MISS SNAPE || George Weasley Fanfic

22- MIDNIGHT QUIDDITCH

The room is dark, but I can still see everything. It's red and round, full of four-poster beds.

I'm in the Gryffindor common room.

And it's empty, except me.

I try to lift my hands and look at them, but I can't move them. All I can do is move my head. I realize that I am standing on the edge of the stairs.

Invisible.

Barely sentient.

Ghostlike, even.

Just then, two figures pass through me. The first I recognize by scent.

Georgie.

He's with a girl who his body is covering, so I can't see.

But it isn't me.

He laughs and kisses her, his toned arms wrapped around her. She pulls back and giggles.

Angelina.

He turns her around, hitting her bum.

Suddenly, I feel another figure pass through me.

Fred.

Fred holds Angelina as George rips off her skirt and-

"Ugh, Tori, you promised me you wouldn't fall asleep. Come on, get up it's time to go," Claire says as she shakes me. She stops to examine me, and sits on the bed. "I'm no mind reader, but I know you enough to know that somethings up."

I look past her to see Angelina, just waking up, and I glare at her.

Claire follows my line of eyesight, then looks back at me. "Did you-in your dream?" she whispers.

"I dreamt about her dream," I whisper, looking over at her. I lean to her ear. "She was having a sex dream about getting tag teamed by our boys."

She gasps and starts toward Angelina, but I grab her.

"Let's just mess with her a bit, love," I say, pulling her and giggling out the door.

***

I got to start the game. "Three, two, one!" I shout, releasing the various balls and exiting the field. It was chaotic, all the positions were quadrupled, but the players were all scattered on different teams. Fred and George were pitted against each other as honorary Slytherclaws and Gryffinpuffs. Everyone was shouting profanities that they had to hold back during actual games, but they were all said with a smile.

One thing to know about Claire and I is that we are the most competitive people ever, even more so when we work together. And we're also very good at quidditch, since Nanny was on the Holyhead Harpies and taught us, but we had never allowed ourselves to play as it would get a bit too violent.

But still, when two 'Slytherclaw' chasers got injured, we jumped at the opportunity to kill Angelina. Not literally, of course. We mounted their brooms and shot up into the air, like professionals. The look on George and Fred's faces were priceless.

"Why are you up here, Snape?" Angelina snarked. "You two can't play quidditch."

"Or so you think," I chuckle.

"I don't think, I know," she sternly states.

"Scared, Johnson?" Claire teases. Before Angelina can say anything, we shoot off.

George was on our team, making sure to block any bludgers from hitting us. Fred tries make sure his team doesn't hit any toward us either. I get my hands on a quaffle, passing it between Claire and I until I slam it into the goal, making all the spectators scream in cheer. George lovingly hits me on the back and Draco gives me a high five.