Mr. Loverman - George Fabian Weasley

Chapter One

Waiting for the delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang is like a form of torture. I know that sounds dramatic, but it is bloody freezing outside, and we aren't even allowed to wear coats because the teachers want us to look 'proper and smart'. They made me do up my top button and tuck my shirt in, and I haven't done that since my first year. I didn't dare argue back to Professor McGonagall, though. She seems as uptight as ever with the stress of the new schools arriving. I don't see what the big deal is, to be honest. They're students, too. I'm sure they do not care if someone's uniform is scruffy or if someone is wearing a butterfly clip in their hair. Besides, they can't expect us to keep this image up the whole time Beauxbatons and Durmstrang are here. Especially not me and Fred.

"It's bloody freezing," I complain, rubbing my hands together. Fred nods, bobbing up and down on his heels to try and warm himself. I quickly give up trying to warm my hands with friction and shove them into my pockets to protect them from the chilly air.

"How much longer are we going to be stuck out here?" Lee Jordan, mine and Fred's best friend, asks.

"Why can't we wear coats? It's winter in Scotland, of course, we'll all be freezing," Angelina Johnson whines from beside Fred. Her arms are crossed tightly over her chest, and she shivers on the spot. Fred slings his arm casually around her, pulling her close to him to try and warm her up. She glares at him for a moment before giving in and soaking up what little warmth he has to offer her. I sometimes think there is something going on between the two of them... but Fred constantly denies it, and Angelina seems angry at him most of the time.

"Mr Weasley, Miss Johnson! Stop that at once," Professor McGonagall rushes over to the pair, waving her hands at them to break them up. "Stand up straight, Mr Jordan... Mr. Weasley, take your hands out of your pockets!"

We all begrudgingly do as we are told. Normally, we might resist a little or make some snide comment, but McGonagall seems especially snappy today, and I cannot be bothered to have another detention or lose any house points. I'm still upset by the news that you have to be over the age of seventeen to enter the Triwizard tournament. Fred and I were going to enter and win the thousand Galleon prize money - we could open up our shop with that kind of money, but because we turn seventeen on April first, we won't be of age before the deadline. It's the Worst April Fool's prank ever.

"We can't even enter the bloody tournament, so why should we have to stand out here freezing our tits off?" Fred huffs when McGonagall leaves.

"Nearly six," my younger brother Ronald states from nearby. "How d'you reckon they're coming? The train?"

"I doubt it," his friend, Hermione Granger, replies.

"How, then? Broomsticks?" Harry Potter, yes, the Harry Potter, suggests. He and Ron suggest some more stupid ideas, which Hermione impatiently shuts down with very exaggerated eye rolls, which makes me snicker quietly to myself.

"Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!" Dumbledore announces loudly. Thank fuck, I'm bloody freezing, and I really could not care less about the arrival of the two schools. I'd much rather be in the Common Room plotting ideas on how to enter the tournament illegally with Fred and Lee.

"Where?" a chorus of questions comes from many students, who all look around eagerly. I cross my arms over my chest and let out a huff. The sooner the two schools get here, the better.

"There!" A sixth-year yells and points over the Forbidden Forest.

I look up and see the dark silhouette of a massive, flying object hurtling over the deep blue sky towards the castle.

"It's a dragon!"

"Don't be stupid... It's a flying house!"

It obviously isn't a dragon. I'm not sure that first year has ever seen a dragon before if he thinks that's what they look like. Nor is it a flying house. It's actually a gigantic baby blue carriage drawn by a dozen Abraxan-winged horses. I'd never seen an Abraxan-winged horse in real life before, but they're about the size of elephants.

"Merlin's beard!" I exclaim as the carriage lands at a tremendous speed and crashes loudly into the floor, causing the first three rows of students to draw back.

"Smooth landing," Fred remarks sarcastically, grinning ear to ear at the terror-stricken first years at the front.

A boy in light blue robes jumps down from the carriage and unfolds a set of golden steps before moving respectfully out of the way. He puffs his chest out and holds his hand behind his back in a pompous manner, which makes me, Fred and Lee laugh under our breaths. Then, a shoe emerges from inside the carriage carrying the largest woman I have ever seen in my life. I am not kidding when I say she is bigger than Hagrid. Dumbledore applauds her arrival, and the rest of us slowly join in.

"Blimey, she's huge!" Lee whispers to us, and I nod, staring up at her with wide eyes.

"My dear Madam Maxime," Dumbledore says kindly. "Welcome to Hogwarts."

"Dumbly-dorr," Madam Maxime says in a deep voice. "I 'ope I find you well?"

"On excellent form, I thank you."

"My pupils," Madam Maxime carelessly waves her hand behind her at a group of Beauxbatons students who have emerged from the carriage and are standing in lines behind her. They all look to be of age. I assume they have only brought students old enough to enter the tournament. They're all shivering as they stand cloakless in thin silk robes, and some of them wrap scarves and shawls around their head to keep warm. Apart from one girl, who seems completely unaffected by the chilly air. She is standing at the back of the line beside the youngest-looking student, who can't be over the age of nine, and their hands are clasped tightly together. I wonder if they are siblings, and she stares up at the castle in absolute awe, pointing different elements out to her younger companion. The youngest one, much like the rest of the students, does not share her excitement. They all look up at the castle rather apprehensively, but I do not spend much time watching them. My eyes stay focused on her. She has mousy brown hair, which sits just below her chest in loose curls, and a beautiful smile spread across her freckled face. I cannot see the colour of her eyes from where I am standing, but I notice how they crinkle at the edges as she speaks rather quickly to the young girl holding her hand. She is the single most beautiful girl I have seen in my life, and that is including the Veela's at the Quidditch World Cup.

"Wow," Lee breathes beside me, and I finally tear my gaze away from her. It's probably a good thing because she may be weirded out if she catches me staring at her, but the second I look away, I want to see her again. "I think that is the hottest woman I've ever seen."

Jealousy twinges in my chest, and my eyes immediately follow his line of sight, but he isn't staring at her. He's staring at another girl who stands at the front of the line. She's undeniably beautiful with sleek blonde hair, which almost glows silver and reaches her waist. She, however, doesn't hold a candle to the nameless brunette, which I spotted first.

"She must be part Veela," Fred agrees with Lee, earning a scoff from Angelina.

"There's no way," I shake my head and glance back over to the mousy-haired girl at the back of the line. The younger girl catches my eye and giggles, pulling on the pretty girl's hand and pointing up at me. Her eyes meet mine then, and panic washes over me as I bow my head and stare down at my feet in a foolish attempt to look inconspicuous, but I saw the slight surprise in her eyes when she caught me looking and the smile that tugs at her lips as I look away.

A/N: Hello, this is the first chapter of Mr. Loverman. I hope you like it, and I hope it's well written, but I never write in the first person, so I am not sure how well it reads. Please leave comments and votes and let me know if you like it, and if it's well written, and never be afraid to point out any mistakes or ask me any questions!