#george weasley fanfic

[desideriumwriter]

Blindsided | G.W.

Summary: As the Gryffindor Quidditch team celebrates their win on the field, Malfoy begins to openly throw insults in front of George and Fred towards them, their parents, Harry, and you. George isn’t able to ignore and shrug off his mockery. It only ends in a shocking altercation between the Redheaded Gryffindor and sneering Slytherin.

Pairing: George Weasley x Fem!Reader

Category: hurt/comfort, fluff

WC: 2.9k

CWs: physical fighting, depictions of violence/fighting, blood, yelling, injuries

A/N: this fic is based off that one part in OOTP (chapter eleven), i’m still so upset they didn’t include it in the movie </3

The Gryffindor section of the stadium roared with applause and hollered once Harry caught the Golden Snitch, getting the team 30 points ahead of Slytherin, causing Gryffindor to win and finally end the game.

Harry flew to the middle of the stadium, flying high up, smiling as he held up the snitch in his hand with two fingers wrapped tightly around it, presenting it to the entire stadium. He flew down and landed carefully on the field, Fred and George went down after him, then the rest of the Gryffindor team did as well.

Fred and George abandoned their brooms and ran over to Harry, Fred was giving him aggressive pats on the back while George ruffled his hair as they praised him. You grinned at their brotherly behavior towards Harry. The proud athletes began to grin and cheer loudly while punching their fists in the air in victory, hugging each other tightly, giving each other high-fives and handshakes all in celebration.

But of course, Draco landed by, ready to ruin this happy moment, and started to sneer about something towards the Gryffindor team, it seemed that Harry was the only one to notice, he turned around to look at Draco, then turned back towards his team when he stopped talking, he was trying his best to ignore him and not bark back at the Slytherin boy.

You smiled and applauded along with everyone else, you decided to leave your spot and excitedly walk down the stairs to go and congratulate Harry and the rest of the team on the field, also because you mostly wanted to see George. You were too impatient and too excited to wait an hour or so because George had to clean up.

You completely forgot that Draco was spitting something at the other team and constantly pointing at Harry, George, and Fred.

While Fred was squeezing Harry's shoulder and George was in the midst of a handshake with Harry, you watched the twins' heads snap up at Draco and their bodies stiffen, the big grins they previously had on their faces disappeared immediately. Yours did as well.

At this point you were running onto the field because you knew something was off, something was about to happen, and whatever it was going to be, it definitely won't be good.

You got there in time to hear most of what Draco was mocking about.

"We wanted to write another couple of verses!" Malfoy called out towards them, “But we couldn't find rhymes for fat and ugly and we wanted to sing about his mother, but we couldn't fit in useless loser either for his father!” He laughed, you looked at George, a scowl covered his face which was red with anger, there was practically steam coming out his ears. You grabbed onto his hand, squeezing it, to try and get his attention.

George looked down at you, his face softened slightly at the sight of you, but it was still covered with rage, you shook your head slowly at him, mouthing ‘no’, as an attempt to get him to calm down, knowing he was seconds away from doing something stupid, he sighed and looked back at Malfoy.

“Oh! I see your little girlfriend has come to your defense, hasn’t she Georgie?” Malfoy mocked, George’s fists balled up, hands shaking, his fingers were squeezed tightly around yours to the point where it was uncomfortable, yet you still kept your hand in his.

"You like the Weasley's, don't you, Harry? Especially you too, Y/L/N. You spend the holidays there and everything, I see you take any advantage you could get to be around George. You definitely have a liking for him, huh?” It seemed Malfoy had forgotten about Harry at this point, his attention drifted from Harry to you, you were now his target.

“In my opinion, I can't see how you stand the stink, but I suppose when you've been raised in a dirty-blooded household even the Weasley's hovel smells okay." Malfoy smirked.

You turned around to figure out where Fred went, only to see a panicked Angelina trying to calm down him as well.

"Leave it, Fred, let him yell, he's just a sore loser.” Angelina stood in front of him, placing her hands flat gently on his chest. Alicia and Katie eventually joined in on trying to hold him back and calm him down too.

Harry stood on the other side of George, grabbing his upper arm, muttering to George that Malfoy was just trying to rile him up, attempting to get him to walk away as he looked around for Hooch, who was still lecturing Crabbe about his illegal Bludger attack. George didn’t budge.

"Or perhaps," Malfoy continued, leering as he slowly walked towards you, getting more in your face with every step, "it makes you think about your dirty muggle life, Weasley's pigsty reminds you of it, doesn’t it, you filthy mudblood?" He let out a small laugh and then walked away. Those last few words were all it took for George to snap. Fred and Harry as well. However, Fred was stuck, still being held back by the others.

It only was a few seconds before you felt George's hand slip from your grip, you saw him and Harry sprint towards Malfoy.

All of it, everything happened so quickly.

Harry shoved Malfoy back around, he held back his fist that was still holding the Snitch, then sunk his fist into Malfoys stomach, he nearly fell over from the force of the hit as he groaned and held his stomach in pain. But, they weren’t done there. Malfoy attempted to stand up straight and throw his fist at Harry, only to be headbutted and slammed on the ground by George.

Once they were both on the ground, Harry stood on one of his arms while George hovered over him, delivering strong blows to Malfoys face and bellowing out in rage. Repeatedly punching him left and right, letting out all his fury into Malfoy's face.

You gasped and covered your mouth with two hands in shock, you were frozen. You didn’t know what to do or how to stop him, if you could even be able to stop him. It was scary, George was scary. This was a whole new side of him you’ve never seen before.

“Fuck you, Malfoy! Don’t you ever talk about my family! Don’t you ever fucking call Y/N that! Stupid piece of shit!” George screamed at him as he continued to beat him. You couldn’t hear everything he said due to his screaming eventually blending in with the crowds, several voices pleading for him to stop, some were encouraging the altercation.

“Harry! Get him off!” “Stay back, Fred!” “I’ve been waiting for this to happen!” “Get a picture of this Colin!” “Why’s nobody helping him?” “Do something!” “Fight! Fight! Fight!” “Why isn’t she doing anything?” “He’s gonna kill him!” “Someone get Madam Hooch!”

Voices screamed and overlapped from all around the stadium.

Kids were leaning over the wooden rails, standing on their seats, some were even using the binoculars they brought to get a closer look at the altercation.

George only paused for a second to warn Malfoy. He grabbed him by the collar, partially lifting him up from the grass.

“If you ever, ever say anything like that about my family or my friends again. I will leave you with more than a broken nose. Do you understand?” George had the look of a madman covering his face, Malfoy only nodded and whined. Yet, George let go and let him fall back on the ground, and went back to delivering hits.

There was so much noise. The crowd screaming, Fred screaming to be let go of, the girls trying to quieten him down, the repeated sound of bone hitting bone, George continuing to swear, Malfoy crying out in pain, the impact of the punches.

A whistle blew, but George didn’t care, he ignored the strong, high pitched sound, his hearing was only focused on the sound of the impact from his fists swinging into Malfoy's face instead.

“Impedimenta!” A woman's voice hollered. George, along with Harry, was knocked over backward, the force of the spell flinging them away from Malfoy, who was curled up on the grass, clutching his stomach, groaning and whimpering with blood from his nose covering the bottom center half of his face and staining his Quidditch uniform.

George hit the ground right next to you, only sporting a small nosebleed with a swollen and split open lip, he attempted to leap back up on his feet, but you grabbed onto him to keep him down, you noticed that Fred was still being restrained by the others, eventually giving up on trying to launch at Malfoy, knowing the fight was over and there was no chance he’d be able to get to him without getting launched back too.

"What on Earth do you think you're doing?" screamed Madam Hooch as she walked closer, stopping once she was standing next to Malfoy.

"I have never seen behavior like this! Both of you, back up to the castle and straight to your Head of House's office! You too Frederick Weasley! Go! Now!” Hooch pointed and drifted her finger between each of the three boys. Harry began to storm out, George getting up exhaustedly, still taking heavy breaths while walking off. He didn’t say a word as he passed by you, only making eye contact for a second.

You weren’t able to read what the exact look on his face was, it was a mixture of anger, sadness, and maybe even some disappointment.

“The rest of you, return to your common rooms right this moment!” The crowd filled with groans and whispers as they began to exit out the stadium.

You sat on the sofa in the common room, the book you were trying to read sitting open and abandoned next to you. You had one leg perched up, your chin sat on your knee, as you watched the flames dance in the fireplace. Fred, George, and Harry stormed in the room, they were all stripped from their Quidditch uniforms and had large scowls on their faces.

You weren’t even able to get a word out before they had all gone up to their dorm.

You sighed to yourself, laying down on the sofa, watching and listening to the fire crackle and glow. You couldn’t stop thinking of what happened earlier, it was taking over your mind.

You’ve never seen George so serious, so angry, so full of rage.

You felt guilty, maybe even a little gross, because a part of you liked watching it go down. Seeing that side of George was scary, but you liked it.

Of course you liked seeing Draco get what he finally deserves. But, you liked seeing George during it. You liked how concentrated he was, how he screamed and swore at him, you liked seeing his strength being put to use for something other than Quidditch, you liked how you got to see him let his anger out, you liked how he defended the people he cared about.

The weight of exhaustion had finally hit you, the events of today had worn you out completely. You soon fell asleep on the sofa after accepting the fact that you enjoyed watching George during the altercation, that you enjoyed it maybe a bit too much.

Your eyes fluttered and slowly rose open, you inhaled while taking a look at your surroundings, you couldn’t have been asleep for too long, as it was still night, the common room was quiet, but one thing had changed. George was sitting on one of the chairs across from you.

“Hi.” He gave you a weak and forced smile, the cut on his lip was scabbed up now.

“Hey. Um, how are you doing?” You propped yourself up on your elbow.

“Um….” His leg repeatedly bounced up and down quickly, he bit his cheek, his eyes wandered around the room, he was planning on what he was about to say next.

He took a large breath in through his nose.

“Umbridge permanently banned us from the Quidditch team.” He ignored answering your question, going straight to the bad news. Maybe his response could be his answer though, it’s obvious with an aftermath like that, he wasn’t doing good.

“What?” You exclaimed, launching yourself up and completely out of your seat.

“We’re banned from the team, we’re banned from the game. We can’t play. At all.” George shook his head with a frown on his face.

“Are you serious? But- What about Malfoy?” You paced around, it was weird talking to him in such a serious and gloomy manner.

“Nothing happened to him. Except…you know?” George gave an awkwardly tight lipped smile as he brought his bruised hands up, flipping each side to you.

“Yeah, but…shit.” You sighed, flopping back on the sofa, disappointed about the outcome of what happened to all of them. George only let out a hum of agreement.

“Fred’s taking it worse than I am. I think he’s still upset he didn’t get to join in on the beating.” He attempted to joke, you let out a small laugh, then you bit your cheek and looked at his hands, his knuckles were covered in shades of red and purple, small scabs on the tip of some. George caught on and noticed your staring.

“Oh Godric, I didn’t mean to scare you. You’re not scared of me, right? Please don’t tell me you are.” His voice filled with panic, he must’ve thought you were scared he was going to be seen as an impulsive and violent person by you.

“I’m not scared, I’m…worried. I guess I'm just still thinking about everything.” You gave a forced smile as you reassured him.

“Oh, okay.” He breathed out as he looked down at his hands, fidgeting with his fingers.

“Are your hands okay? Are they broken? Did you see Madam Pompfrey for it?”

“I didn’t want to bother her this late, she’s already taking care of Malfoy so. But, yeah they’re fine. They should be.” He shrugged.

“Alright. Well, are you okay?” You tried your best to get a look at his face.

“I think I should be the one asking you that.” He let out a weak laugh, you did the same. You soon noticed that you hadn’t thought one bit about what Malfoy said when he was ridiculing you. The intensity of the fight overtook your thoughts.

After that, it was silent. Neither of you knew what to say next, you were both going over all the things Draco had said to you before George had him on the ground in your heads.

“You didn’t deserve that, for him to say all those things about you.” He moved from his spot in the chair to next to you on the sofa, crouched over, his elbows on his knees with his fists stuck together clumsily.

“Your family didn’t deserve to be talked about like that either.” You added in, trying to push the focus on them and not you.

“Of course, I should’ve scrapped him once he mentioned my mum. At least she wasn’t there to hear him say all that rubbish.” He scoffed, “It’s not fair that you were however…I just don’t want you to be his next target because of me.” He whispered the last part, your heart broke at it. He thought those insults towards you were his fault?

You opened your mouth, trying to think of something to say in response. You couldn’t think of anything. A million thoughts were going through your head yet you were still speechless.

“‘Cause, I care for you. You know? I really do.” He added, his voice filled with sweetness and gloom.

“I do too, George. You mean a lot to me.” You unclenched his fists from each other, taking one of his hands and intertwining your fingers with his.

“Really? I do?” He sat up and looked at you, there was genuine surprise on his face.

“Of course, you absolutely do.” You smiled with your eyebrows raised. Was he really questioning how much he meant to you? Does he not know how much you care for him?

There was another silence, but this time it wasn’t sad or awkward or embarrassing or guilt ridden, it was something else. A much stronger feeling. A tension. A positive tension.

You only looked at each other, admiring each other's features, you took in every freckle scattered around his face, his dark umber colored eyes, his smooth skin, his long red eyelashes, his soft lips.

Then something inside you snapped, but not like how George snapped earlier on the field. You leaned in, pressing your lips to his, you felt him push into the kiss. His hands gently cupping around your face. It felt as if both of your lips were magnets, pulling into each other.

You pulled away to catch your breath. George stared at you, face covered in shock and passion. You weren’t able to form a sentence, he took all the words out of your mouth once he connected his to yours.

“I was hoping you would do that.” Was all he said as he grinned and you giggled, blushing and attempting to turn your head away only for it to be pulled back by George's hands holding your face and pulling you back in for more.

tell me what you thought! <3

[fangisms]

wish it on your worst enemy

A/N: if you see me butchering british slang 🤨 it never happened 🤫

Pairings: George Weasley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your worst nighmare takes a nasty spill during a scrimmage because he was distracted by you. It’s only right you go and check on him. 1.9k words

Warnings: violence by bludger, description of injury, cursing, lovesick losers, enemies to lovers???? ‘enemies’ to lovers but really idiots to lovers

George taking a bludger to the face was not the kind of news you would have liked to wake up to. Something had gone wrong during an emergency weekend scrimmage. He was laughing at something Fred said or shouting at Ron or maybe he was just distracted by his own thoughts and hadn't noticed the pesky bugger barreling towards him with every intent to bludgeon him unconscious. So he took a nasty spill from a considerable height and has been passed out in the hospital wing since six forty-five.

You rush down the hallway in your pajamas, cursing under your breath, face scrunched into a scowl, dead set on your target. Bloody quidditch. A few first years watched you nearly trample a group of girls in the hall. They were traumatized. It was bad.

"He's gone daft! This is absolutely mental—nothing is that distracting!" you shout at Ron who is actively trying to defend himself against you. He stopped you at the door because he heard you storming down the hall a full minute before you arrived.

"Calm down! He’s still alive isn't he?" he says.

"Not for long if I have anything to say about it—"

"Oi," Fred shouts, lounging in a rickety chair beside George's cot, "would you wait 'till he's at least cognizant to threaten him?"

"You!" you fume, "why didn't you warn him!" Ron has given up trying to stop you at this point. You push past him, headed straight for Fred.

"I did! I shouted for him three times. The git was proper distracted. Must've been dreaming of something really special." He winks at you, and you think you could ring his neck right about now.

"I think you mean someone," Ron teases.

Both of them. You'll ring both of their necks.

"What the hell are you two chittering about?" you hiss.

"Oh, nothing at all, your graciousness. We'll leave you two lovebirds"—Fred clears his throat, standing and nodding to his youngest brother—"I mean friends... to it."

You grumble and flip them both off as they leave. You plop down into the chair just in time for Madam Pomfrey to come fluff the pillow propped beneath his left leg. She catches your weary glance over his limp body.

"I wouldn't worry too much, dearie. Nasty spills are what young men are made for. He just needs a little rest. Time to recover," she coos, smiling up at you from the base of the cot. You briefly worry the back of your neck before managing a nod.

"Thank you, madam. I appreciate it."

She grabs a quilt from the stack she had brought to his bedside and flattens it across his torso. You tug the side to even it out, a hitch in your breath when your fingers brush his cold knuckles.

"You know, when I attended Hogwarts, the quidditch boys were all the rage. My boyfriend was a Beater as well—"

"Oh, George—! He's not my..."

"He was wonderful. But of course, he was always getting into spills. It drove me mad to see the boy I loved in so much pain. In the end, I told him he'd have to be more careful or I'd call it quits. He told me he had to focus on his career anyway." She stands silently for a moment. Solemnly.

"That's terrible. I'm so sorry."

"You live and you learn. Boys will be boys, I suppose." Out of her trance, she shrugs and gestures to the clipboard sat on the desk. You hand it to her.

"May I ask... what became of him?"

"He retired from Quidditch very young. Only a few years in and, bam: traumatic brain injury. Some people can't be helped!"

You can't help but snicker at her frankness. She smiles, pats your shoulder, and sighs.

"You just have to love ‘em while you can."

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey."

"Of course, dear. You let me know when he wakes up." She scuttles away.

You take the silence of the moment to look at him. While you can. You prop your elbows on the edge of the cot and rest your head in your hands.

"Not sure how I feel about all of that information. Not sure how much I trust that advice." You tell him like it’s a secret, nose scrunched like there’s anyone else within earshot.

How fragile he seems laid flat atop this plastic wrapped bed. How rich the watercolor purples and yellows of his bruise. Down his neck, out across his jaw. The subtle swoop of his lashes, the rosy bridge of his nose. Then down to his bird bone fingers, your heart skips at the thought of tracing over the delicate skin.

He twitches, and you startle and sit pin straight. His muscles relax, though yours refuse to. You notice a rip at the hem of his folded quidditch robes and perk up.

Eight minutes later, you’re tugging just the edge of his robe into your lap while the rest is feathered out across the linoleum floor. Your emergency sewing kit is perched on your other thigh as you thread your needle and begin stitching.

George blinks the ache from his eyes, finally awake just to find you with a thin string caught between your teeth, your brow furrowed, and your fingers pinching fabric together. He reaches up and presses the heel of his palm to his forehead.

"Thank Merlin I wore something under my uniform today—"

"George!"

The sewing kit clatters to the floor along with the robe and thread. Hopefully that needle will be easy to find. But you smile for now, and it’s one of the sweetest things he’s ever seen. No wonder he took a bludger’s hit. You’re bloody distracting. Even when you’re not around.

“I’ll go get Madam Pomfrey, she said—"

"Were you... stitching up my quidditch robes?” he says, just a hint of teasing in his hoarse voice.

You look down and gape at the mess.

"There was a tear in—when you fell, the bottom—there was a rip! I had a sewing kit on me, I was just... helping a friend."

He blinks. If he wasn’t completely crushing on you before, it’s safe to say that was the nail in the coffin.

"That's adorable," he warbles.

You look cross and put your hands on your hips and scoff.

“Well, you can’t very well play with a rip in your uniform!"

"No. No, of course not,” he mumbles, “Silly me.”

Usually, you’d mock him. You’d call him names and tease him for getting knocked on his ass by and inanimate object. But that smirk has you incapacitated. He's making this very difficult for you.

"Well!” he chirps, “Don’t let me bother you, I’ll just be lying here."

"But Pomfrey—"

"I'll live. My mind is alive, the neurons are firing. All is well, it can wait,” he says, “Please.”

Goddamn you, George Weasley. You muster up a pathetic sigh and sit back on the stool, getting back to work on his robe.

But he’s back to grinning like a fool, admiring the way your tongue pokes the corner of your mouth when you focus. It’s incredibly endearing.

"You're very beautiful."

Daggers. “Shut up.”

He chuckles. "What? I find you to be very agreeable, poppet."

"Gee, thanks, Weasley,” you huff, “Do you want this stitch fixed or not—"

"Don’t get your dear panties in a twist, I’m only trying to compliment you. Would you just take it while I’m too ill to make fun of you properly?"

But he finds you very agreeable. And now you know that out loud. More than an inkling. More than friends. Oh, he’s awful.

"Quit staring."

"Sincerest apologies."

You roll your eyes and glare at him while the needle punctures the thick fabric.

"Why don’t I just tell Madam Pomfrey—"

"And ruin a moment? Come on, let me get a good look at you, you're the reason I’m in this mess,” George mumbles.

"Me?"

"Yes, you! Your stupid face won't get out of my head."

"Be serious, Weasley—"

"I am! You’ve cursed me, poppet, can't think straight unless I’m thinking of you."

"That's not fair!" you say.

"No, it’s not," he huffs, "I love you."

Shock. From both of you. More than friends, and more than a simple crush, now. But love. Love, for Merlin’s sake! Do you love him?

"You're being idiotic—”

"No. I'm not. I've thought long and hard about it, and I love you, and you can't change my mind—"

"George, quit it,” you say.

"Everyone knows it, poppet, I adore you, and—"

"I love you, too, George, now would you shut up!"

Well, then. Secrets out, no holds barred.

And he’s smiling all smug to himself, even though his left side is a bit swollen. And you’re back to fiddling with the stitched up tear in his robe. You’ve got crazy eyes. He thinks you might murder the stitched up tear in his robe. Or confess your love to it.

You groan.

"Stop smiling like that. You look crazy."

He shrugs. "I am crazy…"

"Do not—"

"… Crazy in love."

"I hate you"

"I know."

You look at him. And he’s looking back at you terribly fondly. As fragile as he seems now, he feels invincible. You fold up his fixed uniform and set it on the desk.

"George,” you sigh, “you have to stop getting hurt."

He nods curtly. "Okay. I’m sorry."

You squint at him, suspicious and expecting just a little pushback.

"... It's... okay, I just worry about you. I don't like seeing you like this." The stool scrapes against the floor, and George reaches for your hand.

"I know you don't, poppet. It won't happen again,” he says.

"Good. And if it does, then—"

"Then I’ll quit the team.”

"What!"

"I’ll do it. I’ll quit for you. I’ve got other things to worry about anyway. More important things than some silly sport where balls fly at your face."

Your eyes sparkle. For him, and it makes him absolutely giddy. He presses his thumb to the back of your hand and cocks a brow.

"Now,” he sighs, “would you come here and give me my hard won kiss?"

"Oh, so you won a kiss.”

"Nobly so. Dutifully and honorably. Nothing less than the best for your highness."

"Fine, whatever, only because you think I’m beautiful.”

You lean over his arm, trying not to nudge any of his tender injuries. While you’re being so careful, he’s straining for your kiss, jutting his neck out and shuffling under the quilt. He grunts at the overexertion, and you sit back before he gets his kiss.

"Nope! I’m getting Pomfrey!"

"One peck! Swear, I won’t move an inch!"

"Madam, he's awake!”

"Wonderful news, darling!" she calls from the other side of the wing, preparing a jug of water and a two glasses.

"You're horrible, and you torture me. You don’t love me at all, witch!" he whines, voice low

"On the contrary, I love you a good deal too much, which is why I’m so horrible."

He grumbles something under his breath.

Then chirps: "Be my girlfriend.”

You fold your hands in your lap. "If I must"

"And let me be your boyfriend,” he pleads.

"Well, what else would you be?"

"Your servant, your house pet. A footstool if you needed it.”

“George Weasley, you’re a fool,” you tease, reaching over to fix a strand of hair behind his ear.

"Yes, I am. A fool who loves you very much.”

“Sap.”

masterlist

[vilentia]

Physical Touch

George Weasley x reader

Summary: George Weasley discovers his love language of physical touch in his relationship, leading to a deeper understanding and connection.

Just wrote something short to get the idea out of my system.

****

In their sixth year at Hogwarts, George Weasley and you had stumbled into a relationship as unexpectedly as one might stumble upon a hidden room in the castle. It was fresh, exhilarating, and filled with the kind of magic that didn't require a wand.

In the bustling corridors and beneath the ancient trees of the Hogwarts grounds, George had a way of speaking without words. His fingers would absentmindedly play with a strand of your hair during study sessions, his hand would find yours under the table in the Great Hall, and during quiet moments in the common room, his thumb would draw invisible patterns on your skin. These small gestures were his language of affection, his way of saying you mattered in a world that was often too loud and chaotic.

One crisp autumn day, as you both lounged by the Black Lake, watching the giant squid's tentacles occasionally break the surface, Fred Weasley, George's inseparable twin, ambled over with a mischievous grin. "Merlin’s beard, George! Do you need a magical adhesive to keep your hands off her for a second?"

George's smile faltered, and a shadow of doubt crossed his face. You laughed it off, assuming it was just Fred being Fred, but something shifted in George after that.

He became hesitant, his touches fewer and more restrained. The corridors seemed colder, the classes longer, and the common room a bit less welcoming. You felt the change but couldn't understand it. Why had George, always so warm and playful, suddenly turned into a distant echo of himself?

One chilly evening, in a quiet corner of the library, surrounded by ancient tomes and the soft glow of candles, you decided to breach the silence. "George, what's wrong? You've been acting so differently."

He looked up from his book, his eyes meeting yours with a vulnerability you hadn't seen before. "I... Fred made a comment the other day. About me always touching you. I started thinking, maybe it's too much. Maybe I'm making you uncomfortable."

You reached out, your hand covering his. "George, do you know what love languages are?"

He shook his head, confusion written across his face.

"They're the ways we express and feel love. Yours, I think, is physical touch. It's not too much, George. It's just your way of showing you care. I love it. It makes me feel close to you."

A small, relieved smile broke through George's uncertainty. "Really? I never thought about it like that. I just... feel more 'me' when I'm close to you."

Grinning, you nudged his shoulder playfully. "Well, feel free to be 'you'. Hogwarts can be a big, lonely castle, but your touch makes it feel a lot more like home."

From that moment, George's hesitancy melted away. His touches returned, each one a silent word in a language only the two of you understood. And in the middle of a school full of magic and mysteries, you found comfort and warmth in the simplest magic of all - a touch, a look, a connection that needed no spells to be real.

[wzrd-wheezes]

Angry make up sex w George because why not

Take Control - George Weasley x Reader

AN - this request literally made me go feral so this turned out way longer than I expected lmfao

1.5k

Contains: arguing, swearing,dom!George, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), light bondage, and just general smuttiness. As always minors dni.

It was rare for Y/N and George to argue. Having lived together for a while, they were used to having little spats that would normally be resolved in a matter of minutes. However, this time things had seemed to escalate rather quickly, and the pair hadn’t spoken for most of the day. They lived in the flat above the twins joke shop, and unfortunately for Y/N and George, Fred was away on business so there was no middle man around to keep the peace.

The argument was over something stupid to do with the twins joke shop, an issue that they were having with one of the their suppliers.

“All I’m saying is, if they’re not going to bother sending us stuff out on time, then we may as well drop them and go to a different supplier,” Y/N said, leaning against their table, her coffee cup clasped between her hands.

“I can’t just drop the supplier without taking it up with Fred though can I?” George retorted

“Fred’s away for a few weeks, George! We can’t just stand around and wait for him to get back.” She argued, “Merlin forbid that you might actually have to make a decision for once!” She stood up quickly from the table, her chair pushing out behind her, the legs of it scraping against the floor with a harsh squeak.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” George asked hotly, standing up to join her.

“I’m saying that you let Fred make all the decisions! You can do this without him you know? You need to take control for once!” she crossed the kitchen to drop her mug in the sink, “I’m going downstairs, we need to open the shop up.”

The atmosphere on the shop floor that morning was frosty, the pair barely uttering two words to eachother. Y/N tried to busy herself tidying things around the shop, refilling the shelves and helping customers. For the most part, the shop was fairly quiet compared to usual. The first time that the pair had spoken since their spat in the morning was when Y/N called George over to assist her with a customer.

“Would you do me a favour and grab another one of these from the stockroom?” she showed him the box that she was holding. George nodded, barely making eye contact with her and walked off. He returned a short while later, handed her the box and walked off again. Y/N finished off with the customer and helped them check out, bidding them farewell as they left. There was a jingle of keys as George walked towards the door, not even looking at Y/N as he passed. He reached into his pocket, retrieving the keys and locked the door.

“Upstairs. Now.” he commanded, making eye contact with Y/N for the first time in hours.

“What are you doing? It’s the middle of the day-”

“Y/N, I swear to Merlin if you don’t go upstairs now…” he trailed off.

“So you’re not going to speak to me all day and then start ordering me around? I don’t think so,” She replied, giving him a look.

Within seconds, he’d moved as fast as lightening and had her pressed against the wall. He looked down at her with fire in his eyes, his hands either side of her head, bracing himself against the wall. Y/N smirked, twigging on to what was happening.

“I’d wipe that fucking smirk off your face if I were you.” He whispered, kicking her feet apart and pressing his knee between her legs. His eyes stared into hers intensely, his lips pressed together. Y/N stayed silent.

"What was it that you said earlier? I need to take control for once?" he questioned her.

"I didn't mean it like-"

George cut her off by smashing his lips against hers. Y/N groaned into his mouth and George used the opportunity of her parted lips to slip his tongue in. The kiss was rough, their teeth clashing together, sinking into each other's lips as if their lives depended on it. Y/N reached up to tangle her hands in his hair, but before her fingertips even brushed against it, George had her wrists pinned against the wall using one large hand. He looked down at her, eyes dark with passion and his lips bruised with the force of their kiss. He dropped her wrists and jerked his head in the direction of the stairs that led up to their flat.

Before they had even reached the bedroom, George had Y/N pinned against the wall once again. This time, using it as leverage so he could lift her up so her legs were wrapped around his waist. He kissed her fiercely as he carried her, throwing her down onto the bed. As soon as he put her down, Y/N scrambled to remove her clothes, hastily throwing them into a pile on the floor.

"Can't wait any longer, huh?" he smirked, his slender fingers reaching down to unbuckle his belt. He slid it out from the belt loops torturously slow, the leather gliding against his fingers smoothly. He kneeled on the bed in front of her, once again using one of his hands to hold her wrists in place. Carefully, he wrapped his belt around her wrists, fastening it to the headboard. He leaned down to kiss her neck.

"If I take it too far just tell me and I'll stop, okay?" he whispered.

"George, if you stop now I might just have to kill you."

Smiling, he stood back up, taking a second to admire his handiwork before removing his shirt and trousers, his dick straining against his boxers.

"You look so fucking pretty like that," he said, before kissing her again. He trailed his kisses down her neck, over her chest and stomach, hovering over the area where she wanted him most.

"George, please." Y/N groaned, tugging against her restraints.

"Hm?" he hummed, glancing up at her, "desperate already are we?"

Y/N bucked her hips up in response, and George quickly had them pinned back against the bed with his arm. He kissed her thighs sweetly, working his way up to her aching core. Y/N moaned out as he nipped the flesh of her inner thighs. Growing impatient himself, George licked a stripe up her pussy, earning a moan from Y/N. He buried his face between her thighs, his skillful tongue working her up easily. He slipped a finger inside her and began pumping quickly before adding another one. George knew exactly how to make Y/N tick, he knew exactly how to move his fingers inside of her in order to make her fall apart for him. It was mere minutes before Y/N was moaning out loudly.

"I'm c-close, George," she gasped. George halted his movements, withdrawing his fingers from inside her, "No, don't stop, please."

He shuffled up the bed so that he was leaning over her.

"If you're gonna cum, then you're gonna do it on my cock, yeah?" he whispered gruffly, shoving his fingers into her mouth, "taste good?"

Leaving two fingers in her mouth, he used his other hand to undo the belt that was restraining her. He threw it on the floor and it landed with a clink. Slipping out of his boxers, he took his cock in his hand and pumped it a few times before lining it up with her entrance. He slipped in slowly, giving her time to adjust before quickening his pace.

"Fucking love having you under me like this," he groaned. With each stroke Y/N brought her hips up to meet his.

They didn't stay in that position long before George flipped her over. Y/N quickly got on all fours, arching her back towards him. He slipped inside her again and quickly got back into the rhythm of fucking her. His hands roamed greedily over her arse, grabbing handfuls of the flesh, occasionally his palm cracking down on it roughly.

"Fuck, George," Y/N moaned out.

"Getting close, baby?" he asked, grabbing a fistful of her hair and pulling her up so her back was pushed against his chest. Y/N nodded frantically. George wrapped a hand around her throat, adjusting her head so that she was looking at him.

"Want to see that pretty face when you cum," he grunted, "Want you to look at me." His hips snapped quickly, chasing his own orgasm as well as hers. Y/N moaned loudly, leaning back into George.

"George I'm-"

"I know, baby." he cut her off, "cum for me."

That was all it took to tip her over the edge as she came undone for him, moaning out his name and a string of curse words. George followed quickly behind, his thrusts becoming more sporadic as he finished inside of her.

They both collapsed on the bed, absolutely spent.

"C'mere," George whispers, holding out his arm so the she could snuggle into him, "M' sorry for arguing earlier."

"We can argue all the time if that's how it ends," Y/N grinned, kissing him on the cheek.

[elfenbensord]

hiya! i’m OBSESSED with your writing btw..

i was wondering whether i could please request smth with george w x fem reader

was thinking something like george (and fred, because we love a secretly supportive brother) have been writing to their mum about how all round great r is and molly just HAS to meet her

(maybe slight hurt/comfort with r having not so nice parents) reader is invited to spend *pick a holiday* at the burrow… chaotic fluff and motherly doting from molly ensues

tysm if you consider this xx

a/n: THANK YOU for choosing to be obsessed with my silly little pieces! also, this request is so wholesome! was a real cozy moment to write this.

pairing: george weasley x fem!reader

warnings: none.

pretty good idea

14.10.23

“Do you really think this is a good idea, Georgie?” you say as you shift your weight from one foot to another. 

George almost melts at the nickname. He most definitely melts at the thought of you caring so much about him, to be nervous about just meeting his family. 

He places a reassuring hand on you shoulder, and lets in travel down to taka your hand in his. Squeezing it tightly, he says, “They will absolutely love you.”

Standing just outside the Burrow, he looks at you with a soft smile.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

He exhales lightly. “I’m just enjoying this moment when I still get to have you all for myself. It will all change in just a sec.”

“It will…” you mumble, not fully managing to shake of the nervous feeling harbouring in your chest.

The worrying wrinkle between your brows is back. “Actually, maybe I should just go–”

The door to the Burrow slams open, revealing a cheery, round-faced woman. 

“There you are!” Mrs. Weasley almost yells. She pulls you in for a hug, squeezing tight. “I’ve been so looking forward to meeting you! George has mentioned you in every letter – every letter – he’s written to me. I thought, if (y/n) is so amazing, I simply have to meet her!”

She continues her chattering as she pulls you inside. Inside is bubbling with activity and chatter and light and laughter. It’s overwhelming at first, your own family always keeping a respectful distance and somewhat cold aura. But this warmth, this obvious love, welcomes you and pulls you in.

“Hey, (y/n)!” Fred approaches you, reaching his hand up for a high-five. 

You hesitantly comply, saying, “Hi Fred.”

He smiles lightly. “I see you survived mum.”

You smile, still feeling the warmth and welcoming aura of Molly Weasley. “She’s really sweet.”

He snorts, saying in a sarcastic tone. “Yeah, yeah. Just you wait til she starts knitting you socks for Christmas!”

You can’t help but smile at the thought. “They would be my most loved socks of all.”

—

After dinner, you end up in the small living room. Ginny and Fred are busy playing a cardgame. Mr and Mrs Weasley make low conversation in the kitchen, the radio buzzing with some cheesy song about “Love is a strange kind of magic…”

George pulls you closer, almost pulling you into his lap. Sitting in the worn-out couch, you can feel his breath on your ear. He’s warm and wonderful, his knitted sweater slightly scratching on you exposed neck. You relax into him, smiling contentedly.

“I told you they would love you. Just like I do.” George cuddles his freckled nose into your ear. It tickles ever so slightly.

You hum. “I love you too.”

Fred throws a candy wrapper across the room, hitting George in the back of the head. “Stop being gross!”

“You’re just jealous, since you don’t have the balls to ask out Angelina!”

Fred’s ears turn red, starting to match his hair. “Shut up, I’m working on it.”

“Oh, yeah? Work a little harder then!” George bites back.

He turns his attention to you, softening instantly. Pulling ha loose strand of hair and toying with it between his fingers, he almost whispers, “You still think it was a bad idea?”

You lean into him. “Hmm. No. Pretty good idea, actually.”

“Yeah. Pretty good.”

[writersblockedx]

Potions for Pranks

Pairing - George Weasley x Fem!Reader Summary - Fred and George are practising one of their latest potions on Y/n. They suddenly realise their wrong doings when Y/n begins to forget her memories. Warnings - None I don't think Words - 1.8K

Masterlist

Y/n's memory was beginning to blur. Just specks, small pieces that she couldn't help as they slowly started to slip away.

To begin with, the girl had been blissfully unaware. She, along with Angelina, Lee and the twins, were seated at the great hall for breakfast. Something which had seemed as usual as normal. Until George had slipped some concoction into Y/n's drink without her noticing. The Wealsey boy had been under the belief it was his and Fred's newest potions: kissing concoction. Alas, he had gotten the bottles mixed up.

"So, Y/n?" Hummed George mischievously as he leaned closer to his girlfriend. "Feel anything...I don't know...strong?"

Her brows knotted and she slid away from the boy slightly, "I've got no idea what you're talking about." She answered, confused already, yet unaware as to how her memory was beginning to crack.

Fred, the only other one in on the prank, had started giggling, leading to the other's starting to catch on. "Maybe you've got an urge to do something." George wiggled his eyebrows, but at that point, as Y/n stared back at him, she noted such memory was started to fade away.

Panic settled in and she addressed the rest of the group: "What have you done?" Her tone was blunt and pierced through the air.

Everyone caught on. Something wasn't right. This wasn't some mindless prank the twins had pulled, but something that had become daunting to her. Angelina leaned forward slightly over the table and reached out her hand. "Y/n? What is it?" She queried.

The girl could only shake her head, soon finding herself lost in the place she felt safest. "I don't-" She glanced to George as his pupils filled with worry. "I don't know." Her head snapped back to Angelina. "I can't remember."

They each shared looks. All of which were troublesome. Fred finally piped up, sheepishly asking his brother, "George, which bottle did you pick up?"

George hadn't torn his eyes from Y/n until that moment. "There was more than one?" That's when they all realised they were well and truly fucked.

"Yeah. There was the kissing potion and the- erm- the forgetfulness potions."

His words thudded against the air. There was no need for George to answer the question. They all knew. And, in the sum of three words, Angelina conveyed all their emotions, "You absolute morons."

Fred raised his hands in surrender, "Don't blame me!" Then he pointed this finger to his brother, "George was the one who picked the wrong bottle up."

The other twin rolled his eyes, commenting, "Very mature." Before turning to face Y/n who was still sat at complete loss, trying to grasp onto the memories which were slowly fading away. His eyes softened as his palms reached up to cup the sides of her face. "Hey, you're alright." Though, that he couldn't be sure of yet.

"Why do you even have a forgetfulness postion?" Questioned Lee, his curious tone gliding through the unsettling atmosphere.

"Testing some things out." Fred shrugged as his gaze snapped back to Y/n who hadn't dared to look away from George. "We're trying to make a short-term forgetfulness. You know, get away with a bit more stuff." He rambled on as he came to realise how bad this may turn out for them.

"And that," Angelina pointed to Y/n's cup, "Isn't the one for short-term memory?"

Fred shook his head.

"How do you feel?" George asked through a whisper, but in the group's silence, they all heard it. And they were all eagerly awaiting her answer, eagerly awaiting to find out how much memory their friend had lost.

Her pupils shot between the different people in front of her. The people she was closest to. The people who probably took up the majority of her memories. But, as she looked around, she just saw faces. Faces of which she was struggling to identify. "I don't- I can't-" She stuttered. The only thing which felt known was the red-head's hands on her cheeks. They were gentle and comforting as her body found them familiar, while her brain found them foreign. "I can't remember."

The pure panic in her pupils pushed a silence. Their friend now staring at them like they were ghosts. "It's like I know myself, but I can't, I can't place names to faces." She explained through a trembling tone.

"It's okay." Eased George as he took his hand in hers, hoping to soothe her concern. Then he turned his head and addressed the rest of the group, "Right? We can figure something out?" There was still panic woven throughout George's tone and it was louder than his words.

Lee scoffed, "Pretty sure this is above anything we can fix." At least he were being realistic. Though, his realism had only bought him a kick in the shin from the boy across from him. "Ouch!" He winced but was silenced none the less.

Angelina looked down the table in the Great Hall before leaning in as if her words were about to be dangerous. "You know, if we can't fix this, then that means..." She glanced between the boys who weren't seeming to catch on.

"That means? It means what?" Inquired Fred with knitted brows.

The girl huffed and let on, "We're going to have to go to Snape."

They seemed to dread that more than having a friend who didn't quite remember them. "Snape?" Y/n reiterated in curiosity. "That is?" They found it surprising how easily it had been to forget such a distinguished man. Then again, they supposed it showed the intensity of the potion they had accidentally slipped into Y/n's drink.

"Someone you'll wish you could forget." Replied Lee with the raise of his brows; wishing now that he had been the one to take the burden of the potion.

"Surely there's someone else." George thought. "I mean, anyone else. You know how many points he'll deduct?"

Angelina scowled, "And that's more important than getting your girlfriend's memories back, is it?"

"I'm just saying maybe there's a professor a bit nicer, who may be able to fix this just as well."

"He's potions master, George, there's no one better than him." No one liked the idea, but Angelina was right and there was no point in arguing. "Come on," She urged as she slipped from her seat and everyone else followed.

Y/n stuck close to George, their hands still perfectly interlocked. "Where are we going?" She asked him as they followed behind the others.

He glanced to her as they continued out of the Great Hall, "To someone who can get your memories back." He informed her.

She nodded her head but still seemed uncertain of the idea. "Right." She muttered before looking to him through confused eyes, "And, remind me again, your name is?"

A slight smile hooked at his lips, "George." He told her.

The group wandered around the hallways. For once, they were dismissive. For once, they were aiming to combat any attention as they hid their most recent prank: Y/n. Luckily, most students still lingered in the Great Hall and they were able to get to potions class without many glances their way.

But their real troubles would only begin when they knocked against the door. Angelina looked back at George, who seemed sewed too the forgetful girl. "You ready?" She questioned and the red-head nodded.

Angelina raised her hand and let her knuckles knock gently against the wood. They waited a moment or two before the door swung open and Snape ducked his head out. He glared at each of them, stopping on Angelina. "Sorry to bother you, sir, but erm-" She looked to Y/n and then back to the professor. "We need some help."

The man narrowed his eyes and, for a moment, George could have sworn he was about to decline his help. But, alas, he opened the door fully, "Come in." He instructed as the group fumbled into potions class. "What is it this time?"

And so, Angelina started to explain. She explained everything. Snape listened all the way through and didn't make any comment until the girl stopped. He then huffed and through the trembling silence, looked to the twins and said, "I'm half inclined to leave her as is for a few hours, hopefully teach you a lesson you're both obviously lacking." The two bit their tongues. "Instead, I'm sure a deduction of ten house points will be sufficient."

George sent Angelina a stare which could only read: I told you so. "Do you have the potion?" Snaped queried.

"Yeah." Answered George before rummaging through his robe pockets and pulling out the small bottle and handing it over.

Snape's gaze dragged over to the girl who resembled a deer caught in the headlights. "Take a seat please, Miss Y/l/n." He told her, but she didn't seem to make any move. Well, that was until George prompted her. Snape kept quiet and unscrewed the potion, sniffing it to search for it's ingredients. "And I wonder, what were you doing with such a potion?"

The twins looked to one another, shared in their expression, before addressing Snape. "Revision, sir." Fred answered.

Snape chose not to comment before taking the potion and beginning to gather what he needed for a remedy. He put it all together, mixed it and then returned and passed the concoction to Y/n. She looked up with doe-eyes, curiously holding the potion she wasn't sure of. "Drink it, Y/n." George encouraged with the nod of his head.

She glanced between him and the drink. She wasn't sure, but for some reason, she found that the boy in front of her was one to be trusted. So she followed his instruction and swallowed it all.

They all nervously anticipated if it were to work or not. They probably should have had trust in their professor, but Snape wasn't the most trustworthy. A moment passed and Y/n showed no sign of returning to her usual self. So George offered his hand to her, "Y/n? How do you feel?" He questioned.

She looked up slowly. She wore an expression that the boy struggled to depict. It seemed relieved, yet there were speckles of irritation written into her pupils. Slowly, she stood from the stool and fully faced George. Before he could even realise what was going on, he was getting gently hit in the chest by the girl, followed by her mutterings, "You idiot, George Weasley! You stupidity amazes me sometimes!" She went on before he caught her fists and a grin spread across his lips.

He quipped his head, "How I've missed you."

[maiiiwrites]

★ | WARM HUGS AND PJS . JPEG

PAIRING ! george weasley x f!reader

IN WHICH you spend xmas morning with your beloved or in ron’s words accidentally traumatizing him forever

how odd. the common room felt unusually cold despite the warmth flickering from the fireplace. it made you feel alone, a sentiment you've always felt during the holidays. but something about this year felt different.

maybe it's because of the comfort that tightly clung onto you.

"georgie.. baby.." you murmured.

a small hum escaped the giant redhead. despite that, he remained still. with no intention of letting you go. if possible, it seemed that he snuggled even closer to you.

you giggle at his clingy antics. "baby you have to let me go."

"mhmph no," george dismissed.

you knew you have to find a way to make him let you go before the students start rushing down.

"georgie we can't be found like this."

"and why is that love? you ashamed of me?" he frowned.

godric did he look absolutely adorable with his tiny pout. you gently ran your fingers through his bright red locks. noticing how george unconsciously leans into your touch.

"it's not that baby. you know that i love you, but do you really want to be teased this early? on christmas day?"

his brows furrowed as if he's contemplating his options. "i don’t mind if–"

aaaack!

a shriek from behind pulled your attention away from your lover. you couldn't help but laugh at ron’s disgusted face. "seriously?! this early in the morning?!" he groaned, shielding his eyes as if he walked in on an inappropriate scene.

"my apologies ron," you utter.

you eventually see harry and hermione come down the stairs and stand behind ron. hermione asks why ron is standing there looking like an idiot, something which he grumbles about. they were quick to check the tree and go through their presents.

"yn! look mom got you something!" ron cheered.

"and nothing for you george," he taunted, sticking his tongue out at him.

much to george's dismay, you untangle your limbs and walk towards his younger brother. "how sweet of mrs. weasley!" happily receiving the gift. it's been a while since you've received a gift given out of love. you carefully unwrap the gift, anticipating what lies beneath all the wrapping.

you soften spotting a matching set of pajamas. it's the perfect size for you and george. tears well up in your eyes as you gaze at the pjs in your hands. george, who has been watching you with pure adoration, notices how silent you've become.

"love?" he calls out.

slowly, you stood up and made your way towards george. burying your face at the crook of his neck, feeling safe enough to let out quiet sobs. george instinctively wraps his arms around you. he holds you close, muttering 'i love you's and assurance.

after a few minutes of simply basking in his embrace, you pull back to admire his features. you bring your hand up to brush along his freckled dusted cheeks. leaning in for a quick kiss that left him chasing after your lips.

"let's change into these, stay in, and cuddle all day. how's that sound?" you offer.

a lopsided grin made its way onto his face. he pulls you up and catches you off guard when he carries you bridal style. you were both a giggling fit as you made your way up to his dorm.

one thing was for certain, this year was definitely the best holidays you've had so far.

bonus:

harry speaks up once you've left, "it's like they're in their own little world."

"it's disgusting really," ron gagged.

hermione was quick to hit him. "they're adorable! you just won’t know a thing about romance. i bet you can’t even woo a girl."

ron frowns and quickly defends himself, saying how he did manage to go on a date once! which hermione ignores, her attention on the wonderful quill mrs. weasley gifted her.

© maiiiwrites — ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

[shadowbriar]

George Weasley - What Matters

Pairing : George Weasley x (she/her) Reader Word Count : 0.8k Warning : Takes place on the night after the Seven Potters event. Not proofread I'm too tired. Synopsis : Soothing conversation after what seems to be the greatest nightmare the couple had to live through. Notes : Part of Shadowbriar's 2024 Valentines Project. If you like this story and would like to support me, please visit my kofi page and perhaps get me a coffee?☕

"Have you ever imagined a world where we’re not together?”

George frowns, lifting from the bed to lay on his side, his arm supporting his head. He watches her closely, seeing the glimmer of uncertainty in her eyes. Supposed the nightmare of him arriving at the Burrow with blood soaking his shirt earlier was still etched in her mind. 

The plan was a success, should one argue. Their objective was met. Harry is now safe and sound, sleeping in Ron’s room like a baby. Though some sacrifices needed to be made, loss to mourn and cry for, at least knowing that what they fought for was achieved would be the softer side of the bed they’ll sleep on tonight.

“No, never.” He says firmly, trying to provide some comfort for her “Why would I ever think that?”

She shrugs, “Reasons.”

Gently, George reaches for her hand and places it to his chest. He hopes that it could ease her wary mind a little. He wanted her to feel his heart beat, to feel his heat, to feel him. He knows that it would take more than sweet words and tender embraces tonight to get them through the night, to get them just a blink of sleep no matter how sore and aching their bodies are, but he has no idea how else he could comfort her when he too was still a little shaken from the event that occurred.

“I’m sorry,” She whispers, her voice shaky as she tries her best not to let the tears fall “I should be the one comforting you, but I just—”

“Shh, it’s alright, Darling,” George says as he pulls her close “It’s okay. I’m right here.”

“I could have lost you.”

“But you didn’t,” He reassures, patting her head gently “You’ll never lose me.”

“But I almost did, George. I almost lost you.”

“Love,” George pulls away a little, staring deep into her eyes with that boyish smile “It would take much more than Voldy’s gothic underling to keep us apart, trust me.”

She forces a smile, one that didn’t truly reach her eyes. Her stare was still vacant, like she’s trying to comprehend her surroundings and finding firm stepping after the rug beneath her feet was pulled. There has been no greater horror, no bigger fear and terror than the one she felt a couple hours ago.

“I can’t lose you,” She says to him “I just can’t.”

“I know. I can’t lose you, either.” He says gently, caressing her cheek “I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

“What’s left of you, you mean.”

George raised an eyebrow, “Meaning?”

“You lack an ear,” She tries to jest, smiling slightly bigger though her eyes still welled of tears “Can’t decide if it makes you lose a couple points in the appearance department or if it enhances it.”

“The latter, of course. You have one hell of an unkillable boyfriend,” He says proudly, grinning “Reckon muggles write it on their papers? A bloody ear fell from the sky. Imagine the horror!”

Her laughter finally breaks. Though it didn’t last as long as George wished it would, the lingering smile on her lips was enough to tell him that the storm is slowly passing. Gently, he leans in and kisses her. How the night went by was certainly unideal but now that she’s here, laying on his bed, everything feels alright. Like the pain on his ear was reduced into a slight itch and the soreness of his body was caused by nothing but a typical quidditch practice.

The sigh she let go as they parted lifted tons of her burden. The corners of her lips were still curled, satisfied with the solace they could both find in each other though chaos still unravels around them. It was modest and unadorned, but much more than enough to soothe both of their scarred minds.

“I love you,” She says softly “I don’t want to ever imagine a world without you.”

“Then don’t,” George answers “Don’t imagine it, don’t think about it, don’t worry about it because it would never happen. It’s us or nothing, remember? That’s all that matters.”

She chuckles, “That’s a bit extreme now, init? Us or nothing?”

“Well, I wouldn’t have anyone other than you,” He argues, raising an eyebrow “Do you have anyone you’d have other than me?”

“There’s a short list of possible names.” She jokes once again “You’re in my top three at the moment, honestly.”

“I hate you.”

“Okay, top five now from that comment.”

George let out a satisfied laughter, pulling her head close to his chest that she could feel the echo of his chuckle and the steady beating of his heart. Her arms now encircle his waist. There seems to be too much space between them tonight though their bodies were cramped together on such a tiny bed. No close is close enough for the two right now.

“I hope you know I didn’t mean that.” She whispers to his shirt “There could be no one but you.”

“I know,” George says, planting a kiss to the crown of her head “I know, Sweetheart, I know.”

[pizzapottah]

summer vacation

summary: you and george go on vacation together- chaos ensues.

pairing: george weasley x reader (no use of y/n)

word count: 4.8k

warnings: established relationship, swearing, mentions of throwing up, suggestive (?) mostly none, pure fluffity fluff

author's note: based on my own vacations in italy (except that i also live there so it's not as romanticised as some ff make it), english is not my first language so constructive criticism is really appreciated, enjoy!!

"Pshh, baby..."

A grumble leaves your lips as ice cold, damp fingers pinch your waist. You shove George's hand away, stubbornly keeping your eyes shut. You're too relaxed, comfortable and warm to give into his prodding.

Your boyfriend whines loudly, "C'mon, babeeeeee," and you ignore him as well as you can, turning in your sunbed so that your back faces him - and you can imagine the pout he has despite your closed eyes. Two minutes of peace pass, where the only audible sounds are the crashing of the waves and the chatter of the other tourists on vacation - and then something heavy, cold and wet lays on you.

"Merlin!" you screech, trying to push off of yourself your boyfriend. "George, I swear, you're insufferable."

He blows raspberries on your cheek and neck, following the curve of your throat until he reaches your chest. He leaves a soft kiss on the exposed part of one of your breasts and then he settles, a dumb smile on his face. "Oh, I could stay here forever."

You raise an eyebrow - his coolness is appreciated, but you know you won't be going back to your peaceful sleep anytime soon. So you dart a hand through his hair, frizzy from the saltwater, and smile softly when he almost purrs at the contact. "Now, you big baby, is there a reason why you woke me up or did you just want cuddles?"

He suddenly raises his head, with determination in his eyes. "There is a reason, actually," he says it like he’s going to tell you a secret, then lowers his voice. "what or who is 'euros'?"

You look at him for a moment, in complete disbelief, then burst out laughing. He shushes you immediately, putting a hand on your mouth. "Shhh! Babe, I think there’s a plot against us. I gave them five galleons for an ice cream and they refused it! They said they only accept euros and that I shouldn’t try to scam them. What the bloody hell are euros?"

By this time you have tears in your eyes and you are trying so hard to not start cackling. "George," you wheeze. "euros are a currency. You know that muggles don’t accept galleons, right? A galleon is, like… almost six euros."

He pouts again. "Is there a wizard bank near? Where can i get these 'euros'?"

You shake your head and gently motion for him to get off of the sunbed. He does and you get up too, putting on your flip-flops and your sunglasses, wrapping your lilac pareu on your waist and opening the beach bag to get your purse. "I knew this would have happened. C’mon, let’s go."

It’s no surprise that your boyfriend doesn’t know that muggles don’t use galleons - he was born in a family of wizards, and he never shared his father’s interest in muggles. You know just because your mother’s a muggle born and you often went to muggle locations during holidays - much like this. You thank her for suggesting to bring muggle money with you.

You figure that between the foreign accent and language, George doesn't understand pretty much anything of what the locals say. Yesterday, you two stopped at a stand, and he bought two matching seashells necklaces for the both of you - and he gave the vendor three galleons. Now, common vendors wouldn’t accept galleons because they look like fake coins to muggles and certainly not like one of their currencies, but stand workers in italy are no common vendors - especially the ones that work on the beach. Once they smell a deal, they never let you go. Most of them are able to recognize real gold - they would know, as all that they sell is bijouterie and definitely nothing actually valuable apart from the memory it will hold. 

So poor George got robbed of three galleons by a man who barely spoke any english, while you tried to explain to him that he was getting scammed by himself. He didn’t have to pay three galleons, but once he asked the vendor how much were the two necklaces he held up three fingers - probably not even thinking about the fact that he could give him anything but euros. So, despite your protests, George paid for two seashell string necklaces with three coins made out of pure gold - you never thought you’d see the day where the George Weasley voluntarily paid more than he actually had to. 

And now he clings to you - holding onto your waist beads and pareu as he follows you like a lost puppy. You get to the colourful ice cream parlour that sits in the middle of the beach and see the seller widen his eyes behind the counter, grimacing. 

"Oh, non lui di nuovo…"

Well, at least the parlour looks enticing. You nod, "I know, I’m sorry, whatever he did, please excuse him. We’ll take two cones." You turn your head to your boyfriend, "What flavors do you want, honey?"

George’s heart flutters - how can he think about food when you call him honey like that? "Dunno. You choose."

You nod again to the man. "We’ll take one with hazelnut and pistachio and another with chocolate and strawberry."

The salesman, maybe understanding that whatever happened with the Weasley was a misunderstanding, smiles at you. "Of course, signorina." And as he is putting ice cream on the cones, he asks with a thick Italian accent, "He’s your boyfriend, I presume?"

You awkwardly laugh. "Oh, yes. He doesn’t really understand Italian or accents, so he struggles with understanding the locals." The theory is proved to be true as George watches you two talk with furrowed brows. 

The vendor chuckles and passes you two your cones. And as you pay, he says, "You two are really a cute couple. He looks like he’s really in love."

You take the receipt he gives you and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, smiling sheepishly. "Well, I surely hope so."

Once you’re outside, you give George his chocolate and strawberry ice cream and expect a "Oh, babe, you know me so well,". Instead, he looks at you like he’s disappointed. "You paid," he states.

You raise an eyebrow. You know where this is going to end - it’s the same reason why he insisted so much on paying for the two necklaces. "I did," you murmur as you both go back to the beach and to your designated spot, with two sunbeds and a big umbrella. You sit were not even ten minutes ago you were sleeping, and he sits on the lounge on your right. The fact that he sat so distant from you makes you frown - since you arrived, he refused to stay in his own sunbed, not wanting to leave your side unless it was to take a swim. "You wanna try my flavours?" he looks at you, pouting. "No." 

"Aw, c’mon. You can’t stay mad at me because of, like, five euros. It’s not even a galleon."

"I can and I will."

You knew he was just being petty. So once you finish your ice cream, you get up - leaving the sunglasses and the pareu under the umbrella. "Okay. I’m going for a swim, you’re free to join me when you want."

It’s almost evening, but the sun is nowhere near to be setting. You like it’s feeling on your skin - you feel warm and relaxed. After a hell of a school year and before the start of your last year at hogwarts, it’s just what you need. You ask yourself how you will ever manage next year without George - just the last two months of the semester have been unbearable, barely seeing him at all, except for the few times he came to visit you and you met at Hogsmeade. 

It was during one of his visits in may that he proposed to you about going on a vacation together. "The shop is going really well," he said, excited, referring to the Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. You were - and still are, of course - really proud of seeing him so happy about his dream becoming reality. The glint in his eyes when he talks about it is something you're sure you will never get tired of. "And, well, you know… me and Fred always split the profit, yes? I’ve already saved up a good part of it - I thought about going on vacation with you. Like the ones you and your parents go on."

He was referring to the annual summer break vacation you’d go to with your family - every year, without any exceptions, your parents would rent a small cabin in Bournemouth and pass two or three weeks there. Some years other members of the family tagged along - and in the last years, George tagged along - but before you or brothers were born, it was just your parents’ tradition, something that started casually and then continued by habit. 

The last three years - alas, since you’ve been together - you always invited him to the cabin with your family to spend a week or two together, as his mother wouldn’t let him stay any longer.

(You knew Molly was just an excuse. You were pretty sure that it actually was because of Fred, as the twins were never really accustomed to being separated, and the number of the letters he sent always grew day by day.)

Obviously, it was all paid by your parents. They didn’t care, as they had money to spare and were more than happy to please you by bringing George. You knew that often Mrs Weasley tried to pay back your parents, but you also knew that they always strictly refused. 

It was a win-win. Your annoying brothers had someone to play Quidditch with, your parents could relax more without having to entertain three moody teenagers by themselves, and you got to spend time with your favourite person in the whole world. It was only during that conversation at Rosa Lee Teabag that you understood how much those holidays had affected him.

"I wanna take you somewhere nice," he murmured sheepishly - and he did, take you somewhere nice, since now you were on a beach in sardinia - "For once, I want to be the one to take you on vacation. Now I can, so, if you tell me that you’d go with me I’ll start organising - I’ve already got something in mind." and oh, how could you ever deny him?

But surely, you didn’t expect him to be so strict about paying everything.

He paid the cabin, he paid the resort, he paid the bloody shell necklaces - and then he doesn’t even know what a fucking euro is! How is it even possible?

After your swim, you decide to start heading towards the shore - you’re not sure how much time has passed, but from where you stand you see that many tourists are starting to leave. You turn back, still standing in the water - that now reaches your waist - and watch the horizon. The sun isn’t setting, but the sky is starting to grey a little and probably, you and Heorge should retire to your cabin soon to shower before dinner. 

Someone hugs you from behind, leaving a kiss on your shoulder, and you don’t even have to see his mop of red hair to know who it is. "You alright, George?"

You feel him shake his head. "Don't feel t'good."

And that’s where you forget that you should be giving him a hard time - give him a bloody lesson, so that maybe on day he stops being so petty - because he is burning up. Not the "I have a fever" type of burning up, no, it’s the "I have third degrees burns" type of burning up.

You immediately turn and put your hands on is cheeks, noticing that he’s so red he looks like a tomato. "Merlin, George,’ you exclaim. "did you put on sunscreen?"

He whines, putting his hands on your waist, fiddling with your waist beads. "Is sunscreen that tube of cream that smells awful and is sticky?"

"The one I put on you yesterday and this morning? Yes, George, did you put it on?"

"F’course not! smells awful," at this point he’s slurring, melting in your hands. You widen your eyes - Merlin, why does he always behave like a child? "C’mon, George, here- wet your head and try to refresh a bit in the water, I’ll go take our things and the bag- and stay by the shore, so if you drown I can save you-"

Two hours later, you’re in your cabin, pressing the cordless phone you found there in your ear, as you wait for any Weasley to respond. You know that the old muggle phone that they have is probably one of Arthur’s most prized possessions, always kept like it was made out of gold, so you can only hope that someone answers as soon as possible. And they do.

"HELLO!" screams Ginny, "I’M GINNY WEASLEY! WHO ARE YOU? WHY ARE YOU CALLING? HOW DOES THIS THING WORK?"

You grimace, "It’s me, Ginny. You don’t have to-"

She screams your name, "OH, HIIII! HOW’S IT GOING IN ITALY? IS THE PASTA NICE? WHERE’S LOVERBOY? IS HE TREATING YOU WELL?"

Behind her you hear a big commotion - no doubt George’s siblings and parents, asking how the vacation’s going and how you two are finding yourselves. "I- Ginny, you don’t have to scream. Can you pass me Fred?"

There’s a thud, a screaming match ensues and then you hear Fred on the line. "HELLO, HOW CAN I HELP YOU?"

You’re going to get a headache. "First of all, stop screaming," you seethe. "second, your twin’s got a sunstroke. He’s being dramatic and continues to say that he thinks he’s going to die, so I thought that before his last breath he must want to hear his twin’s voice."

On the other line, you hear Molly screech about how he’s always so irresponsible, and about how after Fred talks to him, she wants to have a word with her son too. You shiver - you wouldn’t want to be George right now. 

You go to the bathroom, where said redhead is lying in the tub, still in his swimsuit, in cold water and ice, whining about how he’s never going to the beach again. "Baby, there’s Fred on the phone,"

He raises his head, eyes half closed. "There’s Fred? Where? Where is he?" he rants.

You press the phone to his ear, and he gets it - he’s seen you talking to your grandma and parents with it enough times to know how it works. "Hey, bruv!" he slurs. "How you doing?" he puts his hand on the phone and takes yours in the one that’s empty.

"Heard you’ve got a sunstroke, mate!" his twin exclaims. "That’s lovely! You know the saying, right? The sun kisses the beautiful ones! And if you’re beautiful, that means that me - the more beautiful twin - is simply stunning!"

You're pretty sure that Fred’s making fun of him to try to cheer him up, but your boyfriend’s too beat up to respond with one of his jokes. "Yeah, I’m not sure about that," he mutters. "otherwise, my girlfriend would be in my position. And it doesn’t feel like it kissed me - it feels like he bloody roasted me on the grill."

You smile softly at him, blushing, and brush his hair out of his face. "Besides- did you know that gingers are more prone to getting burns?"

"Of course, mate. Don’t you remember when we visited egypt? We went there as white onions and returned as red peppers, I couldn’t touch my face for weeks!"

George only hums and you notice, by his grip on your hand loosening, that he’s probably falling asleep. So you gently take the phone from his hand and press it to your ear, exiting the bathroom and closing the door behind you. "Hey, Fred."

"How is he, really? Is it bad?"

"I hope not, and I don’t think so. By tomorrow he’s going to be better already, trust me. From now on, I’ll make sure to cover him in sunscreen."

He makes a sound of approval. "He’s lucky to have you, you know. I really hope that he gets better soon, because I know how much this vacation is important to him." he says it like he knows something you don’t, and you frown at his words. If Fred says so, then this bloody holiday must really be something he planned for a big time. "Do you think you know something I should know too, Fred?"

"Well, of course! He's-"

"Hi, dear!"

You assume that Mrs Weasley has finally revolted, ripping the phone from her sons hand to have a hands on conversation with you. "Good evening, Mrs Weasley. Everything alright?"

"Oh, dear, you know you can call me Molly! Yes, yes, everything’s good. How’s my Georgie?"

"Beat up, but don’t worry, he’ll manage. Now he’s in the bathtub and has cold water and ice all over him, I’m sure that by tomorrow he’ll be better.’

She takes a deep breath. "Good. have a good night, sweetheart."

After you hang up, you go check up on your boyfriend. By now, the ice is completely melted by the heat of the Italian summer, and he’s dozing with his head leaning on the wall. 

This time, it’s you who has to wake him. "Hey, George, c’mon. Let’s go to bed, or else you’ll get a sore neck tomorrow. I promise I’ll give you back rubs and a massage if you get up."

He opens an eye. "Back rubs?"

"Yes."

"Like the ones you gave me the night of the Yule Ball?"

"If you want." you have to put lotion on his back anyways.

"Deal." he abruptly sits up, almost falling down from the speed of his movements - he should have calculated that with the dizziness he feels, it’s a miracle that he hasn’t fainted yet. You’re barely able to hold him stable, as he’s burly and stocky from all the Quidditch he played in school and all the boxes that he has to carry around the shop. When you first made him notice, he smiled suggestively and flexed his bicep. "It’s to be able to carry around my princess," he flirted. 

Guess it’s him now that’s the princess - unfortunately, you don’t have even half of his muscles, so he has to do most of the work to get to the bed. Once he finds himself in front of it, he lets himself fall on the mattress - letting out a groan of pain once his chest slams roughly with it. "Why does it hurt so much?" he howls.

You take the cream that the guy in the farmacy suggested for your boyfriend’s sunburns, the same guy who told you to keep him fresh and hydrated. By his pruned fingertips, you think that George has been marinated enough. So you put an ounce of cream in your hands and start rubbing it on his back, while he whines and groans. 

"I'm never getting in the sun again," he mutters. "I’ll become a vampire. Sun’ll become my biggest enemy."

"We both know that tomorrow you’ll be back playing in the water, Ariel," you say, amused. 

"Who the fuck's Ariel?"

You finish putting on the lotion, and then you both go to sleep. You feel deliciously warm, as you spent the whole day in the sun and unlike George tanned discreetly. It’s during the night that you feel his fingers on your back - and you realise that he’s recreating the back rubs that he wanted earlier. You open an eye, still sleepy, and look at his face, that’s lit by the moonlight. 

"Can’t sleep?"

"It’s too uncomfortable. Why does it burn so much?"

"Because you are burnt."

You really want to give him some reassurance, but you don’t know how - even if tomorrow he feels better, the feeling will last for at least another couple of days. And you know that if you hug or kiss him it’s going to be even worse. He asks you a question, but you don’t hear it the first time, as you're already dozing off. "Huh?"

"Remember the Yule Ball?"

You frown with your eyes still closed. "How could I ever forget? You threw up all over m’shoes."

He snickers. "Yeah, but it was also the first time we slept together."

"Yeah, but it was because you got sick and needed cuddles. Right now we are sleeping together without any reason beside the fact that we love each other."

You can hear the smile on his face. "Yeah. We are. That means I did something right, innit?"

You smile too, and he pecks your lips. "You didn’t have to throw up on my shoes to sleep with me- but that’s okay, because we’re still going strong."

You can feel his breath on your cheek. "What do you wanna do? When you finish school, I mean.’

"I'm not sure about it. Probably follow up my mother’s footsteps- becoming a magizoologist and all. After all, the role of the fun parent is reserved to you, isn’t it? ‘M sure the kids will love you and Weasley & Weasley. Children love all those colourful things, don’t they?"

For a moment he doesn’t say anything, and you almost fall back asleep. Then for the second time today, George attacks you by laying completely on you and smothering you with kisses. You squeal, eyes snapping open, "George!"

His skin is so hot that he feels like he’s in the depths of hell, but that can’t be when he’s got you in his arms and accepting his kisses. When he pulls away, you’re both breathless and he’s caressing your waist. "You want to have kids with me?"

With his big brown eyes staring at you, suddenly you feel shy. "I mean, we’ve been together for three years, no? At this point I would leave you if I didn’t want anything with you, since it’s obvious what you would like in the future. Just- I don’t want them now, George, don’t look at me like that."

He laughs, then nuzzles his nose on your cheek, leaving kisses on your jawline. "Oh, baby,’ he says. "I would throw up on your shoes a hundred more times, if it meant that we’d be here today."

Four days later you’re at the lounge bar of the beach. His skin is getting better - it’s starting to peel, yes, but at least he doesn’t look like a lobster anymore. You mentally thank the guy at the pharmacy for recommending that lotion, because it’s doing wonders. 

He’s in a white t-shirt and blue shorts, and you’re in a purple tube top and a jeans mini skirt. That’s one of the reasons why you prefer muggle holidays - one time you went on vacation with the pureblood part of the family and had to wear a skirt that reached your ankles the whole time. Outside it was 30 degrees and you just wanted to rip it in half, and the worst part? You stayed in a resort that was just by the seashore, and nobody dared going for a swim.

(As you’d realise years after that vacation, not all wizards were like your parents. Some were really closed minded, and lived like it was still the 700’. Muggles don’t really care about how you dress and if you want to take a swim with a bikini or a one-piece, it’s your choice. But you know that the simple truth is that wizards don’t like relaxing. You still don’t know why, but you're sure that if your grandmother - your father’s mother - saw you dressed like this, she’d have a heart attack.)

You're both eating pizza and he’s looking at you with the most lovesick gaze ever possible. The stereo of the bar plays Chiquitita by ABBA and you think that if you could, you would stop time right now just to stay here, with George, forever. No more You-Know-Who, stressful school years where studying takes away most of your time and dreading the absence of your boyfriend. Just you and George, eating a pizza on the beach while ABBA is playing and the sun is setting. 

(You think that if second-year you could see you right now, on vacation with the once annoying George Weasley, she’d probably hit you in the head. But it’s okay, she’ll understand soon that he’s not as annoying as she believes him to be.)

George smiles at you and puts his hand in his pocket. "Baby, I got you something," he says. He takes out a little blue velvet box, and smiles anxiously at you. "You know, at first I just wanted to take you on vacation- then I thought, why not make it more memorable?’

You smile at him, raising an eyebrow. "George, you didn’t have to," the thought of him spending his first earnings on you makes you flustered and sad at the same time - can’t he just think of something for himself for once? You don’t want to sound ungrateful, but you really want him to treat himself good - he deserves it, he and his brother worked really hard for that shop. Unfortunately, generosity is a common trait in the Weasleys, and he can’t think of a better way of spending his money than spending it on you. 

You take the box and open it. You stop breathing for a moment - Merlin, you chose a guy that’s definitely too good for you. 

Inside the box, there’s a ring. It’s pretty simple, a gold band with a blue gem and two little white gems on the sides - but it’s so, so much more than a ring to you.

You remember that since you were little, you liked a particular ring your grandma - your mother’s mother - had. It was a simple thing, too, with just a little pearl on it, but for her it was really important. "I promise that for your eighteenth birthday, I will think about gifting it to you," she said once, after your six year old self begged her to give it to you. "You’ll be at the right age to know the actual weight of things. Right now, you only see a shiny thing that you want because you’re a little spoiled - but by then, trust me, you’ll know.’

Your birthday is yet to come, but you already know why that ring is so important to your grandma - your grandpa gifted it to her when your mother was born, so happy with his little family that he wanted to get her something. They didn’t have much, but that didn’t matter. It doesn’t matter the weight of the ring, the size of the gem, the quality of the diamond - it’s the person who gifts it to you that makes it so special. 

You feel tears in the corner of your eyes. "George..."

"It’s not an engagement ring," he says quickly rubbing his neck, taking your teary eyes as a bad sign - do you feel pressured? The other night you said that you did want a future with him, but maybe you think that he’s proposing now.

(He would, but he knows that you’re both too young and not stable enough to marry. When he does propose, he wants you two to be enough financially stable to organise whatever it is the wedding that you dream of.)

"It’s supposed to be a promise ring- but it can be just a simple gift, if you-"

You start crying uncontrollably and he gets up, positioning himself beside you and draping his arms on your shoulders as two italian guys stop talking just to send a nasty glare in his direction - probably thinking, "What did that idiot do to make her cry like that?" - "No, baby, please don’t cry, I-"

"I love it!" you whimper. He feels like a weight was just removed from his shoulders, "You love it?"

You sniffle, taking the ring and putting it on your ring finger. The fact that it fits perfectly makes you want to cry even harder. "I do," you sob, hugging him tight. "Why do you have to know me so well?"

He chuckles, wiping away your tears. "Isn’t it my job to know you better than anyone?"

[siriusblackloml]

just for me - george weasley x reader smut (PART 3)

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: george weasley x fem!reader

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 11.7k

𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙣 𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩: “i was wondering if you could maybe write anything abt virgin killer!george weasley?? like im sorry hes the finest mf around ik he gets MAD hoes so when he finally acknowledges this preppy, nice and innocent mc he jus knows he has to ruin her"

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: he fucked up. quite horribly, too. george swooped in, made his move, and tried to get on his life like he always does after he's finished with a random hookup. now you were avoiding him and pretty much making him live in agony as a result of his shitty actions. george will soon come to realize you had a much larger impact on his life than he would ever imagine.

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: swearing, a LOT of angst

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧'𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚: i’m still not done with this series but instead of keeping it three parts, i decided to add a fourth :) i hope you all enjoy this and please forgive me for the very long wait. i’ve had so much going on irl. part four is coming soon!

part one ┊ part two ┊part three ┊pt. 4 coming soon!

George had a funny little hop in his step as he walked through the grass. Not that it was truly intentional. He was just…very, very happy. There was too much adrenaline fogging his brain to really comprehend anything in this moment of time. He was acting as though he hadn’t just fucked you senseless in the field of grass outside the school. 

He felt proud of himself. He thought that this moment was worth all the celebrating in the world. All of his hard work had built up towards this moment and it paid off so much. You were absolutely amazing. Actually, he wondered to himself, was it possible to say that you were perfect? If he had to be honest with himself, you were everything he wanted in a girl. 

Physically, of course. It’s not like he was looking to start a relationship or anything. Sure, he just told you that he would see you around, but he had to use that more as a lie to try and leave the precious moment between you two on a positive note. False hope, deception, bullshit, call it anything you want, George didn’t regret it. He knew that if he just walked away he probably would have left you crying right there on the spot. He’s not sure he would ever be able to forgive himself if he did that. 

At the end of the day, George knew better than to actually see you again. That’s why from here on out, it would be nothing more than talking in class. If he even brought himself to do that. 

George couldn’t shake the smile from his face as he walked into the Gryffindor common room. The atmosphere was warm and inviting, contrasting the chilly breeze outside. Not that he was cold; the boy was still quite feverish from how hard he had just fucked you. Students were chatting amongst one another about their day and what was to come for the rest of the night. George noticed some students who were admirably trying to complete homework in the midst of the constant chatter. He thought of you for a split second. Remembering all the time you spend studying for homework and exams. He literally interrupted you studying earlier, but you didn’t seem to mind. 

Those thoughts of you were immediately discarded once he noticed a familiar duo in the corner of the room arguing with one another. It was George’s younger brother, Ron, and his friend Hermoine. What the two of them were arguing about was unbeknownst to him, but George caught the eye of someone sitting in a chair eating candy, watching the scene unfold like it was a drama. It was Fred, his fiery-red haired twin, who was popping the sweet treats into his mouth like he was eating popcorn at the movie theater. It must have been very entertaining watching Ron and Hermoine argue, as Fred couldn’t seem to pry his eyes off the show in front of him. 

George walks up to Fred and snaps his fingers. He immediately catches the attention of Fred, who boggles at him as if to ask, what the hell do you want? George motions for the boy to follow him. Fred gets up from his seat and follows George up the flight of stairs towards the empty dormitories. George seemingly couldn’t break the smile on his face so Fred immediately knew what was going on.

As soon as they were out of earshot of other people, Fred asked George, “So? Did it finally happen?”

George nods his head excitedly and eagerly answers, “Yes! It did!”

The twin embraces his brother with a cheeky clap of hand that morphed into a side hug. He was obviously very proud of George for his achievement. It’s not every day you take your classmate's virginity in the middle of a grassy field. Not that Fred really needed to know that last small detail. 

“I can’t believe you popped her cherry. I didn’t think she was ever going to budge.” Fred shakes his head in disbelief. The brother was referring to the fact he knew of your innocence. George remembers back to the day his twin told him about how you were positively a virgin. He could have sworn he melted on the spot from the newfound information. It was at that moment he knew he needed to be the one to ruin your innocence. 

And innocent you were. Well, for the most part, anyway. Your mouth depicted otherwise given all the profanity you were throwing at George. He couldn’t get over how mouthy you were during the entire session. The pathetic begging, the whining, the swearing. It was like heaven to his ears. It only made him want to drill his cock inside your pretty pussy even harder. Which he did, of course, and he loved watching the way your face would contort into pleasure at every thrust. 

Fred clapped his brother’s shoulder, pulling George from his daydreaming. He said in a cheerful tone, “Good for you, mate. So when are you seeing her again?” 

Fred’s brother immediately scoffs at the question. George thinks to himself, as if that’s happening. He had a very set rule for himself which was so straightforward it would take an absolute idiot to not understand. This easy rule was simple to follow; he didn’t give any of his hookups a second chance. They were a one and one time only situation. George was afraid that if he were to consistently see the same girl, he would give the impression that he wanted things to develop into something more. Of course he did like the girls, but it was more so for their physical appearance over their personality. Not that yours was bad, he actually quite enjoyed talking to you. 

Maybe even a little more than any other girl. You did leave his heart fluttering every now and then, which was strange for George to understand because it had never happened before. The boy shakes his head. He can’t keep thinking about you. No girl had ever left him so flustered before and he was not about to let that ruin his night of celebration. Celebrating you, of course. Or more so, the dirty act you two shared. 

To avoid giving you any kind of false hope, George plans to keep to himself from here on out. George tells his brother, “No, I don’t want her to think I’m, like, into her, know what I mean?” 

Fred shrugs out of confusion and raises an eyebrow, immediately striking back with, “Well, I kinda figured that’s what you wanted.” 

George’s heart stops beating for just a split second. As if something shocked his entire body. What was Fred implying? Why would he assume that of his brother knowing his reputation? Hell, Fred has encouraged George in the past to avoid being with a girl more than one time to avoid the start of a relationship. Fred must know deep down that you weren’t any different from the rest of the girls George had been with…right? 

George narrows his eyes at Fred and asks, “What do you mean?” 

“Don’t you like her? I thought…well, I guess I was wrong.” Fred trails off as he notices George seemed very tense. 

He was tense, and for good reason. George was nearly offended that his brother would ever assume that of him. He never broke the cycle in the past to see a girl more than once, why would he do it now? 

But then again, why would Fred figure that in the first place? Was George doing something specific that would have implied that idea? Other than frequently talking to Y/N in class, calling her cute, and….no, any guy can do that and it doesn’t mean he wants to drop everything and date the girl right that second. Plus, George only hung out with you to get closer…obviously. Nothing more than just that. Fred was just jumping to conclusions. Conclusions he had no business assuming in the first place.

George stays silent and avoids the lingering gaze of his twin. He turns away from Fred as an indication that he no longer wanted to talk, to which his brother complied almost immediately. Fred left the room without much of anything else to say. Once George heard the door shut close, he walked across the bedroom towards a long floor length mirror to look at his disheveled appearance. 

His clothes were untidy from the aftermath that was you. George rather liked this sight of his unkempt appearance knowing it was because of your bloody sex. He smirked to himself as he adjusted his clothes, tucking his shirt into his trousers and fixing his tie. Just looking at his clothes reminded him of everything with you. 

The sweetness of your moans, the tightness of your wet cunt, the way your face looked underneath his power. In the midst of him reminiscing, he thought back to the first time he ever saw you in class. That pretty girl was so far gone now. The girl he first met was completely different from the girl he just saw in the field. Her innocence was gone, stolen from her, in a way that was rough and possibly even catastrophic. 

The girl George knew first was too sweet for her own good. He almost…missed it. The way you blushed so easily from any of his flirty comments, or the little gasps that escaped your mouth from every tiny brush of his hand. 

These memories started to flash across the boy’s mind before he could even process them all. The countless times he would flirt with you behind Snape’s back, your sneaky giggles to avoid catching attention from the professor, all the times you would have to help him with his homework because he was absolutely clueless. The way he would glance at your hair because you always styled them in the cutest clips…or the way he would stare at your face because you were absolutely beautiful.

Then again, George loved staring at your face when you were underneath him, writhing in pleasure from the force of his cock. He needed to remind himself that whatever innocent girl he first met was far gone now. He destroyed her, deflowered her, anything he could think of, he did it. And shouldn’t he be proud of himself for that? 

At this moment, George heard his stomach start to grumble. He realized that he had not eaten anything since earlier this morning and was quite hungry. George finishes fixing his clothes and grabs his robe, trying to ignore the thoughts flooding his mind of how he tied a robe to a fucking tree just an hour earlier. 

Within minutes, he found himself going downstairs into the common room and finding a group of his friends and brothers already planning to march towards the Great Hall for dinner. George immediately tags along, jumping into conversation as if he had been there the whole time. As the group of boys wandered down hallways and waltzed around cold corridors, they would joke about anything and everything possible. George loves these nights with his friends where nothing else matters but how much fun they’re having. His mind had barely any focus on you anymore.

However, that did not last very long. Once George arrived at the Great Hall, he couldn’t help but steal a glance towards the table you would typically sit for meals. Your seat was vacant, though. Completely empty while the remainder of your friends sat in their own respective spots, chatting as if nothing was wrong. Clearly there was something wrong; you weren’t here for dinner. 

George thought of this as strange. He assumed that enough time had passed that you would have already come back to the school, gotten cleaned up, and would be coming downstairs for your meal. Maybe you were running late, he thought to himself. 

He shrugs his shoulders and turns back towards his friends, cracking joke after joke that erupted the entire group of boys into massive fits of laughter. Even though George was having a good time, his mind couldn’t stay focused on his friends for long. 

Every few minutes he’d get the urge to see if you were walking in the room. He’d frequently look towards the grand doors, walking students flood in and out, but never would he spot your cute hairclips amongst the crowd of people. He would even look back at your spot at the table. Ten minutes had passed, then it was twenty, now it was nearing thirty, George still couldn’t find you. 

Was it possible that you just stayed in the field after George left? He wondered this to himself, biting his lip in frustration because all he wanted to know was that you were okay. Why? He didn’t have the answer for that. But as long as he was able to see you, that’s all that mattered to George. Where on earth had you gone? There were multiple questions scattered across the boy’s mind and he hated not knowing anything. 

Sitting in the Great Hall trying to chase for an answer in his mind was giving George enough frustration to leave the group of friends early. He complained of being tired, to which his friends all chuckled deeply knowing why he would have been so exhausted (Fred’s jaw nearly dropped to the floor when he realized his brother had sex in a field). 

The boy left his group of friends to wander the hallways of Hogwarts. He flew up a flight of stairs to get to the second floor, maneuvering his way through a crowd of people to try and find a very particular window. It was one that overlooked the territory surrounding Hogwarts. It was an important window to him as it was pointed in the direction of the same tree you would have been sitting under. George secretly hoped he would be able to see a tiny, black dot under this tree, indicating that you had never left your spot after all.

Upon arrival at this windowsill that George had been desperately trying to look for, he peered outside only to see nothing. There was not one black speck amongst the green grass that would have implied you were still studying your materials. This meant you left the tree long ago, that you were probably wandering the school now doing Godric knows what. 

Why did this leave George feeling…uneasy? His heart dropped when he realized that you were no longer outside. He hated this feeling because it was completely new to him. It also brought on an array of questions, the most common one that crossed his mind being, why on earth does he care so much about a girl he hooked up with? Why was he so worried? Why did he hope to find you so desperately? It wasn’t like he was planning on talking to you, or anything more than that really.

George went to sleep that night with you on his mind. It was hard to fall asleep in the first place, however. He was tossing and turning for an hour straight trying not to worry about your current whereabouts. Unfortunately, George didn’t sleep long either. 

He’d wake up just a few hours into the night from a nightmare. It was a dream in which he lost you forever. 

»——•——«

The next day…

»——•——«

George felt a massive shift in the atmosphere the moment he woke up. He had a weird gut feeling about today, mostly because he was worried about where you’d gone last night. However, his worries would only worsen upon his first period class. 

You didn’t show up. To be more specific, you didn’t show up to Professor Snape’s class, which is a huge no-no in not only the professor’s book, but your own as well. You’d never missed class before as far as George was aware. Having to miss any kind of class nearly disgusted you, and you were for sure always present in Snape’s class given the consequences that would likely follow. The professor was keen on giving detention just for missing one class period. Not that you would probably earn one since you were his star student.

What on earth would have caused you to miss class? George wondered if there was a sort of emergency that you had to attend to, but his gut told him otherwise. His stomach felt like there was a knot in it the moment he walked into the room and didn’t see you. He had already felt uneasy just during the walk to the classroom. 

George didn’t see you in the hallway like he usually would in the mornings. He silently hoped and wished it was only because you had already arrived to class early, or maybe it was because you happened to be running late. Even if that was the case, he still felt weird about it because you were always to arrive at class at a very particular time. 

The boy started catching on that you would try and time your walk in the hallway so that the two of you would arrive at the doorway nearly at the exact same time. George never made a comment about this to you; he secretly thought it was adorable that you were so head over heels for him that you would go to such lengths to be sure you both arrived at the same time. 

And here he was, reminiscing those memories. They all felt lightyears away now. He took advantage of those days. The ones where he could admire you walking down the hallway in your cute skirt and hairclips, then he got to wink at you during class at random intervals. A million questions raced through his mind. So much so, that he couldn’t focus on a single word that came out of Snape’s mouth. Not that he usually paid much attention anyway. He would always be too distracted by your beauty. 

Amongst the million questions that ran through his head, one question continued to linger on George’s mind while he sat in class; had he ruined things between you two?

He never asked himself this kind of question before because it has never been an issue in the past. He moved on easily every single time he had been with a girl, why couldn’t he let you go? 

What caused this to start? His infatuation with you, that is. Was it just because you guys talked frequently during class? Well that couldn’t be all, there had been times George hooked up with girls he knew for years and never felt this way before. Was it only because he knew you were a virgin? While that factor going into sex with you was very exciting, it wouldn’t be enough for him to be this obsessed with your unknown whereabouts. 

George tried finding something that would have sparked his sudden interest in you, when his heart dropped in the middle of a thought. The realization hits him like a brick and his breath is immediately knocked out of his lungs. The past day has been spent worrying not only about where you were, but just you in general. Absolutely nothing else mattered in the world but you. 

While George wasn’t the sharpest tool in the box, he didn’t need a genius to tell him that he was falling for you. That realization alone was enough to shake him to his core. It was as though everything in his brain had shut off completely, all except that circuit that left his mind running on loop thinking about you and you only. And maybe it wasn’t exactly love that he was feeling, but it was definitely…something. It was the sort of “something” that made George want to drop everything he was doing just to be with you. Because even if it wasn’t love that he was experiencing, the boy knew he was feeling something intense for you and needed to share that with you as soon as possible. 

Given he was in quite possibly the most boring classroom of all, George didn’t even give his plan a second thought. He collected his belongings and shoved them into his bag, got up from his desk, and exited the room without a word. The only thing on his mind was finding you. 

With a rapidly beating heart and sweaty palms, George started to pace the hallways in hopes he would randomly catch sight of you around a corridor. When that plan failed, he stood still for a few minutes to try and pinpoint exactly where you could have been. While it was possible that you were simply hiding in your house dormitory from the rest of the world, George played with the idea that you were possibly hiding in the library. The only reason he could think of such a place was not only because he knew how studious you were, it was the only other location that you two shared. 

It was really only that, the classroom, and that damn field. Having to think about the field burned a massive hole in George’s heart. He knew now, after some reflection, that what he did was awfully wrong. How he didn’t realize it before was beyond him. He was too caught up with his ego and so used to dropping a girl as quick as he saw her, he assumed everything would be the same when it came to you. 

You were different though. George knew that now. And having to think back to the way he used you in that field yesterday made him gulp hard. He wondered, why did he put you through that? He felt like complete shit now. 

All he could think about was you. How you must have felt about all this. Surely enough, you must have felt used. You didn’t deserve that. George stormed down the hallway, ears ringing with anticipation to find you as soon as possible. 

»——•——«

You had been sitting in the library by yourself. Well, obviously you had been. Everyone else was in their respective classes at the time. Not you, though. It was just too much to bear right now with how fresh yesterday’s situation was. 

The fact that you were skipping class made you feel so beyond guilty. For a second, you thought you must have been insane to even consider the idea in the first place. You’d never skipped class before, so going through with the last minute plan was enough to make you bite your nails out of anxiety. However, nothing could compare to the feeling that would have hit you if you had to sit through class next to George Weasley.

Just that thought alone made you sick to your stomach. It would have been a million times worse than what you were feeling now. You knew that you couldn’t skip the next class period with him, however even if you got a chance to skip today, you’d take it. You couldn’t bear looking at his face…as if nothing ever happened between you two. 

Was this what you were made for? To be used by men? That’s all you felt right now; used.

If you had the chance, you would have gone back in time and changed the narrative entirely. You would have stolen that freaking time-turner from Professor McGonagall just to stop yourself from getting hypnotized by his charm. George Weasley was reckless and it affected you too much. 

You were careful before you met the boy. Very cautious, you kept to yourself. Never once did you ever consider lusting after a boy the way you did for George, dreaming up a fantasy where the two of you were happily ever after. And now everything in your life is crashing down all around you. As if you’ve lost complete control. 

You were as reckless as he was. 

He sucked you into this kind of void and it left you unable to breathe, unable to move, unable to think straight. That’s why you were hiding in the library. If the thought of George was making you feel this uneasy, you couldn’t even fathom what would have happened today if you walked into class and sat right next to him.

As if nothing had happened. 

You wondered if you would have been able to contain yourself if you did end up going to class anyway. You’re not sure if you would have cried, screamed at him, or just stayed silent. You were not one to really stand up for yourself, but then again, so much has changed about yourself in the last few weeks you weren’t sure if that was so true anymore. 

The library was dead silent besides your occasional turn of the pages in your book. You busied yourself by catching up on some reading you were meant to read yesterday. While you did your best to read the book last night in bed, it was quite difficult to focus with the amount of tears that welled up in your eyes. Thankfully, you were a bit more composed today and felt confident enough to tackle a couple chapters during this quiet time. 

As you sat silently, taking in the information about an aging potion, you could hear a door open in the distance of the library. The noise was followed by footsteps that increased in volume, indicating that someone was definitely walking in your direction. You can’t help but look up at the noise, half expecting to see either one of your girlfriends or even Snape himself wondering why you weren’t in class.

However, nothing could have prepared you for the boy who was walking towards you. It was George, of course. Because who else would it be at this time of day?

Immediately your eyes widen as your stomach sinks. It felt like the entire world was falling apart around you in an instant. You could have sworn that your heart skipped multiple beats in a row. Just the sight of George was nearly giving you a heart attack. What on earth did he have to say? Better yet, what were you going to say? Was he even worth the talk?

Gulping silently, you just watch as he approaches you in the dead silent room. He seemed to slow down his pace the moment you two made eye contact. As much as you wished it would have been enough to stop him dead in his tracks, he kept walking towards you. He adjusts his tie and clears his throat as casually as possible.

Without asking for permission, George pulls out the chair to your right and seats himself. He jumps right into a sort of interrogation, asking you, “Why weren’t you in class?”

You have to tell yourself to act like you don’t care that he’s here. Obviously he didn’t care about you enough yesterday to stay with you in that field, or even talk to you in general about what you two were. You were just a toy for him to fuck and get over in a matter of minutes. Keeping this in mind, and partially taking notice of the anger that was clearly bubbling inside you, you sneer at George and mutter under your breath, “I didn’t feel like it.”

Not your strongest moment, but it was blunt and rude. You figured it would get the point across that you weren’t very happy with him. So much for not letting it seem like it bothered you. You realized it was a bit harder to hold back your emotion than you originally thought. That doesn’t mean you’re going to beat yourself up over this, though. You would much rather seem angry in front of George than sad or depressed. The last thing you want to do is bawl in front of him.

Did he really deserve to even know that you were angry with him though? You started to regret even talking to him in the first place. Too many questions were swirling around your mind for you to find focus. It made your head pound with pain.

“I need to ask you something.” George tells you while awkwardly biting his lip and shifting uncomfortably in his chair. He starts to pull hair away from his face and run his fingers through his hair. It takes a lot of power to try not to notice how attractive he looked whenever he played with his hair like that.

Your back straightens and you instinctively lean in towards him, eager to hear what he has to say. You respond in a dry tone, “What is it?”

Suddenly, George is leaning forward and grabbing you by the chin with his fingers, forcing your eyes to take in his weary face. You gasp quietly, heart feeling like it was being stabbed, it was throbbing so hard.

He asks you in a frantic voice, “Things feel different for you, too, don’t they?”

You raise an eyebrow, confused. Things? Between the two of you? Well…of course they were different. Before yesterday, you two were just classmates that would flirt. Now, you didn’t even know whatever “this” was. It was disgusting, that’s what you thought to yourself. It left you feeling used.

So what the hell was he implying? You let him hold your chin a while longer and ask softly, “What do you mean?”

George blinks once, twice, three times before he gulps hard.

“I-Well-…I don’t know…” He starts to sputter out anything that comes to mind. He can’t seem to explain himself fast enough, or find the words in general.

You pull away from his grasp, narrowing your eyes as you pick apart his act. This was all fake, wasn’t it? Just another fucking plan to woo you? He would act all pitiful and sad to express how much he didn’t mean it, all just to see you naked again. That’s exactly what this was.

“You’re just trying to get in my pants again, aren’t you?” You snap at George with a nasty tone. You stand up from your chair dramatically, hearing the scrape of wood against stone echo throughout the empty library.

George stands up nearly as quick as you do the moment the words are leaving your mouth. He tries to extend his arms out to grasp you, but misses as you take a step back. Throwing everything in your backpack as fast as you possibly can, you notice George in the corner of your eye starting to inch closer to you again with a nervous voice, “W-What?! No! Y/N, I swear-”

You throw all your books in your bag and slam the chair into the desk, snapping at George with a newfound fury you hadn’t realized was inside you all this time. You tell him, “Do me a favor George; leave me the FUCK alone.”

It was obvious that the sentence alone was enough of a threat to the boy. The anger laced in your tongue hits George like a million knives, putting him in his place immediately. He falls silent immediately, watching you walk away from the scene without another word.

However, what he didn’t see was the tears building up along your lash line. As much as you hated his guts, you were still falling madly in love with the idiot. You hated yourself as much as you hated him.

»——•——«

Two days later…

»——•——«

George knew you couldn’t avoid him forever, but he didn’t realize just how damn sneaky you could really be. After the horrific interaction in the library just days before, the boy wouldn’t see you again until the next session in Professor Snape’s potion class. He no longer saw you in the hallways or the Great Hall. You obviously made a substantial deal to be sure that there would be little to no chance of ever seeing you outside of class again.

Not seeing you for days straight made George feel even worse. He wasn’t sure if he should have looked forward to potions or not, assuming that you would be there of course. Sure enough, you were present in class, but it did not make the situation any better. When George walked into the room, he immediately spotted you at the front of the classroom speaking to Professor Snape in hushed whispers. Whatever was being discussed, Snape looked very concerned.

Such an indication did not stop George from calling out your name. In a loud voice, he said across the room, “Hey, Y/N!”

He wasn’t even quite sure why he said your name, if he had to be honest with himself. It kind of slipped out before he had time to process it all. Maybe his gut thought that trying to talk to you in class was going to go better than how the discussion went down in the library a couple days prior. Perhaps the crowd surrounding you two would force you to act a bit nicer; allow him to get his words out and express his feelings about everything.

Both you and Snape turn to look at George, who is awkwardly waving and sheepishly smiling. But in an instant you shoot him a glare. Even Professor Snape was scowling at him. While this was a normal occurrence for George in front of just about any teacher, it seemed that Snape was going out of his way to make his scowl even deeper and nastier than usual.

Right away, you had seated yourself in a chair closest to the professor’s desk. Keeping your back to George, he was forced to position his gaze back on his professor. Snape’s dirty look did not go away as he gave out instructions. “George, you’ll be sitting in this seat for the rest of the year.”

The teacher walked George to his new spot, which was the furthest point from your new seat at the front of the classroom. He was all the way in the back. This kind of seating chart is a great opportunity for a prankster like George to unleash his full potential on the entire class, but he couldn’t even relish in this once in a lifetime lucky chance he’d been granted. The boy felt everything opposite of that expected feeling.

George’s stomach felt like it had dropped to the floor. He realized very quickly that you had purposely asked for this separation from him. Whatever you told Snape, it was to avoid having any further conversation with George during class.

He was convinced he was going to lose his mind over you. He had to get a hold of you, and soon.

»——•——«

Many weeks later...

»——•——«

You thought you were going to lose your mind having to avoid the boy like this, day in and out. At this point, it was becoming a routine. One that you had to follow religiously in order to avoid any kind of possible conflict with George.

Of course, deep down you want to listen to what he has to say. You know it might be valuable in a sense…but at the same time, he deceived you once, he could easily do it again. How were you supposed to know he wasn’t trying to apologize just to appeal to your sensitive side, only to try and slide into your pants once again? Something like this was too difficult to decipher. Therefore, you were much more comfortable just glancing at George from a far distance. He didn’t deserve to talk to you…as much as you wanted to talk to him.

One night, as you are exiting the Great Hall after eating a delicious meal, you begin to make your way to the dormitories. Your mind is too preoccupied on the immense amount of homework you have later tonight to hear the sound of footsteps following close behind you. It’s not until the fiery-red haired boy is in your peripheral vision that you realize someone was near you.

In a matter of seconds, your heart drops into your stomach without even having to look George directly in the face. He had your full attention now without even having to try, let alone look at him.

While your heart was pounding out of your chest, you tried your best to focus more on how annoying it was becoming that George wasn’t going to let you go so easily. Why did he want to talk to you so badly anyway? Just to have sex again? With an eye roll, you pick up the pace and start to walk faster down the hallway. You had hoped that the silent treatment would work enough to scare him away.

George attaches himself to your side immediately and says, “Y/N, stop, please. I want to talk to you.”

Keeping your head forward, he is only met with silence. Obviously angered by your immature attitude, he scoffs under his breath and reveals a nasty look on his face; as if that was meant to make you feel bad for him.

It was amusing to see him get his knickers in a twist just from not speaking. It was almost hard to hold back from smirking in front of the boy. However, deep down you were still just as scared of talking to George as you were most days since everything occurred. He just had this kind of effect on you where it felt like no matter how angry you acted around him, your heart was still soft for his stupid antics.

You didn’t dare reveal that to him; you were still recovering from the massive damage he had done to your emotional state. You shuffle past George as fast as possible, still refusing to make any sort of eye contact with him.

Eventually, he jumps right in front of you, preventing you from moving anymore. You jump from the action and immediately snap, “What on earth do you want with me, George?”

He takes a step forward to close the gap, his eyes staring deeply into your own. He starts to stumble over his words, “G-Godric, Y/N, I didn’t think you’d ever…I just wanted to…bloody hell, I don’t know what I’m trying to say.”

“Then don’t bother, okay?” You tell him, moving around his figure to get away from the conversation. It’s hard to believe he has anything worthwhile to tell you in the first place. However, there’s still a small sliver of hope that resides in your being, and it’s just enough to tell George, “I’ll see you around.”

You’re not sure what you mean when you say this. You figure that maybe it’s enough to keep you two on good terms. He didn’t really deserve more than that though. He was an ass and literally used you. But your heart ached for him nonetheless. You were always going to miss him, so why bother keeping up this anger front for the rest of the school year? It was killing you just to do it right now.

The boy doesn’t take long to get the hint. He stands still and merely watches you walk away. You can practically feel his eyes bearing a hole through the back of your skull from how hard he was staring.

Later that night, while you are lying in bed struggling to sleep thanks to all that was on your mind, you thought back to earlier. What was it he wanted to say to you? Why was it so urgent?

Curiosity would eventually kill the cat.

»——•——«

It's been months since that day in the field. You would still go out of your way to avoid George, and he has slowly stopped trying to make conversation with you entirely. Your heart ached for him each and every day, though. You missed having those silly conversations in class, waving to him in the Great Hall, and so much more. Part of you was even missing all those times he would desperately try to get your attention only for you to ignore it. You thought of it for the better, but looking back on it all, had that really been the best choice?

You can hear his little friend group whisper among themselves whenever you and George are ever in the same room with one another. There was no doubt they knew about everything that happened. Which only made you feel more like shit; how dare they know you lost your virginity to a classmate you had fallen so deeply for. Not once had you ever felt so humiliated before. This was not how you expected your last year at Hogwarts to go. You anticipated much more out of this year. Laughing, studying, maybe some crying here and there, but not over a boy who used you for sex. That was the last thing you ever considered to happen to you.

In a weird sort of way, George felt much like the yin to your yang. The way the two of you could come together and have so much fun despite your differing personalities always blew you away. He completed the missing pieces within you. It was an act that you didn’t think was possible, especially knowing it was someone you met so recently. That being said, you can’t help but miss those moments of bliss with one another.

Just the thought of him makes you shudder. Not out of disgust, but due to the ache in your heart that desired more from him. If anything, it was likely to be from the immense guilt and shame that clouded your every being since the day everything happened with George. Why on earth would you miss someone like him when he was so mean?

It is winter break now. A large majority of students had left to go home, but you were staying at Hogwarts. The last few days were spent reading books you meant to catch up on ages ago. You had to occasionally flit around the hallways in order to avoid the Weasleys. It was so convenient that they happened to be here during the holidays at the same time as you. But at this point in the year, you had started to grow used to it all. It’s all you could do in order to “cope” with the sadness that hung heavy in your heart.

You were in the library again, turning page after page in your book. You were slowly catching yourself starting to space out. Rightly so, as it had been a couple hours of sitting here and you were slowly growing hungry. You could barely focus when your stomach continuously growls.

As you start to put away your book in your bag, alongside anything else you had pulled out, you could hear footsteps walking past you. You didn’t think much of it until you heard a familiar voice.

“Hello, Y/N.” George says.

A chill runs up your spin, hair standing up on the back of your neck. Goosebumps trail up and down your arms as your throat runs dry. If it wasn’t obvious you were nervous before, it was now. Your eyes shot up towards the boy, watching him stand near you with a soft smile and blushed cheeks. This hadn’t been how you anticipated the night to go at all, but you couldn’t bear to embarrass yourself any longer.

You muster up enough courage to respond back. “Hey, George.”

“How are you doing?” He replies, watching you closely as you continue to put away your belongings into your bag at a slow pace. Your hands were shaking slightly from the anxiety coursing through your veins. If you hadn’t known any better, you’d wager that George was in the exact same boat as you were.

He was clutching a couple books tight to his chest, finger tapping anxiously along the spines. He kept swaying back and forth, biting his lip and avoiding eye contact on occasion.

It had been so long since the two of you last spoke. You knew deep down you had been wanting this for ages, missing these small conversations. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to be civil, at least this once, you wondered to yourself. You had never held a grudge for so long before, and you weren’t about to let it continue. Maybe this was your chance to let bygones be bygones and let George know that you’ve moved on (that’s a big lie, but what he doesn’t have to know won’t hurt him).

So, you decide to interact with him some more. You tell him, “I’ve been doing fine.”

George cracks that gorgeous smile of his and nods his head. He chimes in, “Good, good, I’m happy to hear that.”

You decide not to comment on that. However, there is no denying that little explosion of butterflies in your stomach. Well, that and the loud rumble that follows.

Your stomach growls out of hunger once again, clearly indicating between both parties that you were getting hungrier by the second. Cheeks red from embarrassment, you try to save yourself by saying, “I’m heading to the Great Hall. Just wanted to get in some light reading before supper.”

“Can I walk with you?” George asks as soon as you’re finished speaking.

His voice was soft despite the request filling you with fear in an instant. You did want to walk with him, but what were his intentions? The prospect of having to venture anywhere with George at your side was slightly concerning since you hadn’t done so since…well, before everything.

You shoot him a slight glare, immediately questionable about why he wanted to. He picked up on this, placing his hands in a defensive position and exclaiming, “I’m going there already! I was just about to leave for supper myself. I figured if you were going, maybe we could walk together. That’s all I wanted.”

Maybe it’s the innocence of his request, or those stupid puppy dog eyes, but you’re not entirely opposed to the idea. Perhaps it wasn’t such a bad idea to walk with him if that’s all that would come out of it in the end. Nothing more, nothing less. You knew eventually this would likely happen anyway. You couldn’t avoid him forever.

Simultaneously, you found yourself wondering if you were being foolish to even entertain the possibility of this. Only an idiot would want to walk with the same man who used her for sex; but here you were, being as foolish as ever. Due to his undeniable appeal and practically begging to walk with you, you’re giving him permission to be in your company. While your eyes were darting around anywhere in the room but George, you tell him, “That’s fine, you can join me.”

Walking out of the library with George next to your side feels strange. At the same time, you feel even weirder for thinking that. At some point during the school year, this felt so completely normal to you. Now it was all just an out of body experience. As if the two of you were strangers all over again. Your heart was beating so rapidly out of your chest you thought you were going to have a heart attack.

The hallways leading to the Great Hall were completely empty. It was likely that whatever remaining students that were on campus were eating at the moment. The echo of your and George’s footsteps, alongside the dim lighting, made the situation all the more stressful for you. It was like you were stuck in place despite moving closer and closer to your destination.

After a minute of walking and absolutely no words spoken, George breaks the silence. He asks, “Can I speak to you for just a moment?”

“Is it about all that happened between us?” You wonder, your throat constricts the more you talk. You’re sure you are on the verge of tears just from the thought of it all. However, maybe this was the closure that you needed. Maybe this is what you needed to move forward and get on with your life without worrying about some red-haired boy running amuck in the school hallways and classrooms.

He clears his throat, “Yeah, it’s about that. I have something really important I want to tell you, Y/N.”

You internally go back and forth about whether or not you want to hear it, wondering if what he has to say will truly have any meaning at all. George dislikes the long pause it takes for you to say anything. He steps in front of you and blocks your path. He places his hands on your shoulders to prevent you from being able to walk away.

You huff and puff out of annoyance, sneering at him to say, “Let go of me, George.”

“Y/N, please, I just-” He tightens his grip on your shoulders. This causes you to shake from his hold, just barely escaping and nearly dropping your bag in the process. You’re growing more and more irritated by the way he was acting. Why was he being so handsy with you?

You snap at him out of annoyance, “Why the fuck do you need to touch me to tell me something? Just get on with it already-”

George stomps his foot on the ground, the loud sound echoing the walls of the empty hallway. He yells, “Listen to me!”

For the first time in a while, you finally stare into his eyes. Genuinely taking in his appearance and the emotion that has struck his face. It was at this moment you realized just how…damaged he was. He was on the verge of tears and his frail body was shaking from fighting back the floodgates in his eyes. Your heart feels like it’s breaking in two just from the sight. As much as he frustrates you, seeing this side of him makes your stomach sink.

George frustratingly runs his fingers through his hair as if to try and get a better grip on the reality that was taking place before him. He frowns deeply and tries to find his words. He stumbles over his words multiple times, “I-I just felt like…I didn’t think…you-you have to believe me, Y/N, I-I would never-”

You take this as an opportunity to reverse the roles, softly placing a hand on his shoulder as if to silently offer his support. Obviously his words and frustrations were weighing him down, and if there was anything you could do to encourage him to get his worries off his chest, maybe this was it. Just a small act of kindness. He was so desperately trying to hold you in place before this, he must have not realized he was really the one who needed to be weighed down in the first place. Otherwise his mind was going to run a million miles an hour and he would get nowhere with his speech.

You want him to know you’re willing to listen now, to give him a chance. All he wants is to be heard. In your own way, you wanted that too.

You wished you had been able to go back in time to just take things slower with George, to have been able to say no to his lust and just try to take things slower with him…if that was even possible. You wondered if George would have stopped talking to you if he realized you weren’t so easy to crack. Then again, you always felt that there was a spark between the two of you. Maybe at the time, if you had given yourself a moment to really speak your mind, he would have respected your wishes and things would have remained the same between you two. There is no way of knowing now. All you can do to make up for the horrible experience is to hear what he has to say.

The act gives George a chance to catch his breath. You watch his chest rise and fall multiple times, listening to the way he calms himself with a simple breathing exercise. He sighs and drops his shoulders, and you mimic his actions to try and ease your own anxieties. This was not going to be an easy conversation by any means, but it was about time it happened.

Seeing him slowly grow more comfortable seemed to ease the tension. George found himself breathing properly again and nodding his head, as if slowly trying to get back to the point he was originally trying to make in the first place.

You’re growing anxious to hear what he has to say. You pull your hand away from his shoulder and cross your arms, watching the way he shifts his body weight back and forth on the balls of his feet.

After what feels like a million years, he finally confesses. “I am so, so sorry for the way I treated you earlier this year. You didn’t deserve that at all. I have no excuse for my behavior. I don’t know why, but for such a long time now I have gone through girl after girl and never felt anything quite nearly the same as I do for you. You had such an impact on me…Godric, I sound so cringey saying that, but it’s the truth. I really do like you, Y/N. Everything about you and not just your body. I am so sorry for all that I did.”

The moment he finishes with his speech, your ears start to ring. You feel as though his words have stunned you. He liked you…for you? Then why did he do the things that he did?

You raise an eyebrow and look him up and down, as if you were a predator sizing up your meal. You ask him, “Then why did you do it? You always knew I was a virgin, isn’t that why you started talking to me in the first place?”

The question made your stomach drop. Having to talk to George about this makes you feel extremely queasy. George’s tears start to well even larger than before. He bites his bottom lip and looks down at his feet. He tells you, “At first, I saw you as just another girl. I thought you would be the same as the rest of the girls I have been with. Obviously I came to develop feelings for you, but I thought that if I just went about things like I usually do, the feelings would go away and I’d be on my way. But I realized afterwards that wasn’t the case with you. You were so different from the rest.”

Your heart sank hearing him admit to it all. You knew deep down this had always been his plan, you knew that he literally only saw you as an object from the start. However, there was an odd sense of relief that washed over you when he finally admitted to it all. Even though these were all your suspicions, hearing George confirm it all felt like you were finally coming to terms with everything. If anything, you actually had more respect for him.

You appreciate that he told you all of this. Looking back on the last couple months, you wished that you had allowed him to talk previously. This entire time he had tried desperately to tell you all of this and you just shot him down.

Not that you really regret it, though. At the time, you were very unstable with your emotions and you’re not too sure how the conversation would have gone down if he spoke with you weeks prior to today. Not only are you appreciative of the fact he was so honest, but hearing him say that he liked you back…it was like a dream come true. Never did you think he would ever like you the same way you did him.

You stayed silent, and apparently it was too long. George spoke again out of fear that he had scared you, frantically saying, “Please say something. I know you’re not happy with me, but I just need to hear-”

“I forgive you.” You blurt out.

It’s George's turn to fall silent now. Neither of you spoke for a period of time; how long exactly was unclear to you, but it felt too long. Assuming it’s your chance to try and save the conversation, you continue, “I know I’m probably crazy for this, but I forgive you. It takes a lot of courage to go up to a girl and admit that you screwed her over. I like that you were upfront with me about it all.”

Without missing a beat, George smiles harder and harder hearing you admit to your forgiveness. He takes a step forward with his arms open for a hug, but you immediately shoot him down. Placing a hand on his chest, you halt all movement. His entire face is struck with worry, and his mouth opens to apologize. You cut him off and say, “Just because I forgive, doesn’t mean I forget. You hurt me George. It absolutely crushed my soul when the person I thought was becoming my best friend used me and stole my virginity without a second glance. It sucked. That’s why I couldn’t even stand to look at you in the hallways or the classroom, let alone talk to you.”

Tears are welling in your eyes now. Your throat contracts the more you speak, and you have to stop because you know if you go any further it would just develop in a crying session. George nods his head and chokes back more tears, unable to prevent the shakiness in his voice.

“I-I feel like shit, Y/N. Every single day since I realized I fucked up, all I’ve wanted to do was talk to you about this. Like I said before, you deserve so much better. Thank you for forgiving me, though. I feel…better, now that I’ve talked to you about this.”

You smile and shove George’s shoulder in a playful manner, trying to ignore the burning in your eyes from all the tears. “No problem. Can we go eat now? I’m starving.”

George eyes you carefully as if he couldn’t believe what you had just said to him. If you had to be honest with yourself, you couldn’t either. However, now that the niceties were done and over with, you figured maybe starting over wouldn’t be such a bad idea with George. You can tell he’s genuinely sorry for all that he has done, and that he’s clearly changed drastically as a person (which you thought impossible for both Weasley twins).

Maybe dinner wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all. You definitely weren’t going to do anything else with George. It would be too soon for that. Maybe a quick bite to eat while catching up on one another's lives would be enough for you tonight. Enough closure after this mess of a conversation. After this, you can go back to just being yourself and not have to worry about him anymore.

“W-We? You want to have dinner with me?” George asks you carefully.

You shrug your shoulders and start to slowly walk towards the Great Hall, George trailing behind you like a lost puppy. You tell him, “I don’t think it would hurt. Just for tonight, though. I figure we have a little catching up to do.”

George can’t stop smiling like an idiot, and you can’t either. Your heart was beating rapidly again, but this time it wasn’t out of fear. It was out of happiness. You’re beyond excited that the two of you were talking again. Not that you planned on staying best of friends, but a mutual likeness should be enough to get you through the remainder of the school year. However, that is quite the opposite of what happens.

The rest of the winter, you and George started to say hi to one another in the hallway again. That transitioned into sitting with one another in the Great Hall, maybe only once or twice a week but it happened nonetheless. Eventually, you and George were talking on a daily basis. Your relationship was slowly reversing back to its old ways, except there was minimal flirting and absolutely no touching. You made sure to lay some ground rules with him once you realized you and George were getting close again.

He promised to respect your wishes, and he has listened graciously so far. Your boundaries were quite simple to follow, but given George’s track record, it was surprising to see him listen so well. All that you asked was to keep everything between the two of your friends only and nothing more. You felt that after all that had happened, it would be best for the both of you to strictly keep things “professional” and not try to rush into anything so soon.

There was no denying you still had feelings for him, and knowing that George liked you back made it hard to not flirt with him in any way. But deep down, you knew that this was for the better. You’d rushed into something with him once before and it had a horrible ending, therefore you couldn’t risk that again. However, things were definitely changing to say the least.

It was obvious in the way your conversations started to last longer than just a minute or so. When you and George graduated from the casual “hello” while in passing and began to have full length conversations again, you quickly realized he was just as whimsical as you had known him from the beginning of the year.

You could never lose a sense of wonder while in his presence. He always had something to tell you, or a funny story that kept you on the edge of your seat. It first occurred to you that you were definitely falling for him once again in the midst of watching George play a prank on Professor Snape during class (the poor guy did not expect his pants to catch on fire. For a split second he almost convinced himself it was the doing of Peeves once again, but realized by the smirk on George’s face that it was no other than the evil twin himself).

That prank could have gone so horribly wrong if Professor Snape hadn’t noticed the flame among his dress pants. And even with the understanding that George’s actions were devastatingly brutal and just downright mean, your stomach felt as though it might explode with laughter (that died very quickly thanks to the glare Snape shot at you).

Even when he used magic in wrongful ways, had a track record with girls a mile long, and had even used you for sex, there was something too forgiving in your nature to just let George go entirely. You realized that you wanted him in your life, either as a best friend or something more. There was something about him that brought you to life. The spark that was lit in your heart was only alive when he was around. You never wanted it to go out, and so you soon realized you never wanted to let him go again.

In your eyes, even with all the mistakes he has made, George enclosed you in a space that left you wanting more. It wasn’t like you were trapped; you weren’t drowning in insufferable conversations or anything of the sort, you absolutely loved his company. You didn’t realize just how much you actually missed it until he started coming around again.

On top of all this realization, there was the fact he had changed considerably as a dear friend. He was much more careful in the way he spoke or acted around you. He wanted to respect your boundaries and never put your relationship at risk again. This is what made you appreciate him so much.

However, there was an obvious change in the atmosphere amongst you two during the springtime.

Winter had come and gone, your conversations were still lively as ever though. Just a couple weeks prior, he had begun walking you to your next class after potions together. It was during one particular day that sparked a sudden change in both your demeanors.

After class, you and George were walking down the corridors together just talking about the upcoming assignments and what you thought would be the best strategy for studying (George needed the advice given his history of failing horribly). While walking, a group of first-years were running amuck in the hallways, nearly trampling over you in the process of it all. Loud yells and feet clamoring against the stone floors filled your ears, your eyes barely having time to process how to avoid all the commotion.

George, however, had thought far ahead of you and made sure to wrap his arm around your shoulder and shield you from the upcoming blows of young, immature eleven-year-olds. He pulled your body in towards his own, protecting you for that brief moment of chaos.

Your body felt like it was exploding from his touch, immediately sobering you up and pulling you from your crazy thoughts. You looked up at George as soon as all the commotion had died down, and he looked down at you. Your mouth felt like it was going slack as you stood there completely frozen under his arm. George bores holes in your eyes, staring at you as if silently asking if this kind of action was allowed within your boundaries.

Without having to hear him say anything, you say, “It’s fine.”

The two of you continued walking down the hallway, talking as though nothing had happened. However, something did happen. It was the start of something new.

For the remainder of that walk to your next period, George kept his arm wrapped around your body as though you were his girl. It struck you as an extraordinary situation that left you dumbfounded for days on end.

First, you couldn’t get over the fact that he did it in the first place. Second, you couldn’t get over the fact that you let it happen. Now would not be a great time to fall back into old habits. You weren’t ready for anything explicit with George just yet. However, at the same time, you liked how protective he was being. You enjoyed having his arm around you. In a weird way, you felt safer. You craved…more.

That strange shift in the air between you two never really left. It only lingered, and continued to emphasize the more the two of you hung out. After that fateful day in the beginning of March, the day that really started to change your relationship with George once again, each week there was a designated day where the two of you just spent time with one another.

While you didn’t know for sure if this meant your relationship with George was developing outside of a friendship, you knew in your heart that it was probably a good sign of something heading towards that direction. If you were able to tolerate his conversations in the hallways from time to time, you had enough courage to be with him in a more secluded setting. This is what began the scheduled meetings once every week where the two of you would simply do homework or sit around and read books.

That same feeling of rapid heartbeats and butterflies in your stomach always came back in full swing the moment you two were together. It gave you flashbacks to that day out in the meadow where he swept you off your feet in an instant. While that memory used to leave you frustrated beyond belief, you could now thankfully say that you don’t fully regret doing what you did with George. You could now tell yourself that it was all just a lesson you had to come and learn the hard way.

The lesson in question? Don’t rush.

George’s arm always found its way around you while the two of you hung out, but it never furthered past that. It would happen at any given point. If there was an opportunity that arose, he would do anything to make sure he could place his arm around you in a protective manner. And it would stay there the remainder of the time you two hung out.

No one ever commented on the matter, not even you, which led George to believe that it was okay to continue doing so. It definitely was, in your book.

It’s late April now, months since you and George finally reconnected again and were practically best of friends. The two of you were sitting on a bench in a random hallway somewhere in Hogwarts. Being in different houses meant you could not be in one another’s common rooms. This was the best you could get, but it was comfortable enough.

You sat next to George while his arm was wrapped around your shoulders. You leaned into his touch, reading from your book about fantastic beasts and where to find them. George had just finished making a joke about the appearance of this one animal in the book, and it had you giggling beyond belief. You look up at George, eyes full of happiness and excitement. He looks back down at you, smiling hard.

George enjoys taking you by surprise. He leaves you wanting more from him and fills your chest with warmth. You weren't sure precisely what it was that you wanted more of, but you were certain that you didn't want this moment to stop. The expression caught in his eyes was pure protectiveness. You felt protected not just by his arm enveloping you, but also by the expression on his face as he gazed back at you. You felt comfortable and secure with him because of the way he looked at you. It was as if he was silently telling you that he genuinely wanted you for you.

Suddenly, while taking a glance at your lips, he's asking you, “Can I take you out on a date, Y/N? Like, a proper one. I feel like I owe that to you after all I’ve done.”

In an instant, you’re blushing like mad. Your heart is beating so fast, you’re smiling before you even realize it. You just nod your head, telling him, “Yes, I’d really like that, George. Thank you.”

He doesn’t respond with words, merely gives you a quick squeeze and looks back at the book you were reading, silently encouraging you to finish the chapter you started earlier.

~

TAGLIST: @calmspencer, @baddiebbarbietngz, @slytherclaw1978, @serendipitous-fernweh, @pandanation24, @rachelreallyroars, @tinafuentes, @chvmpion-jack, @ethereallovr, @godknows-shetried, @waggoth, @ellieswhor3, @wildestdreamers-tv, @faefaes-world, @hahahafucku, @delusional-13s-blog

[im-a-wonderling]

Is It Still Punishment if It Was Worth It? ~ George Weasley

Summary: Y/N runs into George Weasley after her detention with Umbridge (aka me finishing a request from ages ago)

Warnings: Umbridge *shudders*

Word count: 2.4k

As I left the atrocious pink office, nothing around me stirred, as if the whole castle was frozen, lying in wait for the dawn. Light streamed through the open doorway, heralding my late release from detention. 

“Off to bed, dear,” said that sugary, poisonous voice behind me. “Don’t let Mr. Filch catch you lingering instead of being safe asleep in your bed.” Was it my imagination, or did the throbbing of the back of my hand pulse in time with her voice? 

I wanted nothing more than to scurry away as fast as my legs would allow, but like any predatory animal, Professor Umbridge could smell fear, so I simply bowed my head as demurely as possible, avoiding her deep-set gaze. “Yes, professor.” I could feel the horrid woman’s toad eyes following me as I walked down the wide staircase, heading for the dungeons. 

The door closed behind me with an ominous thud, and the light disappeared. 

Stopping in my tracks, I immediately turned the corner to a little alcove, slumping next to the window. I stared at the colored glass, depicting a dragon breathing flames up into the sky. My wound gave a particularly violent throb. “Ouch,” I hissed under my breath, staring down at the shiny red letters.

I must obey the rules.

Cradling my aching hand to my chest, I let out a long breath. Every pang seemed to ring through my whole body, and yet, instead of acting as a deterrent, I was all the more resolved in my actions. If Umbridge had forced my brother to write those words and endure this pain, even her title as High Inquisitor would not have saved her from my wrath. 

“Well, that’s a first.”

I jolted. At first, I wondered if it’d been the dragon that spoke—often things at Hogwarts spoke when one might think they shouldn’t. But the dragon didn’t move. I looked around me, just in time to see the tapestry further down the stairs shift, and a red-headed boy came out from behind it.

George Weasley. Certified troublemaker with an un-shuttable gob and downright homemade values, the very personification of Godric Gryffindor’s ideal student. 

“Excuse me?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

George gestured to my hand. “I didn’t know she punished Slytherins too.” He spoke the word without distaste, but with an emphasis all the same.

I just shook my head and left my alcove, heading for the Slytherin common room. There was no point in arguing in Slytherin’s favor; the history in this castle chronicled many a Slytherin who tried and subsequently had to run for the Hospital Wing before a toenail-growing hex grew too painful to walk.

Unfortunately, the redhead sidled into my path. I took several steps back, checking for the location of his wand, prepared to whip out my own before he could cast anything. But his hands were empty, and judging by the way he watched me, his head was regrettably anything but.

“You’re in my way,” I said calmly.

“Malfoy shouldn’t have done that.”

The simple statement made my lungs falter for breath, but I kept my face impassive. “He didn’t have a choice.”

“No, he had a choice.” George’s maddeningly certain tone set my teeth on edge.

I scoffed, walking down the staircase. “You don’t understand, you couldn’t possibly understand what he faces.”

“Oh, yes,” George’s voice grew louder and mocking, following me on my heels, “poor little rich Malfoy, head of the Inquisitor Squad, can’t handle–”

“Sod off.” My gritted teeth added all the threat I wanted, but George wasn’t deterred.

“What a slog it is, having everything one could possibly–”

I whirled around, my hands finding George’s chest to shove him as hard as I could. “You don’t know what it’s like!” I hissed, glaring at him. “You and your brothers just do whatever you fancy at the moment, whatever wicked thing halfway crosses your mind. Well, not all of us have the luxury of doing what we want.”

George looked as serious as I’d ever seen him. “He could’ve spared you this and he didn’t. No true friend would scurry off to Umbridge to report you like that.”

For a moment, I considered starting a row, but Umbridge’s office was still within earshot, and I didn’t want another round of writing with that cursed quill. So I chose not to acknowledge him, walking down the stairs with my head held high, reaching the bottom of the stairs and quickly walking down the corridor, hoping my feet could outrun George’s mouth. But when I looked to my right, there was George, loping alongside me.

“Seriously–”

“Seriously, George, shut it.” I came to a stop, glaring up at him. “What are you even doing here? It’s past curfew.”

“Some of us are taking turns behind the tapestry,” he said easily. “Watching in case any first or second years get turned out of Umbridge’s office with bleeding hands.”

“Oh?” I tossed my head, moving my hair to one side. “And if it were a Slytherin first year, would you have greeted them the way you greeted me?” If my kid brother had been the one walking out of the office, I silently asked, would you have comforted him? 

“Perhaps, but I’m willing to bet that they, unlike you, would accept a hug and a trip to the kitchens for some dessert afterwards.”

My stomach rumbled, and I placed my uninjured hand over it. “Well, I’m no first year, so you can go.” I resumed my furious pace.

George easily kept up. “It wasn’t fair of Malfoy to do that.”

Was it impossible for him to leave well enough alone? “When I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it.”

“Everyone knows you were just protecting your brother.”

I seized the collar of George’s robes, dragging his face down an inch from mine. “Don’t you dare–

“I’m not going to tell,” George said, remarkably calm considering how quickly his position had changed. 

“How am I supposed to trust that?”

“I’m not Malfoy.” 

I considered him for another moment before letting him go. He straightened, smoothing out his robes. “How did you know?” I asked. 

George gave a short laugh. “You’ve never touched a broomstick outside of Flying class, and yet I’m supposed to believe you even have a broomstick to bring into the castle?” He shook his head. “Anyone with eyes knows you’d do anything for your brother, so of course Umbridge is the only one daft enough to fall for your switcheroo.” 

I pondered his words for a moment before turning to walk back to my room. Like before, George kept time beside me. “She shouldn’t have given detention just for having a broomstick.” 

I shook my head. “There are rules.”

“And rules were made to–”

“–be broken?” I rolled my eyes. “Of course. I shouldn’t have expected anything less from a Gryffindor.”

“Says the Slytherin who just got out of detention.” I bit my tongue, trying to stay silent. “You should tell your head of house what Umbridge’s doing, maybe Snape’ll do something about–”

I let out a short laugh. “See, there’s the difference between you and me, George–”

George leapt forward, covering my mouth. Next thing I knew, I was being tugged behind a statue, finally pulled to meet George’s alarmed expression.

This was it. I should’ve known better than to trust a Gryffindor. Now he was going to hex me or curse me or even forgo a wand altogether and use his own two fists. 

Eyes wide, I tried to shove him away, protesting loudly from behind his hand. “Shush!” George said harshly. “Filch!”

I instantly stopped fighting, my heart pounding for a different reason. If George and I were caught by Filch right now, not only would I have another detention with Umbridge, but word would get out. I couldn’t even imagine the trouble I’d be in with my house if they found out I was out at night past curfew with a Gryffindor, and a Weasley at that!

The light of the lantern the caretaker always carried with him after hours grew closer and closer to the statue we crouched behind. George lifted his hand from my mouth, pressing a finger to his lips. I rolled my eyes. As if I didn’t already get the memo. 

“Anyone about, my dear?” Filch’s haughty voice asked. Mrs. Norris meowed back, and I heard the sound of a dark chuckle. "Professor Umbridge might allow us to try our new manacles.”

George and I met eyes. 

He made a stop gesture and then started to creep forward towards Filch. What could he possibly be planning? Filch would see him! 

Then it occurred to me. The noble idiot was about to sacrifice himself so that I would stay undetected. 

Oh no you don’t, I thought, seizing the back of George’s robes, dragging him back. I was not about to owe a Gryffindor anything. I pulled out my wand and a tissue I'd forgotten was there.

Snufflifors, I mouthed. 

The tissue morphed into a white mouse, which immediately scampered down the corridor. Immediately, Mrs. Norris sped after it. 

“My dear!” Filch protested, running after her, the light from his lantern growing farther and farther away until George and I were left alone in the dark. 

“Wow,” George stared in the direction Filch had gone, “that was quite impressive.”

The compliment made my cheeks warm. “Well, some of us jump into things without thinking about the consequences and some of us actually use our brains for more than pranks.” I shoved my wand into my pocket, about to storm down the corridor. 

“So you thought it through beforehand?”

“I didn’t necessarily plan to get caught by–”

“No, you thought through taking the blame for your brother?” 

I stopped short, allowing George to catch up with me. I eyed him warily. Was he fishing for evidence to get my brother in trouble? Or was he fishing for other reasons?  “Of course I did,” I said finally, deciding that my word against George’s was hardly any competition. 

A strange look twinkled in his eyes at that. “You actually thought about getting in trouble?” I didn’t reply. I should’ve known that I wouldn’t need to, because George could easily carry a conversation by himself. “You knew you could lose house points? And Hogsmeade could become off-limits to you? And that you might end up with words scratched into the back of your hand?” 

My silence was the only answer. Truthfully, he was right. I’d thought through all those possibilities. 

I’d earned Slytherin enough points throughout the years that any deduction wouldn’t damage my reputation too badly for anyone not in the Inquisitor Squad, especially under Umbridge’s reign. As for Hogsmeade, the castle itself was large enough to keep me from feeling claustrophobic. And, yes, I even budgeted for the possibility of getting detention with Umbridge; that’s why there was a Soothing potion waiting for me in my room. 

What I hadn’t anticipated was Malfoy being the one to report me. 

So much for being friends. 

George shuffled closer, bringing me to the present with his brown eyes. “You thought through the possibilities, and you still did it?” I nodded, and a grin broke out on his face. “Are you sure you aren’t supposed to be in Gryffindor?”

I made a disgusted sound in the back of my throat. “How dare you,” I said blandly. 

“I’m serious,” he said with a smile that said the opposite. “You’re quite the little risk-taker.” 

“Is it really risk-taking,” I murmured, “if you’re prepared for all the risks?” 

The inner corners of George’s eyebrows turned upward, his smile dimming to a more serious affect. “Was it worth it even though you got caught and punished?” 

“Is it still punishment if it was worth it?” 

His freckled face relaxed at the question, smoothing out until it was without pucker or twinge. “Should there be a rule against it if it’s still worth it?” he murmured.

I brought out my hand, looking down on it so I could once again read the message waiting there. The shiny letters didn’t hold any answers within their crimson hue. “I’m not sure.”

A hand reached out to touch mine, and my breath caught when I saw, on the back of George’s hand, familiar words, written in narrower handwriting.

I must obey the rules.

“Funny,” George said softly. “Regardless of what happened beforehand, we ended up the same.”

I slowly dragged my eyes up to meet his. “Not quite.” I smiled sadly. “I’m apparently friendless.” 

“Not friendless,” George murmured like a promise. “Not if you don’t want to be.”

I studied him, searching for any sign of deception. His locks had darkened over the years. In our first year, they could only be described as flaming, his hair as dangerous as his tendencies, but now they’d tempered into a comforting copper hue. His freckles also faded, though there were still just as many of them. His eyebrows normally promised even more trouble than his mischievous eyes, but now, nothing in his face seemed disingenuous. “Can Slytherins and Gryffindors even be friends?” I asked.

“Is it risk-taking if you’re prepared for all the risks?” George echoed.

I gave a short laugh. “Touchè.”

“Besides,” George said with a smirk, “you could do with friends better than that old tosser.”

I wanted to laugh, truly I did. Or perhaps I wanted to care little enough to be able to laugh. But alas, I cared too much, so I simply shook it off. “I’d better go, before Filch actually finds us.” 

“Fair enough.” George dropped my hand, and I missed the warmth immediately. “See you around, Y/N?”

I took great care to lessen my smile into a smirk. “If you’re lucky,” I replied.

George gave a relaxed salute before walking back the way we’d come, presumably to take up his place behind the tapestry.

I watched him go. Funny, I may not have been a first year, and he may not have taken me to the kitchens for dessert, and yet…I was glad for anyone else who might leave Umbridge’s office when George waited for them behind the tapestry.

-

Read the continuation here!

If you enjoyed this, you might also enjoy my other George fanfic: Seven Years of Bad Luck

Overall tag list:

@thelastpyle @valiantlytransparentwhispers

[desideriumwriter]

Don't Make Her Wait | G.W. x Fem!Reader

Summary: With the Yule Ball coming up, George knows who he wants to take as his date, you. Too nervous to ask, Fred helps him out with a bit of luck. 

Pairing: George Weasley x Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff

WC: 2.4k

CWs: cursing, poorly proofread

A/N: this has been sitting around for a bit so I lazily finished it the other night sooo have this while I work on other things!

The Yule Ball was only a week away and George still hadn’t scored a date. Everyone around him had dates or at least knew who they were going to ask.

George tried to mentally take notes when Fred asked out Angelina. But, he was puzzled at how Fred did it with such ease. He asked her out with no hesitation, no awkwardness, just with courage, he was confident.

Fred suggested that George should just ask out Katie Bell, it was obvious that she had a liking towards him. Angelina even offered that she could ask her or Alicia Spinnet to go with George.

But that’s what the problem was, George didn’t want to just ask out Katie as his date, or Alicia, or any other girl. He wanted you as his date. He wanted you.

He just couldn’t find the courage nor confidence to ask you yet.

George lazily spun noodles around his fork with a gloomy look on his face, his tall figure hunched over the wooden table. Fred and Lee both looked at each other and sighed at the mopey sight of George.

“Why don’t you just go and ask out y/n?” Fred questioned as he crossed his arms and rested them on the table.

“She’s probably got her eyes on one of those Durmstrang boys. I wouldn’t be surprised if she already has a date.” George muttered.

“Are you kidding me? She’s had eyes for you since last year! She practically stares at you for 80 percent of the time in charms!” Lee cried out.

“It’s because I’m always talking or being disruptive in some way! Anyways, I really don’t think she would care to go with me. I’m sure she’s already gotten a date.” George shrugged, a gloomy look on his face as he stared and poked at his food.

Fred and Lee only looked at George as if he’d gone mad.

“She doesn’t, you idiot!” Fred yelled, accidentally getting the attention of a few students near him. Silently apologizing and waiting for them to turn their heads before he began to talk again.

“She doesn’t have a date because I already overheard her in the common room complaining about how she doesn’t have a date and wants a certain someone to ask her to it.” Fred seethed, his tone strong but voice quiet.

It took a few seconds for George to realize who that “certain someone” was. It was him.

“Wh- Are you serious?” He was surprised, clumsily setting down his fork and leaning in.

“The most I've ever been.” Fred said with a stoic expression as he tilted his chin down.

“She talks about you quite a lot, and asks about you.” Lee hinted to George. “Now, all you’ve got to do is ask her out. Don’t make her wait.” Lee pointed at him, his face matching Freds.

“Yeah I know! But…I don’t know how! I don’t know what to say or what to do!”

“Oh come on, just go up to her and ask, she’ll say yes, and then congrats, you’ve got her as your date.” Fred shrugged and Lee nodded in agreement.

George disagreed however, it wasn’t as easy as Fred and Lee saw it to be. He wasn’t going to ask you out like Fred asked out Angelina, he wasn’t going to throw a crumpled paper ball at you and ask you in the middle of class. He wanted it to be special.

“No! I need to do something nice for it! I’m not gonna give her some boring proposal.” He scoffed.

“Then get her some flowers or chocolate, girls like flowers, right?” Fred commented as he shoved a mouthful of chicken into his mouth.

“It’s really not that hard, George. You’re overthinking it. Just go ask her.” Lee added in.

“I can't! I can’t do it.” George blurted out, dropping his head in his hands. Fred rolled his eyes, Lee tucked in his lips and shook his head disappointedly.

“Well, why not? What’s stopping you?” A bit of irritation was present in Fred’s voice, he was tired of George’s excuses and moping.

“I’m…scared.” George muttered, bringing his head up a bit.

“Scared? You’re scared?” Fred gawped, his voice slightly muffled due to his full mouth.

“I’ve seen you break school rules right in front of professors with no hesitation, you’ve stolen from honeydukes more times than I can count, entered the forbidden forest in the middle of the night without a smudge of fear on your face…but you're too scared to ask a girl out?” Fred was genuinely amused by George’s statement.

George groaned and grimaced, dropping his head back into his hands once again.

Fred realized he needed to do something. He needed to somehow bring up his brother's confidence. Later that night, he thought of just the lucky thing he could do.

Fred sat down excitedly the table, looking George straight into the eyes.

“Alright first things first,” Fred set his crossed arms on the table. “you have to ask her before the end of today, or I'll ask her for you.” George’s eyes widened at his ultimatum.

“What? You’re not going to ask her! I’m the one who’ll be asking first!” George cried out, dropping his hands on the table.

“Exactly. You will be asking her first. Or I’ll tell her for-” Fred began to point at him.

“I get it! I’ll ask her today, fine! Now, can you tell me whatever bloody thing you have planned to help me?” George complained, impatient and anxious.

Fred leaned back from the table, looking around to see just in case any professors or staff were focused on them. Once he knew no one had their eyes on them, he gestured for the others to get closer.

The three boys leaned in and hunched together over the table. Fred pulled something out from his pocket and placed it carefully in the middle of the table.

It was a small vial that was filled with a golden liquid and had a tag that said Felix Felicis attached around the neck of the vial.

“Felix Felicis?” George slowly spoke aloud while taking a good look at the glass. “Isn’t this the same stuff that’s banned from Quidditch competitions?”

“It's also called liquid luck and…yes.” Fred pointed out to him, mumbling the last word in the sentence.

“Liquid luck, really? You’re telling me I need a potion just to ask a girl out?” George scoffed.

“Yes.” Fred responded flatly. “You’re being too much of a priss, I’d make you take a shot of firewhiskey instead if I could get my hands on some right now.”

“Doesn’t this take six months to brew?” Lee questioned, trying to stop another argument between the twins from happening, he picked up the vial to look at it. Fred simply nodded as his answer.

“So, how’d you get it done overnight? Or have you just been hiding this from me?” George blurted out, he seriously doubted that Fred had kept a secret from him for six months, especially a secret about a potion.

“I didn’t make it, I stole it from Snape's cupboards, along with the recipe.” Fred shrugged and proudly smiled while nudging Lee, who was still staring intently at the small bottle.

“Snape had a whole rack of little vials of this one in his cupboard. To be honest, I would’ve taken-“ Fred trailed off, stopping once he realized the two boys were staring at him blankly.

“Anyways, all you have to do is drink some of it and let it do its trick.” He shrugged.

“You’re sure of this? It’s not toxic?” George questioned as Lee handed him the bottle.

“No. Hopefully not.” Fred muttered, George popped the cork off the vial and sniffed what was inside.

“Merlin! That smells horrid!” He grimaced and moved his face away from the vial.

“Just drink it before I make you.” Fred warned, wanting his twin to get it over with.

George took a deep breath and tilted his head slightly back.

“Maybe not the…whole thing.” Fred was too late with his warning, George had already begun to dump the entirety of the liquid into his mouth.

“I was gonna suggest he should put it in his drink.” Lee said concerningly. He watched as his brother swallowed the potion with a scrunched up face, grimacing at the strong taste of the potion.

“So, how do you feel?” Lee questioned, his eyebrows knit together in concern. George didn’t respond for a minute, he only took a large, deep, sharp, breath.

“Amazing. Absolutely amazing.” A grin took over his face. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do, but I’m gonna do something.” He slammed his hands on the table as he jumped from his seat, running happily out of the Great Hall before Fred or Lee could get a single word out.

“How far do you think he’s gonna go with it?” Lee leaned over to Fred, both of them watching the other twin leave the area.

“Far.” Was all Fred could say, knowing that his twin was coming up with something big.

You shut your textbook almost immediately after Professor Flitwick dismissed the class, this was your second to last class of the day and you wanted nothing more than the school day to be over.

As you and the other students began to gather your items and bags, some random force caused your textbook to slide off your desk and hit the floor with a loud thud. You silently groaned and sighed to yourself, you began to crouch down to grab it but a pair of hands were already clasped around it, holding it out to you.

George was handing your book to you with a huge smile on his face, you noticed the small folded up paper that appeared on the top.

You unfolded the tiny and read the messily written note.

Quidditch pitch, 6:30PM - G.W.

By the time you looked up, George was already walking out the door, his mop of ginger hair getting lost into the crowd of students.

George was nowhere to be seen, he wasn’t anywhere in the common room, or at lunch, or his usual spot in the corridors. It was strange. It was as if he vanished right after he gave you that note.

You left the common room at six, since it was a bit of a walk to get from there to the quidditch pitch. You swiftly walked down the corridors, constantly looking over your shoulder for Flich, hoping he wasn’t lurking around to find a student he could yell at. Hoping that you wouldn’t be that student.

While turning the corner, you came across a line of viola flower petals, orange and purple. They were leading down the hallway. You followed the trail of petals, even though you knew where you needed to go.

The trail continued even once you’d reached the entrance of the Quidditch pitch, you pushed past the curtains to find a jar full of your favorite candies from Honeydukes sitting in front of your feet, your initials scribbled on the top of the lid. You were surprised no bugs were crawling over it, perhaps George cast a spell on it to keep them away.

Anyways, you continued to follow the trail, it ended in the middle of the Quidditch field, stopping at a small gift box, a ribbon messily tied around it.

You grinned and bit down on your bottom lip, picking up the box and untying the ribbon nicely. You cautiously slid off the lid of the box, a noise came out of it, a crackling noise. Before you could even peek into the box, tiny fireworks began to spring out of the box, flying all around, some fireworks exploding into tiny heart shapes in front of your face, sparklers making their own heart shapes as well.

Large ones began to shoot out, exploding into letters in the sky and spelling out your name. The small box fell out of your hands and landed in the grass as the sparks continued to fly out. You took a few steps back, keeping your distance from the box to prevent any sparks accidentally hitting your robe or hair. While in the process, your back hit into someone's chest.

“Hi!” George shouted, causing you to jump and let out a small yelp at his unexpected appearance behind you.

He had the biggest grin you’ve ever seen on his face. You haven’t seen him smile this hard since he and Fred let off a dungbomb in Filch's office and stole the Marauders Map from one of his drawers in their first year.

“Oh! Hi, Georgie.” You nervously chuckled. His behavior was different, he was more hyper than usual. He was acting as if he was a shook up can of soda that was ready to burst.

“You got my note!” He cheered.

“I did! Are you okay? You seem…joyful.” You tried to look normal, rather than completely worried.

“I’m great! Better than ever!” You could see that look on his face. Where he knew something, he had a trick up his sleeve.

“So what’s all this about? The flowers, the crazy fireworks, the candy, what’s going on?” You knew exactly what was going on, or at least you hoped you did. What else would he have done all this for?

He got down on one knee, holding the bouquet of violas close to you, he wasn’t really sure what he was doing but he didn’t really care, the excitement running through his entire body was overpowering everything else.

“Would you Y/N Y/L/N, be my date for the Yule Ball?” You couldn’t help but giggle, holding a hand over your mouth to try and contain yourself.

His expression faltered a bit, but that grin was still glued on his face.

You weren’t giggling at the fact George was asking you out, you were giggling at the eager way he did it, the lengths he went to for it. You were also extremely nervous.

George raised an eyebrow, hinting that he was waiting for your response. You caught on and swallowed your giggles.

“Of course.” You nodded excitedly, taking the bouquet from his hands as he stood up.

He gave you a quick kiss on your forehead before fully standing up straight. His face was beginning to hurt from smiling so much, but he couldn’t stop, he carried on with his joy.

“You know you could’ve just gotten me the flowers and asked? You didn’t have to do all this.” You blushed.

“Yeah, I know.” George grinned wildly as he shrugged.

[fangisms]

all of the girls you loved

A/N: i am a SUCKER for a good song fic and obvi a sucker for some good Taylor content (gif creds: @merakiaes)

Pairings: George Weasley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Every woman that he knew brought him here. You want to teach him how forever feels. 2.6k words.

Warnings: so much crying why am i in a mood, fluff mostly!, song fic, song lyrics, pet names (poppet, dear), heartbreak, brief angst, ONE FUCKING CURSE WORD. jealousy, being stood up

1984

"your mother brought you up loyal and kind"

You'd been chasing the little red haired boy through the train station for the better part of the last ten minutes. But only because he tugged at your hair and stuck his tongue out at you. He started it. He's got this worn grey sweater, and you can tell his jeans were hand-me-downs from the patchwork in the knees. Probably from the boy, his older brother, with the wavy red hair carrying far too many books and stumbling up the train's steps.

Your antagonist giggles and ducks behind the brick pillar in the center of the station. You roll your eyes and round the otherside, tapping on his shoulder with a grin. He yelps and skitters away behind his mother. She has a small baby tucked in her arm and another cooing from a pram decorated with ribbons, lace, and wicker.

"Georgie!" She scolds him for tugging on her skirt before looking down to see your little face staring back at her. "Hello, dear, what's your name?"

The boy peeks his head out from behind her leg, round cheeks flushed a soft pink from all the running. You fold your arms over your chest and scowl at him.

"Determined little thing, aren't you?" she says with a sweet smile and kind eyes, "Have you been terrorizing this young lady?"

"It's not my fault, mum! She looks funny!"

"George. That's not how we talk about other people, now, is it?" she warns.

"No, mum."

"No, of course it's not. Now, you apologize this instant. Your brothers give me enough grief as is."

His wicked gaze meets yours, and you scowl hard as you can back at him. He squints. You purse your lips.

"I'm sorry because my mum told me so!"

You pout, "apology not accepted! I hope I never see you again!"

And with that, he watched the little girl with the wild hair and the polka-dotted pinafore skip away. Never to be seen again. Until the next year. And each year following the last.

1994

"teenage love taught you there's good in goodbye"

George has got a mouth full of the loudest bubblegum in existence when he comes roaring up behind you in the hallway, laying his arm across your shoulders.

"Evening, poppet. I assume you've heard the news," he chirps, smacking his gum in your ear proudly.

"You're disgusting, George," you say, shrugging his arm away but still matching his pace, "and I don't care that you bribed Niamh Ward into being your date to the Yule Ball."

"I didn't bribe her! She asked me and I said 'yes'"—he blows a gummy bubble in your face, and it bursts with a ringing pop—"D'you reckon she'll kiss me if I dance well enough?"

He twirls off down the hallway, ending his mini routine with a flourish of jazz hands.

"I don't reckon any girl will ever want to kiss you with moves like that."

"Oh, you're just a cynic. I'm perfectly snoggable, whether I can dance or not." He takes your wrist and drapes your arm in the crook of his own, and you scoff when he leans in to pop another bubble in your face. "Who's taking you to the ball, anyway? That Durmstrang halfwit?"

You yank your arm away and stop dead in your tracks. It's a well-known fact that you'd been waiting for George to ask you to the Yule Ball since first year. You thought for sure he'd ask you. But the time came and went and you each found other dates, other outfits, other plans. And you hate that deep down, a small part of you is still waiting for him to ask you. But you'd never do that to Niamh. Not even for George.

"As a matter of fact, yes," you say, "and his name is Johan—"

"What kind of name is Johan?"

He's still smacking his gum like he knows exactly how to get on your nerves. And after all these years, it's no wonder.

"You're so immature. I'll see you later."

"Oh, come on—"

"No, George," you huff, not turning around until you clear the corner and wipe your wet cheek with the sleeve of your robes.

...

The Great Hall has never looked more decadent. Draped in glitz and the magic of the holidays. Everyone's absolutely buzzing with excitement, ever-present gossip, and the beauty of students dressed to the nines. And in the midst of it all, you still spot him from across the room.

Of course, Johan is the perfect gentleman. He even asked if you'd like to match your gown to his traditional red dress robes. It was a lovely idea, and it wasn't hard to pick out a lovely chiffon, maroon dress. He said you looked beautiful and danced with you most of the night, but there was still that sickly ache in your chest like flesh and tendon left split by two cold hands. George's hands.

After you told Johan you didn't feel well, he left you alone at one of the shimmering tables. You felt bad practically leading him on, but it's not like you'd been lying about your attraction to him. Just about your attraction to George.

You don't turn to face the person who plops onto the stool beside you. You're pretty dedicated to flicking the thin straw around the rim of your glass at this point.

"I left my date to come talk to you, so you better have a stellar reason for looking so glum."

George. You know he's trying to cheer you up. And he knows it's not exactly working how he'd hoped. "Come on, poppet. It's the Yule Ball. You've been looking forward to this for, what, six years?"

He hates that when you turn to face him, you've got tears dripping from your chin, jaw, nose, lashes. He hates that there's a small part of him that wishes he could have fixed it for you. 

"What's wrong?" he whispers, scooting closer and catching a slow tear slipping over your cheekbone. You flinch away and lean your head in your hand, closing your eyes.

"You have no idea."

George chortles and shrugs, "well, yeah. That's sort of why I'm asking." You land a hearty wallop on his arm, not even looking when you swing your fist at him. "Alright, that was deserved. Now, tell me. I don't like it when you shut me out."

"Why are you doing this, George? Why don't you just leave me alone? Go hang out with Niamh or something," you say. It's accusatory, sure, but that's the point. The inflection was aimed for the heart. Spear tipped with arsenic just to make it sting more.

He chews the inside of his cheek, rubbing the back of his neck when you dodge his gaze and sniffle.

"That might be a tad difficult seeing how she stood me up."

Shit.

"George, I didn't mean—"

"No, no, it's okay. She caught a... a stomach bug, or something. Spent all morning hunched over the girl’s toilet," he mumbles, loosening his tie. And you catch just the smallest smirk tugging the corner of his mouth. Like there's some kind of amusement in his own misery. "I feel bad for her, honestly."

"I'm so sorry, I had no idea." You grab his hand and lean closer. He looks tired up close. Like the light usually at home in his eyes as twinkled out and left him dimmed.

"You've nothing to be sorry for. Fate is fate, after all." He brushes his hair out of his face and takes a deep breath, squeezing your hand. "Dance with me?"

Yes, of course, you want to shriek. I'd love nothing more from the boy who used to yank on my hair and call me names and tell me he loved my sparkly shoes. An honor, you think, but the words don't reach. Just a smile.

"Sure," you say, letting him tug you in the direction of the crowd. The right direction, you think, the direction you've longed for. Then he spins you into his chest, and you feel the shallow rumble of his laugh in your fingertips.

"Was Johan a better dancer than me?" he says, swaying your bodies like tender obligation. You cock an eyebrow.

"Johan stepped on my toes every four steps and nearly tore my dress."

"...So?"

"Yes," you tease.

"Shut up. Let me make this dance a good one. For you."

You look up at him and he thinks he's never seen someone look so clueless and yet so completely beautiful. From the gloss on your lips to the gems on your shoes and even now, mascara smudged and hands shaky, he thinks he'd like to look at you for as long as you'll let him. And when you shuffle closer between songs, he has to catch his breath against your temple.

"Your hair's gotten so long, Georgie," you whisper, slipping your hand up and over his shoulder, to the back of his neck with a smile pressed to his warm cheek.

"Like it?"

"I’ll always like it."

He pleads to Merlin you can't feel the rattletrap pounding of his heart. His hand moves of its own volition, spread across the small of your back like he's seen in some romance films. The slow dance scene is always the most romantic. The pinnacle of their love thus far. The event to dissolve any prejudice leftover in their heads, and any pride hidden in the last cracks in their hearts.

"George, I have to tell you something important—"

"Shh, poppet, just dance with me a little longer."

And you suppose. It could wait that little while longer. Another dance. Another day. It'd come up again and break your heart, but it'd be too pressing to put off eventually.

So you let him hold your hand a little tighter, sway you in circles a little slower, and keep your heart beating a little louder.

1996

"every woman that you knew brought you here // i wanna teach you how forever feels"

The something important you had tried to tell George that night was that you'd be staying with your estranged aunt in Spain over the course of the next school year. Your final school year. You'd be leaving Hogwarts—leaving George—and spending the year homeschooling over in Spain.

You left that Spring to spend your days in the Spanish countryside, drinking in the sunshine and dancing to the music of the cicadas. It had devastated George. It had devastated all of the Weasleys. They were so used to housing you most summers, and the change was quite unwelcome. Less place settings, less baggage clunking up the stairs, less laughter. He could only hope you were happy. And that he'd be able to see you again one day in the future.

"Georgie?"

You caught him off guard. He nearly tripped and cracked a tooth on the steps when you called his name. He and his twin brother had made a spectacle of Ninety-three Diagon Alley in the time you'd been away. And you had just happened to wander in and find him hurrying up the technicolor stairs after his brother.

Nothing felt real when he met your eyes for the first time in a year and change. The sirens and bells and sparklers went fuzzy as he realized just how beautiful you'd gotten since he last saw you. Beautiful enough to make him wildly nervous. Enough to make him sweat.

"My Poppet." He says it gently, grinning when you bat your lashes and hold your arms out.

"Christ, I've missed you, George," you huff, burying your face in his shoulder when he wraps his arms around you.

"You have no idea."

You tease him with a laugh, "Well, yeah," pulling away to wrap your lithe fingers around his tie. "Look at your hair! It's so short!"

"Like it?" He runs his fingers through the scruff at the back of his head. You squint and pat the soft tufts at the top of his head.

"I love it. You know I do."

He sighs, ushering you to the back of the shop all while trying to conceal a giddy smile.

"I've had an entire year to reflect on all the reasons why you abandoned me, poppet. I made a list"—He takes your wrist and drapes your arm in the crook of his own—"Starting with that time I told you your unicorn shirt was quote, unquote, 'for babies'."

"You have to include my stunning defense, Weasley"—you clear your throat—"'I am a baby, and you're just a rotten little boy!'"

"How could I forget?" He pushes open a door to the very neglected office towards the back of the building. Papers stacked on the desk, a cobweb in the corner. Well-loved. "A little privacy, mademoiselle?"

"I'd be delighted."

He sweeps the dust off a brown leather chair by the desk, offering the seat to you with a shy smile.

"Oh, George," you whisper, fiddling with the clasp of your purse with watery eyes and a pout like the one you gave him the first time he saw you.

"Come here, sweetheart," he says, hurrying you into his embrace with the feeling of being gutted by your sad eyes weighing heavy on him.

"There's just so much"—you gasp and cover your mouth when you sob—"So much I've missed and so much I want to tell you and so much I wish I had seen and done with you..."

"I know. I know, I feel the same," he huffs, "I missed you more than words can describe. I didn't know what to do with myself."

"I'm so sorry, I never meant to hurt you, I thought—"

"No. No, poppet, of course not"—he holds you tighter, pressing you to the curves of his body, holding you like clay and hot glass—"You came back, that's all I could ever ask for."

You pull back and let him wipe the tears from your cheeks, leaving faint kisses on each temple. And when he finally tears himself away from your skin, he's only left desperate for the contact. His thumb brushes you cheek, and you hold his wrist, lashes fluttering to meet his soft gaze. Desperation. Exhaustion. Relief. It's all there in the palm of your hand, and just at his fingertips.

Twelve years is far too long to be loving anyone the way you love each other. Completely but without the parts of love we sometimes need most. The honesty and openness, the comfort, and more than ever, the kisses. He curses his wild eyes for sweeping the length of your parted lips. His wild eyes giving away his secrets and calling him a damned fool.

You catch his mouth with yours, innocent at first peck, but he kisses you back, unsure of where his hands should go, wanting perfection, especially when your nose bumps his and makes you smile into the wetness of the kisses.

"I want everything," you whisper, forced to choose between air and George, "I have loved you since the day we met."

"That's very cheesy, my dear." He rests his forehead against yours, cupping the side of your neck, thumb resting gingerly over the column of your throat. Just to hold something delicate. Fragile. His.

"Think you can do better?"

"Hmm," he clears his throat, "You stole my heart and... I don't think I want it back."

"Gross! You win."

"I meant it."

He winks and pecks your bottom lip sweetly, only to realize you're tearing up, head tilted back and hands fanning at your eyes. He holds your waist and you shake your head with a defeated laugh.

"I'm such a crybaby."

"My favorite."

"You're awful, Georgie."

"I know," he says, finally, "I know."

masterlist

[lumosandnoxwriting]

Never Let Go || George Weasley

Title: Never Let Go Pairing: George x Reader Summary: Turns out building a family isn’t as easy as George thought it would be. A/N: part 2 to dad!george x nanny!reader! Though it’s not so much nanny!reader anymore as it’s more like stepmom!reader but whatever! Hope you guys enjoy and feedback is always welcome/appreciated! <3

-

It’s no surprise that George finds them in the backyard. 

Summer is finally in full swing in the UK, and he knows Y/N likes to have Remi out in the fresh air as much as possible. The almost two year old has them on their toes, and spending the day out in the garden, running through the grass seems to be the only way to ensure Remi falls asleep as soon as her head hits the pillow. And George really does mean an actual pillow, since they recently upgraded the crib in her room to a toddler bed. 

He has no idea where the time has gone. 

He had hoped to sneak up on them, considering the fact that it’s the middle of the day on Tuesday and he’s supposed to be at work. But when he steps out onto the back porch he isn’t met with the sight of Y/N and Remi kicking a ball back and forth or blowing bubbles. No, the scene he walks in on is much more precious. 

Y/N is laying in the hammock, one foot on the ground to slowly rock it back and forth while Remi lays on top of her chest, fast asleep. They’ve got matching white sundresses on, a gift for Mother’s Day from Molly. He figures Y/N is asleep too, but when the deck stairs creak under his weight her eyes open and a bright grin takes over her face. 

“George,” she breathes, voice quiet so as to not wake their toddler. “You’re home early.”

“I missed my girls and I’ve been jealous of all the fun you two have been having together,” George explains as he approaches. “Besides, Fred has been having so much fun torturing the interns he won’t even notice that I’m gone.”

Y/N giggles and pats the empty netting beside her. “Here, come join us.” When George gives Remi a weary glance, she waves away his concerns. “She’s out cold and probably will be for another hour, Sandra next door’s St. Bernard chased her around the yard for over an hour this morning.”

George rounds the hammock, carefully easing himself down next to the girls so he doesn’t flip them. He lays down on his side facing Y/N, propping his head up with one hand while the other rests on Remi’s bum, just below where Y/N’s own hand is. He leans in and kisses his daughter’s messy curls, before placing one on his girlfriend’s temple. 

He can’t believe that it’s been almost eighteen months since that day at the brownstone, when he opened up his front door to meet his new nanny only to fall head over heels in love with her instead. It’s hard to believe how much has changed in such a short time. 

For starters he sold that stupid brownstone that he loved so much. As Remi got older it was clear his bachelor pad was not easily converted into a family home, and the pathetic stretch of grass he called a back yard was insufficient for his sweet summer child who loved running barefoot in the grass. Plus with Y/N in their lives, the possibility of someday growing their family was always in the back of George’s mind and a London townhome was barely big enough for the three of them.

So with a great return on his investment and a little dipping into his savings, George was able to buy a large family home in one of the uppity neighborhoods on the outskirts of London. Sure his commute every day is hell, but they’ve got a backyard big enough for them to add a dog or two, the best schools in the country are just a short walk away, and there’s plenty of room in case they decide to add to their family one day. 

Which is something George hopes happens soon, one of the biggest changes that has happened since Y/N came into their lives. Before Remi George had a hard time imagining himself settling down, getting married and having some kids, and whenever he did it was far into the future by at least ten years. Once Remi was dropped into his lap that outlook had changed, but he always figured it would be just him and his daughter, something he was totally okay with. 

Falling in love with Y/N totally changed all of those plans. 

He didn’t want a life that was just him and Remi. He wanted one that included Y/N and the love and light she brings with her, with as many kids as she wants to give him. And he didn’t want that life years from now anymore, he wanted it as soon as she would allow him to stick a ring on her finger. 

Hence the diamond ring tucked away in the safe at work. George doesn’t think she’s quite there yet, but as soon as she is he’ll be down on one knee and making her his wife. 

But by far the biggest change that’s happened is the fact that he no longer has a nanny. Because now Y/N is a stay at home mum. So far that change has certainly been the most difficult, and it’s all thanks to the stubborn girl laying next to him. 

Once their relationship became romantic George knew Y/N could no longer be his nanny. Simply for the fact that it felt wrong to hand her a paycheck on Friday morning only to have her underneath him in bed that night. Besides, once that line had been crossed they both considered Remi to be their daughter, not just George’s and he certainly wouldn’t pay his wife or the mother of his child to take care of them. 

So he had proposed two possible paths to Y/N. 

The first being that he would stop paying her to watch Remi, and in turn George would take over all financial responsibility in their home. His money would become their money, and George would take care of all of their bills while she stayed at home and took care of the house and Remi. 

Y/N had flat out told him no. Which aggravated him and made him fall even more in love with her. But George had understood her response once she had explained that of course she considers Remi her daughter, the fact of the matter is she really isn’t Remi’s mum, and she’d feel weird taking on a role without having felt like she really earned it. Which George thought was total bullshit, he understood her point of view, but he thought it was bullshit. 

Which led him to propose the second path. Y/N would no longer be Remi’s nanny, giving her the ability to seek a new, day time position with another family. She of course would still live at home with them, and George would find a new nanny to look after Remi during the day while they were both at work.

He figured that would be the perfect solution. Y/N would still be making her own money while getting to be with him and Remi, Remi would have still have that one on one care George wanted for her and he no longer had to pay his girlfriend to hang out with their kid. 

Except her response to this proposition was the same as the first. Hell no.

Which had pissed George off to no end. He was trying to find a solution that would make their family work and keep all of them happy, and his sweet, stubborn girl shot him down. Twice. His anger had abated when during one of their arguments Y/N explained that the thought of another woman being in their home taking care of their daughter made her absolutely sick to her stomach. Because how the fuck could George be mad at her for being jealous at the thought of someone else being with Remi. 

So for months George kept signing Y/N’s paychecks and they kept fighting about how best to handle things moving forward. And George uses the term fighting very loosely, considering the fact it was more him trying to convince Y/N to let him take care of her and her saying no. 

It wasn’t until they moved into the new house, and their neighbor Sandra slapped George across the face and yelled about him being a dirty cheater, did they finally come to an agreement. 

Because when Y/N took Remi to the park down the road she’d introduced herself as Remi’s nanny to the neighborhood moms and nannies that were there with their kids. Which normally wouldn’t have been a problem, except for the fact that they started to notice that when Remi called her Mama she never corrected her, and on the weekends it was always George and “the nanny” taking Remi to the park together and they always seemed to be so close. 

So when Sandra saw them kiss in the driveway before George went off to work it seemed to confirm the neighborhood gossip that had been going around for weeks: George Weasley was screwing his nanny and was going to replace Remi’s biological mother with her. 

Which explains why Sandra, a woman George had barely spoken to at that point, assaulted and confronted him on his own property. Thankfully Y/N had been able to calm Sandra down, and after awkwardly explaining to her that Y/N was both Remi’s nanny and George’s girlfriend and that there was no other woman involved, the rumor mill dried up and everything went back to normal.

But Y/N felt so terrible that she agreed to quit her job as Remi’s nanny, with the stipulation that George let her work a job that still allowed her to be home with their little girl during the day. So now she works for a few families in the neighborhood as a nanny part time, that way whether she’s working or not Y/N is still Remi’s full time caretaker and she can contribute to the house with her own money. 

“Whatcha thinking about?” YN murmurs after they’ve been sitting in silence for a bit. 

“You, Remi, life,” George answers simply. 

“I can’t believe she’s almost two,” Y/N says wistfully, slowly rubbing Remi’s back. “I feel like just yesterday she was learning to crawl and asking for more juice by throwing her empty sippy cup at me,” she pauses as they both laugh. “Now she runs circles around me and says please and thank you.”

“It’s hard to believe that she used to be that tiny, fragile baby I found on my doorstep.”

Y/N stiffens next to him, just like she always does whenever Remi’s biological mother or how Remi came to be in George’s life is mentioned. She’s never even met the woman, but Y/N feels nothing but hatred towards her purely because of how carelessly she abandoned her little girl. There’s also a little jealousy there too, because as Remi gets older it is apparent that looks wise, she takes after the woman who provided the other half of her DNA, giving Remi a connection to her that Y/N will never have. She will love Remi with her whole heart until the moment she takes her last breath, but she will never be the woman that gave her life. 

“Even though I hate the way she came into your life,” Y/N starts, tilting her head back so she can look up at George. “I’m really fucking glad she did.”

“Me too, baby,” George agrees, leaning in to kiss Y/N softly. “Me too.”

-

“What are the ethical and legal implications for fucking an intern?” Fred asks suddenly, making all of the men groan. “Hypothetically, of course.”

Every month the Weasley brothers get together for a guys night. They play poker, drink beer and just catch up with each other. They’re at Bill’s tonight, in a shed out in the garden that he converted into a man cave. It’s a full house tonight, with George, Fred, Ron, Bill, Charlie and Ginny’s fiancé Harry all in attendance, and all of them are looking at Fred with disappointment. 

“Fred, you shouldn’t have fucked an intern,” Bill scolds, forever the responsible eldest brother. 

“Hey, I never said I did. I said hypothetically speaking,” Fred points out. “And I’m a little hurt by all of the judgment boys. Georgie over here fucked his employee and all of you congratulated him. Not fair.”

George rolls his eyes, taking a sip from his beer. “First of all, fuck face, if you talk about my future wife like that ever again I’ll knock you on your ass. Second of all, what happened with Y/N and I is completely different than whatever you plan on doing with one of our interns.”

“Oh please brother, enlighten me,” Fred snaps. 

“Well for one I’m not nearly a decade older than her,” George responds, narrowing his eyes as he glares at his brother. “Not to mention the second things turned romantic I tried to fire her, not my fault Y/N is the most stubborn woman on the planet. Any intern you hump and dump will still be our employee for at least two more months. And fraternization in that manner can certainly be construed as sexual harassment, which could end in a horrible, very public lawsuit that will ruin the company we worked so hard to build. Me kissing Y/N ended in a very happy, healthy, romantic relationship. We are not the same.”

Fred is silent for a few moments, and George is almost certain he’s gotten through to his twin. Until the other man opens his mouth. 

“So what you’re saying is I should wait until August, once their internship has ended, to fuck them?”

“I need another fucking drink,” George grumbles, pushing away from the table before he heads towards the little bar Bill has set up in the corner. He drowns out the conversation Ron has started, since it’s mainly focused on which intern Fred has his eye on, so he’s surprised when Bill slides up next to him. 

“Hey. I’ve got that number you asked Fleur for,” Bill murmurs, holding out a piece of paper for George to take. 

He gives it a quick glance, noting it’s nothing but a phone number, no name or identifying information, before he slips it into his pocket. “Thanks man, I appreciate it.” Both the number Bill has given him and his discretion in how he chose to give it to him. 

Because George isn’t one hundred percent certain what he’s doing is legal, and the less people that know about it the better. 

It feels kind of silly, scolding Fred about ethics and legal ramifications when George finds himself in a similar position, but his motivation has nothing to do with getting his dick wet, so he feels like his pursuit is at least a little justified. 

Six months ago he had his lawyer start looking into what’s legally required for Y/N to be able to adopt Remi once they get married. He knows it kills her that the only claim she has to Remi is the one in her heart and George wants to make sure that she has the legal rights to their daughter as well. 

Unfortunately for George, the answer was far from simple. Because when Emily, Remi’s biological mother, dropped her on his doorstep there was no documentation that she was officially terminating her rights. Meaning that even though George has been her sole legal guardian for nearly 24 months at any moment in time Emily can reappear, demand custody and have it granted. It also means that Y/N can’t legally become Remi’s mother. 

His lawyer had spent a few months trying to dig up any information, in the hopes that Emily had filed the paperwork to terminate her rights and they just didn’t know about it. When that search turned up empty their focus pivoted, and George had his attorney find out how to contact Emily, hoping that they could get her to agree to meet and come in to sign her rights away. 

But so far every attempt has failed. Either the numbers his lawyer finds are out of service or no one returns their call. Places of employment claim to have no employees under that name and every address is outdated. It’s been months since their search began and they still have nothing.

Luckily for George his sister-in-law knows some interesting people. He doesn’t want or need to know why Fleur has the number for a private investigator who has a knack for hacking, he’s just thankful that she does. 

Because there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for his family. 

But the blurred lines between right and wrong keep him from telling Y/N about the information Bill passed along to him when she asks him how boy’s night went as he slips into bed beside her that night. That way if this all ends up blowing up in his face George will be the only one hurt in the process. 

At least he hopes. 

-

The little family Y/N pulled together started on an unsuspecting Monday morning. 

So it makes sense that it all starts to fall apart on one too.

-

“What did you forget this time?” Y/N teases as she pulls open the front door. George only left for work a few minutes ago, and after a weekend at home with their family it’s pretty typical for him to get on the road only to have to turn around to retrieve something he forgot. But the smile fades from her face when she realizes George isn’t the one who rang the bell, but a beautiful brunette woman. 

A beautiful brunette woman who has soft curls falling down her back and a face shape that she would recognize anywhere considering the fact that she presses a kiss to that same arched brow every single night.

Nope, Remi’s Father is not standing on the porch - her Mother is. 

The woman, Emily, smiles at Y/N either oblivious to the distress on her face or she simply does not care enough to react to it. “Is George home?”

“N-no,” Y/N stutters out, too stunned to say anything else. “He’s at work.”

Emily shakes her head, looking Y/N up and down in a way that’s anything but friendly. “Ah, you must be the nanny then.”

The way she says nanny creates a pit in Y/N’s stomach, and it takes all of her strength not to flinch. Because how fucking dare this woman who abandoned her child show up years later and be anything but thankful and appreciative for the woman who picked up her slack. 

“Is there something I can help you with, Emily?” she asks after taking a moment to compose herself.

Because as much as she wants to give this woman a piece of her mind, Remi is just in the other room, and she has to keep her head on straight to make sure no harm comes to her daughter. No matter what this horrid woman thinks of Y/N, Remi is hers, and she’d do anything to keep that little girl safe.

If Emily is surprised to be recognized it doesn’t show on her face. She pulls a card out of her pocket, offering it to Y/N. “No, George will know why I was here. Have him give me a call.”

Y/N isn’t in control of her body as she reaches a shaky hand out and takes the proffered card, her mind numb. She watches as Emily turns on her heel and walks away without a care in the world. Like she didn’t just blow up Y/N’s life. 

Because why the hell would George know why Emily came by the house?

And why the fuck doesn’t she?

-

George knows something is wrong the second he walks through the door that night. 

Usually the house is filled with noise, Y/N almost always has music playing in the background as she cooks dinner and the sounds of her and Remi laughing echoes off the walls. But tonight when he swings the door open, his mouth opening to shout a greeting he’s met with dead silence. 

He’s immediately on edge, worried something has happened to his girls. 

“Y/N?” he calls out, voice frantic. “Where are you?”

He searches the bottom floor, switching between calling out for Y/N and Remi, his anxiety heightening each time he goes unanswered. His palms are sweating and he feels like he’s on the verge of a panic attack when he heads upstairs, his body moving without really being aware of where it’s going. 

All George knows is that something is wrong and he needs to find Y/N and Remi before he loses his mind. 

Finally he swings open Remi’s bedroom door and he takes his first deep breath in what feels like hours. Because Y/N is standing there, her back to the door as she gazes out the window. Her shoulders stiffen, so George knows she’s aware of his presence, but she doesn’t turn when he murmurs her name. It’s then that he finally notices a lack of their daughter, and the packed duffle bag sitting on the floor next to Y/N.

“Where’s Remi?”

“At Bill and Fleur’s,” Y/N answers, her voice flat as she still refuses to look at George. 

Her lack of emotion and just general shitty behavior does nothing but piss George off, which is why his words come out sharper than he intends them to. “Y/N what the fuck is going on?”

She finally turns to look at George then, and her appearance has him stifling a gasp. While no tears fall from her eyes, they’re rimmed with red and slightly puffy - a tell-tale sign that she’s spent a good chunk of the day crying. Her body is stiff, her arms crossed like she needs to protect herself. And her eyes, those eyes that George loves so much, are filled with one emotion: betrayal.

“Why don’t you tell me?”

That isn’t what George expected her to say, and he feels a little lame that he doesn’t immediately have a response. 

“Maybe you can start by telling me why the fuck, Emily showed up at our house today looking for you, and when I said you weren’t home she just left her number, claiming that you would know exactly why she was here.”

Oh fuck. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

George’s stomach is in knots and he feels like he’s going to throw up. He should have told Y/N that he was looking for Emily, he feels like such an idiot for keeping that from her. His lawyer has called several of her friends and family members to try and get a hold of her, of course one of them was sure to tell Emily George was looking for her. So it really isn’t a surprise that she decided to track him down instead.

Well at least, not a surprise to him. And why should Y/N have been expecting Emily to show up at their door after no contact for almost two years? He really, really fucked up. 

“Baby, wait, it’s not what it looks like,” George starts to explain, taking a step towards her. 

But Y/N takes a step back, holding up her hand to cut him off. “Really? Because it looks like you went behind my back and sought out the biological mother of the child you claim to be ours, after she abandoned her on a front porch no less.”

Fuck, it sounds even worse when she puts it like that. 

“Please, just let me explain,” George pleads.

But Y/N just shakes her head. “The time for you to explain would have been before any of this shit started.” She picks her bag up and tears start to well in her eyes. “I need a second George, to think about things. To think about what Emily being back around means for me and us and this family. Fleur and Bill are going to keep Remi for tonight, and Sandra agreed to watch her while you’re at work for the next few days.”

As she walks out of the room Y/N pauses next to George. “Emily’s number is on the counter in the kitchen. You better have a damn good reason for needing it.”

George stands there alone in the middle of Remi’s bedroom until he hears the front door click shut behind Y/N. It’s only when he’s sure he’s alone does he allow himself to break down: tears rolling down his cheeks as he falls to his knees. 

He thought keeping this secret was going to ensure Y/N felt secure in their family, but now it looks like he may have lost her for good.

-

Y/N plasters a fake smile on her face, not needing all of their friends and family to know how torn up her insides are. Because of course, the weekend after George’s betrayal is Remi’s second birthday, and despite the fact that they’re still not speaking and she’s still not sure where her place in their family is anymore Y/N will always show up for Remi. She’s already had one mother walk out, and Y/N is not about to be another. Emily’s reappearance be damned Y/N loves that little girl, and she’ll happily suffer in silence if it keeps a smile on her daughter’s face. 

Despite George’s best efforts, she’s managed to stay away from him so far. Of course they need to have a conversation about what happened, but the middle of their backyard while celebrating their daughter’s birthday is not the time or the place. So she’s kept close to Remi, reveling in the feel of holding her tiny hand as the toddler dragged her around the yard to all of the different activities they have set up. 

She’s standing outside the bounce house, watching Remi tumble around with her friends and her Uncle Fred, chatting with one of the Mum’s when she feels his presence behind her. The warmth of his body seeps into her skin, and Y/N’s eyes flutter shut as the scent of his cologne washes over her. Despite all of her hurt and her anger this week without George has been torture, and she’s afraid to admit how good it feels to be near him again. 

“Hi,” he greets, leaning in to murmur in her ear. “I’m really fucking happy to see you. I was afraid you weren’t going to show up.”

The other Mum gives her a cheeky wink before wandering off, clearly thinking Y/N and George are reconnecting during a quiet moment of a hectic day. Her stomach drops, both in fear and excitement. 

“It’s our daughter’s birthday, George,” Y/N responds once she’s composed herself, eyes reopening as she takes a deep breath. “If you think I’d miss it just because I’m pissed at you, you don’t know anything about me. I’m not Emily.”

Regret slaps George in the face, and he kicks himself for being so stupid. He hasn’t been able to think straight since Monday night, when he came home and his whole world fell apart. Life without Y/N is bleak, and if it weren’t for the little girl giggling wildly as she has fun with her friends, George is sure he would have given up by now.

“I’m sorry, I’m such a fucking idiot,” he apologizes, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Remi hasn’t been sleeping at night because she misses you and I haven’t been sleeping at night because I miss you and I feel so fucking terrible about everything and I can barely breathe let alone think straight.”

He pauses, taking a second to get his shit together.

“Of course I knew you would show up today, your love for Remi has always come first. That’s what I love most about you, how fiercely you love the people you care about.”

Y/N simply nods, to over run with emotion to trust her voice to come out clear and even. Knowing that Remi has been struggling during this time absolutely kills her, and she hates that she has brought her even an ounce of pain. But at least she’s young, and if this really is it for this relationship, Remi will never remember Y/N and the love and loss her brief stint in her  life caused. 

That’s a thought Y/N has had many times over this past week, and it’s just as heart wrenching to think about as it was the first time. Remi will never remember Y/N, but she’ll spend the rest of her life loving and missing that little girl. 

“Can we talk tonight?” George pleads. “I want to explain everything to you, like I should have done on Monday. Or rather even before that night. And if you still want to walk away from this relationship after that I will let you go. But please know that you will always be a part of Remi’s life, whether you and I are together or not. Remi may have come from Emily, but you are her Mother and you always will be.”

George walks away then, and Y/N furiously wipes at the tears leaking down her cheeks before anyone has the chance to notice. 

-

Y/N decides to hear George out. 

Because even though her heart is hurting and she feels like her trust has been broken, just being in his presence today has made her feel the most normal she has all week. Being by his side while they held Remi and everyone gathered around to sing her happy birthday just felt right, like she was just where she was supposed to be. There is no doubt in her mind that George is the love of her life, and Y/N knows deep down that she’ll always regret not fighting for their relationship. And when George had assured her that no matter their relationship status Y/N would always be in Remi’s life, she figured she had nothing to lose by sitting down and hearing George’s side of things. 

Plus, sticking around until the last partygoers made their way out means she gets to put Remi to bed for the first time in almost a week. 

Which is where she is now, laying on her side in Remi’s bed with the little girl snuggled up against her. They’ve just finished reading her favorite book ‘I love you to the moon and back’ and now Y/N is slowly stroking her soft curls as she watches Remi’s eyes flutter open and closed and she fights off sleep. 

“Mama miss me?” Remi’s sweet voice mumbles, and it makes Y/N’s heart break. 

She leans in, pressing her lips against Remi’s forehead. “Mama missed you so much, baby.”

“Miss Mama,” Remi agrees, her lips smacking together as she tries to stay awake. “Love you Mama.”

“I love you too, Rem-Dog. More than you’ll ever know,” Y/N promises. That reassurance must make Remi feel safe enough to fall asleep, and Y/N watches as her eyes finally flutter closed and once her daughter’s breaths have evened out she presses one more kiss to Remi’s forehead before extracting herself from the bed. 

“Goodnight, baby,” she murmurs, taking a second to tuck the covers tightly over Remi’s body. She heads towards the door, taking one more look over her shoulder before she closes it behind her. Taking a deep breath Y/N steals herself, preparing for whatever conversation is awaiting her downstairs. 

George nearly jumps out of his seat when Y/N comes down the stairs, furiously wiping the sweat from his palms on his trousers. He gestures towards the seat across from him, giving her a small smile. “Sit, please.” 

Once she’s seated across from him George sits down too, awkwardly fidgeting in his chair. He crosses and uncrosses his legs several times, his hands wringing together as he tries to figure out where to start. 

“Thank you for staying and agreeing to hear me out.”

Y/N gives a curt nod. “I’m not making any promises here, George. But I at least owe it to myself and our family to sit here and listen to what you have to say.”

She watches as George grabs a thick manilla envelope off the chair next to him, waiting with bated breath as he slides a document out of it. He places it on the table, slowly sliding it towards her so that she can see what it is.

Y/N takes a moment to read, her eyes scanning the words over and over again so there’s no doubt in her mind what she’s looking at. As the information soaks in, tears start to form in the corners of her eyes, and she presses a hand to her trembling lips. 

“George these are,” she starts, eyes finally flicking up to meet him.

“Adoption papers,” George confirms with a nod. “I told you earlier that no matter what happens between us you’ll always be Remi’s Mum, so I figured this would be a good place to start. That way once this conversation is done you can be free to feel however you want to feel, and not make a decision based on your love for Remi. I love you, Y/N, and I want us to be a family. But I understand that you might not feel that way anymore. So all you have to do is sign on the places that are marked, I already did, file these with the court and Remi will legally be yours too.”

“George, I,” Y/N stumbles, unable to find the words. This is the last thing she imagined George would say to her. And she knows now that whatever awful things she thought George was doing behind her back were nothing more than her insecurities speaking out.

When Emily showed up on their porch it surprised Y/N to her core, and all of those negative thoughts she’s had about feeling like she could never measure up to Remi’s biological mother came rushing back to the forefront of her mind; only made worse by the fact that George had seemingly been trying to get in contact with Emily behind her back. 

But sitting here, now, with George offering her a permanent place in Remi’s life even if she doesn’t want one in his - she knows. She knows that this is all just some stupid misunderstanding and she nearly let the best thing that’s ever happened to her slip away. 

“What about Emily?” Y/N asks, voice shaking. “I mean, isn’t she technically still Remi’s Mother like, legally?” she clarifies. She remembers when they had to register Remi at their new pediatrician after they moved, and they needed her birth certificate for her file. Y/N had noticed that Emily was still listed there, and when she googled what that meant that night, she found out it meant Emily hadn’t ever signed her rights away, so she still, legally, had a claim to their daughter.

“She signed her rights away,” George explains, a small smile forming on his face when Y/N’s jaw drops. “That’s why she showed up that day. My lawyer has been trying to hunt her down for months, and she must have heard I was looking for her.”

“And she signed them away?” Y/N asks, still in disbelief. “Just like that?”

George nods before launching into the story of what happened.

-

“You’re a hard woman to track down,” Martin, George’s attorney, jokes as Emily and her attorney take seats at the conference table across from them. But the smile is wiped from his face when George gives him a glare. 

This is not the time for joking. He’s barely been functioning since Y/N walked out two nights ago, and he just wants to get this shit over with so he can come clean to her and get on his knees to beg for forgiveness. And at least with Emily out of the way, even if Y/N doesn’t want to take him back she can still adopt Remi. He will deal with shared custody and watching Y/N fall in love with someone else as long as it means his girls are together and happy. 

“That’s what happens when you don’t want to be found,” Emily replies dryly. Her eyes finally and on George and the smirk that appears on her face makes his stomach turn. “Weasley, long time no see.”

George huffs. “Can we just cut the shit and get this over with? I’d like to get home to my daughter.” 

He can’t help but notice that Emily doesn’t react to him claiming Remi as only his, and it just solidifies that going through all this shit was a good decision. Clearly this woman doesn’t give a shit about the little girl they created together, because if he had said something like that in front of Y/N she would have slapped him upside the head and made him sleep on the couch for a week. 

“I’m sure she’s doing just fine with the nanny.” Emily’s voice drips with condescension, and it pisses George off even more. 

“Don’t talk about her like that,” he seethes. “Y/N is not Remi’s nanny, she’s her mother. And she’s a damn good one, which is something you know nothing about, so I’m not going to let you sit here and talk shit about the woman who has stepped up and done what you never had the balls to do.”

The room is silent, George’s words echoing around the room until Emily’s attorney clears his throat. 

“Well now that we’ve gotten that out of the way,” he drawls. “Why are me and my client here?”

“Oh, right.” Martin grabs the manilla envelope sitting on the table, drawing a document out of it. He hands it to Emily’s attorney, giving him a moment to look it over before he speaks again. “We’d like for Emily to relinquish her rights to Remi. It’s been nearly two years since she abandoned the infant, and George would like for his partner to formally adopt their daughter.”

Every second Emily is silent makes George’s stomach sink further and further, and he can feel the bite of his nails digging into his palm from how hard his fists are clenched. Martin had assured George that even if Emily refuses to sign her rights away there were other ways to have them terminated, but it would be a lengthy process. Which George would absolutely not hesitate to pursue, but he wants this done as quickly as possible, which hinges on this right now going the way he wants. 

“So I just sign and that’s it? The baby isn’t mine anymore?” Emily finally asks after she’s read the document. 

Martin nods in confirmation. “Precisely. If you sign that today I’ll have it filed with the court this afternoon, and you will no longer have any legal rights or ties to Remi.”

“All right, do you have a pen?”

Not even a second of hesitation. The second her attorney puts a pen in her hand Emily is signing, double checking to make sure she hasn’t missed a spot. As soon as she’s satisfied that everything has been taken care of Emily slides the papers back over to Martin, and George feels as if a weight has been lifted off of his shoulders. Emily is finally out of the way, and he and Y/N are free to be a family in every way possible. 

As long as she still wants him, that is. That part of the plan is still up in the air.

-

“So, yeah. That was that,” George trails off as his story comes to an end. He sits back in his chair, just watching Y/N as she takes everything in. There’s a few different emotions flitting across their face, but they’re gone before George can tell what they are. Her eyes look at everything in the room except for his face, and he can’t tell if that’s a good sign or not.

“She just signed them away? Just like that?” Y/N finally says, her voice thick with emotion. 

“Yep. We were ready to file a lawsuit for abandonment to have them involuntarily terminated but she just picked up a pen and signed them away.”

Y/N shakes her head. “Wow. Fuck her.”

George can’t help but chuckle. “Yeah, I was pissed at first too, because Remi is fucking amazing and how dare her Mum not realize that and fight to be in her life. But then I realized it doesn’t matter, because Emily isn’t Remi’s Mum and never has been. From the second you walked into our lives you have been her Mum, and the reason why she’s such an amazing little girl is because of you and the love and attention you have shown her. It doesn’t matter that Emily gave Remi half of her DNA, you’ve given Remi everything a real Mother should and that’s what matters.”

She doesn’t even know she’s crying until a few tears drip off of her chin, and Y/N works to quickly wipe them away. Everything George has said just erased every single doubt she’s ever had in her mind. Y/N always felt like Remi and Emily would have some kind of bond due to the fact that they share DNA, but hearing George just now and knowing Emily signed her rights away as if it were nothing proves that it’s all bullshit. 

The only woman Remi will ever have that bond with is Y/N, and it has nothing to do with blood.

“Why didn’t you just tell me you were looking for Emily, George?” Y/N finally asks. “I would have understood and supported you.”

“Because I’m a fucking idiot, for one,” George admits honestly. “When I first talked to Martin about the steps it would take for you to legally adopt Remi I wanted it to be a surprise. I bought a ring and had this whole plan to ask you to officially be a part of this family. But when we found out that Emily hadn’t signed away her rights I decided to keep it to myself. I didn’t want to get your hopes up if it wasn’t going to go the way we wanted it to.”

Y/N nods that she understands to encourage George to keep going. It’s actually kind of sweet that George had put so much thought into this whole thing, and she understands why he didn’t say anything. Clearly George was aware of the sore spot Y/N had regarding Emily, and she kind of loves him a bit more for trying to be sensitive to that. 

“And then Martin’s search for her was going to shit. Every address we had was old or wrong, every phone number was out of service. Any employer we talked to just said she didn’t work there and any friends or family would ignore us. I was kind of starting to get a little desperate,” he admits sheepishly, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “So I talked to Fleur and got the contact information for a guy with a, um, special set of skills.”

That gets Y/N curious. “What kind of skills?”

“Hacking, mostly,” George mumbles. “And I wasn’t one hundred percent sure that whatever he was going to do was totally legal, and I figured the less you knew about that the better. If it was all going to go to shit we both couldn’t be in jail. Remi would be left to Fred and we all know how that would end up.”

Once it’s clear George has said everything he needs to Y/N takes a deep breath, taking a second to just let everything sink in. Obviously George made a few mistakes in the way he went about things, she can’t deny how full her heart feels at his gestures. And it’s clear he feels absolutely terrible about how things came about and he regrets not being honest with her. 

“That was really the only reason why you didn’t tell me you were looking for Emily? Because it was supposed to be a surprise and you didn’t want me to know about your potentially illegal activities?”

“I swear,” George promises, placing a hand over his heart. “I’m so sorry I kept it from you and I hurt you. I didn’t mean for that to happen and if I could go back and do things differently I would.”

Y/N nods in understanding. She brushes her fingers over the adoption papers, tapping them twice. “And no matter what happens between us you’ll let me sign these papers and legally become Remi’s Mum?”

“Of course. You’re her Mama, and I know how much you love her and she loves you just the same. We can go to court to figure out custody or we can just do it between us, whatever you want. But I will never stop you from being a part of our daughter’s life.”

“Well, I think I’ve heard everything I need to.” Y/N pushes away from the table, biting her lip to keep from grinning at the dejected look on George’s face. She stands, but instead of heading towards the door like he thinks, Y/N rounds the table, plopping herself right down into his lap.

“You got your chance to speak,” she starts, putting a finger to George’s lips to keep him from saying anything. “And now it’s my turn. I’m sorry too, for acting the way I did that night. Emily showing up shocked me, and brought all of these insecurities and negative thoughts to the forefront of my mind and I went spiraling down this dark path. I knew that there was a rational explanation for Emily being on our porch and I didn’t give you a chance to explain things. For that I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted,” George responds once she lets him speak. “But just know I’m only saying that to appease you and not because I really think you owe me an apology.” Y/N finally breaks out into a full smile, and George feels the happiest he has all week. 

“And you’ll never go behind my back ever again?”

“Never,” George answers honestly, his voice firm. 

Before George has the opportunity to realize what’s happening Y/N leans in, pressing their lips together and pouring every emotion she’s felt over their separation into their kiss. George wraps his arms around her waist, absorbing every bit of hurt, pain, anger, longing and love she passes off to him. Even when their kiss breaks he keeps her pressed tightly to his chest, silently telling her that he plans on never letting go again. 

“So,” Y/N starts, her voice teasing. “What’s that you said about buying a ring?”

[joka13]

Hiya feel free to ignore this if you’re not doing requests but i was wandering if you could do a george weasley x reader where they’re in a secret relationship and maybe one of George’s siblings outs that the reader has a crush on George in front of them both then george kind of teases the reader for it afterwards ?

Thank you :)

Hello, I do take requests! And thank you for requesting; this was so fun to write! I hope you won't mind that I added just a few more background details to what you specified😁 Enjoy!❤️❤️❤️

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Dear Reader,

As you may or may not know, I post extensive, multiple part fanfiction stories. I must remind you or clarify that I do not consider any requests I write as parts of those stories. Thank you for reading❤️

FANFICTION (REQUEST): George Weasley x y/n Malfoy

WARNINGS: passionate kissing

It had been a long while since you began your concealed, romantic relationship with George Weasley. It was a rather difficult situation to maintain, but it definitely had its advantages. You're a member of the Malfoy family and wouldn't be caught dead associating yourself with a Weasley, for if you were indeed caught associating yourself with a Weasley, it'd be the end of you. Your father, the infamous Lucius Malfoy, viewed every one of them as nothing but muggle-loving blood traitors. You once considered briefly the possibility of your father accepting George as your boyfriend because George was, still, technically a pureblood. But, in the end, you decided to play it safe, to stay quiet about the whole thing. Your father wasn't the only person you worried wouldn't take it well. You greatly admired your older brother, Draco, and feared you would lose his respect forever if he ever learned of your feelings for George. And so, when George Weasley expressed his similar feelings for you and you couldn't bring yourself to reject him, you promised to be George's girl as long as he did his best to keep it a secret.

George was entirely willing to pay the price. He'd been aching to have you for so long; there was nothing he wouldn't do for you. You enjoyed it immensely as well. Butterflies came to life in your stomach every time he took your hand and led you away to some new corner of the Hogwarts castle when no one else was watching. You'd kept secrets before, but this one was different. It was shared, special, personal, and intimate. But there are just some people you can't keep secrets from forever.

You and George played a silly game you called "Straight Face" while lounging on the couch in the Gryffindor common room (this would have been self-sabotage if it weren't for George "borrowing" Harry's invisibility cloak, under which you both sat; it was also late at night when everyone, including the two of you, should've been in bed, so there wasn't much risk of getting accidentally sat on). The goal of the game was to simply get the other person to smile and keep yourself from smiling when it was their turn to try and get you to smile. George almost won every time you played against him, though it didn't really matter to you. The end always resulted in at least one person smiling while the other won the game. It was, almost literally, a win-win situation.

It was your turn, so you pulled a funny facial expression. The corner of George's mouth twitched slightly, but he did not smile. For his turn, George performed for you a rather accurate voice impression of Professor Snape that easily broke you.

"Oh, bugger!" you laughed as George grinned smugly. "You're too good at this game!"

"Alright, alright, it's your turn. Show me what you've got," George chuckled.

George returned to his blank stare while you thought of something to do to make him smile. You then shook your head with a knowing smirk as an idea formed in your mind.

"You've left me no other choice," you sighed, looking up at him through your lashes. George raised a red eyebrow curiously, but otherwise didn't budge. You glanced down at his lips.

You, very slowly, leaned forward towards George as if you planned to kiss him. Then, just before your lips could touch his, you froze in place. When you observed no reaction from him, you looked up to find George staring coolly down at you.

"Come on. Where's that handsome smile of yours?" you encouraged quietly, giving him your own best smile. You slid your hands gradually up his arms, feeling his muscles flex in anticipation. Touching was actually against the rules of the game, but George wasn't complaining, so you proceeded to wrap your arms around his neck.

"He's a little shy," George replied. His face might have been blank, but you could tell he was enjoying himself.

You chuckled. "Well, then what's it going to take to have him show?"

You pretended not to realize how fast your heart was beating when you moved to sit on George's lap, still holding your face so very close to his. As you settled in, George exhaled heavily before placing his hands around your waist. He didn't verbally reply to your question, but looked at you in a way that said, "You know what."

And so you kissed him. You kissed George and was taken to cloud nine when you felt his lips smile against yours. He chuckled, then began to kiss you back earnestly.

George's hands cradled your body, laying you down on the couch cushions behind as he smoothly advanced toward and onto you. You giggled helplessly when he moved his face away from yours to nuzzle his nose affectionately against your neck.

"I love you, y/n," George breathed, and his words meant the world to you.

Suddenly, something sort of like a gasp sounded from the stairs to the Gryffindor girls' dormitories, causing your stomach to drop with dread. You couldn't see what was happening from your position, so you watched George's face as he slowly propped himself up higher above you to get a look at the intruder.

His eyes widened, and George glanced down at you. "It's Ginny," he mouthed silently, then looked back up. You and him both remained quiet and unmoving, hoping Ginny would eventually go away.

You heard some shuffling footsteps, and then Ginny spoke. "George? Fred? Who's there?" her voice sounded closer now, much too close for comfort. You gripped the fabric of George's sleeves absentmindedly in fearful suspense.

"Aha!" Ginny exclaimed, and you knew you'd been caught. "You're using Harry's invisibility cloak! And you've left your foot uncovered." You saw a small hand reach over the couch's arm rest, over your face and grasp a fistful of Harry's cloak. George's expression was more annoyed than fearful as Ginny yanked the cloak off of the two of you and gasped in alarm once more.

"Malfoy?!"

George moved off as you quickly sat up. "Er, hello, Ginny," you chuckled gingerly.

Ginny looked back and forth between you and George in shock. You thought for sure she was going to faint or scream, but an ecstatic grin quickly filled her freckled face.

"My brother and y/n Malfoy!" Ginny squealed, clapping her hands together cheerfully.

George shushed her. "Pipe down!"

Ginny lowered her voice. "Sorry, sorry. Merlin's beard, I can hardly believe my eyes! Well, now I can." She giggled and waved the invisibility cloak about. "I was beginning to think you'd die alone, Georgie! How long has this been going on?" You and George looked at each other uncertainly, but before either of you could answer, Ginny continued to spout.

"I'm guessing it all began three months ago. That's about the time I started noticing Fred standing all by his lonesome. It must not have been much of a bother to him, though. He's had his fair share of slinking off with that Johnson girl. Am I right? It doesn't matter. I'm just so happy that you found someone... even if she is a Slytherin, let alone a Malfoy..."

"Ginny!" George scolded. You merely shrugged. You had expected a much worse reaction.

"I'm only joking," Ginny laughed. She sat down on a nearby ottoman. "Honestly, I think it's the perfect match!" Ginny turned to you. "I've always thought that if Fred and George weren't sorted into Gryffindor, they would have been put in Slytherin," she chortled.

You laughed, "I've said the same thing!"

Ginny laughed with you while George rolled his eyes, smiling.

"I know I probably don't need to say it," George said. "But if you wouldn't mind keeping quiet about y/n and I..."

"Of course!" Ginny scoffed. "Anything for you, George." She stared at you and George contently.

After a moment, George cleared his throat. "It's 'bout time you got back to bed, Ginny."

"Oh, if you say so," Ginny sighed, standing up reluctantly. "I know that you two will just go on snogging again."

George snorted.

"What'd you come down here for anyway?" you asked quickly to change the subject.

"Oh, yeah! Thanks for reminding me." Ginny went over to the side table, opened its single drawer, and pulled out a tattered, black book. She tucked it under her arm. "Goodnight, you lovebirds!" Ginny said, then headed back up the stairs to the girls' dormitories.

You and George sat in silence for a short moment before he began to chuckle.

You blinked in confusion. "What?"

"I just can't believe how scared you were," he snickered. You shoved George playfully, causing him to laugh harder. "Terrifying, little Ginny!"

"I didn't want to be discovered, same as you!" you giggled, slightly embarrassed. Your smile drifted away as concern filled your mind once again. George stopped laughing when he noticed your mood faltering. "You really... you really don't think she'll tell anyone?" you asked timidly. You had a suspicion that Ginny might be one to gossip.

George smiled caringly, lovingly, and pulled you closer into a warm embrace. "Yeah. I trust her. And..." He stroked your hair as he carefully chose his words. "I've been meaning to... this was good timing. I think it's about time you met my family anyway."

You pulled away slightly so you could look George in the eye. "Do you really mean it? Even if you don't meet mine... just yet?"

"I do," George replied, then sweetly kissed the top of your head.

[crazyk-imagine]

Tis the Season... Mistletoe Season

Pairing: George Weasley x Best Friend!reader 

Characters: Fred Weasley, George Weasley, Best Friend!reader, Ginny Weasley, Molly Weasley, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Arthur Weasley (briefly mentioned), Bill Weasley (briefly mentioned), Harry Potter (briefly mentioned)

Warnings: Shenanigans, this is crack I swear, use of mistletoe, Reader is late to the crushing on a Weasley twin game, fluff, slight angst (at the end), reader has the best friendships with the twins, mentions of the war, mentions of... Fred (I somehow can’t not mention him when I write for George)

Word Count: 2,256

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“I know someone who has a crush on you,” Fred whispers in a sing song tune. 

You don’t look up from your essay, adding a coma where you see it needs to be. “Are you sure that it isn’t you, Fredbear?” 

“I still prefer Fred the one with Fabulous,” he lifts his hand, swishing his hair all about. “Hair but whatever.” Fred yanks the nearest chair and sits on it with his arms crossed. 

“No, no, no,” you repeat. “No sitting.” 

“And, why not? You saving it for someone? The real someone who has taken a liking to you for some reason.” You scoff, shoving his shoulder. “I’ll have you know, Fred that I’m a delight.” 

He nods, pretending to listen as he stares off into the space in front of you. “You still coming over?” 

“And break Molly and Arthur’s hearts? No thanks mate. I’m not that crazy.” 

“Same time?” 

You think about it for a minute. “You mean when you drag me home with you?” 

“Yes.” 

“Same time.” 

“You better be ready or else I’m leaving without you.” 

“You’re the one that’s late. Last time, I went out and you weren’t there so then I figured you’d forgotten because you had other plans involving your pranks and I went to Diagon Alley.” 

“I was on time,” he scoffs. 

“You showed up three days late.” 

“Whatever. You better have everything you need before you come over.” 

“I will because I’m leaving Hogwarts with the Weasley clan.” 

“You are?” 

You nod, returning your attention to your homework. “I am, I’ve already written to your mum about it, and she can’t wait.” 

“I don’t know if I should be concerned or not that you’ve talked to her.” 

You turn towards him, head resting in your palm, fingers curled settling on your cheek. 

The sarcastic and dark smile sends a shiver down his spine. “And you wonder why I don’t invite you to help George and I with pranks.” 

“Oh, shut it!” You shove his shoulder. “You lie.” 

“I would never,” he says with his right hand over his heart. “Scouts honor.” 

“You have no idea who or what the scouts.” 

“Harry said it.” 

“Ah.” 

-

You barely walk through the hallway to your usual meeting spot with Fred when you hear his voice. 

“Finally. Let’s go.” 

You scoff, “can’t even be a charming mate and help me with my bag. You can clearly see I’m struggling here.” 

Before he could respond, someone took your bag from you. “Thank you, George. I’ll buy you a chocolate frog as repayment for your kindness.” 

His brothers jaw drops open. 

“Don’t you start with me, Fred. Your brother has been more helpful than you, therefore he deserves a nice treat before we go home to the chaos.” You start walking ahead of the two, not wanting to hear Fred being a little shit. 

“Told you.” 

“Told me what,” George grumbles, hoping that the cold air will take away some of the warmth from his cheeks before you could see. 

“She fancys you. Why is this so hard for you to understand?” 

“Her offering to get me something on the train doesn’t mean she likes me.” 

“The only other time she got someone a chocolate frog was our second year and she bought it for that idiot Bobby.” 

George pauses, taking in this new information he’s just learned. “Wasn’t he the bloke who stood her up?” He continues to walk towards the train. 

“Exactly,” Fred nods. “She liked him, so she bought him a chocolate frog. Now she likes you and wants to buy you a chocolate frog.” 

“Maybe- Maybe she’s just being nice.” 

“I’m nice but I don’t buy people chocolate.” 

“That’s because you eat it all before anyone can get to it like the toad you are.” 

“That was uncalled for!” Fred shouts, chasing after his brother. 

-

You turn around, realizing neither of them are behind you only to run into something. 

“Sorry,” his voice comes out quiet. 

You lift your head from his chest and realize it’s George. You shake your head, smiling at him. “It’s alright, better you than the other one.” 

He chuckles. 

“Are you alright though?” You step back, placing your hands on his forearms as you check him out, making sure he’s not injured. “Oh, you’re looking a little red. Are you sick?” 

He shakes his head, lowering it to hide his embarrassment. “I’m fine.” A piece of paper slides by his foot. “Look up. Tis’ the season.” 

He can hear Fred snickering off to the side, his nerves are teetering closer to the edge of full-fledged embarrassment. He slowly lifts his head to find a bundle of Mistletoe beside you. He walks away from you, rushing over to Fred so he can bear him or spell him, whichever comes first. 

You notice the note and bundle, covering your mouth to hide your nervous and excited smile. 

George comes back, his hand on your back as he guides you onto the train. “Let’s go.” 

“Are you sure you’re, okay?” 

“Would be better if my brother would stop being such a prat.” 

“Good to know we agree on something. Oh.” 

“What is it?” 

“Sit with me and you’ll find out.” 

“Prank Fred?” 

You nod, a wide smile dancing across your lips. 

“Good.” 

“I have a notebook full of ideas.” 

“Perfect.” 

He finds an empty seat for three even though you’ll both try to kick his brother out. “Let’s get started, shall we?” 

“Hey, can I-” 

“No.” 

“I’m your brother, Georgie. Let me sit with you.” 

“No.” 

“That’s rude to say to your best friend.” 

“I have George, that seems like plenty of company to me.” 

“Why do you hate me?” 

“Should we let him in before he causes a scene?” You ask him. 

“If we do, we won’t be able to plan anything.” 

“I know what to do. Don’t you worry about that.” 

He stops when he notices you two have stopped whispering. 

“Come in and shut it.” 

“Good. I was worried I’d have to do something Ronnykins in order to have a seat.” 

You roll your eyes. “Shut up.” 

“Gladly... but-” Fred raises his hands when he sees your glare. “Alright, alright. I’ll shut up now.” 

-

“Oh, look at you, dear.” Molly greets you with a smile, arms wide open for a hug. “Have they been feeding you?” 

“Fred stresses me.” 

“Oh, that won’t do. Fred!” 

You snicker into her embrace. 

The boy hops down from the last few steps, wondering why he’s being called down like he’s in trouble until he sees you. 

Now it all makes sense. 

“Why have you been putting stress on your friend?” 

“What? Stress? I haven’t-” 

“Don’t try and deny it. Look at her.” 

“She looks fine.” 

“Fred Weasley! You little-” 

You sneak away while your friend whines. You stare up, knowing that he’s around here somewhere. 

His head pops over the railing, his arms crossed as he leans over slightly. 

You give him an okay hand signal with a nod. 

He smiles, waving you up. 

You look back, making sure no one is watching so you can escape. 

He backs away from the railing, leaning against the wall as he waits for you. 

You snicker as your foot touches the last step, “Oh that was too funny.” 

“It was. It’ll be funnier later.” 

“I hope so. Do you think he'll know it was us?” 

He shrugs, “maybe. Maybe not. He’s gonna try and blame us but we won’t break, right?” 

You shake your head and hold your hand out for him, “I’ve got your back as long as you have mine.” 

He shakes your hand, holding onto it longer than a normal person would. 

Ginny’s voice travels up as she runs up the stairs bringing you two out of your mini staring contest. 

‘He has really pretty eyes- oh no.’ “Uh- I gotta- bye.” You pass the youngest Weasley and run down the stairs. 

You stop in the kitchen, resting your back against the wall. ‘I fancy my best mate’s brother, who’s also my best mate.’ “Oh Merlin,” you head falls back, resting against the wall. 

“What’s got you all flustered?” a mumbled voice comes from beside you. 

Your head snaps over at his. “Noth-nothing Ron. All good here,” you give him a nervous smile. 

He narrows his eyes at you, taking another bite out of his snack. 

“Ignore him,” Fred shoves the boy away from you. “Good plan you two created back there. You should be proud.” 

You narrow your eyes at him, ignoring him as you search for your bag. 

“What’s got you all red? You’re face practically matches my hair.” 

You march in front of him, index finger a mere few centimeters away from his chin. “Shut up.” 

“Calm down,” he pushes your hand away from him. 

All of a sudden, he’s on the ground and you’re being pulled away. 

“Wha- George?!” 

He sheepishly smiles. “I’m back.” 

Neither of you say anything. 

“Would you two look at that? Why is that- Hermione, is that what I think it is?” 

The girl stares at him with furrowed brows, unsure of why she’s been brought over and then she sees it. 

A quiet, “oh,” escapes her. “If you’re talking about mistletoe, then I do believe your right, Fred.” 

“And what is that?” You ask, jaw clenched. 

A mischievous smirk takes over, “if I remember correctly when I asked Harry, which I do. You and whoever stands under the mistletoe must share a kiss and not- not on the cheek or the forehead or anywhere else. I know you and loopholes.” 

“That,” you point up to the bundle, “that is- is holly.” 

“No, it’s not.”

“No, it’s not,” you whine. 

“Fred,” George starts. 

“No, Georgie boy. You’re not getting out of it today.” 

“Out of what?” You ask him. 

“Oh, look at that. Ron’s choking- we’re coming to save you brother of mine. Have fun, you two.” 

“What did he mean by that?” 

“Huh? Oh, nothing,” he rocks on the balls of his heels. 

“Liar.” 

“Well, now that’s just rude-” 

You take a step closer to him. “How is it rude?” 

“You called me a liar with no proof,” he tells you, also taking a step forward. 

“Well, maybe it’s because I know you and I know when you’re lying.” 

“Only Fred can do that.” 

“You forget, I can tell the two of you apart.” 

He nods, eyes focusing on your lips. “You can.” 

You try to respond with a witty comeback only to feel his lips smashed against yours. It takes you a second for your brain to process his movements but before he can pull away, you eagerly return the kiss. 

“Finally… wait, does this mean you two are gonna be doing this all the time?” Fred has the audacity to ask (when he was the one pushing you two to get closer for the last few months. 

You two part, his hands on your waist, yours wrapped around his neck. You share a look with him and glances back at your friend. 

“Yes,” the two of you say in sync. 

“Oh, Merlin.” 

You giggle, turning to look at George again. “Good holiday so far?” 

“Best one before I ask you a question.” 

“Hmm. What’s that?” 

“If I tell you now, it’ll ruin the surprise.” You pout but he makes it up by showering you in affection. 

-

After Fred and George decide to open WWW, Weasley Wizard Wheezes, he proposed to which you happily accepted and got married after the war. 

You would have chosen to do it sooner had their older brother, Bill, not planned on getting married around that time. 

But you both had something to honor him. You used the pin he secretly made when he found out George had begun to fancy you. It was a prototype then and once the shop was open and he had proper tools and supplies he was able to successfully make a one-of-a-kind hair pin that popped out a small veil. 

The only reason you found it was because Fred had, at some point, stuffed it into your jacket pocket before you all left for Hogwarts. 

You thought your fiancé had barely just fallen asleep when you began weeping as you read his note. 

-

I always knew he would ask you to marry him and, look at that, I’m right. Ha! 

This is the first and only of its design, don’t lose it or else I’m gonna be upset when it’s time. 

Put it in place and it’ll work, I promise. 

P.S. I better be best man. I don’t have the right figure for a maid of honor dress. 

-

Warm arms and shaky hand pulled you close to him. 

And George, he wore Fred’s friendship bracelet, the one you made (during one of your crafting stages) after the two of you decided you were gonna be friends and pranking partners, if there ever called for a time. 

It was the only thing Fred wore on his wrist since it was “special”. Also, he would never switch with him if they pretended to be the other. 

You two didn’t leave each other’s sides during this time but as time went on, you two slowly began to get help regarding your trauma while learning how to heal and not lose one another. It pains you to say but, it’s possible that your friend’s unfortunate death brought you two closer and more understanding of how special it is to know someone and have the kind of bond you two do.