Sparks Fly || A George Weasley Story

Year 5: Hearts Racing Under Black Skies

I had the window seat, with George squished in between myself and Lee while Fred and Heather sat on the other side. She'd been asleep for at least an hour now, and I didn't blame her. I'd probably be asleep too if I'd transformed into a werewolf last night, but when the boys asked me if I knew why she was so tired, I said no. It wasn't my place to tell them what happened. If she wanted them to know, then she could tell them. I wasn't going to be spreading around this sort of sensitive information.

The conversation had died down immensely since we'd gotten on the train. There was only so much I could tell the boys about the vampires since I spent most of my time in their library, reading up on werewolves and animagi, and after a while, even Fred and George had run out of things to tell us about Egypt. So, while Lee had his face buried in a book on pranking, which I hadn't known existed until he pulled it out, I kept my eyes focused on the window and the dark scenery that was flashing by.

I glanced over at Fred, whose eyes were so closed to shut that I was almost sure that he couldn't see anything going on. He looked as though he were about to fall asleep with his head rested atop Heather's and I was almost wishing that he would. I knew that Fred meant well by all his teasing, but George and I always got too upset at him when it came down to him poking fun at us and ended up hurting one another's feelings. Hurt feelings were not romantic.

So, once Fred's eyes finally drifted shut, and his cheek squished against the top of Heather's head, I reached over with my left hand and carefully looped my arm through George's, pulling it against my chest as I rested my head on his shoulder. I had been tired since this morning, and a light nap would do me some good before all the unpacking I'd have to do tonight, even though my heart was racing.

It was like that night in the backseat of Mr. Weasley's car. There was the gentle warmth of his homemade jumper, and the soft scent of him. Only this time, it was different. Last time, it was a cacophony of smoke, cinnamon, and cheap cologne, the kind that only a barely fourteen-year-old boy would think smelled all that nice. This morning, there was the fresh scent of soap that clung to him from the shower I assume he took before he left the burrow, syrup from this morning's breakfast, and a new cologne that I thought fit him much better than the first. Sure, none of it really mixed together all that well, but separately they were all nice.

"Looks like someone missed me," George whispered to me, trying to keep Lee from overhearing him.

"Shut it, Georgie," I smiled, "There weren't very many nice Weasley boys in Transylvania, you know."

"Oh no?" He asked, giggling to himself.

"Nope," I said, shaking my head, "But there was one vampire who seemed quite taken with me. You might have some competition."

"Are you sure that you are just making that up to try and get me jealous?" He asked, and the turning of Lee's pages were much louder than the turning of any page I'd ever heard before.

"And why would I want to make you jealous?" I asked, not looking up at him because I didn't want him to see me blushing from what I thought was very obvious flirting.

"Because you're in love with me."

"In your dreams Weasley," I shook my head.

"I'm pretty sure that that's your dream, Love," He laughed.

"You must have me confused with someone else," I giggled, trying to force my cheeks to cool down so that I could look up at him without exposing myself.

"Maybe I do," He said, "Maybe I should consult my little black book for who I'm thinking about."

"Just how many girls are you entertaining, Mr. Weasley," I asked, finally lifting my head off his shoulder to look at him.