During study hall, George was by a window flipping boorishly through a herbology textbook. He was sluggish, hating every bit of this study - much rather wanting to find Fred and pull some pranks or turn all the furniture in Professor Gimel’s classroom upside down again.

You snuck up behind George, keeping your steps to a light tip toe. You still hadn’t gotten over him accidentally doing an Evanesco spell on all your handwritten assignments. You tugged a piece of his ginger hair.