For the Love of a Wizard (A George Weasley fan fiction)

Part Six

Well, as a little present to my friend Katie, who was complaining about how short the last part was, I've decided to go ahead and upload the next part. I hope you all enjoy, and I'm going to try to start making each part a little longer than I have been up until now. 

~~~Majic

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Part Six

The next couple of weeks were filled with excited chattering about the tournament and who would be chosen as the three competitors. Professor Dumbledore had placed a charm around the goblet of fire to keep anyone under the age of sixteen from putting their name into it. Of course, being the geniuses that they seem to think they are, Fred and George attempted to get around the charm by using a temporary aging potion. Their plan backfired, to no one's surprise, and all they ended up with was matching white beards. Madame Pompfrie had to keep them in the hospital for the rest of the day just to get rid of the beards.

Then, one evening, the three competitors were chosen by the goblet, much like the Sorting Hat putting first-years into their respective houses. Viktor Krum, Fleur de Lacour, and our own Cedric Diggory were the three names that the goblet threw out in little bursts of flames. But, of course, things had to be interesting, and the goblet gave the headmaster a fourth name as well: Harry Potter, the fourth-year from Hogwarts. Immediately, many people thought that he cheated somehow to get his name in the goblet, but I think that a lot of us believed him just from the look of pure shock on his face. I felt bad for him, really, because it looked like even some of his own friends didn't believe him.

That evening, I ran into George on the staircase as I was heading to the common room with Luna following right behind me. I stopped in front of George because he looked like he wanted to talk to me about something. I looked over my shoulder at Luna to see that she was simply going around me.

"I'll just leave you two alone. See you in the common room, Nicole," she said cheerily as she continued up the stairs without me.

"Uh, hi, George," I said, my hands in my pockets, a place they retreated to whenever I couldn't think of what to say. "I see that your beard's gone now."

He smirked at me, rubbing the back of his head, and said, "Well, you know, I just don't know when enough is enough. But Madame Pompfrie, well, took her quite a while to get them off me and Freddy, but I told her I couldn't let my date see me with a beard to match Dumbledore's."

I laughed a little at that and said, "Well, I don't think the beard would have made much of a difference to me, honestly. You're still the same George Weasley, and a little facial hair isn't going to change that."

"Yeah, you say that now. But did you see it? It was so long that it reached my wrists! A man's beard should never be that long, unless it's on Dumbledore."

"A man's? It sounds like you're trying to imply that you're a man. And didn't your mother ever teach you not to lie?"

It took him only a moment to pick up on what I was saying, but when he did, he seemed to find it fairly humorous himself. Suddenly, he wrapped his arms around my waist and dragged me into a broom closet that just happened to be right next to where we had been standing. It was pretty dark, but a small line of light reached through a crack in door, and the soft glow fell across George's face and caught the red in a small section of his hair. He really was handsome, despite what other people might think, and I seemed to be truly falling for his boyish grin. Then, I felt him lean close to my ear and whisper, "I don't think you would like this as much if I still had that beard."

I didn't understand what he meant at first, but then I realized what he was doing, and I didn't stop him. At first, his lips just barely grazed mine, but then, impatient as I was, I stood up on my toes and met him as he came back down toward me. Our similarly fiery personalities collided with each other in that broom closet, a place that I never would have thought of as romantic at any other time. But, somehow, when I was with George, anything and everything became possible, like kissing a sixth-year boy, something I never would have imagined before that day.

It wasn't too long until we both agreed that we should probably head up to our respective common rooms, not wanting to get caught out of our rooms after hours, although I'm not sure he would have cared either way. I think he was simply worried about getting me into trouble more than anything else. So, he walked me to the portrait, as before, and gave me a short kiss goodnight.

"See you tomorrow, then," he said, his smile beaming down at me.

"Of course," I replied, returning his smile with my own. "Goodnight, George."

"Goodnight, Nicole," he whispered, hugging me quickly before turning to head back down the corridor.

I stood there for a minute, still trying to figure out what had just happened to me. I had just kissed, or what other students would call snogged, George Weasley, a sixth-year who seemed to care about me quite a lot, though we hadn't known each other for too long, only a month or two. I was still debating whether or not to tell anyone when I walked into the girls' dormitory to find Luna still sitting on her bed, just as she had been doing the last time she had left me alone with George.

"So did you have a good time?" she asked cheerily as she looked up from her latest copy of the Quibbler.

"Much, much better than good. Best I've had in a long time," I said, the smile still present upon my face, exactly where it would stay for the rest of the night.