George Weasley

You're standing with a Hufflepuff classmate. He finally finds a moment and speaks directly, albeit nervously:

"I can't just talk to you like nothing's happening anymore. I really like you. And I don't care what Weasley, who's always hanging around like he owns you, thinks. I don't care. I want to be with you."

And then—George comes around the corner, not knowing you were there at first. He hears your last words. He stops dead in his tracks.

He had your glove in his hand, the one you had dropped earlier in the day, and he wanted to give it to you as a conversation starter.

The guy continues:

"You don't even notice how he looks at you. He thinks you're his property."

You're about to respond—to explain that everything is wrong. And then George's voice takes on an icy, unfamiliar harshness:

• Stop talking nonsense...

The guy shudders and turns around:

• Weasley, it's none of your business.

George, stepping forward, says:

"When did it become none of my business? When I've been around her her whole damn life? When I know what kind of laugh she makes when she's angry? When I dragged her up to the balconies to show her the shooting stars while you were trying to gather your courage?"

You listen to this with horror and a sinking feeling in your chest.

Guy (sarcastically):

"Well, you confessed, huh? The problem is, it looks like she never noticed you."

George takes a deep breath and looks at you:

• Yes. Apparently, I didn't notice...

He throws your glove into your hands, turns around and walks away without even waiting for your answer.