XVI
The rest of the holidays passed in a monotonous blur. Her grandfather was increasingly absent, spending hours, sometimes days, outside the house. This left Thalia alone in the echoing corridors, her footsteps the only sound to break the heavy silence. She busied herself with homework and decoding the fragments of information she’d overheard, but the oppressive solitude weighed on her.
By the time the start of term arrived, Thalia was practically buzzing with anticipation. The idea of returning to Hogwarts felt like a lifeline. As she trudged through the frosty morning toward the castle, her breath puffing out in clouds, she caught sight of its towers glowing warmly against the pale winter sky. Her walk turned into a jog, and then a full-out sprint as thoughts of seeing the Weasleys again filled her mind. The idea of their boisterous laughter, cheeky grins, and effortless ability to brighten even the dreariest of days made her heart feel lighter than it had in weeks.
Her eagerness had proven her downfall. As soon as Thalia stepped through the towering doors of the Great Hall, she realized just how early she was for breakfast. The cavernous room was eerily quiet, save for the soft clinking of cutlery and the rustle of parchment. A few professors sat at the head table, sipping their morning coffee while scanning the headlines of the Daily Prophet. Across the hall, a handful of bleary-eyed students shuffled in, grunting half-hearted greetings to one another as they made their way to their tables.
Undeterred, Thalia made her way to the Gryffindor table and slid onto one of the benches. She poured herself a sweet, steaming cup of tea, the warmth seeping into her hands as she cupped it. Setting the cup down, she adjusted her seat to face the entrance and kept her eyes trained on the doors, her heart fluttering with anticipation. Any moment now, the Gryffindors would arrive, and the hall would fill with the laughter and chatter she had missed so dearly.
Thalia’s impatience had grown steadily with each passing minute. The Great Hall had quickly transformed into a bustling hive of activity, filled with the clatter of cutlery and the hum of conversation. She had already greeted Nova and Kristen, listening half-heartedly as they animatedly recounted their holiday adventures. Both girls, sensing her distraction, exchanged knowing smiles and promised to catch up with her before Alchemy.
Left alone once more, Thalia tapped her fingers on the table, her mind racing. She seriously considered the utterly reckless notion of breaking into the Gryffindor common room—rules be damned—to storm the boys' dormitory and drag the Weasley twins out of bed by their hair. Just as the thought began to feel less absurd, her heart leapt at the sight of a familiar shock of red hair cutting through the crowd.
George stood in the doorway, his hair delightfully tousled, his shirt untucked in that endearing way that suggested he’d dressed in a hurry. Under one arm, he carried a brown paper package, his eyes scanning the crowded room with a purpose.
Before he could spot her, Thalia acted on impulse. Letting out an excited squeal, she bolted from her seat and launched herself at him. A blur of curls and infectious energy, she threw her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly.
George staggered slightly under the force of her enthusiasm, his free arm instinctively wrapping around her shoulders to steady them both. A wide grin spread across his face as he looked down at her. "Well, good morning to you too, Lia," he chuckled, his voice warm with amusement.
A mocking voice whined from behind George, dripping with playful sarcasm. “Where’s my enthusiastic hug?”
“And mine!” chimed in another familiar voice.
Peeking around George, Thalia found herself face-to-face with Ginny, who wore a smirk that matched the mischievous glint in her eyes. Beside her stood Fred, arms crossed over his chest, his own grin teasing and expectant.
Begrudgingly, Thalia unwrapped her arms from George’s waist and darted toward Fred, throwing her arms around his shoulders in a dramatic hug. Before he could get a word in, she pulled Ginny into the fold, squeezing both siblings tightly.
“Alright, alright, no need to smother us!” Fred grumbled, though his laughter betrayed his words. Ginny giggled, trying to wriggle free from Thalia’s grip.
After a few seconds of mock protests—and a fair amount of grumbling from nearby students inconvenienced by the impromptu reunion—Thalia finally untangled herself from the pair. She stood back, her hands on her hips, her grin uncontainable.
“Breakfast and explanations are in order,” she declared, her tone leaving no room for argument.
“I couldn’t agree more,” George said, stepping up beside her. With an easy, familiar motion, he slung a lazy arm around her shoulders, pulling her close as they began walking toward the Gryffindor table.
“I’ve missed you, Winterbourne,” he murmured into her hair, his voice softer now, carrying a warmth that made her heart flutter.
“You too, Weasley,” she replied, her smile widening as she glanced up at him.
Once the group had settled at the table, their plates piled high with food, George turned to Thalia with a small smile and a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.
“Before any explanations, I am under strict orders to give you this,” he said, sliding the brown paper package across the table toward her.
Thalia raised an eyebrow, glancing suspiciously at the Weasley siblings, all of whom were sporting identical cheeky grins. “And what is this?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.
“A Christmas present,” Ginny chimed in before Thalia could protest. “And before you argue, we know it was you who hid the sweets in our trunks. Mum wanted to show her appreciation, so go on—open it!”
With hesitant fingers, Thalia tore into the wrapping, revealing a mustard-colored knitted jumper with a scarlet ‘T’ carefully stitched on the front. Her breath hitched as she stared at the jumper, her fingers brushing over the soft wool.
Fred leaned back in his chair, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Your first Weasley jumper. You’re officially part of the family now!” he teased, his tone light but carrying a hint of sincerity.
Thalia sat frozen for a moment, her throat tight as emotion welled up. This simple, thoughtful gesture—the warmth of the jumper, the care in its creation—was more than just a gift. It was her first present, ever, and it had come from someone she hadn’t even met yet.
Her voice wavered as she finally spoke, “I... I don’t know what to say.” She looked around at the Weasleys, their grins unwavering, and felt a lump rise in her throat.
“Say you’ll wear it,” George said, nudging her shoulder gently. “It’s tradition.”
Thalia nodded, a soft, watery smile spreading across her face. “Of course I’ll wear it,” she said, clutching the jumper tightly.
“Good,” Ginny said, popping a piece of toast into her mouth. “Because Mum’s already planning next year’s color.”
Laughter erupted around the table, and for the first time, Thalia felt a sense of belonging that she hadn’t known she was missing. This was what family felt like—messy, loud, and full of love. Carefully she folded the jumper, treating it as though it were the most delicate treasure she’d ever held, and placed it gently into her bag. Turning back to the Weasleys, her gaze softened with gratitude.
“Please thank your mother for me,” Thalia said, her voice earnest. “It really is too kind.”
Ginny beamed. “She’ll be thrilled to hear you like it.”
Thalia nodded, then her expression grew more serious as she looked between the siblings. “Now, please tell me—how is your father?”
The mood around the table shifted slightly, the playful energy giving way to quiet reassurance.
Fred was the first to speak, his usual smirk replaced with a genuine smile. “He’s doing loads better. Still stuck in bed with Mum fussing over him like a hawk, but he’s on the mend.”
“Yeah,” George added, his arm resting casually on the back of Thalia’s chair. “He’s bandaged up pretty good, but the Healers at St. Mungo’s say he’ll make a full recovery. It’s just going to take some time.”
Ginny leaned forward, her voice filled with warmth. “Mum’s been keeping him company nonstop. She’s practically memorized every Healing Charm in the book by now. He’s even started teasing her about being a better Healer than the professionals.”
Thalia let out a small laugh, relief flooding her features. “I’m so glad to hear that. I’ve been worried ever since...” Her voice trailed off, but the Weasleys seemed to understand.
“Well, you don’t need to worry anymore,” Fred said, a rare sincerity in his tone. “We’ve got him covered.”
George gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.
Looking around, Fred leaned forward, his expression curious but not unfriendly. “Although I do have to ask, how did you know we were in Dumbledore’s office? McGonagall came and got us—she didn’t even tell the Gryffindors where we went.”
Thalia felt her heart skip a beat, her chest tightening as panic threatened to creep in. She couldn’t tell them the truth. Kingsley had sworn her to secrecy, and even if he hadn’t, how could she explain her grandfather’s involvement? The Weasleys were outspoken in their disdain for Slytherin tendencies, and if George ever looked at her with anything less than warmth...
She forced herself to keep her expression neutral and shrugged, focusing on her plate as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. “The Fat Friar came into the common room while I was studying,” she said, her voice calm but carefully measured. “He said you boys were out of bed and that McGonagall had caught you. I guess I just wanted to help.”
Fred raised an eyebrow, his tone skeptical but not accusatory. “The Fat Friar? Huh.”
Thalia forced a light laugh, hoping it sounded natural. “You know how he is, always poking his nose into other people’s business.” She picked at her food, avoiding Fred’s gaze, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ginny’s expression soften.
“Well, I’m glad you were there to keep us all sane,” Ginny said, reaching over to squeeze Thalia’s arm with a warm smile.
Thalia felt a small wave of relief wash over her, and she managed to return Ginny’s smile. “It was nothing, really.”
From beside her, George pulled her into his side, his arm draped casually but securely over her shoulders. His voice was soft and sincere. “Me too,” he said simply, and the warmth in his tone made her heart ache.
For a brief moment, she allowed herself to relax, leaning into George’s side as the conversation shifted to lighter topics. But deep down, the weight of her secret remained, a constant reminder of the delicate balance she was walking.
The lighthearted chatter around the table came to an abrupt halt as the golden trio entered the Great Hall. Thalia’s face lit up at the sight of Hermione, her excitement bubbling to the surface. She had missed the bushy-haired girl’s sharp wit and her ability to make even the most complex academic theories seem manageable. However, as soon as Harry, Ron, and Hermione approached and sat down, the mood shifted. A heavy tension hung over them like a storm cloud, and Thalia couldn’t help but notice the subtle but telling signs of distress.
Harry looked alarmingly thin, his pallor stark against the dark circles under his eyes. His entire demeanor screamed exhaustion, as though the weight of the world rested on his narrow shoulders. Hermione’s face was pinched, a deep line running between her furrowed brows, and her hands fiddled restlessly with the edge of her robe. Even Ron, who was usually the picture of easy going humor, seemed subdued. His ears were perpetually pink—a telltale sign of his agitation—and his normally voracious appetite had been replaced by a distracted poking at his food.
Thalia exchanged a concerned glance with George who discreetly shook his head. Ignoring his warning Thalia leant forward slightly, her voice soft but tinged with worry. "Is everything okay? You all look like you haven't slept in weeks."
Hermione offered a weak smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “We’re fine, just... tired. We didn't get much rest over the holidays and with OWLs looming were all beginning to feel the stress."
Ron muttered something under his breath, stabbing at his plate with a fork, while Harry avoided her gaze entirely, his eyes fixed somewhere over her shoulder.
"We only got three OWLs and look at us!" Fred chimed in, trying to alleviate some of the tension.
"Yes and you could have got more had you applied yourselves!" snapped Hermione, "Such wasted potential," she said, shaking her head.
Thalia could help but laugh at the young girl who suddenly looked and sounded so much older than her age.
"We've been through this Mione! We don't need OWLs for a joke shop," George moaned, burying his face dramatically in his hands.
"Can we get back on track, you all look like Umbridge peed in your cereal or you’ve returned from a long stint in Azkaban where you snogged dementors," Ginny said bluntly.
Smiling slightly Hermione sighed, brushing a stray curl out of her face. “It’s nothing, really."
Thalia could tell there was more to the story, but she decided not to press. Instead, she reached out to gently touch Hermione’s hand, offering a reassuring squeeze. “Well, if you ever need someone to talk to, you know where to find me.”
Hermione nodded, her smile a bit more genuine this time. “Thanks, Thalia. That means a lot.”
The conversation shifted again, but the trio’s somber mood lingered, casting a shadow over the table. Thalia couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever was troubling them was far more serious than they were letting on.
As the group finished their meal, the golden trio mumbled stilted goodbyes before shuffling off, their subdued energy following them like a cloud. Thalia lingered for a moment, watching the trio retreat with furrowed brows, her concern for them lingering in the pit of her stomach. Shaking her head, she gathered her things and started toward her Arithmancy class.
She was halfway down the corridor when she heard footsteps behind her. Turning, she found George trailing her with a mischievous grin plastered across his face.
“If I’m not mistaken, Mr. Weasley,” she began with mock severity, “you have seventh-year Charms, which is in the complete opposite direction to where you are currently heading.”
“It appears I am lost, Miss Winterbourne!” he declared dramatically, spinning in a slow circle as though searching for a signpost.
“Seriously, George, you’re going to be late!” she laughed, attempting to shove him back the way he’d come.
“Lia!” he whined, dragging out her name like a whining child. “It’s like you don’t even enjoy your best friend’s company!”
Before she could retort, George slung his arm around her shoulders and leaned heavily against her, causing her to stumble slightly under his weight.
“I am five-foot-two,” she groaned, trying to shift his lanky frame off her. “If you keep hanging your freakishly tall self off me, we’re both going to end up on the floor.”
“And best friend or not,” she added, shooting him a glare, “I’d rather not have your tardiness on my conscience.”
George only tightened his grip, his grin widening. “I solemnly swear I’ll go to class... eventually. But first, I need to ensure you get to yours safely. These corridors can be dangerous, you know.”
“Dangerous?” Thalia echoed, raising an eyebrow. “The most dangerous thing here is probably Peeves, and I’m fairly certain you’ve recruited him for at least half your pranks.”
George gasped in mock offense, clutching his chest as if she’d wounded him. “How dare you question my motives, Winterbourne? I’m a gentleman through and through!”
“Uh-huh,” she replied, smirking. “And I’m the Minister for Magic.”
He pouted, widening his eyes in a perfect imitation of a puppy. “Please, Lia! I haven’t seen you in forever. I just wanted to check in and ask how your Christmas was!”
Thalia sighed, rolling her eyes but unable to resist the look. Linking their arms, she started walking again. “Fine,” she said, her tone softening. “Quiet. That’s how my Christmas was.”
George tilted his head, his expression shifting to something more serious. “Was it just you and your grandfather, then?”
“Yep,” she replied, keeping her tone light. “But he ended up working most of the holidays, so I got all my homework done, started revising for exams, and worried about you and your siblings.”
George chuckled, his easy smile returning. “I can’t imagine a quiet Christmas. With seven of us kids, there’s never a dull—or quiet—moment. Mum barely manages to keep us from setting the house on fire most years.”
Thalia laughed, the mental image of the chaotic Weasley household warming her heart. “Sounds... lively.”
“Lively is an understatement,” George said, grinning. “But it wouldn’t be Christmas without Fred nearly blowing up the pudding or Ginny hexing Ron for stealing her presents.”
Thalia smiled wistfully, a pang of longing striking her chest. “It sounds wonderful,” she said softly, her voice almost drowned out by the bustling sounds of students heading to class.
George glanced at her, his brow furrowing slightly. “You’ll have to come next year,” he said firmly, as though it were already decided. “Mum’s already claimed you as one of us, and I’m pretty sure she’ll hex us all if we don’t drag you along to the Burrow.”
Thalia chuckled, though the idea of being part of such a loving, chaotic family made her throat tighten. “We’ll see,” she said, her tone light but noncommittal.
Trying to change the subject, Thalia looked up at him with a teasing smile. “Now, what’s this joke shop I’ve heard about?”
George’s eyes widened, and his entire face lit up with an ear-splitting grin. “That’s our plan! After school, I mean. Fred and I are going to open up our own joke shop. Like Zonko’s only better, of course!”
Thalia couldn’t help but feed off his enthusiasm, her own smile growing. “Obviously,” she agreed. “You’ll sell the Skiving Snackboxes and Canary Creams you’ve been sneaking around here, then?”
“And so much more!” George said, his excitement bubbling over. “We’ve been product testing since the summer. The Snackboxes are just the beginning. We’ve got Extendable Ears, Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, Decoy Detonators—all sorts of brilliant things in the works!”
Thalia raised her eyebrows, her interest piqued. “Extendable Ears? That sounds... interesting.”
“Interestingly useful and fun! They help you eavesdrop on conversations, even behind closed doors!” George said, his grin widening. “Fred and I reckon there’s a market for mischief. Everyone needs a laugh, especially now. And the best part is, we’re doing it all ourselves. No Ministry meddling, no stuffy rules—just pure, unfiltered Weasley ingenuity.”
“I think it’s brilliant,” Thalia said sincerely, her voice warm. “You and Fred have always been the best at turning chaos into something... well, magical.”
George laughed, a genuine, hearty sound that echoed down the corridor. “You’ve got a way with words, Winterbourne. You’ll have to write our advertisements!”
“Only if I get a lifetime supply of Canary Creams,” she teased.
“Done,” George said without hesitation, his eyes twinkling. “And you’ll have to be one of our first customers. We’ll even name a product after you.”
“Something sophisticated, I hope,” Thalia joked, nudging his shoulder.
“Of course,” George said with mock seriousness. “Maybe a line of enchanted quills that write your homework for you. We’ll call it the ‘Winterbourne Writing Utensils.’”
Thalia laughed, shaking her head. “Use my first name, I hate my last name.”
“Hmm I’ll have to think about that then, jot down some ideas and go through the development department.” He said, rubbing his chin mockingly, as if deep in thought.
“I’ll hold you to that, Weasley,” she chuckled.
“Good,” George said, his grin softening into something more genuine. “You’ve got to promise to come to the grand opening. It wouldn’t feel right without you there.”
“I promise,” Thalia said, her voice quiet but firm.
For a moment, their usual playful banter gave way to something deeper—feelings changing to something that neither of them could quite place. Then, as if sensing the shift, George slung his arm around her shoulders again, his grin back in full force.
“Right, enough sentimentality. Let’s get you to class before I start crying in the hallway.”
Thalia rolled her eyes, but her laughter lingered as they continued down the corridor.
They reached the door to her Arithmancy classroom, and Thalia stopped, turning to face George. “Alright, you’ve officially escorted me to class. Now go, before Professor Flitwick gives you detention for being late.”
George grinned, leaning against the doorframe. “You sure you don’t need me to take notes for you? I’m great at doodling diagrams of exploding cauldrons.”
Thalia rolled her eyes, gently shoving him away. “Go, George.”
He took a few steps backward, his grin never faltering. “Alright, alright, I’m going. But don’t forget—dinner tonight. You’re sitting with us. Non-negotiable.”
“Fine,” Thalia replied, unable to hide her smile. “Now, go!”
With a mock salute, George finally turned and jogged off down the corridor, his laughter echoing behind him. Thalia watched him go, a small smile lingering on her lips as she stepped into the classroom.
For a moment, the warmth of his presence lingered, chasing away the shadows that had crept into her heart over the holidays. She was grateful for George and his unrelenting lightness, even if he did drive her mad sometimes.
Her day was categorically uneventful, the usual ebb and flow of classes, homework, and ridiculous banter filling the hours. As promised, she joined her Gryffindor friends for dinner, where George immediately pulled her into the narrow space beside him on the bench. She barely had enough room to raise her arms to use her cutlery, his elbow constantly jostling hers as he animatedly recounted a story about a failed prank.
“You’re going to make me spill soup on myself,” she groaned, nudging him with her shoulder.
“Consider it character building,” George teased, flashing her a grin that made her roll her eyes but smile nonetheless.
Once they were finished, Thalia was surprised to see Nova and Kristen pushing their way through the exiting crowds and heading straight toward the Gryffindor table. Kristen’s wild curls were bouncing as she marched up, a determined glint in her eye.
“We were going to ask you to come study with us,” Kristen began, her voice indignant, “but there’s sticky toffee pudding over here, and Ernie ate the entire portion on the Hufflepuff table before I even got a look in.” Without waiting for an invitation, she threw herself onto the bench beside Lee, reaching for the platter of pudding like a woman on a mission.
Grabbing Lee’s spoon without hesitation, she asked, “You using this?” but didn’t wait for a reply before digging in.
“I suppose not,” Lee muttered, throwing Thalia a bewildered look. Thalia couldn’t help but snort inelegantly, her laughter drawing a few curious glances from nearby students.
Nova, in contrast to Kristen’s dramatic entrance, approached with far more caution. She took a tentative seat beside Fred, perching on the edge of the bench as if ready to flee at a moment’s notice. She smoothed her robes nervously before turning to Thalia.
“I was hoping you’d be able to read through my Herbology essay,” Nova said, her voice soft but earnest. “I’m pretty sure I’ve got the uses of Mimbulus mimbletonia stink sap completely wrong.” She sighed, her brow furrowing in frustration.
Thalia laughed, reaching for Nova’s essay. “Pass it over, and I’ll take a look now. Though you might want to ask Neville here for help,” she said, gesturing to the shy boy across the table. “He’s fantastic at Herbology.”
Neville’s cheeks flushed pink at the unexpected compliment, and he glanced up shyly. “If you haven’t talked about their place in the food chain within their ecosystems, that could be a great place to start,” he mumbled, looking down at his plate. “They’re known to protect both Bowtruckle and Pixie settlements.”
Nova’s eyes widened in surprise, and she quickly pulled him closer, grabbing her quill as if afraid to miss a single word. “Wait, say that again!” she exclaimed, her previous hesitation melting away.
Neville’s nervousness seemed to fade as he spoke, his voice growing steadier and more confident with each detail he shared about the plant. Nova hung on his every word, her quill flying across the parchment as she jotted down notes.
Thalia watched the scene unfold with a fond smile, warmth blooming in her chest at the sight of Neville’s enthusiasm and Nova’s genuine interest.
“Quite the matchmaker, Winterbourne. Well done,” Fred said, leaning over to whisper in her ear with a mischievous grin.
Thalia chuckled softly. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Exactly,” Fred replied, winking. “Sometimes the best moves are the ones you don’t make. Look at them—Neville’s practically glowing, and Nova’s hanging on his every word like he’s Gilderoy Lockhart reincarnated.”
Thalia shook her head, but her smile lingered as she returned her attention to Nova and Neville, silently cheering on the budding connection between the two.
The group decided to sit in the Great Hall that evening, the warm glow of the enchanted ceiling casting a cozy light over their impromptu gathering. Kristen, determined to sample every dessert available, had commandeered a platter of treacle tart and pumpkin pasties, earning amused looks from the others as she declared herself on a “culinary mission.”
Nova and Neville, on the other hand, had turned one corner of the table into a mini study session. Nova was bent over a scroll of parchment, diligently jotting down notes as Neville patiently explained the properties of various magical plants, occasionally gesturing with his hands to emphasize a point. Their quiet focus was a stark contrast to the chaos erupting just a few seats down.
At the center of the table, Thalia found herself in the middle of a rowdy game of Exploding Snap with George, Fred, Angelina, Alicia, Katie, Lee, and Ginny. The air was filled with laughter and shouts as cards exploded in bright flashes of light and smoke. Every time a card detonated, Thalia jumped, her startled reaction drawing peals of laughter from the group.
“I didn’t realize you were so jumpy!” George teased, his grin wide as Thalia nearly leapt out of her seat when Lee’s cards exploded spectacularly, causing him to lose to Katie in a flurry of muttered curses.
Thalia blushed, her cheeks glowing as she ducked her head. “I don’t particularly like loud noises,” she admitted, fiddling with the edge of her sleeve.
George’s laughter softened as he shook his head in mock disbelief. “And yet, you still became friends with us?” He slung an arm around her waist, pulling her closer with a gentle tug. “We’re practically the poster children for loud explosions and obnoxious antics!”
Thalia laughed, relaxing against his side despite herself. “You didn’t exactly give me much of a choice,” she retorted, her voice laced with amusement.
George feigned a look of mock offense. “Ah, true. I remember it well—the day you were helplessly charmed by my irresistible wit and charm.”
“Oh, is that what happened?” Thalia teased, tilting her head to look up at him with a smirk. “I must’ve blacked out from the overwhelming charisma.”
George chuckled, the sound low and warm, as he gave her a playful nudge. The pair settled into a quiet rhythm, their conversation becoming more subdued as they leaned into each other, sharing hushed laughter and whispered remarks that seemed to create a bubble of their own in the bustling hall.
Completely oblivious to the world around them, they missed the knowing glances exchanged by their friends. Fred, seated across the table, caught Angelina’s eye and tapped her knee, nodding subtly in Thalia and George’s direction. Angelina followed his gaze and rolled her eyes, a fond smile tugging at her lips.
“About time,” she muttered, earning a quiet laugh from Alicia, who leaned in to whisper, “Think they even realize how obvious they are?”
Fred smirked, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Not a clue.”
Ginny, catching the exchange, chimed in with a knowing grin. “I was starting to think George would never make a move.”
Fred chuckled. “He hasn’t yet. He’s just being his usual, oblivious self.”
“Give him time,” Angelina said with a wink. “They’re already halfway there—they’ll just be the last to figure it out.”
Back on their side of the table, Thalia was recounting a story about one of her more disastrous attempts at a potion, her animated gestures drawing another laugh from George. He leaned closer, his hand still resting lightly on her waist.
“You’re telling me you managed to turn your cauldron inside out? How is that even possible?”
“I have no idea,” Thalia admitted, laughing along with him. “But I think Professor Snape still hasn’t forgiven me for it.”
“Well, I think it’s brilliant,” George said, his tone teasing, his usual mischievous glint clear in his eyes. “Although you have just given me another brilliant idea for a joke shop product.”
She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re still here,” he shot back, grinning.
As the game of exploding snap wound down and the others began to pack up, Fred leaned over the table, catching George’s eye.
Fred's voice carried a teasing edge as he stood and stretched dramatically, ruffling his hair. “It’s nearly curfew; we should probably head back before hell toad finds us.” His tone made it clear he didn’t care much for following the rules, but even he wasn’t eager to run into Umbridge tonight.
Thalia glanced at the large clock on the wall, her eyes widening slightly. “Time does fly when you’re losing at exploding snap,” she teased, earning a mock gasp from George.
George, however, didn’t immediately rise to Fred’s bait. Instead, he turned to Thalia with a look of exaggerated disappointment, a small, almost sheepish smile playing on his lips. “Looks like this is where we part ways, Badger,” he said softly, holding out an arm to her. “I promised you I would always walk you to the Entrance Hall, and I never break a promise, even if it is only 15 steps.”
Thalia couldn’t help but laugh, her amusement bubbling over as she placed her hand lightly on his arm. “Of course not, Mr. Weasley. Heaven forbid you tarnish your reputation as a man of your word.”
“Oh, it’s more than just a reputation—it’s a lifestyle,” George quipped, straightening his posture and affecting a regal air as he escorted her out of the Great Hall.
As they exited into the dimly lit corridor, the warmth and noise of the Hall fading behind them, George slowed his pace, making their brief walk stretch out as much as possible. “You know,” he began, glancing down at her, “I could make it 20 steps. Maybe even walk you all the way to the Hufflepuff common room. It’s quite the chivalrous thing to do, isn’t it?”
Thalia grinned, her hand still looped through his arm. “Tempting, but you’d have to explain to McGonagall why you’re wandering around the dungeons after curfew. And I’d rather not get caught up in that conversation.”
He let out an exaggerated sigh, his free hand pressed to his chest as though wounded. “Always so practical, Thalia. You really do keep me in line.”
“Someone has to,” she replied, her voice light.
As they reached the Entrance Hall, George reluctantly let his arm drop but didn’t step away immediately. For a moment, he seemed to hesitate, his usual playful demeanor softening. “Well, this is it,” he said finally, a crooked smile tugging at his lips.
“This is it,” Thalia echoed, tilting her head slightly as she looked up at him.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Badger,” he said, his voice warm as he took a step back, his hands finding their way into his pockets.
“Goodnight, Weasley,” she replied, her smile lingering even as she turned pretending to make her way towards the Hufflepuff common room. Hiding in the shadows of the dimly lit hallway she turned to watch the retreating figure of George Weasley.
As she disappeared down the corridor, George stood for a moment, his gaze fixed on the spot where she had just been. Then, with a small shake of his head and a grin that betrayed his thoughts, he turned and headed toward Gryffindor Tower, already looking forward to the next time he’d see her.
Once she was certain that George had disappeared entirely from view, Thalia hesitated for a fraction of a second, glancing around the deserted Entrance Hall. The flickering torchlight cast long shadows on the stone walls, and the faint echoes of distant footsteps assured her that no one else was nearby.
With a deep breath, she dashed across the hall, her footsteps muffled against the cold flagstones. Reaching the massive front doors, she slipped through them as quietly as possible, the icy air hitting her like a slap as she stepped into the night.