Pulling himself up branch by branch, George grinned to himself. How amazing was a girl who could keep up with you? Glancing down momentarily to make sure she was still all right—he was raised with some manners, after all—George paused and chuckled as he watched Ellie before swinging a leg up and hoisting himself once again farther away from the ground. What good were the trees in the forest unless they were used for climbing?

Finally reaching a decent spot, fairly close to the top with a few branches around for comfortable sitting, he grunted and maneuvered himself out of her way, letting his legs dangle on either side of a thick branch, one foot resting comfortably against one below him, the little knapsack he’d attached to himself coming off before he leaned against the trunk.

It had been a fun few months so far. They argued now and again, but who didn’t these days? Especially at their age. George gave her a goofy grin before lifting a leg and resting his foot against the branch he sat on, lounging out in the warmth of the autumn day. Who needed to go to class when you could have this sort of adventure? Swinging his free leg, he glanced over her, running his tongue over his lips. “Who needs a class on charms when I have enough for both of us?” Snapping off a twig, he tossed it in her general direction gently.

He was supposed to serve a detention that evening, and he had a feeling that he’d get another one for not going to class yet again. At least he had a partner in crime for this ditch, though it was getting harder and harder to talk her into it these days. “I was worried you were starting to get cold feet.” The idea that she was actually trying to pass her classes was clearly not in the silly Gryffindor’s head.

Ellie’s outfit

Camera tucked into the studded cross-body purse hanging from her shoulder like a baby koala, Ellie dug her boot into the bark of the faithful old tree, smiling up at George as he looked down at her. She gripped a branch as if it were a broomstick, and hoisted herself up, thanking Merlin that she’d been subjected to all of those nasty practices at terrible hours of the day. The stretching and training had really pulled off, and Ellie was able to carry her weight without much of a problem as she monkied up the tree with George Carter.

One last bit of pressure on her palms, and Ellie made it to the niche, sitting beside George and discarded her purse next to his bag.

She leaned leisurely into the tree’s expansive, hub-like trunk, and let out a breath of triumph and relief. The shade was nice, and bits of sunlight hit them at random spots, making for good pictures.

Ellie rolled her eyes, unfastening her bag and pulling out an old camera. “Charming isn’t the word I’d use,” she baited. She pointed the camera somewhere between the inky lake and sloping hills, and caught the afternoon light without bothering to look through the viewfinder. Purple smoke followed, and Ellie set the camera gingerly in her lap. “But I appreciate the superiority complex. Very sexy.” She grinned and bumped shoulders with him before leaning her head against his arm.

It was a little piece of heaven, the privacy the tree provided, but it was also sad to look out and see the mountains, and know what lay ahead of them. Things had begun to catch momentum lately, and George seemed to have a different idea of growing up than Ellie had. She was becoming more serious about her schoolwork, buckling down and taking on the library as if it were a quidditch pitch. He just wanted to have fun.

Growing up and growing apart weren't all that different now.

“I don’t get cold feet,” she said defensively, her head still against his shoulder. Still, she stiffened a bit. “But you know, you can’t ditch classes forever. They’ll chuck you out of here and snap your wand. What are you going to do then? They’ve already got way too many dropouts working the graveyard shift on the Knight Bus.”

“Charming isn’t the word I’d use.”

An eyebrow cocked in slight disagreeing curiosity. “Oh?” He watched her set up her shot, glancing momentarily to where it was pointed—what was so great about that? It was a nice view, sure, but so was the bloke sitting next to her. Smirking at that, he glanced back and waved some of the smoke away. He rolled his eyes and bumped back, feeling a bit smug. It was sexy, wasn’t it? “George Carter, superiority complex—check! What would be the word you’d use then?” He couldn’t resist.

He didn’t think he could be blamed for wanting to slack off—he was tired of staying at Hogwarts, he was tired of being told to grow up when he felt grown up. Rebel against the establishment—that was his idea of fun. Detentions were useful venues for figuring out his next stunt, in his opinion. He’d all ready been warned how ‘on the edge’ he was. Who really got kicked out of Hogwarts, though? George found laughing it off with his mates a lot more fun than actually listening to the Howler his mum had actually sent him. His mum! The sweetest woman in the world…

George had had to boost his ego after that embarrassment in the middle of the Great Hall. Where some might have taken it as a call to reform and buckle down, he took it as a call to action. The reality of what lay beyond Hogwarts, of what he might have to actually do outside the walls, scared him a little more than he cared to ever show.

“I don’t get cold feet.”

His drawn off gaze was snapped back to where they were, in the present, away from the scary, uncertain future as he blinked and smirked. He could feel her dislike of that statement. It was like its own little game—how far you could piss Ellie off before she threw a temper tantrum. At least George liked it.

“But you know, you can’t ditch classes forever. They’ll chuck you out of here and snap your wand. What are you going to do then? They’ve already got way too many dropouts working the graveyard shift on the Knight Bus.”

And his smirk slid off into a frown as he rolled his eyes, glancing away. This topic was coming up too often for his taste. “I could be the best Knight Bus ticket collector the wizarding world has ever seen.” Even Ellie sold him short. Gritting his teeth, he sat up a little, leaning forward and away from her head. “What good is your education going to do for you anyway?” The white trousers he had on were going to be stained from the climb down, no doubt. Dusting some remains of the ancient tree off his lap, he shifted on the branch slightly, turning around to face her.

Grinning, he pulled the hooded sweater off and set it aside on their discarded things. The black t-shirt underneath was tucked into the pants. Shifting his own boots against the branch under them, making sure it could support his weight, he moved in close. “What’s life without a little adventure, Ellie?” His eyebrow cocked comically as he leaned in for a kiss. That would help the reality of the discussion go away, at least.

Charming was, for all intents and purposes, exactly the word to describe George. But Ellie didn’t think he needed to know that just now. It was very dangerous for one’s head to become a balloon while stuck between lots of sharp, twisty branches.

“Hmm...” She pretended ponder it, leaning further into the sturdy trunk, the bark tickling her back in a satisfying way, like an old itch finally scratched. “Careless.” She smiled as the word left her lips. She looked out toward the horizon, her eyes sneaking a peak of his reaction only through a peripheral glance.

She let out a breathy laugh, and stretched, yawning. “Right. You’d let them on free if they didn’t report your swinging from the luggage racks.” She could picture it now: when there were no trees to climb, or like to explore, George would make do with whatever he had in order to entertain himself and keep his hands busy. Hands on. That was another way to describe him.

“My education... is going to get me a job.” Wasn’t that obvious? She quirked a brow and looked at him as if he were being unnecessarily dense. Sure, there were days spent laying around in the grass, chasing each other, breaking rules-- a proclamation of living forever, and living to the content of one’s heart. But everyone grew up eventually. And now it was Ellie’s turn. She was scared for George, as he didn’t seem to be interested in walking the same path. But mostly, she was scared for them.

But that face, those lips, the carefree attire and sweatshirt-rustled hair were a girl’s weakness. Ellie made a face at him before breaking into a grin and meeting his kiss. She tapped the side of his head, a playful reprimand, and then let her arms sink lazily around his neck. “A life without trees,” she mused aloud, tugging at the hem of his shirt so that it came loose from his trousers.

Reaching blindly for his hoodie, she moved it aside and grabbed her camera again. Lifting it above them, she used one hand to snap a photo, and the other to keep her hold on George. Her lips were on his, but her eyes shifted to the side, a pleasant memory for later. With luck, he’d catch the flash, too.

Careless? Careless?! Gasping in slight shock, he considered it with an open mouth for a moment before closing it and nodding slowly. He could see that. “Always for your entertainment. Perhaps I should start my own circus.” That would give him a chance to fly through the air without a broom… or attempt to tame a dragon! Or make him the youngest person to be locked up for endangering himself and the lives of others in the immediate vicinity. Either way, he would live on in his name and accomplishments! Or lack thereof…

An eyebrow rose at her insinuation. “You think I could swing from the luggage racks? I was going to try and hold on to the front of the bus when it sandwiched up…” Shrugging a little, he laughed. He wouldn’t mind working on the Knight Bus, come to think of it—something new to see every day, right? As friendly as he could be, who knew the stories he could hear and later embellish? Or situations to put himself in, with nameless witches and wizards who may or may not be on the run from Aurors. His imagination ran wild with the idea.

“My education… is going to get me a job.”

Rolling his eyes, he sighed and shrugged. “What kind of job? What do you really see yourself doing out of Hogwarts that requires top notch marks?” He was going to become the next star Quidditch player, he was sure of it. His ego couldn’t handle anything less amazing. And last he heard, he didn’t need O’s in Herbology to make it on a team… just skill, which he obviously had. Or talked about having.

Grinning against her lips at the tap on the head, he playfully tugged on her lower lip, pulling back just slightly as he leaned into her. “And who would want to live without trees?” Case in point. “One for Car…ter…” Glancing down slightly as he felt the tug of his shirt, he grinned wider and moved in closer. She wasn’t focused completely on the moment, and he glanced to the side to see what was so amazing in time to give the camera a curious glance, eyebrow raised. A late laugh escaped him, pulling back to wave the smoke away. “You want pictures?”

Tugging at the bottom of her sweater, he made quick work of pulling it up and over one arm and her head, letting it hang on the arm that grasped the camera. She could work that one out. His eyes took in her shirt, widening slightly in appraisal. Then he reached up on his tip toe, grabbed a branch from above, and hung there. Working one foot up to the branch he’d been sitting on before, he hoisted his body up a level above Ellie.

From there, he made sure his legs were hooked securely. Finally he rolled back, careful to not hit her, now facing her upside down. Winking at her as best he could, feeling the blood rush to his head (as well as his untucked shirt), he let out a groan. “Go on then.” He beat on his abdomen with the palm of his hand, letting out a beastly yell before laughing and letting his hands fall, grasping the front of her knees.

Ellie scrambled to remove her sweater, shivering delightedly at the breeze which swept through the tree. The sun, obscured in the shade of the leaves, reached them only in shards. She added her hat to the pile before stretching her legs.

Balancing like a tight-rope walker, arms out, she snapped a picture and leaned in to kiss his lower abdomen. The warmth of his muscles made her lips want to melt, and she gave the shirt over his head a little tug, freeing him of its gravitation demands.

“If you did start a circus,” she murmured, holding back from the strong temptation to tickle him (which might have resulted in something rather catastrophic for both Gryffindors). “You would be the lion. And I think you’d be forced to hire a tamer, so...” Naturally. “I hope you don’t expect an application? What with your way of doing things.” She grinned, and trailed a finger from his lower stomach, up to his chin. Seeing how far she could get before they were both holding on for dear life and praying for intact vertebrae.

She’d ignored the questions about the future, knowing it would only cause more bickering... but Ellie couldn’t avoid them forever, and she wasn’t really the type. Slinging her camera over her shoulder again, she found a good footing, and hoisted herself up onto the branch from which George hung. Legs straddling it, she looked down at him and smiled calmly. She lifted the viewfinder to her eye once more, and took another shot of the upside-down charmer. It was nice, to be on top.

“I don’t know what I want to do, but I know a little effort in school won’t hurt my chances,” she said at last, looking out in the other direction, away from the lake.

A smug smirk came to his lips as he felt hers against his abdomen n. Just a little lower-higher? It was confusing, being upside down, so he stopped trying to figure out directions. Glancing up at her, he let out a muffled laugh as his shirt came over his head more, moving his hands away from her long enough to let the shirt come off. How helpful of her… Glancing straight down, because he could easily from his advantage point, George felt a mild drop in his stomach (or wait, no, that wasn’t right. Leap into his stomach?). It would be unfortunate—

“If you did start a circus…”

Blinking and pulling his eyes away from the far away ground, he glanced back to her, that confident smirk sliding back on his face. His eyes flashed at her observation—he would totally be the lion. A good natured laugh escaped him—one day, perhaps he’d get a tamer.

“I hope you don’t expect an application? What with your way of doing things.”

Raising an eyebrow, which probably didn’t look quite the same as it did right side up, he licking his lips as her finger lightly tickled the senses, making him even more aware of her. Nipping playfully at her finger, he stretched out, his body arching as his arms hung down, over as quickly as it started. “Which way of doing things would you be referring to? The best way?” He watched as she began her own precarious journey up to his new branch and he let his fingers grasp lightly to her slinking legs. Of course she’d wear shorts… he supposed a skirt wouldn’t be practical.

Grinning goofier than usual for her picture, he relaxed after the smoke drifted away, swinging gently with the breeze hitting the tree. His hand grasped her foot, tugging lightly on it before allowing his fingers to hook slightly on to it.

“I don’t know what I want to do, but I know a little effort in school won’t hurt my chances.”

Back to this again. Rolling his eyes and letting his head hang back down, his fingers slid off her boot and made a messy trail through his hair. “Maybe.” What else could he say? ‘School is for gits’? Or at least school work… Grimacing, he had started to realize that their relationship was nearing a dead end—he didn’t care about school, and she was starting to care too much. It was starting to get too ‘real.’ Shifting slightly, he started to swing his lower body back and forth, attempting to get a little momentum.

The first attempt to get up failed, as did the second. By the third he was laughing too much, but by the fourth he’d regained a little composure and took a breath and held it. Grasping on to the branch directly beside Ellie (where his other leg was hooked around), he worked his free hand between her legs to grasp just behind her to the branch there. Now in an awkward ‘between the branches’ situation, he made sure he had a good enough hold, unhooking his legs.

They both swung a little too fast, and he lost his grip under her, dangling for a few brief moments by just his one hand, a yell escaping him in surprise. Then he got his footing on the branches below, glanced up at Ellie, and then swung himself back up to her. Nothing like a little adrenaline to get things pumping. A little red in the face, he grinned in triumph. Then he realized the perfect line and sinker, and let his grin fall, attempting to replace it with a thoughtful pout.

“I nearly fell to…” Glancing down in thought, he decided not to be completely useless. “A very painful fall.” His eyes darted back up to her face faster than his head moved to look at her. “I need some attention to make me feel better.” Grinning now, he leaned back on the branch, his hand behind him to keep him up at an angle. Hooking a leg around one of hers, he tugged it towards him.

Ellie glanced down at him surreptitiously, between strands of rustling, dusky blonde. “Second thoughts?” She asked, watching him watch the ground. She pulled back her fingers as his quick and tempting mouth, wondering how a lion could be so... seductive. “You might want to keep your eyes focused on what you’re doing, Monkey Man,” she pointed out innocently, nevertheless content to swing her legs playfully beside him after finding her place.

“Which way of doing things would you be referring to? The best way?”

“From where you’re watching, sure, why not?”

She could feel the tension sparking, even while the wind tickled their skin and George’s bare skin teased her eyes. She left it there, at that word, Maybe, knowing that she wouldn’t get a better answer out of him. He was as hardheaded as she, and neither would so easily concede to the other’s opinions. It was part of what kept their relationship interesting, and part of what made disaster inevitable.

Laughing and leaning back a bit as he grabbed hold of her boot, she pressed her palms into the scratchy bark beneath her, enjoying the rough sensation as much as she enjoyed the feel of a quaffle rocketing into them.

“A very painful fall.”

His yell made her pop up again, straight-spined, eyes wide. She reached out instinctively to offer help, but George managed on his own. Ever the lucky, overly bold little prat. Of whom she was very fond, naturally. “How many lives have you lost now? I’ve lost count. That was nearly another one. Or at least a third of one.”

“I need some attention to make me feel better.”

Ellie raised both brows, her mouth pouting a bit, as if this were a truly shocking bit of information. Their legs played tango, and she obliged, her face never flinching away from his. She put her arms on his shoulders and scooted forward, further entangling their lethargically swinging limbs. Nestling her face into his neck she grinned. “I think attention is the last thing you need. You get too much of it. It’s why we’re going to get in so much trouble for skiving. Again.” And then she kissed him, moving slowly to his shoulder, taking her merry time, pushing a little closer, despite the fact that there were two warm bodies impeding her path. She pulled back to admire the fading mark of her mouth. “But it’s alright, I like attention, too... Better now?”

George let out a disbelieving scoff at her accusation—second thoughts? Even if he had them, he wouldn’t tell her. Besides, it would pass. It always did. His better judgment (if he even had any) was easily subdued by his desire for the next bigger and better thing. The next amazing adrenaline rush. The next… everything. Then she called him Monkey Man, and he let out a laugh, shaking his head. “That makes it much less fun.” She sounded like his mum, telling him to be careful.

“From where you’re watching, sure, why not?”

He grinned triumphantly—he was supposed to be, right? He’d won some argument… however small and insignificant it was. If he had something to hook his thumbs into, he might have, but alas, she had all ready deprived him of his shirt, and he certainly wasn’t wearing suspenders. He didn’t even have pseudo chest hairs to somehow show off his ‘manly chest.’ And the one time he’d taken a potion on a dare to do just that, he’d looked like a gorilla for a good ten hours—hair grew out of every pore then. That’s what you get for trusting an older student who ‘excelled’ in potions. Or was it ‘he was expelled’? Regardless…

Lesson learned, and a very itchy potion was his remedy. That had been a terrible night in the infirmary. His mates had had a good laugh about it, though, and before he’d gone, he’d scared a few groups of girls near the girl’s loo by adopting some sort of animalistic noise as he ran after them. If it hadn’t been so glaringly obvious, perhaps he could have gotten away with it for a little longer. As it was, only one or two complaints from whiny girls was all it took for a professor to take the time to check out the nuisance.

And that was just his first year at Hogwarts. Still, he did like his view…

“How many lives have you lost now? I’ve lost count. That was nearly another one. Or at least a third of one.”

Aw… she’d actually made a small attempt to kind of help him. Not that George needed it! He’d be a bit ashamed and embarrassed if he actually needed Ellie’s help… Shrugging confidently, he brushed the pieces of bark off his chest that had rubbed off in his unheeded attack against the poor branches. “I’m sure I get a new supply of them every year I come back. And it would have been a third of one if I’d fallen a couple branches.” His eyes sparked in mischief. That could be a fun and interesting way to get back down quicker than they came up…

“I think attention is the last thing you need. You get too much of it. It’s why we’re going to get in so much trouble for skiving. Again.”

Grinning at that, lightly wrapping his arms around her and hugging her loosely against him, he nodded in slow agreement, as if assessing her statement for validity. Spoken like someone who knew him, he supposed. George craved attention from those he wanted it from. He didn’t necessarily beg for it from authority like figures. Or at least not when it came with a punishment.

Then again, he was known to not think through things all the way. Like the time he took apart his mum’s wardrobe. She about lost it when it fell apart into a few pieces after he’d forgotten about a few nuts and bolts—she’d been more displeased that he’d in the process ruined some of her favorite outfits she wore for her charitable events than with the dresser, though not by much. Something about it being a family heirloom passed down, blah blah blah… he’d taken the time next time she’d left him home alone to try and put it back together ‘right.’

Needless to say, she kept it as a reminder of what her little Georgie could do, and now as a keepsake. He’d definitely gotten better with putting things back together again… His eyes closed as she moved her lips over his sensitive skin—it was chillier without a shirt than it was with. Taking in a slow breath, he rested his head back.

“But it’s alright, I like attention, too… Better now?”

Tilting his head and glancing lazily at her, he nodded slowly and swung their hands between them. “Well, almost.” Tapping his neck, he smirked. “You missed the best spot.” Leaning forward, as if to prove his point, he let his lips do the explaining. Forcing her chin back and out of his way, with his head tilted at an angle to get in the right position, he worked on sucking his own little mark—this way, she couldn’t move her hair over it, and anything she did would raise suspicion and questions.

After a short while, he pulled back, glancing at the redness underneath and to the side of her chin, nodding to himself. “Mmmm…” Licking his lips, he kissed her chin, then her lips, before pulling back and watching her. His hands moved over her covered thighs, up under the shorts, trying to gently persuade her into putting her legs over his. “I should get out the tools…” A makeshift hammock between the branches? How original, right? At least it’d be more comfortable than sitting with a stick up his—well, you get the picture.

 “I’m sure I get a new supply of them every year I come back. And it would have been a third of one if I’d fallen a couple branches.”

“Right, I forgot. You’re just that invincible. Voldemort who?” Her lips parted. It wasn’t quite a smile, but a look of resignation, mingled with amusement. She was used to his ego. She tended to like it, the confidence. Even if her own excess supply sometimes meant war.

Taking advantage of his lack of shirt, she moved her hands over his warm skin, adding to the chill. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen him without a shirt, what with late Spring rounds of one-on-one Quidditch, and George’s penchant for disappearing into lake. But it was always nice. A boy who didn’t mind shedding a layer or five.

The role reversal and exchange of gifts caught Ellie a bit more off guard, but she was soon smiling. “Wait!” She murmured, but she didn’t push him away. “I’m meeting my Dad in Hogsmeade for lunch this weekend!” She couldn’t hide under sweaters forever. Perhaps a camera around her neck would do the trick...

She shuddered a bit, caught between laughing at the ticklishness of it, and groaning at the electrifying pang that resonated like raw energy beneath her skin, wherever George’s mouth moved. Her fingers grazed the new spot, as their mouths found each other’s. She shook her head, letting it rest on his shoulder again. Her eyes fluttered close. “If you get me in trouble, I’m going to steal a beater’s bat and--” Her imagination gave up on her, too distracted by the hands creeping up her shorts.

Her fingers crawled over the top of the material, catching his in the act, but not quite successfully. She didn’t mind, really. She liked it; there was no one around to yell at them, either. But the brand on her neck was another story. It might have been fun to show off to friends, but her parents wouldn’t be pleased.

“I didn’t bite you that hard,” she argued, pulling back to eye him. It was a staring game.

What was he going to build with his tools, exactly?

“Are we moving out here to the tree? Because I have to warn you-- I need a giant bed all to myself.”

“Right, I forgot. You’re just that invincible. Voldemort who?”

Puffing out his chest a little at that, he laughed and rolled his eyes. “Surely I can rearrange George Jacob Carter into something better than that…” And he squinted slightly, glancing up as he tried to think of a way to do it. It was a lot harder without it written out in front of him. Greater Cob…corgeja? Then he shook his head and focused on her once again. Regardless, he didn’t need to make up an evil pseudo name right then. He had more important things to do. Plus, that was very first year. It had been a riot of a game then.

He’d been proud of ‘Greater Ogre C’ when he was eleven, leaving out his middle name and tacking on the C because he didn’t know what to do with it. Luckily there were very few who would remember that nickname, though he recalled quite a few other out there names that kids had come up with.  He couldn’t recall if Ellie had played that game… Back to the present, though. Not good to focus on the past, in his opinion.

“I’m meeting my Dad in Hogsmeade for lunch this weekend!”

His breath came out in a soft laugh against her neck, pausing long enough to rewet his lips and teasing her skin a little more in the process. “I should meet up with your dad.” She wasn’t quite daddy’s little princess anymore, was she? They hadn’t gotten on very well over the summer, considering it just a joke. George might be young, and he was often stupid, but he didn’t like people thinking because of that, the things he did were not serious.

Maybe Daddy St. James would like to see how ‘childish’ George and Ellie’s relationship had become. Smirking at that, he continued in his quest of her neck.

“If you get me in trouble, I’m going to steal a beater’s bat and—”

His eyes flashed and he raised an eyebrow, glancing down at her resting against his shoulder. “You can steal my beater’s bat any day.” Then he laughed and shook his head, leaning it against her head. The jokes made in the Quidditch locker rooms were sometimes overpowering, hard not to repeat at awkward moments.

A light blush did tinge his cheeks; for all his confidence, he still found it unnerving and was occasionally confused by the advances of a female and what he was supposed to do. What was too far and what was just right. He seemed to be a quick learner in that subject, though. It was too bad he couldn’t do that for a career. George thought he might be able to make quite a living off of it.

“I didn’t bite you that hard.”

Staring back at her, eyebrow still raised, he gave her a half smirk. “I didn’t say you did.” Biting his lower lip, he smirked around it, glancing down to her lips and unknowingly losing the staring contest. “Do you want to?” That was more Laney, though, that roughness… Thinking about some of the welts she’d left made him wince slightly. He leaned in to Ellie, watching his hands as they rested with hers on top.

“Are we moving out here to the tree? Because I have to warn you—I need a giant bed all to myself.”

Looking shocked at her statement, his eyes widened and his mouth was slack. “Giant bed all to yourself?! You naughty ogre.” Shaking his head, he pulled away from her reluctantly, but not before he squeezed her thighs to try and get a little tickle reaction out of her. Balancing on the branch once more, he glanced around for the right one, frowning. “You can make your own bed if that’s what you need.” Finding his way down to the branches below them, he fished his material out of the backpack he’d carried up, finally settling on the branches he liked.

A few minutes later, and the handy Carter secured the last edge. Rope was an amazing tool, very useful in all sorts of ways. Finally he relaxed back on the branch, glancing up towards Ellie. “You going to stay up there all by yourself?” And then he decided to test the makeshift hammock, glad his face wasn’t in her direction so she couldn’t see the slight worry he had as he slowly shifted his weight on to it, easing himself down into the middle. He’d fixed a tight smirk to his face as he finally lounged out—steady as it goes. His eyes once again found her. “You can’t wear those tights though. Not part of the dress code.”

The syllables rolled silently from her tongue, Ellie clearly delighting in the verbal nonsense as she tried to mentally race George to the finish line. The bratty old adage was there, egging her on like a coach’s whistle.

Anything he could do, she could do better.

Eleanor Cadence St. James

So many vowels! Why had her parents cursed her with so many vowels? Perhaps not many more than George had, to be fair...

Concentrating hard, but trying to appear cool, casual, the opposite of someone scrambling to play scrabble in the mind’s eyes, Ellie mulled over the possibilities.

Daemon... No.

Omen... wait, that wasn’t it.

Dejects sods... Closer.

And then a voice sang in her head, and she smiled. Thank Merlin for the radio on her nightstand, the one she danced to with the curtains drawn, her bare feet hitting the mattress, hair swinging, knickers visible in all their glory to absolutely no one.

Narrowing her eyes, she recalled the latest dance-worthy tune to catch on in Gryffindor tower, and was quick to parody the lyrics with her own choice of words. It was hard, coming up with it in her head, but she had it...

“Well, keep on thinking. You’ll get there eventually. In the mean time, let me introduce myself. All you really need to know is...” Ahem. Ellie straightened up, her face becoming what she imagined was the essence of suave. “I Secret Lee Ace N Dem Jeans. A?” The final, lonely letter, tagged on behind the period which usually abbreviated the saintliness of her ancestors, came out sounding more like a suggestive growl, eh. The anagram title was a purr, accompanied by a wink. And Ellie, sounding very much like the latest hip-hop mogul to hit the wireless waves (and looking very much like a sporty, spunky teenage girl), leaned closer to George, pawing at the button of his trousers.

These games seemed to dot their relationship like a random sprawl of glitter on a classroom floor. When they weren’t flirting, gaining hands on experience, or bickering, they were challenging one another. Really, it was all tied together in the fantastic web that made up George and Ellie.

No sooner had they traded name games for love bites, when she was accusing him of trying to sabotage her favor with Daddy dearest.

“You and my dad, right,” she murmured, rolling her eyes behind her hazily shut lids, letting them absorb the stifled sun and the sarcasm. “That’d go well. I mean, it’s not as if he expects me to be a well-behaved, well-rounded, studious, and oh-so-chaste little doll.” Perhaps that was the melodrama of adolescence speaking. “Oh, wait,” she corrected, flashing a bitter smile.

Huffing out a sassy laugh that became more of a choke, she couldn’t help but lighten up; her smile became more genuine, less guarded, and she found herself shaking her head in admiration for the boy and his clever tongue.

“I dunno, I hear there’s a seventh year whose model is one-of-a-kind...” She tried to play off the sudden awkwardness, to avoid the blush so as not to share her own. Bold as she was, she was only as experienced as George-- or infinitely less so. He’d initiated her, so to speak. Well, to a greater plateau, anyway.

Her hands crept again toward his trousers, this time actually lingering for a moment on the waistband, slipping easily, just barely into the material. It was obedient to her touch, the Ellie-made space between taut muscle and fabric lending itself pleasantly to her fingertips. She drew them away as gingerly as she’d let them creep in, and leaned back to study his face again.

She considered the question, stopping herself from quirking a brow as his eyes found her lips. “I dunno...” She leaned in, kissing the corner of his jaw, and then his neck once more. “Do you want me to?” It felt strange to ask, however nonchalant she tried to sound.

She watched him escape, as quick and relaxed as any tree-dwelling creature, and wrinkled her nose playfully at his suggestion. “You’re such a prat in shining armor. Offering your favorite ogre her own services. Hard labor never sounded so sexy.”

Stretching out upon the branch like a cat, she folded her arms and rested her chin, eyes darting downward to watch him while he went to work. He was brilliant with his hands.

With a great sigh, she sat up again, legs swinging, and shook her hair from her eyes. She appraised his work, her eyes absorbing the Georgian hammock before her ears processed his declaration. “Clever,” she announced, scooting toward the tree’s great trunk. “I imagine it’s purely accidental that my bottoms have to come off to remove the tights.”

Unbuttoning her shorts, she scrunched out of them, letting them dangle at her ankles before sending them down toward George, with gravity’s help. Next came her tights, wrinkling like socks and sailing in the wind like a ship’s airy masts. She left them to hang from the branch, and slid down, finding her footing in a smooth-but-knobby niche.

Sheer, polka-dotted lace adorned with flowers covered the chaser’s tail. She moved cautiously onto the hammock, like a child stepping into a hot path. Edging closer, she found it safest to crawl right over George. Her knees planted themselves softly into the rope on either side, so that she was on all fours above her partner in crime.

“Why, hello Monkey.”

She wanted to introduce herself. Raising an eyebrow and grinning, he waited. Upon hearing it, he licked his lips and tried to run it over in his head, attempting to put her name to it… and failing. He would need parchment and quill to even begin. Shaking his head, he laughed and rolled his eyes. “I think you look ace without ‘dem jeans.’” Sticking his tongue out at her, he sat back on the branch slightly and enjoyed himself. Of course, when she went for his trousers, he felt his heart skip a beat, feeling as if they were a bit too tight. Sitting up towards her, he tried to take control once again. “Sounds terrifying either way.”

“That’d go well. I mean, it’s not as if he expects me to be a well-behaved, well-rounded, studious, and oh-so-chaste little doll.”

“What he expects and what you are seem to be two very opposite people…” A half smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Then again…” His eyes moved down her, glancing to her thighs as he moved his hands over the rough material that hid her skin. “You’re well-rounded-” His hands moving up to grasp her hips, his eyes twinkling as they found hers again. “You’ve been studying real hard-” What else had she said? Chaste… chaste… she must have meant something unexpected? Or… naïve… “And if you play nice and behave, you can be rewarded.”

Simple enough, if she played by his rules. “I still think you might get a more interesting reaction if we go to see Daddy St. James.”

He was relieved to see her react positively to his remark, evident in the way his grin widened and his body relaxed. Shock came over him. “I bet it is. Though I doubt it’s in a good way. You can’t trust those seventh year bats… who knows where th-they’ve… they’ve been.” His voice faltered and softened near the end, watching her hands. George went from sure of himself to forgetting what confidence meant. Rico Suave who?

Maybe one day he’d have it hammered in, know the right things to say, or the right acts to do. For now, though, he was still learning. And as much as he wanted her hands there, as great as it felt, he couldn’t resist them for very long. Just thinking about her could make him vulnerable. Well… her and a couple other girls, maybe. But he’d always tell her it was just her. No need to force an argument over something so silly…

Shallow breathing followed her kiss, eyes fluttering closed as he tilted his head slightly for her. Then she asked, and he blinked, staring up through the branches. Did he? Considering it a moment, he finally tilted his head back down, kissing what he could of her cheek. A soft laugh escaped him and he leaned against her. “No, you’re talking about it too much.”

“You’re such a prat in shining armor. Offering your favorite ogre her own services. Hard labor never sounded so sexy.”

George got used to laughing easily with her around, and it wasn’t stopping now. “I am good at shining things. I had to redo the trophy room last week for another detention.” Glancing up at her, he shrugged. “Besides, you’re the one who said you need your ‘own bed’ to yourself. I’m only making one.” Sticking a tongue out at her, he got to work. It was just making sure everything would be secured and that they wouldn’t have to worry about it giving in and dropping them all. the. way. down.

“Clever.”

He grinned and shrugged slightly, his hands lacing behind his head as he stretched out over his makeshift hammock. “It comes and goes.” He glanced up to the sky and nodded slowly, sighing. “If only there was another way… But hey, I don’t make up the rules.” Shrugging, completely ignoring the fact that he did, in fact, make this one up, he watched as she undressed.

By the time the shorts were tossed down at him, his lips were parted and his eyes were focused. Grasping them, he lifted himself slightly and stuffed them under his head like a pillow, enjoying the little show he had from below. His breathing was a little more shallow than normal as she descended, and as much as he tried to hide it, it was a bit obvious what her choice of knickers were doing. Looking down as she set herself up, his hands slowly pulled away from the back of his head.

“Why, hello Monkey.”

Again his confidence was lost as he looked up at her. Hesitantly, he moved his hands down to rest on her smooth thighs, giving her a sheepish grin. He couldn’t very well call her an ogre now. “Hey Ellie...” Shifting slightly, his eyes once again found their way down to the surprising knickers. “Mine aren’t nearly that fancy.” Giving her a grin, his thumbs caressed her thighs. “I feel completely underdressed.” Biting his lower lip, his hands found their way to the makeshift hammock, pushing himself up for a quick peck.

Maybe this year wouldn’t be so bad, if he could get by with the bare minimal in classes and spend the rest of his time with his girlfriend. That and quidditch would help keep him focused, George was sure of it. “Have I shown you my latest Quidditch roll?” He waited long enough for that look to filter over her face before he sat up with one hand, twisting slightly as his free arm wrapped around her, forcing her on to her side and then her back, lengthwise on the hammock. Laughing as he attempted to balance himself over her, a groan escaped him with the awkward weight she had on his leg caught under her.

“Might need a little more work.” Smirking, he looked down at her, one hand resting against the side of his head while the elbow dug into the soft fabric. “At least it’s a nice day… not raining, yet.” His other hand held him over her, pressing his arm against her hip while moving his fingers underneath her, slowly pulling down the fabric. “Why would you want a giant bed all to yourself anyway?”

“I aim to terrify,” she admitted, somewhat disappointed he wasn’t falling for her verbal coaxing to remove his trousers. All for the sake of Ellie’s double identity! Of course...

Ellie wrinkled her nose, but didn’t slap George’s hands away. His words were, more or less, quite true. But it didn’t mean that Eleanor St. James wanted to displease her father. She just didn’t want him knowing she wasn’t quite the eternal baby he’d seemed to expect. She was growing up. With George Carter at her side.

Breathing out, half-exasperatedly, half enthused, the Gryffindor shook her head, smiling. “You wish you were this well-rounded. It must suck having no visible hourglass but plenty of love handles...” Joking, joking. If George Carter had any claim to fame-- and nevermind that men couldn’t have hourglass figures, and rarely saw love handles-- it was his Quidditch-chiseled body. And Ellie was the one who got to play with it.

Rewards? She quirked a brow, waiting for an elaboration. “So I’m playing by your rules, then? Here and with my father?” She tried to keep a straight face, but it was difficult. She didn’t know whether to scold him or to shiver against his touch.

Whatever the case, she let her hands carry on, trying to inspire that same electric current in George. To make him falter. It was an expression not many people saw... not enough, anyway. He was too confident, too stupidly brave.

Ellie laughed and watched him, following him down the tree. “Trophy shining for detention... they must know you better than that by now.” If he didn’t pull them all apart and reassemble the gold and silver, he was bound to have some sort of fun with the giant cups.

Clothes dropping to the ground in a lazy, kite-like soar, or blowing idly in the wind from the point of a branch, Ellie dropped, too, finding herself caught in George’s net, and paying no mind to her discarded layers. She’d been on the Quidditch team too long; she was too used to undressing and redressing in front of others... mind, it was usually on the other girls who were with her when she changed. But George was naked enough, too, what with his love of disappearing into the lake.

Pleased that she could catch him off guard, bewitch him and unnerve him a bit... excite him... Ellie made sure she crawled as close as possible. George’s bare tummy made a nice, warm seat in light of the wind tickling her thighs. “I won’t judge. Let’s see them,” she encouraged, speaking of his pants.

She met his peck of a kiss, and added a breathy, “Please.”

Quidditch roll? How about an eye roll. With a slight pout, she moved to shift off of him abdomen, when George did the deed for her, reversing their positions so that she was now at the mercy of the hammock’s bed. The softness pressed into her back, equal parts comfortable and disarming. She didn’t move to untangle her legs, deciding that George could suffer an equally minor discomfort. She looked up at him, face, serene, and stroked the hair above his ear.

“Don’t speak about the rain,” she warned, flailing (and failing) to knock on the wood of the branches. She swished her lips to the side, staring up at him suspiciously now, and laced her arms around his neck since she couldn’t reach the tree from her position. “If the thunder clouds roll in, I’m hexing you back to first year. Come here,” she added in a slight growl, pulling him down on top of her has hands roamed beneath her. “I want my own bed because I like to kick in my sleep.”