game, set, match.

28

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Game, set, match by Xrost
 Books » Harry Potter Rated: T, English, Humor & Romance, Millicent B., George W., Words: 61k+, Favs: 58, Follows: 76, Published: Mar 11, 2011 Updated: Jun 5
151 Chapter 28
Hey guys. Sorry about the wait. Has been a mad few weeks of moving house and work.

"What's wrong with you?" demanded Millicent, eyes flaring with anger. "Seriously? What kind of way is that to admit feelings?"

George had sort of been gearing himself up to be punched in the nose and stomped on a few times while he lay crumpled on the ground. This was a definite improvement, but still not exactly all that he could have hoped for. "Okay," he admitted. "Discussion of fingernails or lack thereof might not be the most romantic…"

"Who cares about fingernails?" snapped Millicent. She folded her arms across her chest and glared at him. "Where's the hexing?" she asked. "The casual mention of how stupid you think I am?"

"I'm not really into stupid witches," said George. It seemed the safest option when he didn't know what he'd done wrong if it wasn't the talking about fingernails thing. "I see that you might get that from the fact that my brother Bill is with Fleur Delacour, but actually, she's really smart. It came as an awful shock to him…"

Millicent threw her hands up in exasperation. She looked as though she would have liked to turn on her heel and stalk away but didn't, scowling at George instead. "You're such a dumb-arse," she said.

George might have taken that to mean that she wasn't interested and that he ought to crawl off to nurse his wounded heart but…well, she wasn't walking away. And she wasn't punching him in the head. Sure, he was an optimist by nature, but that had to count for something? Perhaps if he started again and didn't mention fingernails. "The thing is," he said, smoothing his hair down because he didn't know what to do with his hands. "You're… uh… Well, things aren't dull when you're around. Kind of the opposite really…"

Millicent made a sound of exasperation. "This is even worse," she said, lines of annoyance etched into her features. "No wonder you've never had a girlfriend. You have no idea how to talk to them."

George huffed out a breath, creasing his nose at her. "What the hell do you want? Am I meant to tell you how gorgeous you are? That you outshine all the witches here? What? I bloody like you, Slytherin. I'm not going to couch it in lies." He didn't think he'd offend her, because she didn't get offended by the things that most people did; but he didn't expect her to relax either. Didn't expect a smile to curl on those painted lips.

"There," she said, brows arching as though to ask 'was that so hard?'.

Considering that George had no idea what he'd done right, yes, it had been. "What the hell?" he demanded again, lost in a sea of confusion and fast realising that he didn't know how to swim it. "Are you high on potions ingredients? You're making no sense."

Millicent rolled her eyes at him. "It's a basic facet of courtship," she said. "You're not meant to tell people how you feel, you idiot. You should get tips from Pansy."

George had seen maybe five seconds worth of the Pansy Parkinson courting technique. It had consisted of her feigning a sprained ankle to her paramour and dumping her supposedly sick best friend.

"I don't know much about Parkinson's moves," George admitted and carefully did not add that he didn't want to.

"Draco Malfoy then," said Millicent, waving a dismissive hand. "He's been breaking out his best moves in front of you for years. You should have been paying more attention and then we wouldn't be in this awful, awkward situation."