Chapter 2
The Gryffindor common room was warm and still when George opened his eyes on Sunday morning. Shafts of sunlight had drifted in the last several hours to end up in his face, and he could no longer nestle further into the sofa to avoid them. It wasn’t thick enough to block the glare but there was a blanket, a brown one that someone had settled over him. Probably Hermione, on her way to bed—even if she wasn’t as rambunctious as the rest of them during the Quidditch afterparties, she was always the last to return to the dormitories, having seen to it that no one who’d fallen asleep in the common room was in immediate danger. She’d put an identical one over Fred and Lee on the other side of the table. Fred was lying on the floor and Lee was drooping off the sofa towards him, face smushed unflatteringly into the cushion with his arm curving down to touch Fred’s hair. George smirked. ‘Mione’d known what she was doing, using one blanket for the two of them like that. Anyone with working eyes could see there was something going on even if neither would admit it, and the entire Gryffindor house was trying to get them together. She’d taken her opportunity and ran with it quite deftly.
The remnants of their Exploding Snap game were strewn across the coffee table, several of the cards having blown up on their own while they slept. By the looks of it, Fred was set for victory, and they’d agreed that whoever won would be exempt from cleaning their side of the common room once the sun came up. Well, that wouldn’t do at all. George had been carefully planning on leaving the two of them alone to clean, and when he’d mentioned it offhandedly to Fred before the match he hadn’t disagreed.
George shucked the blanket to the floor and pushed himself off the couch, craning his neck to see over the coffee table. Fred was snoring softly, mouth half-open, with the blanket hanging off Lee and the couch draped over his body. Leaning precariously on his toes, George reached out to gather his brother’s cards and slid them across the table, exchanging the winning hand for his own. Perfect. Fred would probably notice, but if he had an ounce of sense in his head he wouldn’t say anything, and in any case, George planned to be gone before he woke. Tearing one of the extra scorecards in half, he scribbled a note:
Went to the library to study Herbology :) x, Gerog
It’d been a running joke since third year when they hadn’t gotten letters on their jumpers to spell their names as strangely as possible; they could recognize each other’s handwriting in the dark so it had no effect on them but confused everyone else (excepting Lee) to high hell. And he wasn’t lying, his Herbology textbook was coming along for the ride, though he was most likely going to spend the entire time up to his chin in the whole school’s gossip, as was the routine after parties.
Dozens of butterbeer bottles littered the common room, several spilled, discarded candy wrappers all over the floor, someone’s t-shirt hanging off a chair, Alicia’s Quidditch jersey tossed over the music system to muffle its low-battery warning clicks. Seamus, Dean, and Harry had managed to nick it from a Muggle antique shop the previous summer and had, as Lee put it, “revolutionized the Gryffindor party scene forever,” but for the life of him George could not remember what the thing was called, and there was an ongoing debate about how to get those batteries replaced. All in all, it didn’t look terrible, and if they concentrated Lee and Fred could make quick work of it, but George hoped they wouldn’t. Oliver was passed out, at a table in the corner, with an extra robe over his shoulders—Percy’s, no doubt. They weren’t out so the two of them were left alone, even when once found in a broom closet during lunch. Katie was curled in a chair next to the stairwell, a butterbeer on her lap dangerously close to being upset. Luckily both the sleepers had agreed to come to the study session, so when they woke they’d be out of the common room quickly. Judging by how loudly Fred was snoring now, they had plenty of time. Folding the blanket over the arm of the couch and careful not to step on any suspicious-looking parts of the carpet, George made his way back to the dormitory to change and wash up. When he returned with his textbook Katie was gone, and he slipped silently through the portrait hole, heading for the library.
“Oi, Weasley!” Angelina waved George over to the low round table and snatched a cushion for him to sit on. “We were wondering when you’d get here, looked dead asleep when we left.”
With her sat Alicia, Katie (still yawning), Dean and Seamus (sitting rather close together), Harry, Ron, and Hermione (she was the only one who had her Herbology book, and her nose was buried in it). “You’ve begun studying without me, I see.”
“Oh, sod off,” Angelina snorted, gesturing for George to throw his bag down under the table. “No one here is under any illusion that the purpose of this gathering is to study… except maybe Hermione.”
“I would prefer not to be affiliated with the gathering, for your information,” She cut in from behind the textbook, but then lowered it and her eyes twinkled. “And I’m only here because Parvati and Lavender kicked me out, if you need a place to start.”
“So they are shagging!” Ron burst out. “I knew it!”
Harry’s eyes looked close to leaving his head. “I thought they were just best friends!”
Katie burst out laughing. “Are you daft? Best friends don’t sit in each other’s laps and kiss in the common room on school nights!”
“Wait,” Alicia grinned. “So if we did that, on a weekend, we wouldn’t be gay, Bell?”
“Oh give it up, you know what I mean. Harry, yes, they’re shagging, have been since the year started, and stopped being quiet about it after Christmas break, I might add.”
“Katie!” Alicia swatted her in the head.
“Alright, sorry, sorry!”
“Okay, order in the court, quiet down everyone!” Angelina banged her fist on the table. “We need to set the agenda—”
“We’re still waiting on Wood,” George reminded her. “Though he was sleeping at a table when I left, Percy’s cloak draped over him and all too, it was rather cute.”
“Nevermind Ollie, he wouldn’t interfere with those lovebirds anyway for fear of getting roped into cleaning.”
That was a good point. George settled himself on the cushion and reached for a handful of toffees from the bowl. Food wasn’t allowed in the library, but if anyone could smuggle it in it was the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and no one else dared touch their table in the back. Half the twins and Lee’s experimental work these days had been on food smuggling, and they were making progress.
“Okay, the agenda!” Angelina called. “So, new developments first, like always. Then the progression of old developments, or lack thereof, and appropriate responses, and then safety, and then developments that we’re trying to get off the ground. Yes?”
There was a chorus of affirmation from everyone else. This ‘study group’ met after nearly every Gryffindor party to discuss the social dynamics of the house. Admittedly there was a lot of energy spent on matchmaking and keeping up with relationship drama, but they also took care of the students going through life’s rough spots, dealt with matters of bullying or sexual assault, and were responsible for bringing in outside help if necessary. Madam Pomfrey didn’t ask lots of questions, but it always made them feel better to have someone there to help talk with her, or an older student’s advice and comfort. Essentially, they were responsible for keeping Gryffindor going.
George wasn’t sure when it started, but he had been invited in with Fred and Lee fourth year—good thing too, ‘cause that was when Ginny went into the Chamber of Secrets, and those group members were the backbone of his life for a while. Occasionally they collaborated with other associations around the school, like Hannah Abbott’s transgirl group or his own for transguys, but mostly it thrived through the unspoken connection between students who knew each other from the meetings passing in the hallways, unable to suppress their grins. This session’s project was getting Fred and Lee together.
Oliver showed up when safety was nearly over, amidst a fervent discussion about Cormac McLaggen’s decidedly dreadful haircut.
“Sorry!” He panted, still slightly disheveled. “I just woke up about a minute ago, and those two were just stirring—nice touch, Hermione, putting the blanket like that—but I got out of there before they saw, and they’re the only ones left there now.”
“Good work, Wood,” George scootched to the side to make space for him, and winked, pinching the shoulders of his cloak with his fingers and rustling it up, grinning.
Wood flushed a deep red. “Oh, hush up.”
George laughed, returning his attention to the conversation. Percy never came to meetings, but George was pretty damn sure that Oliver hadn’t been alone washing up in the dorm room. If he had, his neck wouldn’t look like that.