Fight Me

You were stood in the school nurses office, rifling through a chest of drawers looking for supplies. You and George had decided that it was the best option not to get the nurse, or detention was inevitable, so you opted to make use of the facilities and then try and make it look like a couple of students hadn't just broken in. George was sat on one of the beds, still holding your jumper up to his face. 

You found a basic first aid kit, stored at the back of a tray packed with slings and bandages, and you took it out, walking over and placing it down on the bedside table next to George. You held up your wand to the candle that sat on the tabletop, lighting it and half of the room. The candle was only small, but had an impressive range, lighting up about half of the considerably large room as it flickered. 

You grabbed a small cloth out of the kit, and dampened it with antiseptic before tuning to George. He looked down at the cloth in your hand, covering his lips as he released what it was.

“Nope, nuh-uh, no way.” He leaned back slightly.

“Oh, c’mon,” You crossed your arms at him. “It only stings a little.”

“Correction,” He responded. “A lot.”

You huffed, snatching the jumper out of his hands and dumping it on the floor. “Dude, c’mon.”

He shook his head, backing up on the bed as he did his best to avoid you. 

You looked at the boy in front of you, wondering how you could get him to stop being such a pussy. “I knew you wouldn't do it.” You said, banking on his completive nature to want to prove you wrong.

“And what do you mean by that?” He sat up on the bed.

“You’re just too much of a pussy.” 

Suddenly, George grabbed your hand, pulling you over to him and raising his eyebrows, shooting you an ‘oh, really?’ look. He moved his hand, letting you get to the cut on his lip. It was only now that you realised how tall he was, even when hunched down on a bed George was eye level to you. You saw him out of the corner of your eye, watching you intently as you did your job. 

You wiped away the blood off his chin and neck, folding the cloth over before going to clean his lip. You put the cloth to the cut, wiping it as gently as you could so as not to hurt George. You heard him wince through his teeth, snapping his eyes shut in pain.

“Sorry.” you said apologetically, still cleaning his lip. 

He shot out his hand, grabbing your waist and squeezing it slightly to cope with the pain. You ignored him, doing your best to clean him up and stop hurting him. You put your free hand under his chin, tilting it upward slightly so you could get to the bottom of the injury. 

“All done.” You said as you finished, beginning to wipe up the rest of the blood that had smeared itself over his face. 

You glanced up at him, meeting his eye as you did. Not breaking eye contact, you unfolded the cloth, wrapping it around your thumb and wiping over his lips, being careful to avoid the cut. 

Once you'd finished, you dropped your hand, realising that Georges was still holding onto your waist. You felt his fingers wrap around your figure, cradling your body as you looked at him. 

“Thanks.” He said, his usual loud, upbeat tone switched out for a quiet and tranquil one.

“No problem.” You replied, your own voice only a mutter of its usual volume. 

You both lingered for a second staring back into each others eyes as the candle softly lit his face, throwing shadows against his skin and carving out his features from the dark. After a considerable time of lingering, you both snapped out of it, George dropping his hand from your body and you turning round and chuckling the used cloth in the bin, returning the bottle of antiseptic to the first aid kit. 

You grabbed a small strip of the adhesive bandages that the nurses used for cuts, since the majority of the student body refused to have stitches, and tore a piece off, turning back to George and lifting up his chin.

“Stay still.” You said, taking off the backing of the bandage and positioning it over his lip.

George hummed back, trying not to move as best he could as you played it over the injury, smoothing it down with your finger. You stood back a little, checking that it was in an ok position before moving your gaze from Georges lips to his eyes, just as he did the same to you. 

“You feel ok?” You said, releasing that he probably didn't feel great.

“Yeah.” He said, his voice slightly hoarse.

you turned around to check the time. “12:47”. George followed your eyes, releasing how late it was.

“Damn, I’m surprised we haven been reprimanded by an angry Professor.” He chuckled.

“Who knows,” You shot back. “They could be waiting outside the door to ambush us.”

 You sighed, sitting down next to George, and it was as soon as your body hit the soft sheets that you realised just how tired you were. You leaned back on your palms, feeling your body ache from the hour of flying around o a broom, and the impact of then falling off that broom.

George looked at you, frowning.

“What?” You asked him.

“Your cheek.”

You were slightly confused. “Yes, I do have a cheek?”

“No, he laughed, bowing his head as he smirked, before glancing back up at you with an unfamiliar look on his face. “There’s a cut; on your cheek.”

“Oh,” you laughed. “I’m sure I’ll survive.”

George, tiled his head, smirking at your nonchalant nature before leaning over and grabbing another cloth out of the first aid kit, wetting it and turning back to you. He raised an eyebrow. “Your turn.”

“Kindly fuck off.” You snapped sarcastically, leaning away from him on the bed. 

“Hey now, don't be a pussy.” He mocked your tone, holding up the cloth.

You didn't wanna be hurt, but you also didn't wanna prove that you were more of a pussy than him, so you sat up normally, secretly bracing yourself. “Fine then.”

George smiled.

“Just, be kind.”

He set a finger under your chin, gently turning you to face him before leaning forward. He put the cloth to your cut, wiping over it. At first all you felt was the cool liquid on your face, but then small, sharp pangs of stinging pain jabbed your cheek, making your eyes water. You clenched your teeth, shutting your eyes and trying to focus on the surroundings rather than the pain.

Georges face was inches away from yours, and you could feel the heat radiate off of him, a welcomed contrast against the cool air. The scent of cinnamon lingered around him, as it always did, reminding you of a bakery near halloween, all the gingerbread cookies in the shapes of cats and pumpkins decorating the shop windows. 

Suddenly, a sharp pain hit you in the face, much worse than the usual. You threw out your hand, grabbing something and squeezing it to alleviate the pain. 

You waited for George to finish, taking the cloth away and gently declaring “Done.” As he threw it away.

You opened your eyes, blinking a couple times as the fumes from the antiseptic burned slightly. You quickly realised that the thing you'd grabbed was Georges hand, and that you were practically holding on to it for dear life. You let go, realising how tight you were holding it.

“Sorry.” You chuckled nervously.

“It’s cool.” George returned, grabbing a plaster out of the box. He peeled off the back, gesturing for you to look at him. 

He laid the plaster over the cut, smoothing it down with his thumb. 

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” George said, moving his gaze form your cheek to your eyes, his hand still resting on the side of your face. 

You both held eye contact for a second, before tuning back as George dropped his hand and you stood up.

“We should probably go back.” You said, picking the first aid kit up and returning it to its drawer. 

George agreed, using his wand as a light before blowing out the candle, leaving the room in a wavering darkness. You and him made your way back down the hallway, doing your best to keep the volume of your footsteps at a minimum. It was completely silent, but it was comfortable, a warm  hushed atmosphere hanging around in the air as you watched the shadows scroll past, the dents and chips in the weathered walls illuminated by the light from Georges wand. 

You arrived at the entrance to the Slytherin common room, turning back to George. 

“You feeling ok?” You checked, just incase he keeled over and died.

“Yeah.” He breathed. “Now, get to bed, young lady, or I’ll have to punish you.” George chucked playfully. You knew that he meant detention, but you couldn't stop your mind from wandering. 

“If you say so, Sir.” You returned, raising an eyebrow. 

You botch chuckled, as George said goodbye for real, ruffling one of his hands through your hair. You watched him sneak back down the hallway, following his figure as it disappeared before slipping into the common room, past the ever-blazing fire and doing your best to silently get into bed.