Good Girl || George Weasley

44

Any excitement I did feel about doing well in the Second Task is gone the next day when I'm hungover and doing terrible in our second Apparition lesson.

And I'm not doing terrible because I'm hungover, because the next Saturday, I'm still doing terrible, and the next Saturday, and the one after that, and, well, all of them.

Roger, the little shit, is the first one in our class to successfully Apparate into the hoop, at the end of March — a few weeks before the exam in April. He doesn't say anything about the bet we'd made, and I know it's so I don't feel bad about not having made hardly any progress, but I feel like a sore loser for not holding up my end of the deal, so I break into his room one afternoon and slip the money under his pillow.

They all try to make me feel better each week about sucking so bad, but soon enough, I have other things to worry about. Because approaching rapidly is Fred and George's birthday — their seventeenth birthday, and I need to make it big.

I have a plan that I start working on about a month out, telling no one, not even Roger or Lee. Especially not George, who practically begs me to tell him every time we meet up in private — which we're still doing, because Fred still doesn't know.

I still haven't told George about my plan to eventually steal Moody's flask, either, and I feel slightly guilty, but I really don't want to put him in danger. That's also why I resist writing to Percy to ask him about Crouch.

I need to do this alone.

But first: Fred and George's birthday.

All of March I spend working on my plan. As it grows closer, I grow giddy with excitement, because I think they're really going to like it. I also buy them both broom kits, which they need desperately before next season.

I also spend time planning a little something extra for George: a lunch in our secret room, so that we can spend the whole evening with Fred and the others. And if we want to do anything else — which, I'm going to admit to him that after a few months of being together and growing familiar with each other's bodies, I'm finally ready to go all the way, if he wants to, too — then we'll have the privacy to do so.

"I don't understand why you can't tell me," Roger complains on one of the last nights of March, only a few days before the twins' birthday. Lee, Fred, and George are off working on a new product, so Roger and I are in the library, where we're supposed to working on homework, but instead, we're finalizing details for the boys' party, being shushed every time we raise our voices even slightly above a whisper. "It's in a few days. You really think I'm gonna tell? You really don't trust me? I can't believe you don't trust me. After all we've been through-"

I swat his arm with my book, making him laugh and earning us another shhhhhh from a seventh-year Ravenclaw.

"Stop guilt-tripping me," I whisper, "and I'll tell you."

Roger mimes zipping his lips and tossing the key the over his shoulder before sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. I grin at him, leaning across the table.

"Okay, so," I say, keeping my voice so quiet that he has to lean in, too, to hear me, "first, I have a little lunch date planned for me and George-"

Roger gasps dramatically. "You're gonna shag, aren't you?"

I feel my cheeks flush, motioning for him to keep his voice down. "Only if he wants to, too, obviously. But I'm finally ready, so I'm gonna tell-"

Roger just grins, cutting me off. "That's so exciting. I'm so happy for you. Just don't get pregnant. I'm not ready for that."

I roll my eyes at him. "We've talked about this, Roger. Neither am I. But let me finish." I pause, suddenly. I've been so in my head lately about everything that I haven't even thought to ask Roger about where he and Lee are at, and I feel a stab of guilt.