Title: Always a half, never a whole
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: George Weasley/Minerva McGonagall (in a not romantic way)
Word Count: 500-ish
Rating: PG-13
Prompt(s): 'tiny dancer', 'shattered mirror', 'better this way'
Summary: This basically explains why George was never expelled.
A/N: Thanks to the super cool tania_sings for being my beta and giving me *unconsciously* the idea for the summary ;-) Written for the Drabble/Art Challenge on the LJ community hpgeorgecentric
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine but the story.

Always a half, never a whole

Hurried steps and heavy breathing were heard in one of the corridors of Hogwarts. The eleven year old redhead was running at full speed with clear excitement in his face. The image was not something these halls hadn't seen before. This little boy had already been in this situation more times than anyone could count, but this image was certainly incomplete. The lack of his twin at his side made it all more odd and interesting for the curious paintings that were jumping from one portrait to the other trying to keep up with the student.

"What's burning, boy?", asked a tiny dancer from a painting of a Roman party.

The first year kept running while turning his head to wink back as a response; but before he could close his blue eye he bumped into something and fell flat on his arse. His eyes were closed due to the force of the impact, but he could still hear a woman's "Oh!", and the sound of shattering glass.

He knew that voice. He had heard that voice screaming at him since his first night at the castle. Scared of what was going to happen next, he slowly opened one eye to take a peek, only to confirm his guess.

Yes. He was right. There lay Professor McGonagall on the floor, in the middle of shattered pieces of the old mirror that had been in that hall since his parents were in school, amid scribbled parchments he assumed were students' essays.

"Bloody h--"

"George Weasley!" She yelled.

"I'm so sorry, Professor!", he said, quickly reaching the old woman and helping her to get up.

"Running is not allowed in the corridors, Mr. Weasley! And you very well know it. Someone could get hurt and things like this may happen!" She huffed indignantly while repairing the mirror with her wand.

"Yeah...I know...I'm sorry..." George murmured absentmindly while starting to collect the essays for McGonagall. He had just pickedup Oliver Wood's, when a sudden thought striked his mind. "Wait, how did you know I was me?"

Minverva stared at him watching her with big confused eyes. All plans to tell him off were postponed by the tone of his voice. "What?" Was the only thing the speechless lady could say.

"Sorry. I was wondering...how did you know it was me, George, right away? Nobody can tell us apart. Even my mum gets confused sometimes and calls me Fred!" He snorted while scratching his neck trying desperately too lighten the mood.

The woman could only watch him while he continued picking up the scattered essays. She couldn't help but feel sorry for him. Always a half, never a whole. She couldn't even begin to think how that must be like, her always being the one and only daughter.

"I could always tell", she whispered unconsciously. However, she didn't know if he heard her. George just stood up and handed her the pile of parchments with a small smile. "Well, I reckon you were heading somewhere? Better be this way", she told him nodding towards the east side of the castle.

A wide smile spreaded across the boy's mischievous face. "Yeah...thanks." He resumed his jogging. "And sorry again!", he yelled over his shoulder.