BUTTERBEERS! ☆ hogwarts one shots!

Childhood Rivals: George Weasley

"GEORGE, YOU FUCKING ARSEHOLE!"

It was midwinter and you had been walking to class when a bewitched snowball went straight to your face. You wiped off some of the snow to see George Weasley snickering. Typical. This was what always happened. George Weasley was your nemesis.

"Catch me if you can!" He teased, running away.

"Oh, I'll catch you alright," You mumbled, fuming, but smirking as the idea seemed to come straight to you. You didn't like to give in to his pranks, but you had the perfect resolution.

. . .

"You're going to kill yourself." Said Angelina Johnson, watching as you set up your master prank.

"Am not, if anything, I'll kill George." You shrugged, fixing the overhead bucket.

"We should get out of here. It smells." Angelina shuddered, pinching her nose.

"You're just being overdramatic, it's not that bad." But as soon as the words had escaped your mouth, you came into eye contact with a sweaty Quidditch jersey, which absolutely reeked.

Noticing your face, Angelina smirked, "Told you so."

"Whatever, you're right. Let's go, before we get caught." But just as you stated that, you heard voices flow into the room.

"... I swear, she was so angry! You should've seen the look on her face, cracks me up every time." George laughed, his voice getting closer.

Angelina shot you a frightened look before diving under one of the beds, her lean figure able to get under there instantly. You, on the other hand, didn't play Quidditch, meaning you weren't as flexible. Seeing nowhere to hide, you jumped onto the chair containing the sweaty jersey, hiding underneath it.

You heard the door open. Remembering why you were in there in the first place, you peeked through a corner of the jersey to watch your prank unfold.

"And then I — what's this?" Said George, peering curiously at the bucket overhead.

"I think someone's trying to get back at you, Georgie." Said Fred, glancing at the string.

"I wonder what's in the bucket, though? Maybe water, pumpkin juice...?"

"I dunno, but they must think we're really dumb to trip over a string." Fred smirked, stepping over it.

"Seriously." George agreed, also stepping over it.

There was a creak. The boys looked down at the floor. Something wasn't right. Fred took a step back, just a smidge too quick. George, on the other hand, was about to hit the jackpot.

Two buckets on either side of him lurched out, spilling a gooey mess all over his robes. Spiders crawled out from the overhead bucket and onto his body, eating away at the goo. It was disgusting. Just as you had planned.

Happy you had seen the whole thing unfold, you took a picture with your magical camera. The picture alone was so funny you had to put a hand over your mouth to keep yourself from laughing and blowing your cover.

But that wasn't it. Bats flew in through the wardrobe and attacked him, and George ran out of the room, swatting away at them. Fred followed suit, laughing at his brother. Once you heard them in the common room, you and Angelina emerged, laughing.

"That. Was. Awesome!" Said Angelina, giving you a hi-five.

"Told you so! But that jersey reeked! Whose was it?"

"Hmm," said Angelina, glancing at the number before smirking. "You, my friend, we're hiding under George's sweaty Quidditch jersey."

With a disgusted look on your face, you leapt out of the room.