One Shots - George Weasley

~thirteen~

"Turn...to page three hundred and ninety four.."

I sighed as I leafed through my potions book. Although being good at potions led to Snape not hating me as much as the other students, this was still a boring class. Occasionally I would hear one of the twins make a comment about Snape's hair and i'd stifle a giggle, but that's pretty much all the fun to be had in this class.

"Today...class we will be doing something a little bit....fun."

I wonder what Snape's definition of fun is, probably either hitting students with a book or staring into a moldy corner. Both might be more fun than an 11" essay on the uses of a bezoar that was assigned last week. I haven't started it yet but I blame it on the boring subject.

Snape had us set up our cauldrons and gather a bunch of ingredients from the closet, though he had yet told us what we are doing. Laid out before my cauldron was an ashwinder egg, rose thorns, peppermints, powdered moonstone, and pearl dust. Individually we had already used the ingredients, but all together I had no clue.

The professor instructed us to follow the directions on page 402. As I flipped through the pages I noticed the topic had changed to love potions. Mostly the history of said potions, but on page 402 there was potion instructions. Amortentia. I had heard of it before, an extremely strong love potion. According to the page it described it's scent as being different to every person. Whatever most attracted the person making it.

I carefully crushed the ashwinder egg and added it to the cauldron, followed by squeezing out the miniscule amount of liquid a rose thorn holds. The process was tedious and grueling, but by the end most everyone had a cauldron with spiraling steam and a silvery sheen.

Professor Snape walked through the room inspecting and smelling the potions, a mild expression of disgust on his face most of the time. He reached the table with the Weasley twins and looked at one of the cauldrons with a face of pure disdain. Fred had concocted what can only be described as molten tar. George however, the twin in which I most certainly did not have an insane crush on, had a cauldron with a perfect sheen and the perfect spiral of mist above it.

"What do you smell in your acromantula, Professor Snape?" Fred asked

"Amortentia, Weasley. In yours I only smell the stench failure of petrol. However, in your brother's, I smell lillies. Not that that's any of your business.

"Well that's boring," Fred muttered to himself.

"10 points from Gryffindor," Snape stated flatly as he moved to my cauldron.

"Wonderful work, l/n."

I finally decided to lean in to smell my potion after Snape had determined it was correct. The scent of blueberry pancakes, rain, and... gunpowder filled my nose. Gunpowder? At least that's the only way the smell could be described. What could possibly be attractive about that?

Then it hit me.

It wasn't gun powder, it was fireworks.

George's signature prank.

Maybe it was time to admit to myself I had a little bit of a crush on him. I couldn't help it! Who wouldn't? He was confident but not arrogant. He was intelligent but not a know-it-all. He was athletic and the way he looked when we played quidditch was...

Nevermind, back to the task at hand. I cleared my cauldron with a wave of my wand and collected by supplies as class was dismissed.

I was trailing shortly behind George and Fred. Not that I was eavesdropping of course, we just happened to have the same schedule. And although my prerogative wasn't to listen in, that's exactly what I ended up doing.