Of Flying and Food Fights

I had the whole thing planned out. I was going to present him with my heart and undying love, he would swoon in delight, I would fly him away on my broom (my actual broom, not the metaphorical one), and we would live happily ever after. Unfortunately, it didn't quite happen like that. My plan was derailed and my romantic gesture was made a mockery. Of course it all worked out for the best in the end, but let me start at the beginning.

Ever since I met Harry Potter at a train station in London back in my third year, the boy has been in my head constantly. I first realized I was in love with him after the First Task of the Triwizard Tournament. Seeing him in such a dangerous situation made me distraught. Fred of course noticed something amiss, and insisted on being let in. He doesn't like it when I keep secrets from him. I didn't think he'd understand, so I told him I had gotten in a fight with Mum and there was nothing he could do about it, so not to worry. Naturally he didn't believe me, but he knew better than to push it.

That night I sat for a long time and thought about why I should be so upset at Harry for risking his life by competing in this thing when everyone else thought it was a good joke. I didn't really care if anyone else hurt themselves during the competition, just so long as it wasn't him. That's when it struck me - I was, and always had been head over heels in love with this short, four-eyed, shaggy haired, fourteen year old boy and I didn't know what to do about it. Hell, I hadn't even known I was gay!

I tried to push all thoughts of Harry out of my head, but it didn't work. I stopped eating and sleeping and I was snappish with Fred when he demanded to know what was going on with me. Finally, at the end of that year I decided to tell him how I felt. I knew I only had one more year before I graduated, and I wanted to spend as much time as an "us" as possible before leaving Hogwarts. At this point, I probably should have taken into account that he might just be straight. Of course that never occurred to me, so I proceeded to make an ass of myself, thus:

He was out practicing Quidditch long after the rest of the team had gone to bed. I knew he would be, so I brought a picnic basket stuffed full of prank-free goodies out to the Quidditch pitch for the two of us to share. In the moonlight. Romantically. In my mind this was a no-fail plan to ask him out. I grabbed my broom and flew up to join him. He was surprised to see me, but he smiled and my heart just melted. God, that boy was all that and a bag of potato chips.

Harry noticed the picnic basket hanging on the end of my broomstick and asked what I was doing out so late, what the devil had I done to that food, and what unfortunate soul was it going to be tested on. I took a deep breath and decided to go ahead and tell him. Later. Instead of being a man and getting it over with, I chose the slow painful route of dragging it out. I asked him to come down and have a midnight snack with me, and I even promised to taste all his food before he ate it just to prove I hadn't done anything to it. Well he really is a trustworthy lad, so despite the many reasons to ignore me and fly far, far away, he decided to trust me and have a bite. Maybe he was just really hungry, who knows.

Anyway, after we had eaten a bit the food the kind house elves had provided us with, Harry stood up, said he was full, thanked me for not pranking him, and started back to the castle. I couldn't just let him walk away, so I blurted out a very loud, very embarrassing "I'm in love with you." He turned around slowly and stared at me for what seemed like an eternity. I asked him to please say something, and that is when he realized I wasn't joking, I believe. Instead of falling into my arms and smothering me with tender kisses like he was supposed to, the little brat started laughing at me! I wasn't quite sure how to react to that, so I did what came naturally. I threw food at him.

Yes, you heard me correctly. I threw a huge glob of mashed potato right in his big, fat, smug, laughing face. As you can imagine, the poor boy was gobsmacked. I suppose he did the only logical thing when he smeared gravy through my hair. From then on it was a frenzy of pouring pumpkin juice on one another, plugging up each other's ears with marshmallows, and the like. I really got him with a scoop of ice cream down the back of his shirt. That really riled him up, and the next thing I knew he had tackled me and I was lying on the Quidditch pitch covered with smushed food and a glowing, panting, ruddy gorgeous boy on top of me.

Not that I had a problem with this, you can just imagine how shocked I was when he leaned down and licked a bit of whipped cream off my nose. He sat up on my stomach and grinned impishly. Then he said something I don't think I'll ever forget, even if I ever did want to: "George Weasley, to think I always thought you were so blind."

I just blinked up at him, not the foggiest idea what he was on about until he leaned forward and very gently, almost shyly, placed a kiss on the side of my mouth. As I lay there, completely stunned by what had just happened, he told me that he had always loved me, and he was waiting for me to realize that we belonged together. He said all sorts of sweet loving things, and gradually I realized that everything I ever wanted since I was thirteen was coming true all at once. I sighed happily and reached up for another kiss from my new boyfriend, Harry Potter.

So you see it didn't happen quite how I'd planned. In fact, he was the one who swept me off my feet. All in all, I suppose I liked his way better. Food fights and kisses on the Quidditch pitch were much more my style than romantic picnics with soft-spoken vows of love. I am, after all, a Weasley.