Loverboy: Year One - George Weasley x Fem!Reader

Chapter Twenty Two - Weasley's Win

"Just wear it." Hermione was situated on my bed, twirling her Gryffindor scarf in her fingers.

I shook my head. "I can't." I took the scarf around my neck off swiftly, throwing it into the open trunk at the end of my bed.

"Why not?" Hermione asked. The look on her face was one of annoyance.

We'd been in my dorm room for about an hour, debating back and forth whether or not I should wear George's scarf to the upcoming Quidditch match.

And by upcoming, I mean about 30 minutes.
It was Ravenclaw versus Gryffindor, and seeing as I didn't really have any friends in Ravenclaw, I'd have to settle with supporting Gryffindor.

Not that I minded. Both Harry and Fred were on the team, great players too.

It was George that worried me the most.
I feared he'd be bloody pissed, more so than he already seemed to be, that I would have the audacity to wear his scarf when we were no longer on speaking terms, possibly no longer friends.

I grabbed my grey wool coat from the shared dorm closet. I quickly pulled it on over the white jumper I was wearing, hoping that if I got ready quick enough, Hermione would drop the whole scarf thing.

"I'm not wearing it. That's final." I said, my tone stern.

Hermione shrugged her shoulders and sighed, finally understanding the losing battle she was fighting.

"Alright, but if you get cold, you're not borrowing mine." She stood up from the bed, walking over to me. We linked arms and set out for the Quidditch pitch.

By the time we arrived, both teams were already in the air, getting in a bit of extra practice. I looked up towards the few Gryffindor players in the air, hoping to see George, but to no avail.

The wind was a bit more on the vicious side and it whipped against Hermione and I wildly as we made our way up the stands to where the rest of Gryffindor was sitting.

Hermione and I squeezed past Ron to our normal seats whenever Gryffindor played someone who wasn't Hufflepuff. I took a seat on the chilly wooden bench, almost shooting right back up from how cold it was to the touch.

I looked down towards the pitch, scanning for George, but was shocked to see Emmie happily chatting with Fred, a scarlet and gold hat placed neatly upon her head. It was obviously a little bit too big, as she kept having to adjust it every time she moved her head. A scarf of the same color was wrapped around her neck. No doubtley both clothing items belonged to Fred. She giggled as he said something, then dashed off towards the stands, waving goodbye as she did.

I smiled. At least one of us was getting somewhere with the Weasley's.

The few players in the air swiftly landed, walking towards their separate teams.

Both teams huddled around one another, no doubt taking the last few seconds to talk strategy.

After a minute or so, Madame Hooch blew her whistle and both teams made their way towards the middle of the field.

That's when I spotted George.

It felt weird seeing him for the first time since the fight. He looked tired, worried even. I thought about how hard Oliver had been working the Gryffindor team. Maybe that's why he looked so worn out.

He scanned the crowds, for what I wasn't sure. His eyes darted back and forth, but never once landed on me.

I sighed and Hermione patted me on the shoulder, although I was sure she didn't understand why.
Still, it was nice to know I had support.