Bloom | George Weasley

10. Out on the Grounds

"Those are nice." The voice says from above me. I check his neck - birthmark.

"Thank you." I say, and he sits down beside me in the snow. "It's pretty cold, what are you doing out?"

"I could ask you the same question." George retorts, and I shrug. "I saw you from the tower."

He points out towards the Gryffindor dormitories and I follow his line of sight as I unconsciously shut my sketchbook. His gaze flickers down to it for a second before asking,

"So what are you doing out all alone in weather like this? I'm freezing my arse off."

A laugh escapes my lips.

"It's just a nice setting that I wanted to try and draw." I hold up the closed book for him. "But you're right, my fingers seemed to have stopped functioning."

"The Gryffindor common room has a nice, warm fire."

"So does Ravenclaw."

And nothing is said after that, but George stretches his legs out like he's trying to get comfortable, so I extend my blanket for him so he doesn't have to sit in the snow. I wouldn't want him getting a cold.

George smiles, then motions to my sketchbook with a tilt of his chin.

"Mind if I have a look?"

I hand it over.

It's mostly just filled with buildings and form sketches - geometric, measurements, boho - but there is the odd doodle, portrait, or something my friends have done (with or without my knowledge).

The twin smirks slightly at a crude drawing Stevie did in the corner of one of my towers before flipping the page.

"A lot of buildings." He observes.

"I'm practicing." I say. "I want to be an architect."

"Architect?" His eyebrows furrow as he flips the page. "What's that?"

"They design buildings so they don't fall."

He lifts his head.

"My family just kind of uses magic for that." He gives me a crooked smile, then drops his head and expression. "This isn't a building."

I peer over into my sketchbook, he's looking at the white clover I drew.

"Oh." My mind blanks for a second before flickering up to his face. "No, that's the flower you got me."

I'm rather confident in that assertion. What with the fact that I've only ever gotten a flower when it's one of them, and my snooping in the library, I know in my mind that this is George Weasley beside me. And I know that he's the one whose been giving me the flowers.

"The one that I got you?" He asks, almost throwing me off, but I stick with my assumption.

His face is expressionless while he stares at the page for longer than the other drawings, and I start to feel a bit self conscious at my work. Then he flips the page and a smile blooms on his face. It's the pansy he gave me. And the next page is the salvia.

"You like the flowers." He guesses, a tinge of relief in his voice.

"They're very pretty." I reach for my book and he lets me take it away from him.

"Those are incredible drawings." He compliments.

I nod, "thank you."

"And that reminds me..." he mumbles, opening his robes and reaching into the hidden pocket. George procures single stemmed flower consisting of seven - or eight - triangular, lavender petals.