Mia Black loves many things. Renaissance paintings, the muggle movie Pulp Fiction (have you seen a narrative timeline so fucked up?)... and maybe George Weasley?
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twelve "the before"
✨
(1994 — two academic years ago)
MIA BLACK, IN ALL OF HER SUNNY yet gloomy life, has never been this overwhelmed. And that's not to say Mia never gets nervous, like this — she's Emilia Black's daughter, what do you expect? But she's never been this level of overwhelmed, because it isn't just nervousness. It's excitement and fear and confusion and every emotion under the sun, all mixed into one dreadful feeling. Her entire body feels as if it's on fire, an almighty level of emotion burning inside of her. If you cut her open, her insides would be gold and sparkling, like the sun. It's left her body jittery, her hands shaky, her voice wobbly as she asks Cedric about him. The candles around her keep on blowing out, or suddenly bursting into flames. Other times, tables will shake, the enchanted ceiling in the Great Hall will stir, the magic wanting to give in and disappear. One time she could've sworn she caused a thunderstorm. And all of this is because of one boy — George Weasley.
She knows, she knows. It makes no sense. It came out of nowhere, truly. One day, everything was fine, and the next, he smiled at her and spoke to her because Oliver was looking for Cedric, and that was it. Mia went from I know him to Marry me. It's a full-blown schoolgirl crush. It's why she stopped caring about her break up with Roger Davies, because what the fuck... George Weasley...
It's truly childish, and she knows it. But she can't help it. When she zones out in classes she thinks about him, when she goes to bed she spends those last couple minutes awake thinking about how he might ask her out, or kiss her... It's the worst, and she knows it.
(Mia, circa '95, agrees wholeheartedly.)
"M," says Cedric, as he sits down next to her at dinner, sometime in the spring. (Mia, circa '95, has a moment with this — as she looks back she takes a minute to reflect upon her best friend. His brown hair, not curly enough to be described as curly, but curly enough to look handsomely messy. The slightest tan, a sign of afternoons in the sunshine, playing Quidditch and wasting Sundays. He always held himself with such self-confidence, Mia loved it. She always admired the faith Cedric had in himself...)
