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pineapplesandpinas · 2 years ago

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damnnnn okay okay 👀👀 didn’t expect a little George angst this morning but I’m not mad about it!

and he was maroon || George Weasley

Title: and he was maroon Pairing: George x Reader, Reader x Unnamed Male Summary: sometimes it’s the simplest things that take us back in time Warnings: mentions of alcohol/the drinking of alcohol. Also George is kind of an asshole but he’s young and lets be real he was probably a bit of a douchebag in his youth. A/N: welcome to the 2nd installment of midnights: an anthology! A little bit of a different take on the relationship between George and the reader. Tagging some of my mooties: @jenniweaslee @darthwheezely @lycanlupins @wandsandwheezes @pineapplesandpinas

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It doesn’t happen very often.

There’s really only one, maybe two days a year. Usually in the summertime, when the sunset is uninhibited by clouds and Y/N can sit on the back deck, letting the slight breeze send goosebumps across her arms as she watches the sky change colors. As those beautiful light pinks and oranges sink into a deep maroon, it’s only then does she think about him.

George Weasley.

There’s just something about that color, about the way it paints across the sky, that brings the distant memories of him back to the forefront of her mind. She’d been young when they met, only out of Beauxbatons a few years and back living in England for the first time since she was a little girl.

Her new roommate had introduced her to her former Hogwarts classmates, and it was at some social function or another that she’d met him.

“Weasley!” Someone shouts as the door swings open, a chorus of loud cheers following suit.

Y/N has no idea what a Weasley is, but she yells along anyway, whatever is in her cup making her drunk enough not to care about much. She’s been living in London for three months and is finally settling in. Her roommate has done a wonderful job of introducing her to a wide network of people and she’s starting to finally feel like they’re her people too.

It doesn’t take long for her to learn what exactly a Weasley is. In the next moment the crowd parts and two identical men come through, drinks already in their hands as they greet everyone they pass.

Y/N is immediately enchanted, and she can feel her cheeks redden as the boys land at the group of people she’s standing with. It’s striking how similar the two are in looks and in spite of this fact she finds herself drawn to the one on the left. There’s just something about him, about the way his hair has started to stick to the back of his neck from the heat of the room, the gleam in his eye and the easy grin on his face.

She’s too busy admiring him to notice that her attention has been returned, and the ginger man is stepping out from under the arm his brother has slung around his shoulders so he can come closer. It’s not until he’s right there, stepping into her personal space that she notices his presence and Y/N can feel her heart beating out of her chest.

“I don’t believe we’ve met before,” he starts, giving Y/N a bow. “George Weasley, and you?”

“Y/N Y/L/N,” she responds with a giggle, giving him some semblance of a curtsy. “Pleasure to meet you.”

George grins then, stepping even more into Y/N’s space. “Oh darling, the pleasure is all mine.”

It didn’t take long for her to fall head over heels for George. In the moment it felt like fate, like the world must have destined them to be together. It seemed to happen so quickly, so easily - how could it not be meant to be?

“You should have seen the look on her face! That miserable witch had no idea what hit her as Fred and I rode off on our brooms.”

Y/N falls into a fit of laughter as George regails her with another story of the things he and his brother used to get up to in their Hogwarts days. She’s on the last dregs of her second glass of wine, feeling warm and bubbly from some mixture of alcohol and her company.

Being around George is intoxicating, just his presence in a room has her drunk with happiness. She’s never felt like this before, and Y/N never wants it to end. The few boys she’d dated at Beauxbatons were nothing like George. They were boys she’d known most of her life, so there was never anything new or exciting to discover about them. It’s hard to be enthralled hearing about how your boyfriend fell off his broom and broke his arm during a Quidditch game when you were there at the game yourself.

But with George, everything is new and exciting. Y/N’s never even been to Hogwarts, so she hangs off every word that falls from George’s mouth as he details the school and his adventures there. Sometimes she wished she could just bottle up the feeling she gets when he talks, wanting to save it for later.

“Are you even listening to me anymore,” George teases. They’re sitting across from each other on the floor in her apartment, and he gets up on his hands and knees starting to slowly crawl towards her.

“Mhm, yeah, totally,” Y/N grins, stifling a giggle in the back of her throat.

“Oh yeah?” George goads as he creeps closer, a grin on his face. “Then what was I just saying?”

Y/N bites her lip as he gets closer and closer, anticipation tickling the bottoms of her feet as it starts to creep up her legs. Before she can even answer George is there, hand reaching for her ankle. She lets out a shriek before taking off, leaving her wine glass on the ground as she takes off across the apartment.

Their laughter mixes together as George gets up to follow, chasing Y/N into the kitchen and around the table. She leads him back into the living room, socked feet making her slide all over the place as she tries to get away. Just as she’s about to round the coffee table a strong pair of hands grabs her around the waist and a shocked gasp leaves her lips as George pulls her back into his chest.

“Got you,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the crook of her neck. George spins Y/N in his grasp, arms winding around her waist as he starts to sway them back and forth to the music playing forgotten in the background. “Didn’t think you’d get away from me that easily, did you?”

Y/N shakes her head as she wraps her arms around his neck, smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Definitely not.”

Looking back now she sees that ease for what it truly was, two kids who didn’t really know anything about what it really means to love someone. Y/N knows now that she wasn’t really in love with George, she was in love with the idea of being in love with him.

If only she knew then what she knows now. Certainly would have saved her some time - and a broken heart or two.

Sorry, working late again xx

Y/N crumples the note in her hand, tossing it to the ground as she shoos George’s owl away. This is the third night this week they’ve made plans to do something and instead of him arriving at her door it’s his owl, canceling yet again. Last week he’d canceled on her twice, and the week before he was so busy they’d barely even spoken.

She’d been understanding at first. It’s normal not to spend every day with your significant other, expected even. And of course Y/N had missed spending time with George, but work is work and that was okay with her.

But what’s not okay is his affinity for canceling plans at the last minute. Sure, sometimes things come up - but waiting until he’s supposed to be coming by to pick her up to cancel is just rude, and inconsiderate of her time. Especially with it happening almost every time they’ve planned to do something together lately.

If George doesn’t have the time to see her on a particular day Y/N would much rather he be honest and tell her that - rather than having her spend all this time planning something and getting ready for him to cancel at the last minute.

Y/N blinks away the few tears of frustration that are gathering in the corners of her eyes before taking the time to change out of her clothes and into the comfiest pair of pajamas she owns. Once she’s redressed, Y/N sulks out to the living room - taking the glass of wine her roommate has in her hand and taking a large gulp as she slumps on the couch next to her.

“Again?” Emily asks in disbelief.

“Mhm,” Y/N confirms with a hum, taking another sip from the glass.

Emily shakes her head, leaning forward to grab the wine bottle off the coffee table. She refills Y/N’s glass, both of them watching the dark red liquid swirl around the edges of the glass. “What a fucking ass.”

All Y/N can do is grunt in agreement as she brings the full glass back up to her lips, head tilting back as she drains the maroon liquid in one drink.

What an ass indeed.

Looking back now she realizes that was the beginning of the end of their relationship. They were seeing each other less and less, and neither of them were the best at communicating their feelings. But Y/N was so desperate to hold on to those fleeting good moments that she put up with all of the hurt and frustration that came along with them.

“I asked you for one thing, George! One! And you couldn’t even be bothered to show up for me.”

Y/N stomps into her apartment, not bothering to check and see if George is still following behind. Tonight was supposed to be the night, her parents are in town and George didn’t have to work - it was going to be perfect. Things between them haven’t been the best recently, and Y/N dreamed that this would be the night things started to turn around. George would show up for her, and prove that he means all of those things he says. That he’s sorry for not being around, that he is there for her. That he loves her.

But then he’d been five minutes late to dinner, so they ordered a round of drinks, And then he was twenty minutes late when they ordered round two with an appetizer to share. When it hit the forty minute mark rolled around and George still wasn’t there, round three showed up and they ordered their entrees.

It wasn’t until much later, when dessert was practically over and Y/N was polishing off her fifth drink did George finally show up. A profuse apology was tumbling from his mouth the second he approached the table, his desperation to save the evening apparent in the expression on his face.

But the damage was already done. Y/N’s parents had spent most of the evening switching between consoling her over George’s absence, and giving her a dose of tough love that George is not the man she should plan on spending the rest of her life with. Without even bothering to spare George a glance, her parents had given Y/N a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder before they left.

Which brings them around to now. Y/N’s sadness had slowly morphed into anger as George followed her home, apology after apology intermixed with excuses falling from his lips. Because frankly, she doesn’t care if the Queen of England herself had been the one to hold up George - he knew how important tonight was and he still managed to fuck it up.

“I’ve said I’m sorry about a hundred times, Y/N,” George responds as he slams the door shut behind him. “I don’t know what else you want me to do.”

“I want you to give a shit!” she shouts, turning to face him. “You keep telling me you love me, and you care about me but you never actually show it! Words are meaningless unless you actually back them up with your actions. And so far all your actions have shown me is that you don’t give a nifflers ass about me!”

George huffs, throwing his hands up in the air. “I’m sorry I fucked up, Y/N. I really am. But work is important, you know that.”

“Yeah I know that,” Y/N responds defeatedly, anger quickly fizzling back into sadness. “But I should be important too.”

George had walked out that night, something that started to become quite the pattern. Something would happen, they would fight and George wouldn’t bother to stick around so they could work things out. He’d just give it a few days to calm down before showing up with a bouquet of flowers and an apology.

Y/N always made the mistake of letting him back in, telling herself that things would be different this time. Of course they weren’t, and the cycle would just start all over again.

And now, as she watches the sun sink closer and closer to the horizon, she feels bad for the girl she once was. The girl who didn’t know how to stick up for herself, the girl who was too optimistic, too caring - too desperate to be in love to know what love really is.

Now, with time and space and experience, she feels bad for the man George was back then too. At first she was angry, he was the villain in her origin story and Y/N was content to keep looking back at their time together that way. But she knows now, as an adult who has had her heart broken and broken a few herself, that George was just young and doing the best he could.

It had been easy to blame George that night things ended, when he walked away for the final time. But maybe there hadn’t been anyone to blame at all.

“I’m sorry.”

Y/N rolls her eyes as she opens the door to a familiar scene. Once again George Weasley is on her doorstep, bouquet of flowers in hand with a lame apology. It’s comical, almost, how easily she predicted that this would happen. It had been endearing at first, the flowers and the heartfelt apologies. But after so many times it’s just lame and disappointing.

“Are you?” she asks lamely, not even bothering to take the flowers from his outstretched hand. “Because you were also sorry last week. And the week before that. And about a dozen weeks before that as well. So it’s getting a little hard to believe you.”

“I’m doing the best I can, Y/N,” George pleads, exasperation coating his words.

Y/N shakes her head, tears starting to form in the corners of her eyes. “George, if this is your best, then I just don’t think this is going to work anymore. Clearly I need more from you than you’re willing to give. So I think it’s best if we just end things here. Before either of us gets hurt anymore than we already have been.”

It’s harsh to say, and Y/N feels sick as George flinches at her words. But they needed to be said. This relationship isn’t functioning, and she’s very quickly being pushed to her breaking point. She may love George, but she needs to love herself too.

“Fine, if that’s what you think is best,” George responds blankly. “Take the flowers at least, I made sure to get your favorite.” He thrusts the bunch into Y/N’s hands, giving her one last forlorn look before he’s gone. Heading off down the hallway and away from her for the last time.

Y/N shakes her head as she shuts the door behind her, a humorless laugh falling from her lips. It’s funny how this bouquet of flowers seems to be a metaphor for their entire relationship. Because roses happen to be her favorite flower - and yet in her hand is a bouquet of carnations.

Y/N used to once look back on that day as the worst of her life, the day she let her true love get away. But now those old thoughts make her laugh, because in reality she was making room in her life for her real true love.

The sun has nearly set now, leaving a chill in the air as stars start to light up the sky. She shivers, thinking about heading back inside when the door opens behind her. There’s a soft blanket draped over her shoulders, and a smile teases the corner of her mouth as she looks up at her husband.

“Thought you might be cold,” he explains, leaning down to kiss her on the forehead. “Kids are getting brushing their teeth, I imagine they’ll be looking for story time any minute now.”

Y/N laughs, shaking her head as if to rid herself of those thoughts. The ones that used to keep her up at night.

Thoughts of George.

“I’ll meet you up there.”

With a final kiss to her forehead, Y/N’s husband heads back inside to give her a few more minutes alone. As she looks back to the sky, the sun is gone and the deep maroon that once covered the horizon is pitch black.

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