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george-weasleys-girl · 2 years

Text

Star-Crossed

George Weasley x you

Warnings: fluff to angst, sad ending

Summary: AU, no magic, forbidden love between the daughter of a wealthy merchant and a traveling actor.

~•~

Stonegale, England 1559

A warm glow expanded through your body. The Weasley Troupe had arrived late in the night, long after you'd fallen asleep. But word travels fast in your little seaside town. Your lady's maid couldn't stop gushing over the new actor, a young Spainard, who already had half the unmarried ladies in town wrapped around his little finger. You couldn't deny your curiosity, but there was one person you ached to see more.

The company returned every spring, setting their stage up on the village green, just a short walk away from the cramped stalls of the town's bustling market. It was there, at the age of nine, that you first met the Weasley family, becoming fast friends with the puckish, twin brothers. Over time your friendship with the younger twin blossomed into something more, your love only growing stronger in spite your long separations.

~•~

Your heart raced as you descended the stairs of your home two at a time and darted out the door into the bright morning light. Never the lady your mother wished you to be, you hiked up your dress and ran through the muddy streets kicking up sludge onto your sea green dress. Glancing down at the mess, you weren't sure who would be more furious, your mother or the washerwoman.

George snuck up behind you as you approached the encampment. You squeaked when he grabbed your hand, pulling you out of the market and toward the small, hidden cove you'd discovered two summers ago. The two of you spent many hours there, wrapped in one another's arms, listening to the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks and planning out your future together.

~•~

It was only when you reached the safety of your seaside sanctuary, that George lifted you off your feet, his arms encompassing you as your lips touched for the first time in almost half a year.

"I have missed you terribly, my love," he mummered as they pulled apart.

You caressed his cheek. "I've missed you, too. The dark months are all the more bleak without you."

He sat down on the warm sand, pulling you onto his lap, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "End of summer."

"End of summer?" Your eyebrows drew together.

"By the end of summer we'll have enough saved up."

Your eyes went wide. "Truly?"

His expression softened at your beaming face. "Yes, truly."

You wrapped your arms tight around his neck, causing a strangled laugh to fall from his lips.

"Y/N, my sweet." His strained voice alarmed you, causing you to pull back.

George's eyes sparkled with a mixture of love and amusement as he rubbed his throat. "I can't marry you, if you choke me to death."

~•~

George had proposed the previous summer. You both had kept your engagement secret, knowing your wealthy merchant father would never approve of his youngest daughter marrying a poor, traveling player.

The only other person who knew was George's twin brother, Fred. They shared with you their dream of moving to London to open their own theatre. Once the brothers were settled, George promised to come steal you away.

~•~

Time flew, as it always did when George was in town. Spring turned to summer and the Midsummer Festival was fast approaching. As usual this time of year, you'd barely been able to sneak away with your fiancé, the hustle and bustle of the preparations keeping you both busy.

Your household had been more hectic than normal. Your parents were hosting a visiting merchant family from one of the neighboring towns. "Our guests will be arriving in two days time." Your father announced at dinner. "This is a very special visit. Please prepare yourselves. I want everyone to be on their best behavior." He gave you a pointed look. An innocent smile spreading across your face was your only response.

~•~

Four days later...

You could barely catch your breath as you and George fled into the woods trying to get as far away as possible before morning. It would only be a matter of time before your family realized you were gone and then the hunt would began.

Of all the things you expected with the arrival of your guests, an arranged marriage between you and their son was not one of them. The union was strategic, of course, a business contract between two rival businessmen. The families planned the wedding to be the highlight of the upcoming festival.

~•~

Every muscle in your body throbbed, your legs felt like jelly, yet you pushed yourself to keep going. You and George had been on the run for two days, eating on the move, only stopping to sleep.

In the end, it wasn't enough. On the third morning you woke to the sound of hoofbeats and dogs baying. They'd followed your scent to the small barn where the two of you were sleeping. You and George tried to escape through the back, hoping to reach the dense woods.

The next few minutes were a whirlwind. A dog snagged your ankle, causing you to trip and fall. George stopped to pull you up, but there was nowhere to go, the horses had surrounded you. It took three men to pull you and George apart. You thrashed against your father, as he tied you down to his horse, leaving a bloody gash across his cheek.

The last you saw of your love, he was screaming your name, flattened to ground by his father and two older brothers.

~•~

1561

When you died in childbirth two years later, a mysterious bouquet of roses appeared on your grave several days after your funeral. They appeared every year on your birthday for nearly four decades. The bestower was never identified.

~•~ ~•~ ~•~

London, England 1886

It was the final day of the first stop on your European honeymoon. Marrying the son of a railroad tycoon had it's perks. You didn't love your new husband, but you liked him well enough. That was the best you could ask for, being the daughter of a United States senator and having little choice in who you married.

You stood on the docks as they loaded your trunks onto the ship that would take you across the channel to France. Watching the colorful swirl of people around you, a familiar laugh pulled your attention to a tall gentleman with long ginger hair in a patchwork jacket and faded tophat. He was walking your way, conversing with another fellow, a guitar strapped across his back.

As he approached, your eyes locked in an unflinching gaze. Slowing his pace, you thought he might stop. But he only tipped his hat, his fathomless, questioning eyes never once straying from your own.

You did not know this man, but deep in your soul, you knew that if he'd offered his hand, you would've followed him anywhere. A sudden, inexplicable ache of longing consumed you as he walked away, and for a fleeting moment, you remembered how the waves crashed against the rocks of a small, hidden cove.

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