Protégée (George Weasley)

Chapter Twenty Two

In a like like way.

Lisa couldn't help but look at him again.

She lingered for a few seconds longer, promising herself that it would be the last and final glance.

"Get a grip, Elisabeth," she whispered to herself, eyes hesitantly peeling away from George.

She really needed to talk to someone about this, or she was certain she was going to go insane.

—————

George's attention was definitely elsewhere, despite the fact that he had seemed as though he was focusing his undivided attention on Lee, who was recounting the contents of the letter that Alanna Frannson had sent him. He could see, from the corner of his eyes, Lisa's head turning to his direction every once in awhile.

He was very tempted to reciprocate the eye contact, but he rather enjoyed the stolen brief glances. Looking back at her would probably scare her away.

If George had learned anything from the weeks that they had spent together for training, was that Lisa was a very shy individual.

He knew why she had been stealing quick glances many times, though. The memory was a bit hazy, but it was there. After all, he was not the twin brother who chugged down a bottle of firewhiskey like it was simply water.

That twin brother in mention was currently sitting with Florence, who was nursing him out of his hangover.

George knew what he had said to Lisa that night when he was drunk.

He didn't really regret it to say the least.

George's ability to control what came out of his mouth was loosened by the alcohol, and not to mention, Elisabeth looked absolutely stunning as she looked down at his shamelessly drunken self. Something about the firelight that made her eyes shine the way they did that night.

He blinked rapidly, in attempts of getting rid of the thought of Elisabeth, but he couldn't quite do it.

He then wondered if he should approach her some time during the day to talk about what he had said that night, to clarify things, perhaps.

But to clarify what? What exactly did George mean by his words apart from the simple truth that he was indeed slightly smitten with the brunette haired girl. Did he want to clarify that his drunken words were his sober thoughts?

Did he want to tell her that he liked her?

Like liked her?

It would seem too desperate, his mind subconsciously told him. After all, they haven't quite known each other for a long period of time. George did not want to rush it, but at the same time, he knew, as he stole a glance at Lisa just as soon as she looked away, that there was something in her that he just admired entirely.

His thoughts scattered at the sound of the bell, signaling the end of breakfast.

"You were awfully quiet there, mate. Are you quite alright?"

George forced a smile, his eyes scanning the crowd for Lisa, "Just a little hungover. Hey—will you tell Fred I'll catch up with him in a few? There's just something that I need to do."

"Sure, no problem."

Making his way along the current of people heading out the door, he was able to catch Lisa near one of the staircases, calling out to her in a slightly out of breath tone.

"Hey, Annabelle!"

Her head swiveled around, and at an instant, the corners of her lips turned upward. Clutching her books tighter in her grasp, she made her way over to him, "Well, you certainly look better than Fred did when I saw him awhile ago." she joked, George noticing that she was having a little trouble in looking him straight in the eye.

"He drank way more than I did, that's for sure. Not that I wasn't drunk last night, I was, well, a little bit."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," he said, hearing his voice tremble slightly, and hoping that she didn't catch it. "Listen, I wanted to talk to you about last night..."

Her eyes widened slightly, as if she did not want to discuss the matters of last night.

George chose his next words very carefully, constructing it in his head before actually saying a word, which resulted in a few minutes of terrible awkward silence, their eyes looking around at anything and everything, refusing to look at one another.

"I...well..." George mustered up the courage to speak again, which faltered way too soon.

"Yes?"

"I just...um...wanted to, uh, to, you know."

Dammit George, he cursed mentally, before looking down at his shoes, as if they were the most interesting thing in the world.

"I just wanted to say thank you, you know, for helping up Fred and I to our dorm rooms. I mean I don't remember that bit, but Lee told me it was you who made sure we didn't uh, look like fools passed out at the common room. So thanks."

"Oh." he saw her enthusiasm deflate, her hands fidgeting slightly, "Well, it was no problem at all. Don't you worry about it."

"Congratulations on your win again, by the way, incase I wasn't able to say it enough last night."

An awkward pause came shortly again.

"Well, I'll be on my way to class then." he chuckled nervously, swiveling around to walk to the direction that definitely wasn't where his next class was. He just wanted to get away.

"George?"

"Yes!" he turned around quickly, meeting her gaze.

"You don't..." she started nervously, "I mean, do you not remember saying anything from last night.

He feigned a frown, "No, not that I can recall from the top of my head at the moment. Why, did I say something?"

Lisa immediately shook her head, "It's nothing. I'll see you around."

He stared at her retreating figure, partially irritated at himself for not having the guts to tell her what he really felt.

"Merlin's beard," he sighed, before heading to class himself.