun.
"Have you been drinking, love?" he said, focusing back on the woman in his arms, a slow smirk spreading across his face.
"Shhh," she said, covering his mouth with her hand, and eyeing a group of first years behind him who could not possibly have heard him over the noise his friends were making in the center of the room. "I had some…juice."
"Ahh," he said, nodding in understanding and winking at her. "Of course. A prefect like you would never drink alcohol, would you?"
"Nuh uh," she said, grinning at him and totally unconcerned. "I didn't see any alcohol in here at all."
He chuckled and pushed her hair away from her face to kiss her on the forehead. There was something so particularly alluring about her when she broke the rules.
"Good girl," he said softly, reaching back for his bottle of butterbeer again.
He dropped it again when she leaned up to kiss him, something about his words giving her an overwhelming desire to close the distance between them. She wasn't drunk, but the alcohol had done enough in lowering her inhibitions that she didn't feel the typical anxiety she normally did at the prospect of initiating a kiss between them, and she hadn't exactly forgiven him for kissing her so thoroughly in the forest just to leave her out there to grin after him like an idiot. She could tell that the move had surprised him a little as he didn't immediately respond, but he was quick in his recovery, wrapping his hands around the sensitive part of her waist and pulling her up to close some of the distance in their heights.
She was certain it wasn't the alcohol that was making her head spin now when he pulled her in so close to him that she was forced to arch back to keep her mouth connected with his. Or maybe it was the groan he made in the back of his throat, she couldn't really tell anymore, her alcohol-induced giddiness and her hormones making everything in her brain scramble entirely.
It was the whistling and cat-calling that broke them apart, and she hadn't had enough alcohol to not feel some embarrassment at the fact that she'd been caught snogging her boyfriend in the middle of a very crowded room. George handled the attention much better than she did, kissing her once on the forehead and looking over her to his group of friends.
"Piss off, the whole lot of you," he said, grabbing his butterbeer from the table again, and leaning down to whisper in her ear. "C'mon, love. We can finish this later."
Her stomach swooped at the tone of his voice, even despite her residual embarrassment, but she was distracted by him attempting to usher her in the direction of his friends.
"But I wanted another cupcake," she pouted, looking back at the table in disappointment.
He laughed at her, handing her his drink and then reaching back to grab an entire plate of strawberry cupcakes. She grinned happily when he'd finally managed to seat them in the armchair he'd been occupying before and pulled her down to sit sideways in his lap, swapping his drink for her plate of cupcakes.
"You're up, George," Fred said when they'd settled completely, and George gave a curious look around the group still seated around the table before choosing Katie Bell.
Nessa had no idea if Katie had chosen truth or dare, or even what George had asked her to do. She was too enraptured by the strawberry cupcake in front of her, her legs kicking idly over the arm of the chair as she peeled back the wrapping and took a large bite. The house elves really knew what they were doing in terms of cooking — she had no idea how they did it. They tasted better every time she had one, although maybe it was the alcohol that made her think so.
She jumped when George rested a hand on her thigh, distracting her from her dessert entirely. He chuckled at her.
"Do you want me to leave the two of you alone?"
She might have normally found this question embarrassing, especially because he looked like he was only half-joking. But she didn't really blame him for asking because she was particularly enraptured at the moment, and she was fairly certain she might have moaned happily when the sweetness of the frosting touched her tongue.
In her defense, she hadn't eaten in days, and though a cupcake wasn't the most nutritious thing for her to be eating knowing that fact, it was certainly more enjoyable.
"Hush," she said, taking another bite of the cupcake and sighing in contentment. "This is the best cupcake I've ever had."
He raised an eyebrow and wrapped his hand around her wrist to bring the cupcake up to his mouth to take a bite himself. Now normally, she might have protested — she didn't like sharing her food, particularly when it was very good — but there was something oddly attractive about watching the man take a bit from something she'd shared beforehand, and his hand around her wrist certainly didn't help.
Maybe the alcohol had burned off some of her reasoning skills? Or her brain cells in general?
George hummed thoughtfully and released her hand, and she forced herself to blink several times and focus on what he was staying instead of the way his jaw was working.
"I've had better," he said.
That got her attention, and she straightened indignantly.
"You have not!" she scoffed, ignoring his laugh and the twinkle in the depths of his eyes. "Where?"
"My mum does cook, you know," he said in amusement. "You might be familiar with her cooking, actually."
"I've never had her strawberry cupcakes, so that changes nothing," she said stubbornly. "And if you're going to insult them then you can't have anymore. It'll hurt their feelings."
He snorted, and grabbed another cupcake off the plate pointedly. She huffed at him, and tried her best to shuffle it away from him, hiding it as best she could when she was still sitting in his lap. He grinned at her crookedly and took his own bite.
"I apologize to the cupcakes, love," he said dryly. "They're very good —"
"I don't believe you," she pouted.
He swallowed and grinned at her, tilting her face up toward him and leaning down to kiss the pout off her face. She sighed contentedly, and released her plate of cupcakes to wrap her hand around his tie. It distracted him a great deal when she did that, and he had to pull away before he got too carried away.
"You taste like cupcake," she murmured, sounding pleasantly surprised.
He couldn't quite tell if she was looking at him like she wanted him to kiss her again because of that fact or because she was simply interested in him, but, truthfully, he didn't care all that much at the moment. He was tempted to eat the entire plate of cupcakes and then whisk her away somewhere with a hasty excuse to his friends, though he was sure they'd all know exactly where they'd gone.
Maybe he should just forgo the excuse altogether and just leave — they could all get stuffed for all he cared at the moment.
She licked her lips to get the icing off of the corners of her mouth and he nearly groaned.
To hell with it, they were leaving —
Before he could get her to stand, the common room was filled with a horrible, screeching wail. Nessa jumped, knocking the plate of cupcakes onto the floor to cover her ears, and George swore, attempting to cover his own. Looking up for the noise in a panic, they saw Harry holding open his golden egg. He'd moved to the center of the room, and had clearly been encouraged to open it by everyone in the room. He'd simply been too wrapped up in Nessa that he hadn't paid much notice.
"Shut it!" Fred bellowed, hands over his ears.
Harry slammed it shut, and there was a loud silence in the room as everyone lowered their hands from their ears slowly.
"What was that?" Seamus Finnigan said, staring at the egg in Harry's hand in horror. "Sounded like a banshee…Maybe you've got to get past one of those next, Harry!"
"It was someone being tortured!" said Neville, who had gone very white and spilled sausage rolls all over the floor. "You're going to have to fight the Cruciatus Curse!"
"Don't be a prat, Neville, that's illegal," said George immediately. "They wouldn't use the Cruciatus Curse on the champions. I thought it sounded a bit like Percy singing…maybe you've got to attack him while he's in the shower, Harry."
Nessa giggled at him, relaxing again and dragging her finger through the strawberry icing and sucking it off her finger idly. George nearly rolled his eyes — whatever the house elves had put in those cupcakes was clearly addictive. He was glad the rest of them had fallen onto the floor.
"Funny, I thought it sounded more like Tori," Fred said casually, dodging the swipe Tori took at his head, and pulling her into his lap.
She tensed at first, but nobody even seemed to think anything of the action at all — a true testament to how little people cared about the oddness of their relationship at this point — and she relaxed, adjusting to look back at Harry's egg.
"I'll help you with that task if you have to get past Hastings in the shower, Potter," Towler said from across the room.
"Watch it, Towler," Fred growled at him, pulling Tori back into his chest. Nessa grinned around her cupcake at the possessive tone to his voice — she really needed to ask what was happening between them. Tori leaned back into Fred's chest and grinned across the room at Towler happily, clearly enjoying Fred's display of irritation. "I don't need another reason to stick your head up a toilet."
Tori hummed thoughtfully, twisting one of her curls around her finger idly and eyeing Towler up and down.
"If I ask nicely, he'll do it anyway," Tori told him with a dangerous smirk. "So I'd keep your comments to yourself if I were you. I don't like you very much."
Towler rolled his eyes and turned back to his friends, but appeared to take her warning to bite his tongue.
"Want a jam tart, Hermione?" Fred said, pulling his hard gaze away from his dorm mate, and pointing at the plate sitting on the table in front of him.
Hermione looked doubtfully at the plate he'd gestured to. Fred grinned.
"It's all right," he said. "I haven't done anything to them. It's the custard creams you've got to watch —"
Neville, who had just bitten into a custard cream, choked and spit it out. Fred laughed.
"Just my little joke, Neville…"
Nessa narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. They'd been working on Canary Creams for awhile, and she wasn't sure if they'd managed it yet, but something about Fred's tone didn't seem totally transparent. She opened her mouth to warn Neville not to eat it, but George covered her mouth with his hand and said, "Shh, love, no tattling."
She opened her mouth to argue, but Hermione was looking at them all again, and asked in an innocently casual voice, "How do you get into the kitchens?"
"Easy," said Fred. "concealed door behind a painting of a bowl of fruit. Just tickle the pear and it giggles and —" He stopped and looked at her suspiciously. "Why?"
"Nothing," said Hermione quickly.
"Going to try and lead the house elves out on strike, now are you?" George said. "Going to give up all the leaflet stuff and stir them into a rebellion?"
A couple of people chortled. Nessa pinched him in the arm, and said, "Be nice, George."
"Don't you go upsetting them and telling them they've got to take clothes and salaries!" said Fred warningly. "You'll put them off their cooking!"
"Yes, what a pity that would be," Nessa said with a roll of her eyes.
"Big talk from someone who's been devouring their cupcakes all night," George quipped, grinning at her when she made a face at him.
Just then, Neville caused a slight diversion by turning into a large canary.
"Oh — sorry, Neville!" Fred shouted over all the laughter. "I forgot — it was the custard creams we hexed —"
Within a minute, Neville had molted, and he joined in laughing when he returned to normal.
"Canary Creams!" Fred shouted to the excitable crowd. "George and I invented them — seven Sickles, a bargain!"
There was a rush to come and look at the creams, and several people handed over money, but Nessa was too busy grinning at George to take much notice.
"You perfected them," she said proudly.
"Last week," he said with a grin, brushing her hair back from her face."We had to invent a new spell."
Nessa sat up excitedly to look at him, and he grinned wider at her intrigue. It made his chest feel warm when she took such an active interest in their products.
"Really? How did you —"
He cut her off by pulling her in for a kiss with a hand on the back of her neck.
"Later, sweetheart," he murmured, forcing her to a stand. "Much as I'd love to go over the specifics, I've been trying to sneak you off for ages now."
She might have been interested in their products, but she could think of no reason to say no that, so she just let him drag her off and out of the common room instead.