Everybody Party Till the Gasman Comes

The night of the Halloween Feast, the champions were chosen for the Triwizard Tournament. From Durmstrang, Viktor Krum was chosen. Fleur Delacour was the Beauxbatons champion, and Cedric Diggory and Harry Potter were chosen from Hogwarts. I know what you're thinking, How can that be possible? Imagine how much controversy it caused there at school.

As the days went by after Harry's name was spewed from the Goblet, I realized a couple things. First, Ron is a very emotionally based person. Once we'd gotten back from the Great Hall following the feast and festivities, he and Harry had gone at it. Ron was infuriated at Harry for having not allowed him in on his secret for putting his name in the Goblet, which leads me to my second revelation. Harry did not put his name in the Goblet. It seemed to me that I was the only one who believed that he didn't. I didn't understand how anyone could look at him and see how distraught he was without seeing that he hadn't done it.

Harry was sat all by his lonesome in an armchair on the far side of the common room. I stood up from my place next to Hermione, who was trying to tell me that the things I'd written on my homework were too vague of answers, and crossed the room. I sat beside Harry on the arm of the chair.

"You alright, Harry?" I asked.

"Do I look alright?" he replied, voice sharp.

"Hey, now," I said, flicking his ear, "don't be snapping at me."

He sighed and looked up at me. "I'm sorry, Sammy. Everything's just getting at me lately. What with me being a damned Champion and Ron hating me for it. And then there's the worrying over Padfoot." He leaned back against the chair, covering his face with his hands.

"Padfoot?" I whispered. "What's that about?"

"He's going to find a way to come see me in person."

I could hear the anxiety in his voice and patted him on the shoulder. "It'll be fine, Harry. Everything will be okay. Things with Ron will blow over soon. Trust me, I've known him almost my entire life. He can't stay angry for too long. He always comes back. And as for your godfather, he'll be alright. He escaped from that dastardly prison. I think he'll be able to avoid being caught. He's just worried about you, y'know? You're the only thing he's got left in the world."

Harry smiled up at me. "You're right. Thanks, Sam." He moved his body to look around me and raised a dark eyebrow. His eyes flashed up to mine, then back to whatever he was looking at behind me.

I turned around just in time to see Fred, a crumpled up piece of parchment in his hand that I was sure he planned on throwing at me. I gave him The Look, and he just threw it right back at me. "What's that in your hand, Weasley?"

He grinned and threw the parchment at me. Lucky for the both of us, I was ready for it and caught it before it could smack me in the face.

I unfolded and smoothed the paper out. I grinned at the three words on the page, written in an oh-so familiar handwriting. I shook my head, stood up from the arm of the chair and waved goodbye to Harry before leaving the room.

***

Come find me.

Those were the words he'd written. For as long as the both of us had been able to write, George and I had played fantastical games of hide-and-go-seek. One of us, at any given point during any given day, would write those three words on a bit of parchment and have someone give the parchment to the other. Then we would have to look for each other. There were no rules as to where we could or could not hide. Anywhere in or around the Burrow was game.

We had never played the game at school. The grounds, inside and out, of Hogwarts were just too big to even fathom trying to play. Or so I'd thought.

I spent the hour-and-a-half after leaving the common room trying to locate him without being caught in the halls after dark by Filch. I looked in the kitchens, the Great Hall, the Dungeons (which I don't recommend taking a trip down there at night; very creepy). I was just about to give up when I remembered the one place I hadn't looked.

My legs carried me from my place in the Entrance Hall all the way up to the seventh floor. I ran through the corridors, trying to remember where exactly the room was. I hadn't been there since second year and my memories of its whereabouts were foggy. However, when I found the door, I knew that it was the one I'd been looking for.

I pushed the door open and shut it quietly behind me. After turning around, I took in what he'd done with the place. There were no lights. It was a small, wood-paneled room with soft carpeting under my feet. There was a fireplace at the far end of the room, in front of which was a couch that was being occupied by a redheaded boy.

I tip-toed across the room until I was standing directly behind him. I was going to wrap my arms around his neck, in an attempt to scare him, but he beat me to the scaring.

George turned around quickly and said, "Took you long enough."

I yelped, tripping over my own feet and falling over on my behind. George looked down at me, eyes wide. He was worried that I'd hurt myself, that much was certain from the look in his eyes. He got up and rounded behind the couch so he could kneel beside where I was. Before he could utter the words, I started laughing hysterically.

"You're alright then?"

I nodded through my laughter. "I'm perfect," I managed, sitting up.

He held his hands out to me and I grasped onto them. He pulled me up, and I grinned at him. He led me around to the front of the couch, where we sat side-by-side in silence for a few moments.

My laughter died down by the minute and I leaned my head against his shoulder. Our hands were still clasped together between us. I looked up at the boy I'd grown up with. He was staring into the fireplace, eyebrows furrowed over eyes that held a curious emotion that I couldn't quite place. It seemed as if he was fighting with himself internally over something. It wasn't a pleasant expression, so I interrupted his thoughts. "So," I started, "what was all this about? We've never played at school before. Something on your mind, Georgie?"

It took him a few seconds, but eventually he moved his eyes from the crackling flames in front of us to look down at my face, which was smashed against the sleeve of his shirt. "We just haven't had Sammy-George time in a really long time. I thought now would be appropriate. What do you think?" He smiled, and I nodded at him.

"I like what you've done in here. It's cozy."

"I did it just for you."

I grinned. "Aw, thank you, Georgie. That's awfully sweet of you." We sank into a comfortable silence for a few moments. Then, "I'm really glad about what happened with you and Fred and the Age Line." I spoke softly, almost not wanting to have said the words.

"I know you are."

"It's not that I didn't want you to have the money. If I could I would give you guys all of my money so you start up your shop. I just couldn't even think about you two entering. I've lived with you my entire life, almost. I was worried sick. I had nightmares that you two did enter, and you got chosen. And terrible things happened." I crinkled my eyebrows, remembering the things I'd dreamed of, wishing I hadn't thought of them at all.

"Well," George said, squeezing my hand in his own, "we didn't. We're here. I'm here. Nothing's going to harm us. We'll be with you forever."

I shook my head, staring at the flames ahead of me. "Not forever. Next year is your last year here at school. And then I'll only see you during holidays."

"We can write to each other, though. I'll write to you every day about everything I do." He lifted up his free hand and held it between us. "I pinky swear."

I giggled. "Pinky swearing? Really, George? Are we five?"

"No," he said. "But you never would break a pinky swear, and you know very well that I won't either."

I brought my pinky to his and we locked them together.

"I, George Weasley, pinky swear to write to you, Samantha Foster, every single day after I'm out of school. Even if I have absolutely nothing to write about."

"And I, Samantha Foster, pinky swear to write back to you, George Weasley, whenever my school work permits me. Even if I have to stay up all night and get no sleep."

George shook his head, breaking our pinkies apart to flick my nose. "That's not much of a commitment there, Sammy."

I reached up and tugged on his hair. "It's as much of a commitment as I can make to you, Georgie. I'm sorry. Once I get out of school as well, I'll write you every day. Though that would be completely pointless as I'm sure to crash at your house whenever I feel like doing so."

"You're not going to have your own house?"

I shook my head. "I don't think so. I wouldn't enjoy living in a house all by myself. I'd be so very lonely."

"And what makes you think I'd let you stay at my place whenever you feel like it?"

I looked up at him, then looked back down. I was now facing him, legs crossed on the couch between us. His hand was in mine and I stared down at his fingers. I had everything about him memorized. Everything I could see, anyways. Down to the last freckle. I turned his hand over, tracing the lines on his palm.

"Hey." George's voice was soft.

My eyes trailed up from his hand to his eyes. "Hm?"

He stared at me, eyes probing my face for something; I wish I knew what. I felt my cheeks get warm. It was a look no one had ever given me before. After awhile, he leaned forward and placed a kiss on my cheek. "It's getting late," he said. "We should be getting back to the common room."