[ quick a/n: this is meant to be the gryff/slytherin match but i changed it because i wanted froey to play against each other, hope u don't mind!!! love u all, enjoy the chap ]
5th november
.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。..·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.
FROM THE SHEER DISGUST etched across her face, Joey can tell Lola did not expect her room to be such an utter pig-sty.
Seriously. Ivy and Joey's shared dormitory is littered with a sea of discarded socks, barely-touched textbooks and well-leafed copies of Witch Weekly, and of course, sweet wrappers, everywhere. Plus there are a few questionable smells - a result of Fred and George 'testing' products in here, AKA their excuse just to blow things up! - which Lola decides not to mention. Instead, she casts her disgruntled glare at the hanging ivy tangled around Ivy's bedposts, as it snakes out its tendrils to tickle her.
But is it really their priority to tidy their room when literally everything else in their lives is just, well, strange? Joey thinks not! If it ever gets too bad, like seriously bad, Ives just casts a quick Scouring Charm, and boom, their lair is clean, at least for a week! Easy-peasy tongue-tying lemon squeezy.
What isn't so easy-peasy tongue-tying lemon squeezy is that Joey is playing her first Quidditch match without Ced in less than an hour - and still hasn't gotten out of bed or her bright pink pyjamas yet!
'You are still in bed?' Lola gapes, thundering over to Joey's bed. 'Do you want to see your team absolutely annihilated by Gryffindor?'
'I thought you didn't even like Quidditch,' Joey mumbles, fiddling with the edge of her patchwork quilt.
Lola scoffs. 'It is less boring than watching lemongrass grow, darling. But if you lose, you know the twins will be insufferable, teasing me day and night about their-' she raises her fingers in sarcastic speech marks '-sporting prowess.'
Joey laughs, knowing it's true. In fact, she only has to glance sideways to see Fred in the many photos of them adorning her walls, sticking his middle finger up at Lola in every single one of them.
'I guess I'm just - well, I think I'm just worried about letting Ceddie down.'
'And hiding from your responsibility of team Captain would not disappoint him?' Lola demands. Then her tone softens and she weaves her hand through Joey's, long elegant nails caressing the bitten ones. Her roots flood Hufflepuff colours as she does so. 'Please, Attlee. Johannah. Please.'
There's a loud banging on the dormitory door, so loud Joey can't help thinking, the poor wood! 'Has she said she'll fucking do it yet?' Pyotr's voice calls, followed by a hissed 'P!' that is very obviously from Ivy.
'She has,' Joey responds, prompting a rare beam from Lola. 'She just needs to get changed out of her pyjamas.'
Pyotr cheers against the door. 'Thank fuck for that. And why don't you wear the fucking pyjamas? Show everybody you can be a fucking style icon and a Quidditch queen at the same time?'
JOEY'S CONVINCED she might throw up her breakfast if she spends too long in the Great Hall - and nobody wants to see her Pixie Puffs twice! - so she beelines straight to the changing rooms before everyone else.
(Also, if she spends too long looking at Zacharias Smith's face across the Hufflepuff table it will put her in a... um, really lovely mood.)
So she's pacing up and down in the changing room, getting her knickers all in a tizzy. Ivy wanted to come down to keep her calm, bless her, and Pyotr as well (technically, being a Slytherin, he isn't allowed in the Huff changing rooms, but he claims he needs the gossip to survive), but Joey said no. Politely, obviously, but she really needs to be on her own right now.
Twenty minutes to go.
Hufflepuff have really tried to decorate their changing rooms - well, when she says Hufflepuff, she means herself - and they're super-duper cute. Plants everywhere, cushions strewn over the floor, and posters of all their favourite players adorning the walls. A technicolour dream, Joey's locker decorated with dried flowers and the birth charts of all her players. (Well, how else is she meant to understand their every move?)
Her eyes find the posters of their favourite Quidditch teams, instinctively drawn to her favourite team ever, the Montrose Magpies. No joke, Joey would give the twins to be friends with any of them. Alright, maybe not. But she just loves them! Especially their Chaser, Isla Aster, with radiant eyes and wide smile of sun.
Joey's so obsessed with her that one summer she wore a flower crown of asters every day, their lilac petals and golden centres shining amongst her tangled hair. She would've worn it every night, too, staining her pillow sweet, if Molly Weasley hadn't said no!
Seeing Isla wave and wink at her, from a poster doodled all over with flowers and hearts, makes her feel strong, almost. Like she actually can do this match. She can do Ced proud - and she will. She will.
Right?
So when her team come bursting through the doors, Joey's smile is only half-forced as she greets them. 'Hi guys! So we're playing the lovely Gryffindors today...'
'Duh,' Zacharias mutters, which she chooses to ignore, although her Beaters, fifth-years Martha Meadow and Angus Grassie, shoot him daggers.
'...so that's Spinnet, Kennedy and Johnson as Chasers, Potter as Seeker, Weasley - aw! - as the new Keeper, and Freddie and - um, Fred and George Weasley as Beaters. Any questions?'
'Yeah,' Martha pipes up, tossing her long purple hair out of her face and winking at Angus. 'Can you get me Alicia Spinnet's landline number?'
She and Angus, a burly blonde Scot, high-five triumphantly. Zacharias snorts, to which Martha promptly replies, 'Listen, Zacharias, you wanna actually play or go back to the Hospital Wing today? Because I'll gladly deck you, so don't even tempt me, motherfucker.'
Joey's heart lurches as she remembers: Cedric and Martha used to duel in the Hufflepuff common room, both cackling as they tried to outsmart the other. She would be lying in the corner, using her tarot to predict who would win, practically weeing herself with laughter.
Laughter's replaced with nervous butterflies and desire to do him proud now. 'It's time,' Joey says, taking one last deep breath. 'C'mon my loves, you're all going to do brilliantly!'
'Let's go kick some Gryffindor arse,' Martha says happily, dancing out of the changing room with the other two Chasers, two mischievous third-year twins by the names of Tallulah and Delilah Appleyard.
Only Claude Honeybee, Joey's new Seeker, is left in the changing room. Claude had screamed blooming murder at Zacharias the first time she trialed for the team, and Joey knew she had to have her. Warm, elegant, grinning and vivacious, Claude Honeybee is twice as confident as Fred Weasley and could give even Pyotr Zalewski a run for his Galleons!
She gives Joey an enormous hug, leaving her breathless, because Claude is warm and smells like citrus tingled with adrenaline. She smells like conjuring up fruit salads with Bill in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. 'Gonna do great, princess,' Claude says, winking, hitting Joey playfully with her broom as they emerge out onto the pitch.
Joey swears she can hear... singing? Coming from the... Slytherin stands? Wait. Has the entire House realised they're suddenly musical geniuses? Because, well. She has heard Pyotr sing on many an occasion, and if all Slytherins sing like him, they haven't exactly lucked out in the talent department! (Sorry Pyotr, she didn't intend to be so mean!)
The Gryffindor team are standing waiting for them, and Joey's insides develop wings and soar at the sight of the twins. They're both grinning like goofs, George doing a waltz with his broom. He gets a little too enthusiastic and slips on the grass, his reading glasses flying, Fred burying his face in his hands.
Joey laughs and runs forward to help him up, giving him a teeny squeeze as she does so. Fair play to him, he's not blushing at all, but waving and winking at the crowds. 'If you play like that, well, Weasleys, hope you're not sore losers!'
'You know we play to win,' Fred smirks, bending his face down to hers.
Her words stumble over each other, which she hates. As if she wasn't obvious enough already! 'Oh yeah? Well, such a shame you're going to lose, then!'
'Wanna bet?' he murmurs, and her stomach flips like a pancake.
'Attlee, Attlee.' Joey feels hands shoving her and she turns to Martha, whose purple hair billows over her face, barely disguising her fury. 'Have you heard what they're singing? I'm gonna go and batter the living daylights out of them.'
She brandishes her Beater's bat menacingly and Joey gulps, remembering just how often - and how well - Martha triumphed over Cedric in their duels.
'No you're not, Meadow,' Angus says gently, tugging his raging best friend away. 'You need to stop drinking so much Firewhisky the night before a match, you're so cranky when you're hungover it's untrue.'
'I - am - not - cranky!'
'Captains, shake hands,' Madam Hooch orders, and as Joey steps forward to give Angelina Johnson's a gentle squeeze, the Hufflepuffs in the stands roar. She can distinguish their usual chant: Hufflepuff, do your stuff!
Aren't they just lovely?
Then Madam Hooch is whistling and they're soaring into the air, and all Joey can feel is the cold mahogany of her broomstick, and the wind whipping through her hair. She's grinning, can't help it, basically cartwheeling to the goalhoops (Quidditch is the only time she'll show off, ever!), laughter fizzing like lemonade in her throat.
Joey adores being a Keeper. Not just because she's grounded - or at least, she likes to think so, being a Taurus and everything - but also because she hates hates hates confrontation. Hates it with a capital H. There just isn't any need for it really, is there?
Plus, being a Keeper means as long as she keeps both eyes trained lovingly on the Quaffle, she can truly enjoy Lee and Lola's commentating! Which is her favourite part of the day, month and quite possibly the year.
'And it's Johnson, Johnson with the Quaffle, what a player that girl is, I've been saying it for years but she still won't go out with me-'
'JORDAN!' yell Lola and Professor McGonagall simultaneously.
'Just a fun joke, ladies, adds a bit of interest - and she's ducked Appleyard, she's passed another Appleyard, she's - ouch - been hit from behind by a Bludger from Meadow of Hufflepuff... loving the hair by the way Meadow - what, Professor, I'm just giving her a compliment!'
Martha curtseys in mid-air, tossing her hair and giving both Lee and Lola a gesture as if to say, Call me.
'PJ Kennedy of Gryffindor catches the Quaffle, she reverse-passes to Alicia Spinnet and Spinnet's away... dodges Zacharias Shit, sorry, Smith! Innocent slip of the tongue Professor, I promise! And the crowd are loving this, just listen to them, what's that they're singing?'
Lee pauses to listen and Joey finally hears the lyrics of the Slytherin song - and immediately wishes she hadn't.
'Weasley cannot save a thing,
He cannot block a single ring,
Hufflepuff will actually win,
Weasley is our King.
Weasley was born in a bin,
He always lets the Quaffle in,
When we play Weasley will help us win,
Weasley is our King.'
Lola's voice rises, furious, from the commentary booth. 'I would just like to remind the Slytherins that, being Head Girl, I will make their lives hell before they can even insult Weasley once more. Insulting a Weasley is my job only!'
Joey is heartbroken for poor Ron. She really adores him, and he's a Pisces so she just knows he's going to be so sensitive about this, and besides, being a Keeper is hard! He wasn't gonna be World-Cup level straight away, was he? Plus, the Slytherins aren't even playing. She refuses to believe that all Slytherin House students deserve their horrible reputation, but the ones that do, make her incredibly upset!
'-and Alicia passes back to Angelina!' Lee shouts, in a desperate attempt to drown out the singing. 'Come on now, Angelina — looks like she's got just the Keeper to beat! — SHE SHOOTS — SHE — aaaah...'
Despite her anger, Joey somehow manages to save the Quaffle; she cradles it with delight, caressing the warm burgundy leather, before throwing it to Zacharias with probably a little more force than she intended. Whoops!
'And Attlee saves! Incredible, inspiring, brilliant. The World Cup team is waiting! Shi- Smith with the Quaffle, Smith heading for goal, so it's the first test for new Gryffindor Keeper Ron Weasley, a promising new talent for the team - come on, Ron!'
'Yes, come on Ron!' Joey screams, unable to help herself. She doesn't care he's on the opposite team, they're not mortal enemies, are they, and she's just aching for him to prove the Slytherins wrong. Because she knows he can.
'-and it's Smith again,' bellows Lee, 'who passes to Appleyard, Appleyard's off past Spinnet, come on now Angelina, you can take her — turns out you can't — but nice Bludger from Fred Weasley, I mean, George Weasley, oh who cares, one of them anyway, and Appleyard drops the Quaffle and PJ Kennedy — er — drops it too — so that's Smith with the Quaffle, and he's off up the pitch, come on now Gryffindor, block him!'
'WEASLEY CANNOT SAVE A THING...'
'-and Smith's dodged Alicia again, and he's heading straight for goal, stop it, Ron!'
Smith scores and the Slytherins scream, relapsing into fresh verses of their song. And Joey just wishes there was something, anything she could do. They're basically family.
'-and PJ Kennedy of Gryffindor dodges Appleyard, ducks the other Appleyard, nice swerve, PJ, and she throws to Johnson, Angelina Johnson takes the Quaffle, she's past Smith, she's heading for goal, come on now Angelina — GRYFFINDOR SCORE!'
Yeah, Joey's flipping annoyed that she lets the Quaffle in, but mainly she's just ecstatic that Gryffindor have managed to salvage some points. That's when she hears the slight variation to the Slytherin song.
'Attlee is our Queen
She's the worst Keeper Slytherin's ever seen
Dead boy Diggory has a rubbish team
Attlee is our Queen!'
Lola and Lee are screaming in their desperate attempts to drown it out, their commentaries clashing violently against each other. 'Johnson intervenes, Johnson takes the Quaffle, Johnson to Kennedy, this looks good — I mean bad — Kennedy's hit by a Bludger from Grassie of Hufflepuff and it's Smith in possession again...'
'ATTLEE IS OUR QUEEN
SHE'S THE WORST KEEPER SLYTHERIN'S EVER SEEN...'
'Zacharias Smith, light of all our lives, is holding a ball - ooo, he has passed the ball - now he has got the ball back - Holy Owain Glyndwr, do people really watch this for fun?'
'DEAD BOY DIGGORY HAS A RUBBISH TEAM,
ATTLEE IS OUR QUEEN!'
But despite Lola and Lee's best efforts, Joey can still hear it, and it's slowly massacring every scrap of self confidence she has.
Hufflepuff are screaming too, like they're trying to counter it, and in between all the Hufflepuff-do-your-stuffing and Attlee-is-our-queening she can't even hear herself think. She can't even hear Lee and Lola, and she was trying to cling onto them, because if she could just hear them quarrelling she'd know everything's okay...
Fred's thundering through the air towards her, ears purple, and Joey just wants his hug. It's embarrassing, sure, but she just needs his hug, like he's holding her together, like...
'And what is this? Weasley beating a Bludger away from Attlee, even though they're on different teams? Bit embarrassing, Weasley, and I'm not sure which one it is, but it's probably Fred, to be honest...'
'You're not on my team!' she hisses, pretending to be furious, but in reality she's never been so glad to see him. Never ever.
'Joeypoos,' he says, breathlessly, eyes storms at the sight of the tears dewing her acned cheeks, 'I'm always on your team.'
What is she even meant to say that? I'm on yours too, always and forever, but you don't deserve me. You deserve better. Her mouth opens and closes helplessly, and she just knows she probably looks like a massive overgrown goldfish, but sometimes, he just takes her words away.
And it's not fair. Ugh.
'Goodness gracious me, Potter seems to have caught a ball, and for some reason that warrants a round of applause.'
Lola's commentary makes both Fred and Joey glance downwards, where Harry's fingers are just grazing a glint of gold; barely even a kiss behind him, Claude Honeybee is soaring on her broom, her hair streaming out behind her, her arms outstretched to touch the sun...
But it's Harry who catches the Snitch. Damn those silly Gryffindors! (She's only joking, she's secretly very glad and likes them all very much.) Fred roars with delight, the Gryffindor stand exploding. And, literally exploding too - Joey sees triumphant Filibuster's Fireworks glimmering above the spectators.
Hufflepuff are cheering as well, which makes Joey smile, because call them stupid or annoying or whatever, but they're certainly not sore losers!
She stumbles onto the pitch, attacking the team in a massive hug - all apart from Zacharias, who surprise surprise, isn't having any of it. 'You all played brilliantly, my loves! I am so, so proud!'
'Cheers, Captain,' Angus says. Martha ruffles Joey's hair condescendingly, already shouldering her leather jacket over her Quidditch jersey, and the two of them head off in the direction of Hogsmeade village.
Captain. For the first time ever, Joey's wondering if maybe, just maybe... she actually deserves it? Not that she's replacing Cedric, of course. It's just doing him proud, maybe?
'Well, mate, you did Cedric proud there,' and she feels George's arms around her waist and screams with laughter as he picks her up and turns her around, melting into his freckled smile.
'Thank you, Georgie, you're the best ever.'
George's smile falters and she notices Ron walking dejectedly back to the changing rooms, trailing his broom amongst the daisies. Joey's heart breaks a bit, and so she's running towards him, just wanting to give him a big squishy hug.
'Joeypoos, leave him,' Fred says, arriving at her shoulder and shaking his head. 'When he's like this, he's best on his own.'
She opens her mouth to protest. 'Bu-'
'Trust me, I know.' He turns to his twin. 'He was like this all the time when we were kids, d'you remember?'
'That's 'cause you always used to bully him,' George pipes up.
Fred grins. 'Oh yeah, I'd forgotten... hard to keep track sometimes, isn't it?'
'You're both horrible,' Joey laughs, trying to ignore the niggling seed of worry in her stomach. (Seriously, if the seed doesn't bloom into a flower, she will be very cross!)
And the worry multiplies when she sees a flash of platinum blonde belonging to Draco Malfoy, who as per usual, seems to be tormenting Harry. Honestly, why! He just needs to admit that he wants to marry Harry and go, or at least that's Joey's very-humble opinion.
'-we couldn't fit in useless loser either - for his father, you know-'
The twins stiffen, realising what he's saying a moment before she does. As soon as it clicks, and she realises he's insulting Arthur, precious Arthur, she whispers firmly, 'No, don't either of you dare,' and almost as an afterthought, clutches Fred's pinky protectively.
'Leave it!' Angelina says, approaching and taking Fred by the arm. 'Leave it, Fred, let him yell, he's just sore and he wasn't even playing, the jumped-up little-'
'-but you like the Weasleys, don't you, Potter?' Malfoy sneers. 'Can't see how you stand the stink, but I suppose when you've been dragged up by Muggles, even the Weasleys' hovel smells OK-'
Great. Joey's just wondering how on Venus she's meant to constrain the two of them from tearing Malfoy to smithereens (a la Lola with Ethan Rosier, circa 1995) when Harry grabs hold of George. Fred, meanwhile, is dealing with the combined efforts of Angelina, PJ and Alicia.
Joey's grateful that they're all helping, because both twins are over a foot taller than her, so there's no way she would be able to stop them being flipping plums.
Malfoy is cackling, and Joey thinks his sense of humour must be super duper lame, if he's laughing so hard at that. He obviously hasn't heard any of her jokes, has he? Get a new sense of humour, Draco! Lots of love, from the girl whose best friends you are currently insulting. (Although by 'lots of love' she means no love whatsoever. Duh!)
'Or perhaps, you can remember what your mother's house stank like, Potter, and Weasley's pigsty reminds you of it...'
It all happens faster than her teeny brain can comprehend. There's yelling and screaming and George is swearing as Harry releases him and they both storm towards Malfoy, and Joey falls blindly forward, wanting to pull away her friends so they won't get hurt...
Malfoy is dancing out of the way, still leering - Draco, all she wants ever ever ever, is for you to kindly shut up! 'And you spend the holidays there too, don't you, Attlee? Must be nice... does the stink remind you of your dead brother? Or perhaps it's worse?'
And this is when Fred loses it.
She's so shocked by what Malfoy's said, she doesn't even care that Fred's wrestled away from her pinky. (Well, OK, she does care, she wants him to get hurt least of all!) Matthew. Cedric. She steps forward, losing all sense of herself, knowing she's going to do something, she's not sure yet but something...
'PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!' Lola bellows, leaping down onto the pitch just as Fred's only managed to get one punch in, and both Joey and Fred tumble to the grass.
'I am so sorry, I am so sorry!' Lola says, helping a furious Fred from the ground. 'Normally I approve of brute violence when it is towards a self-entitled pureblood, but you were going to kill him, Weasley!'
'Good!' Fred spits. 'What d'you think I wanted? Besides, I don't know what you're bloody on about, Lemont, you punch people all the time!'
'Only when it is necessary,' Lola replies icily. 'Not at any old brat who will spend his life living off Daddy's inheritance, and certainly not when I am letting my hormones rule me! Testosterone, Weasley. It is not your friend.'
'What do you think you're doing?' Madam Hooch screams, hurling Impediment Jinxes at the boys like they're going out of fashion - which is a good idea, actually, if only Joey had her magic back! 'I've never seen behavior like it — back up to the castle, both of you, and straight to your Head of House's office! Go! Now!'
Joey, Fred and Lola watch a panting George march off the pitch in horror, his reading glasses smashed all over his face, blood ribboning from a volcano of swollen lip.
'You have fucked it now, twmffats,' Lola sighs, and Joey reaches hesitantly for Fred's pinky, wishing she knew what to do.
Wishing it didn't hurt as much as it does when he yanks away and thunders back to Hogwarts, throwing his broom to the ground without looking back once.
'BANNED.'
'Flipping banned?'
'Fucking banned.'
'Oh, Georgie.'
Joey's sat cross-legged outside McGonagall's office, where she's been waiting anxiously for what's felt like forever. She rises to greet George, who just looks blooming drained, the only colour on his face from the rosette of blood on his lip.
He collapses against her, bending down to hug her, hard, and she hugs him back for another forever: one of his hands in her hair, pretending not to notice his tears glistening against her neck.
Finally he pulls away, sniffing. 'Someone needs to tell Fred.'
She squeezes his hands reassuringly. 'I'll do it. You go find Lee, I think... I think you need him right now.'
'Great, more pain.' George sighs, nodding. 'Yeah, OK. You know where he'll be, mate.'
Joey gives him one last hug and heads to the astronomy tower.
She can't get over how unfair it is. Literally, it is the most unfair thing to happen in the history of unfair things! Malfoy provoked them, it was obvious to anyone with only one brain cell (like she understood that had happened, didn't she), but because of flipping Umbrella, they have to suffer, and for what? Gryffindor will never find a pair of Beaters as good as the twins, and that is a fact because Joey says so!
She's a little hesitant climbing the steps of the tower, because she really isn't sure how Fred will be. Normally, because he's a stubborn Aries, he clings to stuff like this for days and days and days, and nobody can get him out of a sulk. Which is really, really poo, for basically everyone involved.
Snow is beginning to drift downwards helplessly, petals of it landing amongst Fred's hair from where he's sat, dangling his legs over the edge. Her heart tugs.
'Don't tell me,' he says without even turning. 'We're banned, yeah?'
'Yes,' she breathes. 'And, um, Umbrella has your - has your brooms.'
He lets out a long, low whistle. 'Bloody hell. Y'know, I don't regret it.'
That's what scares me. 'I know.'
'Lemont should've let me at him. I would've pounded the little scumbag to a pulp.'
'Don't blame Lola,' Joey says, and she's surprised at how angry she sounds. Like, who is she and what's happened to Johannah Attlee? 'You got hurt.'
'I don't even care.' There's an ugly look all over his face. 'Malfoy already hurt me.'
'But I care,' she says very quietly, her voice so soft that fairies would crane their ears to listen. 'I care, Freddie.'
He scoffs. 'Why?'
'Because - because maybe, just maybe, it hurts me to see you hurt!'
Let's just make one thing clear: Joey did not mean to say that! She feels her cheeks ignite and buries her face in her hands, thinking Stupid, stupid, stupid. Would she really blame Fred for wanting to stop being friends with her, an emotional mess? No, of course not. She wants to stop knowing Joey too!
'D'you mind repeating that, eh?' he says, nudging her, and Joey just knows from his tone that he looks so unbearably cocky right now.
'Nope, nope, definitely not,' she whinges, cocky Aries cocky Aries cocky Aries, 'I'm - um, I'm gonna go find George now, so...'
She half-rises but his fingers catch her wrist, almost... desperately? Bizarre. 'No. Stay. Please.'
So she does, settling back into his side with her hair cascading over his shoulder. Their pinkies squabble jokily before settling down, in the teeny-tiny gap between them. His other hand fiddles with the downy ends of her hair, fingers twirling and admiring.
She closes her eyes, more content than she probably should be... Yeah, she'll get over him tomorrow. 'You can touch my hair, but don't mess it up.'
'It already is messy.'
'Listen,' Joey says, pulling away from his shoulder. Fine, she'll admit it, it's a reluctant movement! 'Let me see your wound.'
'No.'
'Yes.'
'Fine,' he huffs, and he holds out his hand.
Joey wishes he'd stop punching things when he gets peed off. The sight of the blood, already blackening against his knuckles, both terrifies her and gives her this weird sense of calm. Because somehow she knows what she has to do. Maybe it's spending too much time with Roger Davies, future Healer, rubbing off on her!
'Conjure me up some bandages,' she insists, and he does. 'OK, hold still.'
Fred grunts but obliges, sitting like a sulky child, as she tenderly winds the bandage around his hand. 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so bad at this,' she says. 'So can you stop getting into fights, please?'
He grunts again. 'But fighting twats is my entire personality, Joeypoos!'
'Try something else! Knitting! Baking! Duelling! Actually, not duelling. Maybe that's not such a good idea.' Joey heaves a sigh. 'Just promise me, OK?'
'Pinky promise,' he laughs, holding out his pinky and hugging it with hers, before lifting both up to his mouth and giving them a quick kiss. Which makes her heart do all manner of fluttery things.
He is such a flirt, and he doesn't understand what he does to her, and it's not fair! (Almost as unfair as blooming Umbrella!)
a/n:
this chapter features the lovely isla created by my DARLING sister kazbrekkers , her charlie fic is insane u should defo check it out !!!
but special dedication goes to -JINGLEYOURBELLS who literally inspired every single line, i love u bro, george in reading glasses is for u !!!
love u ALL, see you tomorrow ;))))
— nolan xxxxxxx<33333