Work Text:
Grace Potter was not having a good day. Far from it. As she ate her meal in the Great Hall, at the Gryffindor table, she tried to ignore the gold and scarlet clothed seventh year who was trying to catch her eye over his own roast duck.
Many people gave the boy strange looks, including Grace herself but it seemed that he was used to those looks as he either ignored them or gave them the finger. Grace had been trying to ignore her stalker for the past week and a half, but to no avail. To her irritation, the attention the Weasley twin was giving her had broken her observer status and instead of her watching Hogwarts, she found herself the focus of most stares more often than not.
She was tired of it.
Frowning quietly, she stabbed her treacle tart with maybe more force than was considered necessary, and then sighed when the clanking of the fork against the plate drew more curious stares. (As though she hasn't received enough the past few days)
Stop looking at me, she thought miserably.
Breakfast passed all too slowly for her and Grace forced herself not to make a show of her relief under the red head's piercing stare and instead made for making her way to her first class as fast as possible.
The farther she got from the Great Hall, the softer the cacophony of chatter and soon, Grace sighed with relief as the volume reached a preferred crescendo.
Feeling at ease for the first time in a long while though not for lack of trying, she hummed as she walked happily through the dark cobble-stoned corridors that were only highlighted by fires that burned in torches.
She sung a silly tune she had heard the first-years singing, a balloon of happiness blowing up in her chest while she rejoiced in her aloneness, and giggled at the absurdity of the lyrics, a little smile touching her lips at the thought of the tiny, scrawny eleven year olds she came across while going to her classes. They were absolutely adorable.
She was still laughing when George Weasley stepped out of the shadows to her right. And then the giggle cut off prematurely into a choked cough.
The two stared at each other, Grace’s hand moving away from where it had jumped to over her heart when he’d appeared so suddenly.
“George Weasley,” she said a little bizarrely and maybe a touch bit irritatedly. I thought I’d had left him at the Great Hall? She thought.
“Hullo Grace Lilith Potter,” he said. Grace watched as he shuffled on his feet and fidgeted with the thread of his robes. He seemed nervous, for some reason, and her apathetic demeanor warmed slightly with curiosity. She brushed it off, though and gave him what she felt should be a small smile with a puzzled expression. He abruptly and quite oddly scratched at the orange freckles on his face.
“Don’t you have classes, George?”
“Runes.”
“Oh.”
Slowly, she started walking again, her bag firmly on her back and her books held uncertainly in her fists. She looked at the red-head when he took a few steps forward towards her and shadowed her movements. His adam’s apple bobbed at a choked gulp.
“George, what-?”
“Your smile is like expelliarmus,” he blurted,” Simple and yet disarming.”
And then he shot off like a whizz-bang firework. Leaving Grace stuttering in the hallway, cheeks redder than her hair on its best days and wondering whether or not George was playing with her, as Weasleys were keen to do.
A blossom of hope bloomed despite her thoughts and her heart meekly reared its head.
Maybe.
She scurried off, pulling a few strands from her fiery red pony tail, and pulling them close to her face to conceal the red tint to her cheeks, her previous irritation forgotten and she thought that maybe she could let the issue with the public slide.
When she saw George Weasley next, alone and leaning against the Hospital Wing doors (she had heard that one Lee Jordan had managed to land himself there) she took a deep fortifying breath and stalked forward, robes swishing around her ankles and she acutely felt the absence of her threaded bag. I shouldn't have kept my books just yet, she thought, feeling naked when George heard her approaching footsteps and looked up.
The look of boredom that had been playing with the lines around his eyes and mouth was swept away faster than Gilderoy Lockheart's memory when Grace had accidentally-on-purpose obliviated him. She could have laughed at the look of hopeful anxiety on his face, but her throat was too dry at the moment to really carry on with that line of thought, even though it did look hilarious that a seventh year was staring at the fifth year like she was a horrible creature.
"Grace? Oh blimey,"he murmured to himself incoherently,"Grace! Hullo! Er-"
"You must be magical," she said deadpan, fighting the hysterical giggle when a look of befuddlement swept across George's expression, "Because I've fallen under your spell."
It only took a second to register her words and then his brain connected with his physical reactions and his eyes widened and a slow hopeful smile started to spread on his face. Grace thought it brought out the brown in his eyes and his freckles beautifully. He pushed away from the wall to step closer, teasingly.
"My name may not be Luna but I do know how to Lovegood," he said encouragingly.
Grace felt an answering smile tilt her lips upwards and she stopped chewing her bottom lip in apprehension. "I must have had some Felix Felicis because I think I'm about to get lucky."
"Being without you the whole of this year and last was like being afflicted the Crucio curse." He said which caused Grace to blush as he admitted how long he actually had been crushing on her.
"I looked into the Mirror of Erised four years ago,"she said casually," I saw the two of us together."
"You can have the portkey to my heart," George promised and by then they were half an inch away and staring into each others eyes.
Green eyes met brown.
"My love for you burns like a dying Phoenix."
There was a beat of silence between them. "I don't think you look like you saw a dementor anymore."
George, confused, and tilted his head," Oh? And when did I ever looked like that?"
Grace hummed,"When you were looking at me just now."
George chuckled softly then his gaze flickered downwards to her lips. He looked like all his dreams had come true all at once as he stood there and drunk in the sight of his crush for the two years contentedly.
"If you were a dementor, I'd become a criminal just to get your kiss."
Their breaths mingled.
"Well that's unpleasant."
And then they were snogging in the middle of the corridor and they were both lost to each other. When they broke apart, they were both laughing and out of breath. They rested their foreheads against each other.
"'Your smile is like expelliarmus. Simple and yet disarming?'" She quoted teasingly and she leaned forward to peck him.
"Fred's idea."
Grace's laughter was swallowed by a kiss.