I hate you, George Weasley

Get it right, moron

Fact: Well behaved women rarely ever make history. I mean, in muggle studies, I learned of some Amelia girl, who flew around the world in a plane. Apparently she got lost and was never seen again. But the point: she made history for doing something no other woman thought was acceptable at the time.

Maybe if I kill Lainey or Lee or George or Fred, I'll make it into the history of magic textbooks, and the world records as youngest person ever to go to Azkaban.

I need Ginny. His is Michael's fault. I slammed the parchment into George's outstretched hand and went out the portrait door. I was halfway out the door when I realized it was snowing, and I have no jacket. I groaned, and turned back to go to the common room. None of this would've happened if it weren't for Ginny...or Lainey...or what about the Weasley twins and lee? I glared at the fat lady before saying the appropriate password and going through it.

"Back so soon?" Lee asked.

What a moron. I climbed the stupid spiral staircase and went to get my dark gray jacket. I even grabbed the crimson knit hat that Macy had gotten me so long ago, completed with an elephant. Our mascot, in case you don't like football...

I buttoned my gray coat and walked back Down, heading towards the door. George got up and joined me. And the awful thing is, he had a jacket. I made a low growl/sigh as I sped up. He still followed me. I tried my hardest to ignore him. But it's not easy when one of the guys you fancy is following you. Why, I could lead him to the three broomsticks, order a drink, and I'll assume he'd sit with me and order a drink as well. I can't imagine that place having many people though. I could go to the horrid Madam Puddifoots. It'd look like we're on a date. No, then I'd look shady. A guy whose three years older than me? Impossible. Maybe in a few years.

"Leave me alone," I said, quietly, trying to make him feel guilty.

"No. I'm not going to let you do something rash you'll regret." he said, as if he was Braden.

"You sound like Braden." I said, glancing at his worried face. "I hate that,"

"Braden can't be worse than Percy. The prat."

I'm fairly certain he was trying to make me feel like I could trust him. That won't do.

"I wouldn't do anything rash." I stated, stepping out into the cold wind.

"Sure you wouldn't," his voice was dripping with sarcasm, and I could almost feel him roll his eyes.

I hate it when people do that; as if I'm inferior to them. I scowled, and glared at the snow.

We turned onto the stone walkway that led to Hogsmeade.

"I'm sorry." he said. "Why don't we go to the Hog's head?"

I stayed silent. I hate Valentine's day, more than anything. Even more than I hate Braden. Or UT (Tennessee football). I saw the storefronts come into view, and turned along a deserted path to go to the Hogsheade. I hate this pub. The only reason I was going is to spend time with George. Weird...Wasn't I just silently cursing his mere existence? Maybe it'll be a nice Valentines day. But it's quiet, and won't have many people, considering it's probably the least romantic place in the world. Well, unless Morry's room counts. It has these creepy clowns that stare at you, and the kid leaves fingerpaint trails all over the place. One time, I was reading the bible to him, and I found a ton of unopened juiceboxes and animal crackers in his bed. ("Don't tell mom," he had said, right before making me pinky promise.) I shuddered involuntarily as I thought of what that rugrat lives in...even though it almost mirrors mine.

"For what?" I said, about 30 seconds later.

"Giving Lainey the love potion. And I sort of owe you a couple of drinks,"