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“I can’t fucking stand you.”
You cringed at the slam of the car door but pressed down on the gas pedal unforgivingly anyways.
“I really can’t stand you!” They had repeated it, shouting for emphasis that was lost and drowned out by the music blaring from your radio and your laughter.
You tightened your grip on the steering wheel, taking glances between the road and your friend in the passenger seat. Risking it, you reached across the gear shift and tangled your hand in their hair. You both struggled and they broke free with a smile on their face.
“Seriously,” they yelled, looking between you and the road and reaching up to grab the oh-shit handle on the roof, “watch where you’re going!”
You continued to laugh, swerving the car unnecessarily. After seeing all the color drained from their face, you eased up on the gas and stayed in your respective lane.
“Max,” you said easily, turning down the music, “you do the reading for Lupin?”
Groans emitted from Max, as they usually did when you asked about the readings for Lupin’s class. They thrashed in their seat, grabbing their backpack and bringing it up to the front so fast that it nearly hit the back of your head. Max retrieved their overly worn and torn copy of the assigned reading and thumbed through it with entertaining panic. It pained you to see a book in such condition, lacking annotations, stained, and beaten, but you kept your mouth shut for now.
“What were the pages?”
“It was about 50 pages,” you were smirking, which was sort of mean, but it couldn’t be helped. “You won’t get it done.”
You glanced at your watch, rolled to a slower pace, and turned into the school parking lot. You were already late, which didn’t help Max at all. Lupin was your first period.
Max tossed their book at your back window, not minding as it landed open and folding pages on your backseat. You felt a twinge in your heart and fixed the pages when you reached back for your bag.
Max opened the door as harshly as they closed it. They were at your side of the car before you had a foot on the ground, taking your bag and digging through it.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” they chanted, brown eyes scanning over your notes in the margins and highlighting.
You adjusted your bag on your shoulder, locking your car and pocketing your car keys. The lot had a few stragglers, but mostly everyone was in class by now.
Max trailed behind you as you both walked in, using you as a guide as they read. When you finally reached Lupin’s class, you were both formally ten minutes late and Max was still reading. They didn’t look up as you held the classroom door open for them, shuffling in.
It was lucky that it was Lupin’s, because he was just arriving himself. His bag was strewn open on his huge and ancient desk at the front of the class and he was frantically patting scrap papers on a coffee spill that threatened to leak onto a pile of ungraded essays.
“Lupin,” Max said, finally looking up and stopping by the front desk. They stuffed your book beneath their arm, folding the corner of the front page.
“Ah!” you groaned, extracting the book and taking care to fix the crease.
Lupin glanced up, watching you smooth admirably. He smiled at Max as he helplessly dabbed the spill.
You sank into your seat towards the back as Max was handing Lupin some paper towels they must have stolen from your car. They joined you, looking accomplished, and sat in their seat in front of you. You two were in the back corner, so Max sat with their back to the wall and their legs hanging off the side of their chair. You leaned back, stuffing your legs beneath Max’s chair, and skimmed your fingers over your book as you waited for Lupin to begin.
“Max,” Alicia called from a row over, leaning closer to Max to be heard over the classroom chatter, “what lot do you guys park in?”
“Y/n used to park in the west lot,” Max said, leaning closer to Alicia, “but now we park in the faculty lot in Lupin’s spot since his boyfriend drops him off.”
“Really?” Alicia looked between Max and Lupin, impressed.
You bit your lip and rolled your eyes, used to Max bragging about her relationship with Lupin. Technically, Lupin didn’t know you and Max were parking in his spot. However, he did tell you it ‘wasn’t in use’ and that ‘nobody would know if he wasn’t parking there’ and ‘if it would help you get to class on time, the spot was open for anyone to use’. Wink wink.
“50 pages,” Lupin announced at the front of the class, waiting briefly for the conversation to die down and for seats to be filled accordingly.
“50 or so pages in which our Dorian Gray is in quite the situation,” Lupin stood from his seat, not minding as the wheels moaned miserably or as the leather cracked. “Sibyl is dead, after an awful performance on stage, and Dorian is heartbroken.”
You sighed, opening your book and reading over your own notes.
“So, did she kill herself?” Lee Jordan called out from across the room.
“No, Dorian killed her,” Fred Weasley answered entirely too confidently, feet kicked up on the desk with his arm resting on his brother’s desk behind him.
“She killed herself,” George pushed his hands forward subtly, knocking off Fred and unbalancing him, sending him crashing forwards into his desk.
The scuffle caused laughter, you included, but your eyes returned to Lupin.
“Sybil killed herself, yes,” Lupin said, sitting on top of his desk, “However, now that she is dead, let’s discuss her name.”
You smirked, raising your hand.
----
“I have to sit down because I am unable to stand you,” Max said, holding the door open for you as you filed away the graded paper Lupin gave back to you at the end of class.
“I’ll pull up a chair,” you mumbled distractedly, pulling out your science homework and giving it to Max.
You both stopped at Max’s locker as you handed Max a pencil. They held your homework against the wall and checked it over with ease, erasing your wrongdoings and filling in unanswered questions.
You sighed and fell heavily against the locker, crossing your arms over your chest.
“What?” Max questioned suspiciously, glancing over to you as they worked.
“I’m stressed,” you groaned, leaning your head back and closing your eyes.
“You’re always stressed.”
“I’m extraordinarily stressed.”
“Abnormally stressed?” Max flipped the page to the back and widened their eyes at your work. They flipped the pencil over to the eraser side.
“My fucking neighbor is having construction done all the time. I can’t focus on anything.”
“That explains this,” Max mumbled, nearly ripping a hole in the page as they erased.
“Fuck off,” you turned, leaning against your shoulder and watching the traffic of the hallway move.
“Why don’t you do your homework in the library after school?”
“The library’s been closed for renovations,” you flashed Max a sarcastic smile, frustration leaking from every pore in your body.
“Come to my house.”
“Your house isn’t any quieter.”
“Do it in your car.”
The warning bell rang, Max gave you your science homework.
“It’s too hot to sit in my car. Gas is expensive and the AC requires gas.”
“I have a basic understanding of the workings of a car,” Max said smiling. They did not have a basic understanding of the workings of a car.
“I’ll figure something out,” you put away your science homework, turning away from Max.
“See you at lunch!”
You waved and walked into your class.
----
“I think I’m going to start a movement to ban gay people from this campus,” Max whined as they collapsed onto their bench at lunch.
“Max,” you started, removing the lid to your tupperware and plucking a grape from its vine, “you would be banned in that movement.”
“Whatever,” they sighed, reaching for a grape, “I’d still do it.”
“What’s with the sudden homophobia?”
“It’s not homophobia,” Max stole some more grapes, nearly knocking the container from your hand. “It’s a necessary evil. I was locked out of the bathroom in the office, waiting for, like, hours, until these two guys stumbled out giggling and red-faced. They were making out while I was pissing myself in the hall.”
“Maybe they were smoking,” you slapped away Max’s greedy hand reaching for more grapes.
“I don’t fucking care. Two people of the same sex will not be permitted in my bathrooms, ever, under my movement.”
“I could support that,” you mused, taking a few more grapes before giving the rest to Max.
You reached into your bag for your book, getting a head start on Lupin’s assigned reading for the night.
“I have a solution,” Max leaned forwards, elbows on the table between you.
“Another one? I thought the bathroom situation was resolved?” You thumbed open the book.
“No, different problem, different solution.”
“Which problem are we talking about?”
“Your problem.”
“You’re my problem,” you sighed, getting a highlighter and tabs from your bag.
“Not a very nice thing to say to your best friend in the entire world.”
“Okay,” you mumbled, highlighting a passage emphasizing Lord Henry’s influence on Dorian’s character.
“After school, go sit at the bleachers by the soccer field.”
“Why? Are you selling drugs to freshmen again?”
“What? No,” Max laughed, even though they really did have a brief phase of selling very bad drugs to very stupid freshmen, and the idea of them doing it again was not that farfetched. “Do your homework over there. It’s quiet and peaceful. Fresh air and whatnot.”
“The bleachers?”
“Yeah,” Max said, leaning away from the table and tossing a grape into their mouth.
“Am I even allowed to sit out there while they practice?”
“Are they going to stop you?”
“Do you have any sunscreen? I’ll burn if I sit out there like that.”
“Oh, christ,” Max scoffed, rolling their eyes, “You’re not going to get a sunburn.”
“Why would I want to sit out there and listen to a soccer practice?”
“Because you can’t focus at home, you can’t focus at my house, the school library is closed, your car is too hot, and,” Max paused, mouth twisting into a grin, “I’m not sure if you remember this, but a certain incident freshman year got us banned from the public library.”
Grimacing at the memory of you being caught having your first kiss in the public library by a particularly grouchy librarian and thus being banned, you started to see the possibility of Max’s suggestion.
“And,” Max tossed the empty container at your chest, smirking as it landed with a bounce in your lap, “lots of eye-candy on that field.”
Max wiggled their eyebrows suggestively, watching you stuff your bag with a clenched jaw.
“Maybe I’ll just not do any homework this quarter and skip school every day. I can join my neighbor’s construction crew. Maybe I’ll flee the country.”
----
You were going to get a sunburn.
The air was thick and humid and the breeze was too scarce. You shed all the layers you could without being in violation of the law, and still, your face felt shiny with sweat.
Your homework was getting done, though.
You had finished Lupin’s reading in fifth period, but read ahead in sixth, and by seventh, you were done with your third reread of the novel. You attempted to do your science homework, but sending pictures of the assignment to Max and waiting for them to do it seemed like a better way to spend your valuable time. Sitting in the sun, no sign of the soccer team yet, you were nearly done with your math homework.
The essay you had begun to outline for history was curling at the pages from the humidity in the air, but the breeze was becoming generous and the sun was hidden behind some clouds. The bleachers weren’t that bad.
“Y/n!”
You looked up from your history work, wiping your forehead for the remnants of sweat. It was Alicia running onto the field. Her bag jostled on her shoulder, long hair pulled into a tight bun at the back of her head. She jogged towards you, face easy and inviting.
“Hey, Alicia,” you greeted her once she was close enough, scooting over as she put her bag on the ground to your side and sat behind it.
“What are you doing out here?” She began to rummage through the bag, pulling out bits and pieces of soccer equipment.
“Oh,” you said, beginning to pack up your work, “I was just doing some homework. The library’s closed.”
“You do the reading for Lupin already?” She glanced at you with a smirk that made you feel a little embarrassed. Maybe you needed to shut up a bit in English, then.
“Yeah,” you mumbled, taking care not to fold any of your homework pages as you put them all away as quickly as you could without seeming panicked. You really did not want to be here when the rest of the soccer team showed up. You could manage the rest of your essay at home, it wasn’t even due for another week.
“Could I ask you something?”
You stopped packing up, looking up at Alicia and noticing a stream of people exiting their cars and joining the field.
“Yeah,” you answered.
“Would you help me out a bit- for Lupin’s class? I can tell you really get it, but I just can’t follow along with the writing.”
“Um-” you could hear the conversation getting louder, and Katie Bell had a friendly look on her face. You liked Katie, but once she got talking it was very hard to stop her. “Yeah, of course.”
“Great-” Alicia sighed in relief, bending over to fasten the velcro to her shin guards. “Want to meet me out here after school tomorrow? It’s easiest, with practice and all.”
“Sure, sounds good.”
You stood, almost escaping.
“Y/l/n!”
Turning to the other side of the field where the boys’ team practiced, you saw Fred Weasley jogging over to you. These people jogged so easily.
He nodded his head to Alicia in greeting, raising his eyebrows at her.
“So?” Fred asked, looking between you both.
“Said yes!” Alicia said, smiling and jumping off the edge of the bleachers, landing on the grass with a thud.
“Oh, thank god. That class is kicking my ass,” Fred sat down next to where you were standing, opening his bag as Alicia had done.
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re gonna help us with Lupin’s,” Fred said simply, struggling to remove his high-top tennis shoes because he neglected to untie them.
“I’m gonna help Alicia with Lupin’s, yes,” you replied, watching him with narrowed eyes and the urge to reach out and yank the shoe of his foot.
“She didn’t ask you for me?” Fred said, abandoning his shoe and looking up at you. “I asked her to ask you.”
“She failed to mention you.”
“Please, Y/n, I really need the help,” he softened his eyes, hands moving down to finally untie his shoes before pulling them off.
“Yeah, fine,” you sighed, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. “Any other people in need of this tutoring session?”
“Well,” Fred trailed off.
----
As it turned out, a lot of your classmates were not following along with Dorian or Lupin.
Alicia met you just outside of your seventh and final period of the day and walked out to the fields with you. You were both at the bleachers, thumbing through your respective copies of the books, when the others joined.
Fred, Lee, George, Katie, and Angelina stumbled onto the bleachers, sitting on the row below you and Alicia. A minute later, a breathless and red faced sophomore showed up.
“Hermione?” George asked her, turning around to look at where she stood on the grass, hands on her knees and catching her breath.
“This is Lupin’s thing, right?”
“Can sophomores even take AP lit?” Katie asked, surveying Hermione with hesitant eyes.
“Not technically,” she panted out, beginning her climb onto the bleachers.
“What, joining study groups for fun, now, ‘Mione?” Fred called out, leaning back on the bleachers and laying sideways.
“I do take AP lit,” she said to you, sitting down next to you and pulling her hair back into a very large and very messy bun, “I’m just the only sophomore who does.”
“Well, feel free to join us,” you said absently, pulling out your English notebook.
“Y/n,” Lee said tentatively, “I’m sure everyone here knows what's going on in the book, but for those who may not, would you mind starting at the beginning?”
----
What had started as a way for you to get your homework done in peace turned into you teaching half of the soccer team and an eager sophomore about Dorian Gray and Oscar Wilde.
About a week into these sessions, your neighbor's construction had stopped and your house was free to be used for homework. However, the class was only halfway through the book.
You had begun to do the readings together, during these sessions, because most everyone's difficulty was understanding the Victorian era writing. When you told Max this, they called it a glorified storytime. You did not disagree with Max.
It was starting to become nice. You felt fairly confident in your knowledge of the book and the hour and a half was spent productively enough for you to feel good about it continuing.
“No soccer practice today,” Alicia told you as you walked to the bleachers.
“Oh,” you hesitated, “That mean no session?”
“No,” Alicia said quickly, “Oh my god, no. We need these things. I had a D before we started to do these.”
“Really?” you asked it without meaning to, knowing it sounded a little mean to say out loud.
Alicia laughed, though, and jogged ahead to the bleachers.
“Tonight’s reading is so long,” Fred complained, collapsing against Lee and letting his book fall on the bleachers.
“Lucky there’s no practice,” Katie said, “Then we’d really be in for it. God, could you imagine? All this reading and then going out and practicing? I think I’d tell Coach I was ill, or something. Not that he’d let me leave. He can always tell when I’m lying-”
“Yeah, but that just means we should get started sooner,” Hermione interrupted firmly, sharing a look with you.
You got a decent twenty minutes of reading in before the clouds started to form. They were dark and heavy and Katie noticed them first, which was the worst part.
“Seriously, guys, I don’t want to be stuck in the rain out here. Why don’t we just do this on a phone call or something?”
“I couldn’t focus with a phone call,” George mumbled to Fred, who nodded in agreeance.
“Why don’t we go into the library or something? Does it close after school?” Fred suggested.
“Libraries closed for renovations,” you answered, biting your lip and glancing up.
“The public library in town?”
“I’m banned from the public library.”
“You’re banned from the public library?” Alicia smiled, turning towards you.
“Yes.”
“What for? Too many late fees?” Fred interjected, also smiling.
“No.”
“Okay,” Hermione interrupted again, just as stern, “Not a library.”
“We could go to Stacy’s?” Angelina suggested, shouldering her backpack and pulling out her car keys.
“Stacy Clermont’s? Why would we go to her house?” Lee asked, looking to Fred and George.
“No, the coffee place,” Angelina clarified, rolling her eyes.
Everyone mumbled an acceptance and looked to you.
“Oh-” you said, caught off guard from the attention, “Sure, I’m good with whatever.”
“Except the public library, apparently,” George remarked, not looking at you as he packed up his bag.
“It’s complicated,” you mumbled to him with a smirk, following Alicia off of the bleachers.
“I usually walk home,” Alicia said, bumping her shoulder into yours.
“I don’t mind,” you said, dangling your car keys in front of you.
“Could I get a ride?” Hermione called from behind you.
“I’ll give you a ride, ‘Mione!” Fred answered, smile wide.
“If I wanted to die or get pulled over for speeding, I would accept that offer, Fred. Y/n, do you mind?”
“Not at all,” you smirked at Fred, waiting for Hermione to catch up with you and Alicia.
----
Hermione was a backseat driver.
The rain had started as you were pulling out of the lot. Judging by the distant yells from the field you assumed your friends were not as lucky.
You and Max had gone to Stacy’s before, so you knew the way. However, the rain was hard enough that you turned down your music and leaned forward, windshield wipers moving rapidly.
“Are you sure it’s not down that street?” Hermione asked for the third time, looking out of the rearview window.
“Yes,” Alicia assured her, calmly looking out the window, not at all annoyed by her pestering. You were two seconds away from stepping on the brakes a little too hard so Hermione’s face would collide with the back of Alicia’s chair. Two seconds.
“I love the rain,” Alicia mumbled, raising a hand to the cold glass.
“You smoke something before we left?” You joked, glancing at her.
Hermione sucked in a breath when you made a sharp turn, gripping the seat dramatically. Two seconds.
Pulling in, you saw Angelina and Katie were already there. Fred, George, and Lee pulled in just after you.
You all ran inside, guarding your bags against the weather. George made it to the door first and held it open for everyone, withstanding the rain as he did.
Inside was warm and dry, which was already a better situation than the bleachers. The good coffee and food made it even better, and the comfy booths and armchairs made it so that the bleachers seemed like hell.
It wasn’t busy, but soft classical music played from the overhead speakers so you weren’t the only noise in the building. You all monopolized a corner, pulling up chairs and tables as needed. You and Alicia shared a fairly large armchair that could double as a couch, and across from you, Katie, Lee, and Angelina piled onto a leather sofa. Fred and George shared a booth next to you and Alicia, and Hermione pulled up a chair by Angelina’s side of the sofa.
“I think,” you started, rifling through papers in a folder, “Lupin is assigning an essay soon.”
You knew Lupin was assigning an essay soon. He told Max when they were pestering him after class last week. You started that afternoon.
Groans came from the group.
“It’s not bad,” you assured them, pulling out your draft and scanning over it, “it’s argumentative.”
“I hate argumentative essays,” Katie groaned, “I don’t have strong enough opinions to write argumentative essays. They always seem so mean.”
“It’ll be fine,” you mumbled, turning to your bag to find your newer draft, “I’m good at argumentatives, so I’ll help you through it.”
“Our savior,” Fred teased, tossing his book into the air and catching it lazily.
He tossed it again, but George snatched it from the air. He began to absently fold over the crease on the back as Fred occupied himself with pouring heaps of sugar into the coffee he ordered.
“What’s the prompt?” George asked, flipping through Fred’s copy with a disappointed look on his face.
“Hedonism.”
----
What was a hopeful start of that study session turned into something a bit more melancholy.
Philosophy was discussed, and it seemed that hedonism and the rain created a gloomy mood for everyone.
“I just don’t get why someone would write an entire book about-” Lee paused, leaning back and twisting his face in confusion. “-about pleasure. Isn’t it just human nature to be a hedonist?”
“You can’t always pursue pleasure though, logically, so that's what makes it a philosophy. The pursuit of pleasure, always, instead of just as a thing to make you feel good. Right, Y/n?” George looked to you for assurance, brows furrowed.
“Yeah, I guess. It’s putting pleasure before all else. Hedonism is just indulgence, but like, all the time.”
Hermione’s brow was furrowed and she scribbled some notes in her notebook. Katie was leaned back with her eyes closed, long lost. Alicia was nodding along. Fred was attempting to listen to George’s further explanations as they huddled together. Angelina and Lee drank their coffees.
“So, in the essay,” you started again once Fred and George were quiet, “you have to argue for or against hedonism, using Dorian Gray as evidence for either side.”
Katie, Lee, and Fred groaned.
“I’m not sure if Lupin is assigning the perspective of the essay or if we’ll get to choose, though.”
Everyone groaned.
----
You canceled study group for that day.
It had been two solid days of planning your essays and things were going well. You, however, needed a fucking break.
This break was needed for an amplitude of reasons. Max was beginning to complain about your busyness. You were getting tired of Oscar Wilde, something you didn’t think could ever happen. Worst of all, though, you were becoming distracted.
After that day at Stacy’s, little things were beginning to cling in your mind. The way George bent his head down to mumble to Fred, soft-spoken and unwilling to speak to the whole group like Fred could. The way he held the door open for everyone. The way his hands held a book and the way they smoothed over the folds. The way he could grasp concepts so fast, and how he wanted other people to grasp them too. The way he looked at you when he was listening and the way he looked at you when he wasn’t.
“Fuck.”
You fell onto Lupin’s chair, ignoring his weary glance at you from the student desk he occupied.
“It could be worse, love,” he said, shuffling some papers into piles.
“He’s George Weasley, soccer star, brother of Fred and Percy Weasley,” Max giggled. “How could it be worse?”
“He’s George Weasley, soccer star, brother of Bill and Ginny Weasley, and currently has an A in my class,” Lupin replied, smirking at Max.
“I’m mainly disappointed in myself for having feelings at all,” you sighed, spinning in the chair and looking at the ceiling, “Poor George is just caught in the crossfire”
“Well, what if he also has feelings?” Lupin asked gently, standing from his small desk and bringing his coffee cup to the coffee machine he keeps in his supply closet.
“I think he might,” you whispered, nervous at the admission.
“That’s fairly confident of you,” Max eyed you with surprise, “did he get down on one knee and confess his undying love for you?”
You groaned, resting your arms on Lupin’s desk and putting your head on top of them.
“He’s just,” you mumbled, “nice.”
“Well,” Lupin said once he returned, coffee cup refilled, “I’m not sure if I should tell you this-”
“Tell us,” Max urged quickly.
“George was never in need of your study group,” Lupin trailed off, smirking as he sipped his coffee, “He’s always had good grades in my class.”
----
Alicia begged you to come to her soccer game. You two had become close in the time that the study group formed, and really, you didn’t mind going.
The begging was needed because you had to sit through the boys’ soccer game before the girls played.
You had asked if you could come to just see Alicia, but she said that people usually went to both and that there wouldn’t be seats on the bleachers if you came late.
You resigned and went to the game. But, not without bringing Max.
“I am at my lowest,” Max said from under their covers, “and you ask me to come to a soccer game?”
You sighed, moving across the room to open the curtains. You stepped on about thirteen empty cans of Monster and one half-full can.
“Max,” you sighed, leaning against the window sill and listening to the sound of a candy wrapper crinkling under the blanket, “I think I missed what caused this impromptu crisis.”
Max’s mass of unevenly chopped black hair sprang from under the covers, followed by their brown eyes and shocked face.
“All crises are impromptu or else they wouldn’t be crises. They would be planned events,” Max removed themself from their bed, still wrapped in a heavy blanket, and joined you by the window.
“Lupin is going to be out next week,” Max said solemnly, leaning their head against your shoulder as they looked out of the window dramatically. “His boyfriend is taking him somewhere cold. Maybe Wales. I can’t remember. I am in immense pain.”
“You can email him. It’ll only be a week,” you patted down Max’s hair, half in an attempt to comfort and half in an attempt to tame it.
“I know,” Max sighed, pushing off of you and dropping their blanket, “I know.”
Max moved to their closet, dressing for the soccer game.
“Who will I talk to when he’s gone? You’re busy with your soccer geeks.”
“You could join the soccer geeks,” you said, falling onto Max’s bed.
“I find my method of getting by in Lupin’s class to be somewhat of a miracle. I can’t taint my odds with soccer geeks.”
“You have a C.”
“I haven’t read a word of Oscar Wilde.”
“That, in itself, is a crime.”
“Cry me a river,” Max smirked and closed their closet.
You drove to the school, as usual, and found seats fairly easily. You were early, and the crowds filled around you the closer it got to game time.
Max slipped on oversized sunglasses.
“What are you wearing?”
“I can’t be seen at a school event,” they mumbled, ducking behind their hand.
You laughed and watched the field fill with bodies.
The game was eventful, full of action that you didn’t follow or understand. You could barely keep track of the ball. The crowds' reactions generally told you what was happening. The cheers of a goal and the tensed shoulders when things were heating up.
The crowd told you when George Weasley broke his leg.
The game seemed to freeze. Fred ran from his position on the other side of the field and Lee came from the goal. The crowd in the bleachers separated as his parents ran onto the field with a team of other redheads following.
Max wrapped an arm around you and you lowered your hand from your mouth, not realizing when you had gasped in shock.
----
Max neglected to come to school today. Not surprising, but slightly disappointing. They had a philosophy of only attending school when Lupin did. This meant walking to class alone and sitting at lunch alone and driving to school alone. At least, that’s what it usually meant.
“Hey,” a brown paper bag was set down gently at your picnic table, “Y/n.”
God Damnit. George.
“Hey, George,” you looked up from your book and smiled easily at him.
“Mind if I sit here?” He was already swinging his functioning leg over the bench.
“Go ahead.”
“I wanted to talk to you about the essay and the group and stuff,” George was already unpacking his lunch, shifting his leg beneath the table.
“Yeah, sure,” you took a bite of your apple and closed your book.
“Obviously,” he gestured to his leg, “I can’t practice.”
“Did you use your leg to read, too?”
He laughed, thank god, because that would have been awkward if he wasn’t joking about his leg yet. And maybe you liked hearing his laugh. Shut up.
“Um, no,” he looked at his hands on the table and up at you. “It’s just that, with the essay coming up, and I have a lot of extra time on my hands now-”
“On your leg, you mean,” that was an awful joke, please shut up- oh wait, he’s laughing again. Pretty sound. Oh shit, he’s talking again.
“-If we did do some extra essay stuff, would you mind? Or if you don’t want to do essay stuff, we could just hang out? I get it if you’re busy though,” George was looking at his hands again, and then he started to tear little pieces off of his paper bag.
“Did you need extra help with the essay? You seemed to understand hedonism pretty well,” you suggested, wondering fleetingly is this was flirting.
George met your eyes, flashing you an entirely too charming smile, “No, I don’t need the extra help. I kind of just like hearing you talk about books.”
“Oh, well that’s mostly all I do,” you smiled back, taking a bite of your apple.
“Could we do it somewhere other than a soccer field then?”
“I used to exclusively talk about books in soccer fields, but I have been broadening my horizons recently.”
----
You and George were at Stacy’s. (The coffee house, not Stacy Clermont’s house. Which is lucky, because Stacy and George dated in the second grade.)
His thigh was brushing against yours and he smelled of oranges. His eyes were soft and tired and so was his face. It was weird to see him like this, but you supposed this was how he looked when he was comfortable. Not when he was ducking his head closer to Fred to mumble something, or flicking his eyes from person to person and wanting to prove himself.
Your essay was supposed to be typed but he wrote his on paper, like you did. His handwriting was messy and lopsided.
When you slid into your booth, he slid in next to you. Usually, you hated that, couples sitting on the same side, but George’s foot rested right against yours and the sides of your bodies were pressed against each other. His broken leg was on the outside of the booth and he stretched out the heavy cast.
When your drinks were ready, he was up to get them before you could object.
It was all very lovely, but you had no idea if it was a date.
You were on your second draft of the essay, writing loose sentences and marking passages, when George leaned a little more heavily on your shoulder His hand slid over and he was writing on your paper. You watched him with a small smile, eyes flicking between his face and the note.
“You haven’t been talking much about books”
Jesus Christ in heaven why were you blushing so much.
You looked at his face one last time, hoping his eyes were still on your paper. They weren’t, and your gazes met. He was smiling a little, eyes bouncing all over your face with a hopeful glint in them. You looked away, blushing even more.
Was this a date? You hoped it was.
You leaned into him a little more than what was necessary and pulled his papers closer to you.
Instead of writing a note back, you drew a poor sketch of a soccer field and books.
You slid it back over to him, ignoring his eyes on the side of your face, and tucked some hair behind your ear as a nervous habit. You twisted your pencil in your fingers.
George laughed when he looked at his paper, why did you like that sound so much?
“I thought you were broadening your horizons,” he said, resting his elbow on the table and leaning his head into it, looking at you.
You didn’t meet his eyes, pretending to mark something in your essay, “I have. I have broadened myself to talking about books in soccer fields, basketball courts, football fields, and dates.”
That was too bold. Too weird. What if this wasn’t a date? What if you were confusing platonic interest with romantic interest and he just enjoyed talking to you academically? You never got to talk academically with Max, and you really enjoyed talking with George. Holy shit this is so hard. Fuck.
“Well, go ahead,” he paused, pushing his weight off the table and leaning back, “I’m listening.”
Your eyes fought to stay on his face. A cold front had moved through since that storm and still remained. George wore a green sweater and jeans. The sweater was baggy but stretched across his chest and shoulders in the best way. He covered his hands with the sleeves and crossed his arms. The image gave you some undeserved courage.
“Are we going to a basketball court?”
“No,” George smiled knowingly at you, inclining his head as a way to urge you to speak.
You shifted in your seat as a way to buy yourself time. Did you want to press the date thing or just bullshit about some books?
You turned towards him, bringing a leg up on the seat. It rested between you and George and pressed against his leg.
You sighed, “What’s your favorite book?”
----
The library was opened and newly renovated. Just in time for the cold front to leave and for soccer season to come to a disappointing end. George didn’t get to play in their last few games, and the team definitely felt the loss. Spirits were down for the boys, but the girls were on cloud nine. They had gone to whatever the biggest accomplishment was-- Alicia had told you many times, something about sectionals? regionals? playoffs?-- and felt very happy about it.
The eight of you used a study room, one of the new perks from the renovation, and were afforded quiet and peace, and most importantly, air conditioning.
Everyone had their things scattered across the large table, working relatively independently on their essays. The essays were only formally assigned last week, but there was an unspoken competition amongst your group to really prove yourselves with this assignment. Yours was done, technically, but all the empty time with the group had you rewriting dozens of times.
George was sat next to you, and you glanced at his paper. He was working on the same draft from Stacy’s, and you caught a glimpse of your sketch on his paper. You had ripped off George’s note and kept it on your bedside table. It seemed a bit odd in retrospect.
Fred leaned back in his chair, tugging out one of his earbuds.
“Y/n,” he said suddenly, taking everyone’s attention away from their essays.
You moved your eyes slowly from George’s paper to Fred, wondering how long it would be until he pushed his chair back a little too far and it fell.
“Why are you banned from the library?”
“I’m not,” you said absently, returning your eyes to your own paper once Fred put all the legs of his chair back on the floor, “We’re in the library right now.”
“The downtown library,” he pressed, leaning on the table with his forearms.
“Mmm,” you hummed, smiling.
“That was creepy,” Fred said, leaning off the table.
“What?” you looked up, feigning offense, “I was smiling! My smile is creepy?”
“No,” George mumbled beside you.
“Did you call in a bomb threat or something?” Fred continued.
“People really do that?” Alicia asked from where she sat on your other side.
“George and I have,” Fred smiled wickedly, putting his pencil between his teeth.
“Only the one time,” George defended, dropping his pencil and looking put out by Fred, “and I didn’t even want to do it.”
“Bombs are quite serious,” Hermione added from down the table, typing furiously on her computer.
“They are, ‘Mione. That’s why they’re a threat,” Fred directed his wicked smile at Hermione briefly before his attention was back to you. “Seriously. Why are you banned? I want to know if you’re some sort of evil genius.”
“Not evil, just a genius,” Angelina said from beside Fred.
You chuckled, doodling on the corner of your page.
“Tell us. George, make her tell me,” Fred groaned, tossing his pencil in the air.
You blushed, glancing to your side at George. He was blushing a bit too, and you risked giving him a proper look just to see the flush on his high cheekbones.
“Shut up, Fred,” George looked at you, rolling his eyes and hiding a smile by biting his lip.
----
“Are you driving Alicia home? Or Hermione?” George gently grabbed your arm as you packed your bag, gaining your attention.
You looked behind you, and Alicia shook her head with an unsubtle smile.
“Doesn’t look like it,” you said, smiling up at George.
“Mind if I join you then? Fred really is a safety hazard and I wouldn’t want to risk it with my leg,” he was smiling and you were smiling and you were following him out of the room too eagerly but you didn’t care.
George wore a shirt now, with jeans. His hands were stuffed in the pockets. He seemed to want to make his tall self as small as possible. It was adorable.
“I can’t promise that I’m more of a safe driver than Fred,” you clicked open the locks with your key and waited as George lowered his body carefully into the car.
“Anything is better than Fred, I can promise you that.”
The car felt intimate. More intimate than touching legs at Stacy’s or bumping elbows in the library or little notes or shared looks or blushes. It was just you two.
“Why do you park in the teacher’s parking lot?”
“It’s Lupin’s spot. He doesn’t drive to school, so he lets me park here.”
“Oh right, Sirius gives him a ride,” George smiled fondly, resting his arm on the door of the car.
It was warm and you probably should have started the car and turned on the AC but you didn’t want to. You wanted to keep looking at George and his little smile.
“How do you know that?”
“Lupin and Sirius are friends with my parents,” George explained, angling his body towards yours as yours was.
“Really?”
“Yeah, I’ve known Lupin and Sirius since I was born.”
“Huh,” you raised your eyebrows, glancing out of the window.
“If I asked you to talk about books right now, would you?”
You looked back to George to find him already looking at you. His eyes seemed searching and his mouth was serious.
“I guess?” you laughed lightly, furrowing your brow.
“You said you only talk about books on dates,” George said quietly, eyes not leaving you.
“Oh,” you paused, turning the key in the ignition and turning on the air, “I did say that.”
“You did.”
“Are you asking if this is a date?”
“I think so,” George said slowly, still not looking away from you.
“Well,” you started, turning back to George, “I thought Stacy’s was a date. Was I wrong?”
Holy shit, when did you grow a pair?
“I don’t think you’re capable of being wrong,” George sounded sort of breathless and the idea made you lightheaded.
“Shut up,” you scoffed, face warm.
“No,” George mumbled, resting a hand on the back of your headrest.
You turned to face him completely and his hand slid from your seat to your neck. He was warm and solid and you wanted to melt into his touch. He was guiding your head, or you were moving it, and he was leaning closer. Your lips touched and they were warm and solid too. His hair was just as soft as it looked and he kissed like he talked. Slow and listening, waiting for you to tell him what you wanted. You pulled apart for a second, still touching his face, and breathed against each other's lips.
“This isn’t a date,” you mumbled against his lips.
He let out a surprised laugh and pulled away, resting his forehead on yours.
“Could I ask you on a date?”
“Only if it’s a double date with Lupin and his boyfriend.”
“That could be arranged,” George said, sounding all too serious.
“I’m kidding, George,” you smiled as you went in to kiss him again.
You drove him home while holding his hand.
“I had my first kiss in a library,” you said once you pulled up to his house.
Sports equipment was scattered throughout the overgrown grass in the front yard. The house was old-looking but massive and there were chicken coups on the side. It looked like a place where George would live, it looked comfortable.
“That’s on-brand for you,” George mumbled, twisting in his seat to get his bag.
“That’s why I’m banned. You can tell Fred so he stops asking.”
“You were caught?” George was laughing and you were dizzy.
“Yes, hence the lifelong ban.”
“That seems like a harsh punishment.”
“I agree. I can get my books online though, so not too bad.”
“There goes my date idea,” George sighed, faking exasperation.
“I’ll give you a list of all the other places I’m banned from, just so there’s no mix-up,” you smiled and didn’t want George to get out of the car. He wasn’t reaching for the handle.
You pulled him closer by his upper arm, watching him slowly lean closer. He was just as slow as the first time, and just as soft. He cupped your cheek with his warm hand and you felt time stop.
Hedonism didn’t seem too bad if it meant kissing George more often.