GEORGE HAD BEEN PUSHING AROUND the mash on his plate for the last fifteen minutes.
He'd found that he wasn't as hungry as he'd thought.
He trudged his way through Dumbledore's Christmas Eve address to the school and forked down a few mouths of peas, but spent most of the time thereafter staring at the spot Mallie usually sits in at the Hufflepuff table.
It was empty.
By this time tomorrow night, George thought, he would have been having a good time at the ball.
Perhaps even have convinced Mallie into offering him a dance.
That's what started this whole disaster. That bloody Yule Ball and that bloody git Charlie, he thought on.
But still, he knew he was to blame for Mallie and the stone in his throat and the stinging in his eyes and the grumble in his stomach.
As the dinner drew to a close, George found himself eager to get back to the hospital wing.
"You promised, mate." He said to Fred who was in attempting to slow him down.
"I know, I know... just one cup of tea will do you good, please?" Fred urged.
George nodded reluctantly and took his seat again, the red and white teapot lifting off the table as if by an invisible hand and pouring into George's cup until he made a gesture for it to stop.
Fred knew he wasn't going to get any riveting conversation out of George tonight, so contented himself with sitting beside him with his own tea in silence.
A Ravenclaw girl entered the Hall, mildly catching George's attention.
George's eyes followed her and widened when she made a beeline to the Hufflepuff table.
The black haired girl leaned down and said something to Cedric in his ear.
Cedric peeked up immediately and his glance fell to the door, he said something to West and Charlie and within moments the three were up and speeding to the door.
George leapt out of his seat, his heart nearly jumping out of his chest.
"Mallie..." he said.
The teacup fell and shattered into hundreds of pieces and the tea spilt across the floor, but George was long gone.
He'd sprinted out of the Hall, not caring about the hot stares of it's occupants.
He sped down corridors and winding turns. Soon enough, he was met by the familiar entrance of the hospital wing.
George swung the door open and rushed in, the three boys crowded around her bed.
"You again," Charlie growled.
George's teeth gritted at the sight of him.
"Why don't you leave Mallie the hell alone! You've given her more than enough trouble already!"
Charlie continued as George neared him.
"I've actually had just about enough of you..." George took a threatening step forward, chest to chest with the shorter blond boy.
"Any day, mate--"
"Stop it!" A shrill voice killed the conflict.
Mallie was sitting up in bed, wincing slightly as she stared the two down.
George's stomach gurgled and churned at the feeling of her eyes on him.
"George..." she called, he stepped around Charlie.
"Mal..." He replied, voice weaker than she'd ever heard it.
With her softest voice, she said:
"Please go."
Mallie's usually evergreen eyes were dark and red, bruising healing ever so slowly around them.
George swallowed thickly. He nodded.
His shoes made nearly no sound as they carried him out of the wing.
××××
The sky was dark but dotted with bright stars.
The snow against George's back holding him against the earth was colder than he thought could be
but he could do nothing but ignore it.
He sat wondering how a night so beautiful, had turned so ugly.
George was lain out in the grounds, not entirely sure where.
He had returned back to the common room and drowned himself in bottles upon bottles of Firewhiskey.
He vaguely remembers throwing a vase and punching a wall, and now, somehow, he was lying alone in the freezing snow.
George willed together enough energy to lift his arm up and examine his hand, dripping in blood and white flecks of snow.
Yes, definitely punched something.
He shrugged and used the same hand to lift up the almost empty bottle of liquid, taking the last icy swigs.
He tossed it somewhere and George's eyes fell back onto the castle, a few lights shimmering against the white snow for his hazy mind to enjoy.
His hand grasped pointlessly at the snow, he couldn't feel his fingertips anymore. His lips were blue and George didn't know how long he'd been out in the cold.
His alcohol clouded mind didn't even bother to acknowledge the fact that it was probably already past midnight.
Not that he was going to get any sleep anyways.
George's gaze fell onto the castle, the hospital wing light was on, it was recognizable by the purple drapes, the only place they hung in the school.
"Mallie..." George's whisper was lost to the icy wind.
His gazed fixed on the small lit window, and sat up, a numbing shock shooting up through his arm from his wounded hand.
"Mallie..." He said, again, unheard by anyone but himself.
George wobbled to his feet, almost tripping over the empty bottle of Firewhiskey.
He shook and shivered his way through the snow, not entirely remembering where the nearest entrance to the castle was.
Somehow, he managed to find his way into a torch lit (and considerably warmer) castle corridor, fumbling around his brain for a clue as to which way the hospital wing was.
Fortunately, the corridors were empty at such a time of the morning - George making no effort to keep the noise down as to avoid Filch - and it took the ginger a good fifteen minutes before he wobbled up the three steps into the wing.
His glazed eyes searched for a moment and landed on Mallie's bed.
He snuck as quietly as his drunk legs would allow to her bed, planting himself on the chair nearby.
He leaned forward, careful not to let himself fall onto her.
Mallie was asleep, dark eyelashes fanning against her cheeks.
Her chest was swelling up and down in rhythm with her breaths.
George took a moment just looking, even though his drunken state of mind could decipher that it was probably weird. But he didn't want to stop.
His hand selfishly came up to brush her cheek, it was warmer than any fire burning in the castle walls against his snowy white and frozen fingers.
George kept it there, letting it warm him from the inside. His thumb following a trail under her eyes and across her cheekbone.
Suddenly, brown met green in the dim light of the single candle on Mallie's bedside.
"...George?"
××××
guyssssss,
happy new year! sorry it's been forever since I updated, but this has literally been my all time favorite chapter to write so I hope you enjoy !
cliffhanger? sort of?
-mel