#scrap gold shops near me

[rizanbullion]

Sell your old gold for cash in Dubai, turning unused treasures into immediate financial opportunities. Experience a seamless process and fair returns for your precious metals.

[sellandbuygold]

Rizan Jewellery is the leading certified gold dealers in Dubai, Sharjah and Abu Dhabi, delivering Best Price and Service to sell your Gold for Cash in UAE.

Visit www.sellandbuygold.me

[goldjewellerybuyeringurgaon]

Sell silver online in Delhi NCR

If you are also interested in selling your old gold and silver jewelry for cash at the best price in Delhi then you can go to Cashfor gold & silverkings Pvt.Ltd. It is one of the best places to sell silver online in Delhi NCR. For more details and information you can visit their shop once Contact at 9999821702 /22

[scraps-stark]

Devotion of the High Priest

OOC: Hah, you guys thought you were safe from Pyxis on this blog? Wrong. Thought you were safe from in depth short stories that absolutely no one asked for? Also wrong. Suffer. CW: violence, religious themes, death, blood, guns, descriptors of an afterlife

“Are you sure about this? I thought you’d be upset about all of this.” Scraps muttered as he turned the necklace pendant over in his hand, a finger grazing over the raised heart of the pendant. It was a gold heart with three spears pierced through sitting in the center of a silver sun laying on top of a deep red ruby. It was clearly crafted with care, and he would be more than happy to wear it, but his concerns lied mostly in the fact that Pyxis wasn’t exactly thrilled to become a religious figure to a little over two dozen Alanixians, and possibly more if the group pushed out the word of the religion. He looked back up at the alien hanging upside down from the support beams of his workshop, his forest green eyes locking with their earthy brown ones. He nearly flinched as they carefully cupped his face before his gaze softened. And it was like he was seeing the sun for the first time in his world of darkness as he watched them smile at him with the most care and love in the world. Where their fingers pressed against his skin, it felt like flowers blossomed beneath their touch, his chest rising as though clouds tickled his heart and lungs. He felt slightly out of breath, unaware that he had shifted forward to lean further into their hands. His hands slowly raised, holding onto their wrists as he listened to every word that slipped from their lips, lapping them up like honey dripping from the hive. “I want you to have a piece of me when you travel amongst tha stars, Scraps. Ya mean a lot ta me, and I want ya ta know that I’ll be there fer ya when ya need me, no matter what.” Their eyes squint together as they smile, gently rubbing their thumb across his cheek. And, oh, how the mighty do fall. Scraps’ devotion rang true despite his words failing him. 

If only his devotion served him at this moment. Stuck in another dimension, a mutant inhibitor collar stuck around his neck, his arms pulled back behind him, and a faceless man in front of him with a gun aimed towards his chest. He felt his throat bob as he felt the exhaustion run through his body, swallowing hard as the fight left his body. He was so tired, how long had he even been fighting now? “You got any last words, freak?” The faceless man barked out, his voice a far cry from the soft tone of Pyxis’ own voice. “I’m sorry.” Scraps coughed out, his chest heaving as he kept his eyes open, staring at the expressionless face of the other man. He wasn’t apologizing to him, not ever. No, his apologies were meant for Pyxis, for the others he would be leaving behind. His friends, his family, the stray cats outside of his shop, most especially the orange one he named Lemonchello. “Yeah, you should be sorry you came here, you freak.” The faceless man spoke before firing the gun. Scraps felt the bullet pierce and he waited for the sharp pain of it hitting his heart, something he was already accustomed to. But that pain never came. He felt the man behind him let go of his arms. His eyes looked down at his chest, confused if the bullet had missed. No, it most definitely had hit. But the blood that poured forward wasn’t of human nature. The light gold, nearly silver blood poured from his chest, dribbling out of his mouth. As he raised his eyes again, the green light that cast onto him felt like a warm shower of spring rain. He reached his hands out towards it as his eyes closed.

When they opened again, he wasn’t anywhere near home. He wasn’t quite sure where he was. But when he looked back down, the area where he had previously been shot was now a red ink stain on his dark skin. He looked back up at the rolling hills around him, a breeze blowing through the grass and flowers. He looked around in confusion, noticing a pond of sorts next to him. Red poppies and daffodils bloomed around the edge of the water, lily pads crowned with lotuses floating in the water. As he knelt next to the pond, peering into the water, his reflection peered back, the light dancing off of the ruby pendant hung around his neck. He let out a deep breath he didn’t realize he was holding, his braid moving back over his shoulder and dangling mere inches from the surface of the water as he leaned forward. A hand clasped onto his shoulder, giving a familiar squeeze. Scraps didn’t raise his gaze to the figure squeezing his shoulder, not having the strength to greet them quite yet. But he knew that squeeze. He knew it meant there was still a fight ahead left for him. Scraps took one last gaze at the flowers and grass around him before his eyes closed once again. And once they opened yet again, he was back home.

His home. With his shitty twin sized mattress shoved on a shitty metal frame in the corner of his room, the familiar buzzing of his bedside fan whirring away in a pathetic attempt to make it less muggy in the basement. He felt the weight of a cat on his chest, grunting as he raised a hand to pet whatever stray was on top of him, immediately recognizing it as Lemonchello from the notch in his ear. “Scraps. You’re awake!” He flinched as he heard Pyxis call him, but opened his eyes fully to see the face of his god hovering over him, blood stained on their skin and a red ink stain over their heart matching his. “Congratulations, Pyxis. Your new High Priest, Asante Scraps Stark.” an unfamiliar voice sounding similar to Pyxis’ own, just without the accent, spoke out. “What?” Scraps croaked out, looking up in confusion at Pyxis who cupped his face once more. But it was different this time. It held pity and guilt as he felt tears hitting his skin falling from their eyes.

[the-insouciant-scientist]

@fallenlondonficswap @tales-from-the-neath Here's my part of the secret swap! Hope you enjoy. A Stitch in Time

Nyx Darkhelm & Irving Merritt, General Rating, 1118 Words

The sound of a popped stitch. The irritated swish of a gold-furred tail. Nyx’s ear twitched as they moved to inspect the seam of their armscye, and they frowned to see that it had indeed split open, revealing a starched white shirt beneath. They had been on their way to a very important appointment at Beatrice’s, but there was no way they could allow themself to be seen in such a state of disrepair! Appearance was everything. They curled a claw protectively around their golden rose lapel pin as if it might pop off too. Nyx turned their gaze upwards towards the shop signs of Spite, searching. They really didn’t want to have to buy an entirely new suit coat, especially on such short notice, but what choice did they have with so little time? If only they could… ah! There! A tiny little tailor's shop, wedged between a fabric store and a lacemaker. The sign named it as "Violet & Pansy Tailoring". It seemed a friendly enough space, lit from within by gentle yellow lamp-glow. Nyx hurried over, tail sweeping back and forth hopefully. 

A clear, bright bell-sound rang out as they pushed the door open. Nyx heard a little 'oh!' from somewhere near the back of the shop, and then the shop owner came into view from around a corner. She was tall and broad, with twinkling eyes and an impeccably groomed goatee. "Hello, my dear, and welcome to Violet and Pansy! You can call me Irving. How may I help you today?" The shopkeep asked, one hand idly brushing loose thread and tiny fabric scraps from her skirts.

"Hello, Irving, a pleasure to meet you. My name is Nyx Darkhelm, and I was hoping to inquire after a small repair job if that's alright?" Nyx said, gesturing gingerly at their popped shoulder seam. 

Irving approached, murmuring a soft "May I?" and waiting for a response before running a gentle hand along the damage, plucking at the loose thread. "Yes, certainly, I can repair this. Would you mind taking it off? This won't take long at all." Nyx removed their rose pin and then obediently shrugged out of their coat, careful to not damage the shoulder further. They handed it to Irving with a polite nod. "Come, sit with me for a moment." Irving said, gesturing to a couple of brocade-upholstered chairs in the corner. 

They both sat, relaxing slightly into their seats. Nyx smoothed the front of their waistcoat and shook out their sleeves, feeling a little naked without their outer layer. Irving picked through her chatelaine for her needle case and thread scissors. "What fabric is this?" Irving asked, rubbing the raw edge between her fingers with an appraising look. "Parabola-linen?" Nyx nodded, ears swiveling forward to stand proud and tall. "A very fine fabric. Luckily enough, I do enough work with it that I always keep linen thread on hand." Irving said with a smile, before turning and plucking a spool of gently iridescent thread off of a nearby thread stand. 

Nyx watched as Irving made a tiny snip in the seam of their coat lining and reached through to tie off the loose thread. She then threaded the tiniest silver needle they had ever seen with the Parabola-linen thread, and began to sew. Her sewing had an odd hopscotch sort of rhythm to it, going forward and then back to meet the previous stitch. "What kind of stitch is that?" They asked, black eyes glittering with curiosity. 

"A combination stitch. Somewhere between a running stitch and a backstitch, it's sturdy while still being fast." Irving explained. And true enough, by the time she finished speaking she was already tying it off with a neat knot. After snipping her needle free she turned her attention to the lining. She pinched it gently, testing its drape and texture. "Silk," she murmured, "alright, I can work with this." 

The Parabola-linen thread was returned to its place and Irving's hand hovered over a few different threads, deliberating. She finally grabbed a thin, rosy gold silk thread and pulled a line of it through her needle. At this point Nyx was leaned forward in their seat, watching with open intrigue.  

"This is sorrow-silk thread, dyed by a dear friend of mine. It's very fine, but very strong, so you shouldn't have to worry about it snapping." Irving explained, piercing the needle through the hidden side of the lining and then pulling it towards herself. It was stabbed back in directly across from the first stitch, then slipped upwards by a few threads and then darted back over. "And this is a ladder stitch. It's the best way to close up seams like this, from the right side. A bit like a running stitch turned sideways." She said, continuing to sew. Once she had reached the end, her eyes flicked up to watch Nyx's reaction. "Watch this."

She pulled the thread taut, and the seam neatly zipped itself back up into invisibility. Nyx gasped softly, sitting up. "How?" They asked, but Irving just tapped the side of her nose and grinned.

Irving tied off the thread and pulled the knot through to the back. "If you want to learn, I'm open most mornings." Nyx smiled, a hint of their canines showing. Irving took one last look at the seam, brushing a thread clipping away, before nodding in satisfaction and handing the coat back to them. 

"So, how much do I owe you?" Nyx asked, slipping their coat back on and sighing in relief to feel its warmth again. They pinned their rose back to their lapel, and everything felt right in the world again. 

"Owe me? Hmm." Irving mused. "Do you bake?" 

That gave Nyx pause. "I… know of a good bakery? I fail to see how that's relevant, though." They said, tail swishing. 

"In that case, you owe me two small pastries, whatever your favorites are. One for each of us. Come round for tea sometime, and we'll call it even, alright?"

Nyx laughed, a high and delighted sound. "That sounds fair enough to me! Good day to you, Irving. Take care, won't you?" 

"You as well, Nyx." Irving replied, mustache quirking as she smiled. She waved them off, and they returned to the street with a skip in their step. Hm, which way was it they needed to go? Ah, yes, onwards towards Veilgarden, and Beatrice's. With plenty of time to spare, even. 

London's lone fox made their way down the cobblestone road, towards tea and warmth. Their mind was racing, full of excitement about their appointment and what might come of it.

And, just a bit, wondering what pastry they should bring next time they visited.

[humanpersondiary]

Ok. This'll be my first entry.

June 20, 2024

Today I did one of my final exams. It was harder than I thought it would be, but I knew or figured out the grand majority of the questions. I'm really worried about the next one, but I also feel sick when I pick up anything related to that class. Oh well. We'll see what happens.

I went to the mall to buy beads for some friends. There were no good beads at the dollar stores there. I decided to go to a crafts store instead. On the way there, I talked to an elderly woman. She asked me which bus I was taking, and then told me what bus she was taking. I checked the schedule, and told her when her bus was coming. She had a gold and silver watch that I liked. She was knitting something white. Her whole outfit was white, actually, or at the very least light-coloured. The only things that were dark were here sunglasses. She even wore pearl earrings.

It turns out we were boarding the same bus. We talked about the people she knew, her child, her grandchildren, and her Jewish Spanish ancestors. She asked me if I was Chinese, I told her I was Filipino, and we touched on the topic of the conquistadors and how somewhere in her family tree, a man went steady with a Filipino woman who died giving birth to their child.

Near the crafts store, there was an older man playing the accordion. I really, really love the accordion, so I gave him 25 cents (I don't carry much coins). We talked about how he bought his accordion a long time ago, from a pawn shop. It was still beautiful, and had such a rich sound. The grill was a varnished wood with a marbled caramel colour to it, and the bellows were red fabric and gold metal. Both sets of buttons were cream-coloured. There was some tape on the bellows, and sparkly yellow letter stickers on the top of the grill.

He performed a song he wrote when he was homesick, and a song he wrote inspired by a passage in the Bible that used the phrase "the eternal city". He was Christian, and spoke about letting Christ be my saviour. He asked where I was from, and he said that Filipinos were precious people, and how his son would be invited to eat by strangers during his time in the Philippines. He gave me a couple of Christian pamphlets. I give him another 25 cents for his songs.

The beads at the crafts store were priced bizarrely. The next dollar store I hit had very few beads at all. I went home.

I tried to study, and I felt tired. I ate a cookie, some pistachios, and some leftover scraps. I'm going to shower soon.

[trustedgoldbuyer]

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[goldbuypawn01]

Gold Shop Near Me in Novi: Your Trusted Pawn Shop for Selling Gold Items. Visit GoldBuyPawn Now! 

Searching for a reputable Gold Shop Near Me in Novi? Look no further than GoldBuyPawn! We specialize in buying all types of gold items, including old jewelry, coins, and scrap gold. Our experienced appraisers offer fair and competitive prices, ensuring you get the most value for your gold. Whether you're looking to cash in on unwanted gold items or simply curious about their worth, our friendly team is here to assist you. Visit our pawn shop today and turn your gold into cash effortlessly. Explore our website for more information on our gold buying process and services.

[seoteam1]

In today's ever-evolving economic landscape, individuals are increasingly seeking innovative ways to maximize the value of their assets. Enter the world of scrap gold and silver buying – a seamless solution to transform forgotten jewelry, broken pieces, or outdated silverware into quick cash. If you're wondering, "Where can I find a reliable cash-for-gold-silver near me?" look no further than Golden Cash Exchange. At www.goldencashexchange.com, we understand the sentimental and monetary value that precious metals hold. Our expert team specializes in offering a transparent and trustworthy platform for individuals to scrap gold and silver buyer, ensuring they receive a fair market value for their items. With a commitment to customer satisfaction, our process is designed to be both convenient and rewarding. Our services go beyond traditional pawn shops or jewelry stores. We provide a safe, secure, and easy-to-navigate online platform that allows you to initiate the selling process from the comfort of your home. Simply request a free and insured mail-in kit, place your items inside, and send them to us. Upon receiving your package, our team of experienced appraisers will carefully evaluate each piece, taking into consideration its karat, weight, and overall condition

[malakjewelersnc]

Selling Broken or Unwanted Gold Jewelry: What You Need to Know

Do you have broken or unwanted gold jewelry lying around? Don't let it gather dust when you could turn it into cash. Selling broken or unwanted gold jewelry can be a smart financial move, but it's essential to understand the process to ensure you get the best value. Selling gold jewelry is a challenging decision to make. There might be a lot of sentiments connected to the jewelry piece. However, saving it might make you sad every time you look at it. Thus, here are what you need to know about selling broken or unwanted gold jewelry.

Assess The Condition Of Your Jewelry Assess the condition of gold jewelry before selling it. Identify whether it needs minor repairs or is irreparable. Consider repairing it if the damage is minimal before selling it since this can increase its value.

Research Potential Buyers Find a buyer after selling your broken or unwanted gold jewelry. Look for reputable jewelry stores, pawnshops, or online platforms that specialize in buying gold. Read reviews, compare offers, and ensure they have a track record of fair and transparent transactions.

Get Multiple Quotes Obtain multiple quotes from buyers at gold shops near me to get the correct value for your broken or unwanted gold jewelry. Buyers may have different evaluation processes and offer various prices, so shopping around is essential. Remember to provide accurate information about gold weight, purity, and condition to get proper quotes.

Understand The Value Factors Certain factors can affect its value when selling broken or unwanted gold jewelry. The purity of gold, represented by its karat value, plays a significant role. Higher karat gold (e.g., 24K) is more valuable than lower karat gold (e.g., 10K). The weight of gold also determines its value, with heavier pieces fetching higher prices. Additionally, the spot price of gold on the market can influence gold jewelry value. The jewelry's condition can also affect its value, as damaged pieces may not be worth as much as undamaged pieces.

Consider Selling For Scrap Selling for scrap can be a practical option if the jewelry has no resale or sentimental value. Many jewelry stores will offer a competitive price for scrap gold, making it a great way to get some extra cash. Make sure you shop around for the best price and be aware of any added fees or restrictions.

Beware Of Scams When selling gold jewelry, particularly online, be cautious of potential scams. Only deal with reputable buyers who secure payment methods and a clear return policy. Research their reputation and look for customer reviews or testimonials to ensure a safe and reliable transaction.

Therefore, selling broken or unwanted gold jewelry can be a lucrative way to declutter your collection and make some extra money. Malak Jewelers is a renowned Indian jewelry store near me that trades in gold, offers a massive range of jewelry, and provides jewelry repair & custom services. Visit them to experience the brilliance offered by them. Original Source: https://malakjewelersnc.blogspot.com/2023/07/selling-broken-or-unwanted-gold-jewelry.html

[sellandbuygold]

Your gold isn't just jewelry; it's a valuable asset. Sell smart with Rizan Jewellery and discover a world of financial opportunities.

Visit at www.sellandbuygold.me

[goldjewellerybuyeringurgaon]

Gold coins buyer

Need to earn substantial sums of money at that point offer your gold coins to us. We do the arrangement before you and give the common market rate. Contact us 9999821702

[metals01]

Best Shop To Sell Scrap Gold And Silver Near Me

You may have old gold jewelry and want to sell it! But stop a bit! Have you checked their authenticity online? Have you read the previous and existing customers’ reviews and experiences on their site? If not, take your feet back. If you’re looking for the best shop to sell scrap gold and silver near me, you can head to The Precious Metals Group. 

Read More: https://medium.com/@preciousthe929/best-shop-to-sell-scrap-gold-and-silver-near-me-98b9b5781494

[cashforgolddelhi]

Now Cash for gold has opened its branch in Noida and offering silver buying services. Customers prefer us for cash for silver in Noida because we are offing best price and that too via cash.

[smells-like-mettaton]

soriel, 1 (chocolate) for the ask game?

Like a Box of Chocolates

Rating: G Word Count: 2734 Read on AO3: here

---

"Ok. I brought a few choices," Sans said while sitting with his back to the door. He pulled a plastic sack full of chocolate and chocolate-adjacent treats out from under his shirt.

"Oh, you did not have to do that." The voice behind the door sounded embarrassed.

"It's no big deal." He shrugged instinctively, though she wouldn't be able to see it. "Not like I candy things like this for you very often."

The lady laughed, even though the pun was a stretch. She was a great audience like that.

"I cannot argue with that. After all, it is the choco-thought that counts."

Sans let out a wheeze. Man, she had him beat in the bad jokes department. He needed to up his game.

"What can I say, I'm a sweet guy." That joke would work better if she could see his wink.

"You certainly are, my friend."

Sans blinked. He hadn't been prepared for the genuine warmth in her voice. Now he felt something like a melted chocolate himself.

"Uh. You'd better wait and make sure I didn't pick out garbage before you say that." He chuckled nervously and spread out the chocolates in the snow.

"Alright. Hit me with your best choco-shot."

He laughed out loud at that one too. She could really squeeze some mileage out of chocolate puns.

"First off we have the MTT-Brand Chocolate Mettaton. Which is exactly what it sounds like. Chocolate in the shape of everyone's favorite robot superstar." He scanned the back of the wrapper. "Contains sequins and glitter, but it's still monster food, so probably won't cause any more indigestion than Temmie Flakes. Still, wouldn't blame ya if you passed on that."

The lady laughed. "I do not know this 'Mettaton,' but he sounds like someone…"

Her voice trailed off, the way it always did when she neared a personal topic. It seemed to be happening more and more often lately. Sans didn't know if that was a good sign, or if he needed to do a better job of distracting her.

"Someone I know would have liked that," she finished clumsily.

"Welp. It's yours, then." He attempted to slide it under the door.

Attempted. The thick block of chocolate wouldn't fit through the narrow space.

"What are my other options?" The lady asked, not seeming to hear his failure.

(Or just ignoring it. The way they always ignored things they didn't want to acknowledge.)

Oh well. He'd deal with that later, if she wanted to.

He picked up the next box and rattled it. It looked thin enough to fit under the door.

"I think this one's called, uh, pocket?” He couldn’t tell for sure, since the box was labeled in a language he didn’t recognize. Where did Alphys get this stuff? “A pal gave it to me. They’re like chocolate-covered sticks, I think."

"Not precisely what I was looking for, but I would love to try it regardless," she said. "If I am allowed to have both options, I mean. If not, I should probably stick with the Em-Tee-Tee."

Sans bit back a snort. So she hadn't heard after all. That made this a lot more awkward.

"Do you wanna hear the other options first? Wouldn't want ya to have any regrets."

"Oh! There are more?"

She sounded as surprised as a kid finding an extra fry in the bottom of their Grillby's bag. He couldn't help grinning.

"Yup. Next up is a chocolate spider donut—”

“Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders?” The voice seemed on the verge of laughter again.

His eyesockets widened. “Uh… welp. Guess you don’t need the whole spiel, huh?”

“There is a spider bakesale right around the corner from my home,” the lady explained. “I believe they are saving for a… ‘heated limo’? To travel safely through Snowdin. I wish I could help them, but I did not think to take much gold when I…”

Another dead end. That was fine, Sans could piece together enough. Not that her personal life was any of his business, anyway.

“If it makes ya feel any better, they really raked me over the coals for this one.”

“It does not!” came her quick reply. “I only asked for a chocolate bar. Not for you to spend money that you need on me.”

Geez, this lady was too good for him. As if Sans ever really went out of his way for anyone.

Except Papyrus, but he was family. And sometimes Grillby, if he felt bad about failing to pay his tab for too long. And Alphys, but he owed her for screwing off after space-time blew up in their faces.

And now, the lady behind the door. The lady he didn’t owe anything to, except a few good laughs.

Who was he kidding? Those laughs were more important to him than anything.

“Eh, it just cost me one day of selling ‘dogs. Donut worry about it.”

“Very well. Since it was for a good cause, I will not grill you any further. But please tell me that was the last chocolate you purchased for me.”

“It’s the last one I purchased.” He grinned. While she couldn’t see his expression, she must have heard the but in his voice.

“Please tell me you did not steal any chocolate for me.”

“Geez, lady, what do you take me for? I’d never commit petty thievery.”

“Well, that is reassuring.”

“Yep. Gotta save room for the real high-dollar crimes. Like the illegal hot dog stand.”

The voice behind the door went silent. He wished he could see her face now more than ever. His own grin slowly slid from his skull.

“Everyone knows about it,” he reassured her. “If the King really wanted to shut me down, he’d have done it a long time ago.”

“Oh, I am not judging you for that. I am sure the law is rigged against you if the King has any say in it.” Her voice was surprisingly bitter.

His real problem was that he couldn’t ever find the necessary documents to get licensed in food preparation. His birth certificate was presumably in whatever alternate dimension his old man had blasted them out of.

“You are judging me for something, though,” he realized. The chill of the snow seeped into his bones, but he didn’t dare adjust his position. Somehow he felt that if he moved, she would disappear.

“I am not. I was only thinking about…” She sighed. “It is complicated. There was a time when I could have helped you, but it is long past.”

“Help me? Look, lady, the ‘dog stand is fine. Promise. Better than fine, since I don’t gotta pay taxes on it.”

She chuckled at that.

“Very well. Forgive a silly old lady for worrying.”

“Done.” He smiled, settling back against the door more comfortably.

He should’ve known she’d have a problem with his illegal activities, though. She was a classy lady, and he was… him. Why had he even brought it up? It wasn’t a great joke. Did he really just want her to know?

Eh, whatever. She wasn’t mad, so no harm done, right?

“I would like to know how you acquired this other chocolate, if it was not through your sticky fingers.” She sounded like she was grinning.

“Huh? Oh.” He blinked and dug out the last chocolate of the bunch. Blue dusted his cheeks. “QC—that’s the lady who runs the shop in town—gave ‘em to me for free. They’re called, uh, kisses.”

QC had a knowing look in her eyes when she’d offered the bag of chocolates to him. It was his own fault for implying they were for a girl. Everyone already thought he screwed around in the woods on his shifts, and with the way gossip travelled in a small town, everyone at Grillby’s would be asking about his girlfriend tonight.

“Kisses,” the lady behind the door echoed. “This is not one of your jokes, is it?”

“Not this time. Sorry to disappoint.” His grin felt too tight. “They’re, uh, tiny chocolates. Kinda cone-shaped? QC makes ‘em herself, so they’ve gotta be good.”

“Oh.” Oddly, the voice did sound disappointed. Sans couldn’t imagine why. Not like he could kiss her through the door, even if he had lips. And even if there was some unlikely timeline where she wanted a kiss from him.

He wanted to thump his skull back against the door, but there was no point in worrying her like that.

“In that case, I will take the kisses. They will be perfect for…”

He was sure she would leave it at that. Cover up with some non sequitur.

So his eyesockets went wide when she said, “for the anniversary of my child’s passing.”

“Oh.” He let out a strangled little laugh. “I—geez, I’m sorry. If I’d known—”

“You would have what? Spent even more money on this silly old lady, who cannot even leave to buy her child’s favorite chocolate?” Her voice was firm. “No. I thought you deserved to know, after the trouble you went to, and because you shared your own secret with me today.”

“My ‘dog stand is hardly a secret,” he said, still feeling a little shaky. She had a kid? A dead kid?

Well, who in the Underground didn’t have skeletons in their closet? Metaphorically or literally. She was still his best friend. If she wanted his pity, she would’ve said something sooner.

“Regardless,” she said. “It is in the past. Forget it, if you wish. But please do not treat me any differently.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said sincerely. If there was one thing he was good at, it was maintaining the status quo. “So, uh. These chocolates. I kind of wanted you to have all of ‘em, if that’s alright with you.”

“It would be rude to refuse a gift, would it not?” She sounded like she was smiling again, to his relief.

“There’s just one problem. Uh. Don’t think they’re all gonna fit under the door.” He rapped on the stone surface with his knuckle for emphasis.

“I did not assume they would. The recipe I gave you before hardly passed through.”

Sans blinked. “Then you—huh?”

“I will open the door just a fraction. It can only be done from the inside.” She paused, like she was gathering a breath. “I would ask that you do not look. I promise I will not peek, either.”

Sans’s ribcage tightened. She was going to open the door. She would be right there, with no stone between them.

The thought opened a desperate floodgate within him. He hadn’t realized just how badly he wanted to see her, to know her, to live off of more than just scraps and unfinished sentences.

She once had a child. She had some kind of beef against the King. She wanted to give charity to spiders, but didn’t have enough money. All these facts he filed away, tucking them into the grooves in his ribcage.

It would be enough. He’d duct tape those gates shut again, if he had to. He wasn’t going to betray the trust she’d shown him.

“Got it. You don’t wanna be smitten by my good looks, I understand,” he joked.

(He had a feeling it would be the other way around, if anything. Not that quality of jokes translated to quality of appearance—he would know. If it did, he’d have biceps like his brother.)

“It would be tragic. Much too high a price for you to handsome chocolate to me.”

“Heh, I’m sure you’re a door-able too. But I’ll keep my sockets shut, since our friendship hinges on it.”

That got a raucous laugh out of her, the kind that started off high-pitched and quickly became something of a snorting bleat. That sound was sweeter than chocolate to him.

...Man, his pals at Grilby’s would be right to dunk on him. He was a massive dork.

“Alright,” she said once she caught her breath, “if you are ready, my friend…”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “Better choco-late than never, huh?”

That one only got a snort, but he wasn’t sure if that was because the pun fell flat, or because she was nervous. As far as he knew, she hadn’t been outside of the Ruins in years. And here she was, trusting a sentry—someone whose job it was to keep a look out—to turn a blind eye.

It was a good thing he’d never been good at his job.

Stone ground against stone with a dramatic rumble. His eyesockets stayed shut. Warmth emanated from somewhere near his shoulder, and he lifted the bag of chocolates.

His small hand brushed a large fur-covered one. A shiver trailed down his spine. One small touch shouldn’t have done so much to him, but—but she was real. She was more than just a voice behind a door. Which he knew, but knowing and feeling could be worlds apart at times.

She took the bag, and the moment was over. But the door didn’t close.

“My dear friend,” she whispered, her voice sounding closer than ever. “Would it be presumptuous to ask another favor of you?”

“‘Course not. Glad to do a favor for my favor-ite person.” He kept his tone light, unaffected by the swirling emotions inside him.

“If I could… oh, dear, this is embarrassing.”

He resisted the urge to open his eyes, to see what look might be on her face.

“It has simply been so long… may I hold your hand a moment longer?”

He felt the marrow heating within his bones.

“That all? I gotta hand it to ya, you made me think you needed an arm and a leg.”

She chuckled before awkwardly fumbling to grasp his hand again.

Heat poured from her palm into his phalanges. Aside from the fur, there were several spots of soft skin—probably paw pads. Was she a dog monster, like the Canine Unit in town? She didn’t make nearly enough dog jokes for that to be the case. Her laugh sounded more like a goat’s, but she obviously didn’t have hooves. Maybe she was some kind of chimera? You didn’t see those often nowadays, but then again, no one saw monsters from the Ruins, either.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice as soft as the snow that began to drift around him.

“Not disappointed?” He asked, only half-joking. “My hand can’t be as comfy as yours.”

“Ah, but it is all your bone. And that is wonderful to me.”

“Geez, old lady.” He was grateful she couldn’t see his blush. “You’re pretty fur-fect yourself.”

When she laughed, her body shook all the way down to her hand. The feeling more than made up for all the G he’d spent on chocolate and donuts.

Suddenly his hand was being lifted up, and then something soft pressed against his knuckles. His soul flared erratically, and his eyes nearly flew open. If they had, he was sure his left eyelight would have been blue from shock.

“A kiss for a kiss,” she said slyly. “It is only fair.”

“Heh heh…” His voice shook with more than laughter. “Technically, that was one kiss for a bag of kisses. Pretty sure that math doesn’t square up.”

“Oh, you are quite right! One day we will have to circle back and rectify that.”

He practically had to cast gravity magic on himself to keep his eyes from flying open.

“You—huh?” He said intelligently.

“Perhaps not soon,” she clarified. “This has all been… a lot, for me. But thanks to you, my dear friend, this day has not been so bitter as I am used to.”

“Uh, no problem, then. With all that chocolate, I hope it’s sweet.”

Sweet as the anniversary of a death could be, anyway. He grimaced. Maybe that joke was too soon, but she just squeezed his hand before finally letting go.

“I do think it will be,” she said softly. “I will look forward to hearing more of your punny jokes tomorrow.”

The door scraped shut, and he hesitantly opened his eyes. He couldn't help inspecting the door to see if anything changed. Pressing his still-warm hand against the smooth stone.

“Heh. Good luck getting rid of me now.” He grinned.

Then he tucked his hands in his pockets, where her kiss remained like a tattoo on his bone.

[thatslikely]

Stowaways - G.W.

Stowaways- George Weasley x Fem!Reader (former Gryffindor)

Warnings: none! just tooth-rotting George fluff :)

Word Count: 5.7k

A/N: Sorry this took so long! This is my longest fic to date, and I’m so proud of it. I love Georgie so I’m glad to finally write for him. Hope you guys enjoy this one <3

Just a reminder: Y/N is Your Name and flashbacks/thoughts are in italics.

93 Diagon Alley is a place of wonder, mystique, and above all else, joy. A place where all your best memories are enshrined, a place where you can be your best self, alongside your doting fiery-haired boyfriend, who wears his ginger mop of hair like a halo. Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes occupies most of the address, its orange and purple exterior lightening up Diagon Alley effortlessly.  

Its interior is just as magical, the multiple levels of the shop are engulfed with shelves stocked full of Fred and George’s mischievously ingenious products. Some threatened to transfigure you into an eye-popping xanthic canary, while others could spontaneously spawn a whole swamp in the blink of an eye.

Everything within its walls brings smiles to children of all ages, and it could be argued that George is still one of those kids too.

The store seems to make George truly come alive, even more than he was at Hogwarts just a year prior. The look in his eyes as he skillfully operates the store with Fred reminds you of the glow that your face used to hold as a child as you looked longingly through countless toy-store windows around December.

While the shop is the main source of his pride and joy, even its power couldn’t halt the toll of a busy workweek. Every day, new shipments had been zooming in and out of the store, sales at an all-time high. The new lot of Hogwarts students must have a mischievous streak, for student-sent owl orders in preparation for the school year were arriving daily by the barrel-load.

It was finally Friday evening, and George trudged up the back stairs to the flat, his eyelids droopy and back hunched. His lack of energy, however, couldn’t take away from the playfully handsome purple and brown ensemble he wore. He pitifully fiddled with the keys before finally turning the lock, entering the flat promptly, taking in the familiar home-y aroma.  

He promptly plopped down at the small breakfast table near the kitchen, a tired sigh escaping his lips. He pressed his elbow onto the surface of the table, his arm supporting the weight of his head that his neck couldn’t bear any longer.  

“How was your day?  You look absolutely exhausted,” you asked with concern. You already knew you would have to plan something to cheer poor George up.

“I am simply dying, Y/N,” he said, while pretending to go limp like a corpse, “there’s no hope for me. Tell Mum and Ginny I love ‘em.”

“Not even your own twin brother, huh?” you asked sarcastically. He could only respond with a zombie-esque groan.  

You sarcastically rolled your eyes at his dramatic display, glad to see his lack of energy didn’t affect his sense of humor. You walked over to your tired George, who had his head now resting on the back of his chair, eyes spaced out at the ceiling.

You calmly sat down next to the Titian-haired love of your life and laid your head on his strong shoulder, your arm slowly snaking up his back. The motion of your hand alternated between tracing soothing circles lightly on his strained back muscles and massaging his tense shoulder.

He turned his face to you, painted with a soft and grateful grin, glad to finally be home, especially with you. For a few serene minutes, comfortable silence filled the air.  

George had nearly drifted off before the both of you were disrupted by his stomach emitting a loud growl. “I take it you’re hungry, Georgie?”

“Apparently so,” your boyfriend responded, patting his stomach.  

He languidly started undoing his bright amaranthine purple tie when you asked, “Do you want icky leftovers or yummy takeout? I know what I’m voting for.”

“Such a tough decision…” George responded with a wink.

----

By the time dinner was over, the tired look in George’s eyes remained, but the delicious takeout helped remedy his splitting headache.  

The two of you quickly settled on the comfortable marmalade-hued couch to watch one of your favorite muggle movies (it was a comedy of course). George’s laugh never ceased to make your heart flutter, even after all these years. The way it used to echo so freely through the crimson Gryffindor common room, and now through you two’s cozy flat, couldn’t help but make you fall even more madly in love with him. 

George somehow brought out the kid in you that laid dormant for so many years. With him, the world seemed so vibrant; there was always a little adventure waiting for you both, even in mundane activities like laundry. He would bunch up the freshly-washed paisley and tessellated dress shirts that he wore down to the shop daily, pelting them at you like the snowballs that he enchanted to hit Quirrell all the way back in third year.  

You loved George with all your heart, as did he.

After a while of movie-watching, George drifted off into a light sleep. His hazy dream was filled with thoughts of the school he called home for so long. The smell of the burning logs and pumpkin that would drift through his nostrils every morning as he walked down the steps from his dorm; the sound of first years’ giggles as they messed with one of his pranks.

His brain then swam through the blurry memories to the first time he met you, the real you, drinking Firewhiskey and playing truth or dare in the back of the common room with the Golden Trio and crew after a victorious Quidditch game.  

He thought of your first date, your face scrunched with belly-aching laughter as you tried stuffing in as many sweets as you could on a snowy Saturday at Honeydukes. The way the twisted rainbow lollipops and chocolate frogs made your face uncontrollably grin cemented what he swore the moment he first saw you: he vowed to never stop making you smile.   

He couldn’t live a day without your joy-filled face; it enchanted him like the beautiful glow of fireworks against a smokey black sky, like the addicting feeling of adrenaline from breaking the rules.

----

“Georgie,” you whispered, “Georgie!”  

Your drowsy boyfriend slowly drifted back to reality after hearing your soft whisper, your hands lightly tapping his chest to an invisible rhythm.  

He released a yawn before asking, “What is it, angel?”  His eyes fluttered lazily, and his lips were quirked to the smallest of smiles.

“I just wanted to make sure you didn’t fall asleep on the couch for the night,” you said caringly, “I knew you’d be even sorer in the morning if you did.”

George’s heart warmed at your thoughtfulness. He quickly took in his surroundings, which starkly contrasted his dreamscape. The television softly droning cheap infomercials instead of the muggle movie he fell asleep to, the blinds closed to hide the velvety black sky, and bits of buttery popcorn strewn across his chest and lap.  

He sat up tiredly, swiping his hand carelessly through his vermillion-pigmented locks. He rubbed his umber eyes as you brushed loose kernels from his clothes to the carpet.  

George muttered, “I love you, Y/N,” quietly, thinking you wouldn’t be able to hear it.  

You did, however, and you reciprocated an “I love you, too” sweetly. You stood up from the couch, extending your hand to help droopy-eyed George up. He took your hand and he rose before walking towards the kitchen, drawn to the stark blue light of the refrigerator.  

The fridge doors popped open, revealing tupperware full of picked-at leftovers, a few odds and ends, and a half-drank bottle of Dragon Barrel Brandy. He groaned at the meager scraps of food occupying the fridge, shutting the door disappointedly. The crisp air that surrounded him with a chill dissipated within an instant.  

“Georgie, I think we should go off to bed. Tomorrow's Saturday, and I have a big surprise for you planned,” you said excitedly, coming up behind the man of your dreams, resting your hand steadily on his shoulder. He leaned into your touch as you guided the sleepy boy to the bedroom.

As the two of you laid down to go to sleep, facing one another, George asked in a tired, raspy voice, “What’s the surprise, darling? Or will I have to find out tomorrow?”

“You know I would never spoil a surprise. Don’t worry, you’ll love it.”

----

George awoke to the delectable scent of freshly-fried bacon and eggs wafting from the humble kitchen. The other half of the bed, he noticed, lay empty, the cozy handmade quilt blanket you usually dozed under laying askew. Sunlight poured through the windows, letting his linen covered body bask in golden morning rays.  

After minutes of continuing to peacefully lay under the covers, absorbing the pure morning ambiance, George finally decided to get up and follow the delicious aromas emitting from the kitchen like a bloodhound.  

As he entered, you were bent over the stove, guiding a spatula around in a lightly tarnished pan, appetizing pancakes browning within. You were still in your sleepwear, wearing oversized plaid pants that dragged across the tile and one of George’s shirts, which was huge on you and smelled strongly of his cologne.

He snuck up behind you quietly as a mouse, before unexpectedly poking the sides of your stomach. You let out a shocked, “George!” before bursting into laughter. Your chuckles blended with his effortlessly, creating a beautiful symphony.  

“Morning, darling. I see you’re making breakfast,” George said with a smirk as he surveyed the surrounding food-covered counters. He seemed in a much better state than he was yesterday, his tired eyes replaced with resplendent brown and gold-speckled ones, which were flooded full of energy reminiscent of his adolescence.  

“I am! And I made all your favorites, so get excited! The day’s only getting started.” You sent him a knowing wink, and he responded with a child-like grin. George giddily opened a cupboard, grabbing two shiny ceramic plates. He forked some already-cooked bacon and eggs onto each plate, shaping the food into two adorable smiley faces.  

“What did I ever do to deserve such an amazing girlfriend like you?” George asked after giving your cheek an affectionate peck.  

“The real question is, what didn’t you do? You’re perfect in my eyes, Georgie,” you heartfeltly admitted as you carried a small plate stacked with butter and syrup-coated warm pancakes coated to the table.  

George had beaten you to the breakfast table, waiting patiently until you finally sat down in the chair to his side. He eagerly stabbed a forkful of egg, stuffing it into his mouth. While Ron was usually credited as the biggest food-lover of the Weasleys, there was no way you could deny that George was runner up.  

He gulped down the rest of the meal quickly, sending breakfast-filled smiles in your direction after every bite. After both of your plates were squeaky-clean, you ventured to the bedroom to get ready for the busy day ahead of you. 

You instructed George to wear “something comfortable,” and he happily complied, throwing on a cream-colored, pin-striped short-sleeve oxford with a pair of worn jeans. You selected something equally as comfortable, and adorable.  

You were in the middle of packing a backpack full of snacks and water when George finally asked, “So… when do I get to know where we’re going?”

“We’re going to Hogwarts,” you said promptly with a knowing smile, greatly contrasting George’s look of perplexion.

“And how exactly are we going to manage that, love? Surely they wouldn’t allow an impromptu visit like this, even good ol’ McGonagall?”  

“Well, let’s just say Hogwarts doesn’t actually know we’ll be there.” 

----

Platform 9 ¾ could be seen bustling with life, the delicious taste of magic floating through the air. It sent you back to all of those years you spent before term, pushing a luggage-stacked trolley across the station.

The scarlet express heaved tufts of smoke from its chimney, a piercing shriek occasionally echoing from its whistle. The magical platform was coated with clumps of young witches and wizards and their parents; the brick floor could barely be seen under all the boots.  

You bid goodbye to your parents, ready to start a new (magical) chapter of your life. As you skipped gleefully to the entrance of the enchanted coach, you caught sight of a rufescent sea of wizards bickering and chuckling with each other. There were six carrot-topped wizards in total: a middle-aged and balding father, an equally middle-aged warm and caring mother, a short and freckle-ridden son who appeared to be the oldest, a tall and stuck-up boy with pretentious-looking glasses who was tightening the crimson tie around his neck, and two identical-looking boys who seemed to be first years as well.

One of them could be seen tieing the stuck-up boy’s shoelaces together, a mischievous smirk on his face as he did. The other was distracting the glasses-wearing brother, shooting the knotter an occasional sneaky glance.  

You smiled at the sight before stepping into the train, eager to make new friends. You felt a little less nervous upon seeing students chatting in their compartments; pure joy from students’ laughing and yelling filled the corridor.

You looked around in search of a promising compartment. Finally, after what felt like hours of looking, you settled on a compartment filled with three other first-years. There were two girls and a boy: one of the girls, Angelina, was animatedly recounting a story, the other, Alicia, sprinkled in witty comments, and a smitten-looking boy named Lee was blushing in the corner, listening intently.  

After a while of bonding with your new friends, the train slowly began to chug along the tracks,  rhythmic clanking creating some pleasant background ambiance. The train began to gain speed before your compartment door was slid open by none other than the vexatious redheaded twins.  

The twin who tied his brother’s shoelaces together, who you later learned was named Fred, confidently took a seat next to Lee. They quickly struck up a conversation, seemingly clicking almost instantly. The twin who served as the distraction for his poor older brother, George, sat down next to you timidly.  

At first, George was too shy to say anything other than a meek, “hello”, but as soon as the trolley stacked with sweets rolled around, he became quite talkative. He was very observant; he would enchant you with beautiful descriptions of the most minute details in the most mundane things.  

George was so observant, in fact, that he noticed you didn’t get anything from the trolley, despite the look on your face saying that it wasn’t by choice. He could only afford a single chocolate frog with the spare change his mother gave him, which he handed to you with a toothy grin.

You yanked on George’s long arm, pulling him behind one of the large brick pillars supporting the platform. “Okay, George, for this to work, we can’t be seen by anyone.” You unsheathed your wand from your pocket, preparing to cast a spell.

“I’m going to cast a disillusionment charm, okay? This should make us blend in with our surroundings so we can sneak onto the train.  If I do it correctly, we should be able to see each other just fine, though.”  

After receiving an accepting nod from George, you gave him a light tap on the shoulder with the tip of your wand. Camouflage slowly dripped down his body, as if someone poured some sort of invisibility paint above his head. Just as quickly as he faded into the pillar behind him, he returned back to normal colors. You hoped he was still invisible to everyone else.  

“Wicked,” he uttered, checking out his arms as they turned invisible and back.

You did the same to yourself without hesitation. George watched with curiosity as you blended seamlessly into the platform; he then admired you as your features slowly returned from invisibility. Every eyelash, every blemish, and every inch of your lips never failed to go unnoticed by him.

“What’s the next step of the plan, Captain?” George asked with a salute.

“So, without being seen, once all the students are off the platform and on the train, we need to sneak onto the caboose, where we should be able to ride safely. After that, it’s smooth sailing to Hogwarts!”

“That sounds easy enough… I think,” George said with his hand in his palm, thinking over the steps of the plan intently.  

“Oh trust me, it’ll be great! I mean, if you can set off fireworks during an exam guarded by Umbridge, you can sneak onto a bloody train.” You gave George a reassuring thumbs-up.

“Don’t even remind me of that soul-sucking bright pink nightmare!” George said with a sarcastic eye roll.

As students slowly started filtering into the train, your time to strike inched closer and closer. Finally, the clock struck eleven, and you and George were dashing across the platform to the back of the train with your hands intertwined with one another’s.

You and George leaped onto the back ledge of the train just in time, for the scarlet locomotive slowly started rolling along the tracks just as you latched onto the railing. The both of you broke into cheers of triumph the moment the train was out of the vicinity of the station.  

“Y/N, look at the window, there’s no reflection of us in it. We really are undetectable,” George mentioned, gesturing towards the window.   

It was unsettling to not see your usual features bouncing off the window, but you were thankful that your charm had worked.  

You moved to sit on the ledge of the train, which was small, only about a foot wide. You put your legs through the wide rails so that the soles of your sneakers nearly dragged on the tracks. George took a seat next to you, his lanky legs sitting crisscross.  

The scenery that the express heaved through was breathtaking; it was even better feeling the crisp air on your face. The rolling moss-tinted hills, vibrant green and yellow trees that dotted the horizon, and worn stone archways that cut through the landscape allowing the train to huff on. All of it reminded you of the impressionist paintings in museums.  

The sunlight bashfully peeked through the clouds like the small flashes of vibrant strawberries hiding under their large green leaves on a serene spring day. The air tasted sweet and refreshing; it felt like you hadn’t ever breathed until your lungs were filled with it.

You and George sat peacefully in silence, listening to the noises of the express and the faint chirping of birds, reflecting on the past. Eventually, he said softly, gaze pointed to the scenery, “I can still remember the moment I realized I was in love with you.”

He continued, “It was the start of fifth year, on this very train. The moment you sat down in the compartment next to me, I just knew.  Everything was different. There were so many things I never noticed until then; it was like my eyes were finally open.”

Silence filled the air. You couldn’t think of what to say, and even if you did, you wouldn’t know how to say it.  

“Everything about you looked so beautiful all of a sudden. The way you moved or swished your wand, the way your lips enunciated every heavenly word that fell from your tongue. All of it.”

George turned to you nervously. What if I messed it all up? What if that wasn’t the right thing to say? he thought. You stared down at the track, lost in the depths of your mind. 

Everything George had ever spoken to you danced through your brain like ballet; his words sounded like rich and eloquent poetry, even his simple cheers or quips at teachers. Your heart felt like it was beating a million times the speed of the chugging crimson engine.

You rapidly pivoted your head to him, his uncertain gaze immediately locking deeply with yours’. Your eyes were clouded with determination and passion, which reflected in the kiss that you swiftly pulled him into. His lips felt magical against yours’, still oozing with lively youthfulness as always.  

George tenderly tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, you wrapped one of your hands around the nape of his neck. The kiss softened, becoming something slow and loving. Your other hand intertwined delicately with his’, which lay softly on your thigh.  

After a while of sugary sweet kissing, George’s lips parted, uttering an “I love you,” lightly.

“I love you, too. Promise me you’ll marry me someday?” You asked, still heavily under the angelic ginger’s trance.  

“You know I couldn’t marry anyone but you, Y/N.”

----

The sun slowly retreated behind the horizon, painting the sky a brilliant and fiery orange, which nearly matched the hue of George’s wind-swept hair.  You languidly rested your head on his broad shoulder, staring out in the distance. Your face lingered with euphoria, courtesy of George’s amazing kisses which had just peppered every inch of it.  

The backpack stocked with snacks you perfectly packed was now filled only with empty food wrappers. Most of the various foodstuffs had found a new home safely in your boyfriend’s black hole of a stomach, leaving you with mere crumbs to chew.  

“Georgie… why’d you have to eat all the snacks?  I’m starving,” you asked dramatically, pretending to be skin-and-bones. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t save enough for you, darling. I would give you some but… y’know… they’re in my stomach.” George petted your hair caringly with a regretful smile, his strong fingers gently brushing through your strands, taking in the familiar scent of your shampoo.

As you sat, gaze towards the breathtaking sunset, George mechanically started braiding a small section of your hair. He had always been an expert at braids; Ginny taught him how to fourth year. His mind was elsewhere than your strands, however, for he was plotting something significantly more mischievous.  

George retracted his hands from your hair, the soothing touch of his fingers dissipating from your scalp. He stood up from the cozy spot beside you, turning to peer through the window of the coach. His eyes scanned the corridor like a hawk, his brain spindling abstract ideas into a devious plan reminiscent of the schemes he so often plotted back at Hogwarts. 

“Georgie, what are you doing?” you asked quizzically. 

After one final glance through the coach window (bearing no reflection), he said with a devilishly handsome and mischievous smirk, “I have a plan.”

Before you could interrogate him any further, in one calculated motion, he swung the emergency door open, leaping inside the train full of students.  

If anyone was skilled enough to pull off whatever he was set on doing, it was George. While Fred was often the instigator of the twins’ famous pranks, George was often pulling the weight of the trick.  

You just hoped the disillusionment charm hadn’t worn off yet.  

----

George silently crept through the corridors of each enchanted coach, elaborately dancing around stray students who occasionally ditched their compartments. His face was scrunched with determination as if he were a raider searching for the holy grail.  

It took all his self-control, and more, to resist sneaking into Malfoy’s compartment and giving him a slap across the head; it was even harder resisting giving Ron a friendly spook, along with the other members of the Golden Trio. He decided to stay on track of his mission, for you and you only.  

Every coach he passed through, he became increasingly more irritated and nervous. Now that he was an adult, there wouldn’t just be a simple ten points deducted from Gryffindor, no. Sneaking onto a train full of students and stealing candy from the poor old lady’s trolley of sweets would be a hefty fine. Molly would definitely not be pleased.  

Finally, in the coach closest to the engine (and unfortunately furthest from the back), laid the trolley, luckily unattended. It was practically overflowing with classic sweets that he used to enjoy so much: colorful Berties Botts Every Flavour Beans (he swears he got a booger flavored one once), towering stacks of frosted cauldron cakes, clear-as-glass sugar quills, and chocolate frogs.   

George, of course, knew your favorite anything and everything like the back of his hand. He swiftly grabbed a package of candy from the bottom rack of the trolley, a twinge of guilt hitting him in the heart. The kind old lady would be down one treat. His guilt was quickly alleviated when magically, another perfectly packaged sweet filled the empty space.  

The expedition back to the caboose was a decidedly more risky one; it’s a lot more obvious that someone is invisible when a piece of candy is levitating midair. Luckily, the darker it got outside, the more students opted for the comfort of their cozy compartments, which fostered the perfect environment for sleeping. After all, when he and Fred would pull pranks on the train, this was the hour they’d hit the hardest.  

He was nearly to the back coach when a now sixth year Neville Longbottom emerged from his cabin, a defeated look on his face. A harshly conquered game of wizard’s chess could be seen, Luna Lovegood sitting next to the board with a neutral smile resting on her lips.  

George had tried to dance around Neville, but Longbottom’s clumsiness was no match for him. Not even a second passed before Neville rammed headfirst into George’s chest, falling backward. He laid on the floor for a minute, dumbfounded, before cautiously getting up, reaching for the floating sweet that George grasped high above his head.

George couldn’t help but mutter a low ‘sorry’ to poor Neville before rapidly darting past him towards the door. Neville looked around suspiciously for a minute longer before accepting the fact that he had likely been the subject of another foul prank.  

Finally, unscathed, George returned to the rear of the train, where you lay half sprawled across the ledge sleepily. Your eyes were closed, your ears focused on the calming rhythmic rattling of the wheels on the track.

A small smile couldn’t help but creep onto George’s face at the sight of you asleep. He gently tapped you awake, a soft hum escaping his lips. Your eyes fluttered open, a loving look glazing them.  

“What is it, Georgie?” you asked, taking in your surroundings.  

“Just wanted to make sure that you didn’t fall asleep here. You’d be sore by the time we get to our destination if you did,” George said with a wink. 

He outstretched his hand like Prince Charming, helping you stand up from the floor. Your rubious-haired boyfriend inconspicuously held his other hand behind his back, concealing the candy in his large palm.   

“Where did you go, George? One moment you’re out here with me, next moment you’re off into the train packed full of people!” you questioned curiously, inspecting George from head to toe.

“Well, you said you were hungry, so naturally....” he said, “I had to get you something to eat.”

George held out a single chocolate frog in his hand like a proud little kid. He wore the exact same smile he sported first year: a look radiating innocence and kindness. You gingerly accepted the frog, slowly unwrapping the chocolate and stuffing the card in your pocket for Ron.  

“...just like first year,” you muttered, barely able to make a sound.

You were seated on the tail of the express once again, eyes pointed towards the inky black and star-blemished sky. George quickly mirrored your actions, comfortably sitting next to you. While you munched on your chocolate frog joyfully, George rested his head on your shoulder, even though he was very much taller than you. He momentarily began humming a lullaby he learned as a baby; the vibrations emitted from his voice box resonated comfortingly through your body.  

His angelic humming echoed lovingly through your brain all the way to Hogwarts.

----

The train screeched to a halt at the Hogwarts station behind the school. The soothing rattle of the train ceased, to your dismay, and exuberant students began to flood out of the express like a tidal wave. You and George trailed far behind the various cliques of students, cracking jokes at the expense of the new first years.  

“Look at that poor one!  He’s fixed to become the new Neville!” you said laughing, before getting a playful elbow from George.  

“McGonagall will have quite the handful with those two over there. Reckon they’ll be tricksters like us?” George asked with a nostalgic laugh, pointing at two boys who were sneakily distributing some sort of (surely hexed) candy to their gullible peers. They looked so much like Fred and George did in their first year, down to the very same expression.  

“No doubt about it,” you said confidently, darting your eyes comparatively from the boys to your boyfriend. “It really is quite uncanny.”

Soon enough, the towering main entrance to the castle was opened with a swish, and the distinctly familiar smell flooded your nostrils. You were finally home once again. Not much had changed since you left, besides the absence of all of Umbridge’s devious decrees, replaced with some friendly-looking paintings.  

“Looks the exact same, doesn’t it?” George whispered, careful to be unnoticed by the excited soon-to-be-sorted first years who were guided to the Great Hall. You nodded yes, clenching his hand harder with exhilaration.  

Instead of risking getting caught during the time-honored Sorting Ceremony, you and George walked aimlessly, enjoying the unique ambiance of the school. After a while of galavanting around the halls, you climbed the moving steps towards the Gryffindor tower.

“Open up, it's George,” he whispered to the portrait of the Fat Lady with a smirk, and surprisingly, she obliged with a pleasantly surprised smile. Your stare flickered from George to the portrait, mouth agape.  

“Let’s just say, me and the Fat Lady have a lot of… history. Oh, not like that!” George let out a laugh followed by an adorable wink.

You gravitated towards the comfortable crimson couches which sat by the large and inviting fireplace, dragging George’s hand behind you.  

Your body melted into the red plush of the couch, the soft material much more desirable than the stiff metal rails of the express. Your carrot-topped better half took a seat next to you, his body intertwining with yours.

Gryffindors threatened to flood into the common room any given moment, so you wasted no time pulling George’s soft shirt to your chest for a gentle and loving kiss.  

“Blimey! Get a room you two!” Ron said, walking towards the two of you from the portrait, gagging.

“I guess the charm’s worn off, Georgie.”

“Just in time, too,” he said with a slightly cocky smile.  

You turned to Ron, who reluctantly held his arms out for a hug. You ran to him with all your might, meeting the messy-haired ginger’s chest. “I’m so glad to see you again.  It’s felt like ages.”

“Glad to see you too, Y/N,” he said with a genuine smile.  

Harry and Hermione entered not long after, a matching perplexed expression on their faces.  “Y/N? George? How’d you get in here? Surely McGonagall wouldn’t permit a visit such as this?” Hermione asked, giving you a small but confused hug.  

“Well, the thing is, no one knows we’re actually here,” George said, a grin on his face.  

“How’d you do it? Sneak in here, I mean,” Harry asked, eager to learn a new way to sneak to the school.  

“Snuck onto the express. Brilliant idea and execution courtesy of my dear Y/N. She’s a genius in training. Learning from the best, of course,” George said sarcastically, his thumb pointing to his chest.  

“Very funny, Georgie.  This one was all me.  My magnum opus, some would say.”

----

The ensuing night was amazing. Laughter echoed through the cherry-tinted walls of the common room like a magnificent orchestra; classic games like spin the bottle and truth or dare were played religiously.  

By the time it struck midnight, your mind had nearly escaped to your hazy dreamscape too many times to count. It had been a long day; you started early with cooking a full breakfast, sneaking onto the Hogwarts Express, and partying for hours into the night with the Gryffindors, all with the love of your life. To say you were exhausted was a massive understatement. 

Harry had graciously offered his comfortable bed to you, Ron reluctantly sacrificing his to George. “You owe me one,” he repeatedly grumbled to his older brother, who plastered a sickly innocent smile on in response.  

George took quick notice of the unfathomable exhaustion plastered onto your face from his couch across from you, immediately announcing to the chatting group of friends, “I think it’s time for me and Y/N to turn in for the night. See you all in the morning.”  

‘Goodnights’ drifted in and out of your ears as George picked you up from the couch bridal-style, carrying you light-as-a feather up the steps to the boys’ dorms. He could envision a furious Head Boy Percy demanding, ‘Put her down, George!  Girls sleep in the girls’ dormitories, boys in the boys’!  They have that rule for a reason!’ 

He smiled as he creaked open the sixth year boys’ dorm’s door, laying you peacefully onto Harry’s scarlet four-poster bed. He grabbed some cozy knitted blankets, gently setting them over your body.

“There you are, angel, have a good nights’ sleep. I love you with all my heart,” George cooed.  He turned to Ron’s bed with a smile before you grasped his hand desperately.

“Before you go to bed Georgie, did you have fun today?  I know you super were stressed out yesterday and all,” your words came out slurred and tired, some borderline incoherent.  

“I have fun any time I’m with you, darling,” he said, smoothing your ruffled hair. “But yes, I had the time of my life with you today. Just being with you makes my day infinitely brighter. You’re like my little sunshine.”

“And will you actually marry me someday, Georgie?” you asked, your droopy eyes filled with an unfathomable and everlasting love. You were deep under the heavenly redhead’s spell once again.

“I always keep my word, darling.”