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#george weasley fanfic
desideriumwriter · 8 months
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Blindsided | G.W.
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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
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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.
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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.
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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.
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tell me what you thought! <3
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vilentia · 3 months
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Physical Touch
George Weasley x reader
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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.
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wzrd-wheezes · 1 year
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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.
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fangisms · 7 months
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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
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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
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elfenbensord · 6 months
Note
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.”
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writersblockedx · 1 year
Text
Potions for Pranks
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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."
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maiiiwrites · 3 months
Text
★ | 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
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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.
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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.
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© maiiiwrites — ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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shadowbriar · 1 month
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George Weasley - What Matters
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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.”
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pizzapottah · 3 months
Text
summer vacation
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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!!
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"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-"
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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."
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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?"
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siriusblackloml · 3 months
Text
just for me - george weasley x reader smut (PART 3)
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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!
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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.
~
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im-a-wonderling · 3 months
Text
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
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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
171 notes · View notes
desideriumwriter · 5 months
Text
Don't Make Her Wait | G.W. x Fem!Reader
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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!
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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joka13 · 7 months
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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.
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lumosandnoxwriting · 12 days
Text
Crossed Lines || George Weasley
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Title: Crossed Lines Pairing: Single Dad!George x Nanny!Reader Summary: Crossing the line between professional and personal is always a risk, and this time it’s one George is willing to take.  A/N: I love dad!george and you can pry him from my cold dead hands. Feedback is always appreciated! <3
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George Weasley never imagined his life would turn out this way. 
As a man in his mid-20s, he was living the life most would be envious of. For starters he and his brother started their own company as teenagers, and now several years later they are still their own bosses. Not to mention he’s a single man, living in central London, free to do whatever and whoever he pleases. He gets to do what he loves, makes his own decisions and he makes enough money to do whatever he wants while also saving enough for his future. 
That is until one fateful Tuesday morning, when he answered the door and found a car seat sitting on the welcome mat with the smallest baby girl he’d ever seen tucked inside. Whoever left her there was long gone, and when George brought her inside the note that fluttered to the floor revealed him as the father, with whoever wrote it stating that they weren’t cut out to be a Mother and the baby was George’s problem now. 
Two weeks and one paternity test later, George took full custody of his daughter Remi.
Despite having no real hands-on experience with babies, and having no intentions of having children for at least a decade, the second George held that little girl he knew in his heart that he could never give her up. So in the blink of an eye George Weasley went from a single man to a single dad.
Thankfully his family is the best, and rallied around him as he settled into fatherhood. Fred took on more responsibility at work so George could have a more flexible schedule, and his Mum moved in to help him as he learned how to be a Dad. And of course his siblings were always more than eager to babysit when George needed a break. 
But now that Remi is six months old, four months after she was dropped off at the front of his brownstone, it’s time for his life to resume. He misses work, and while he loves having his Mum around, he’s desperately in need of having his privacy back. Not to mention all the parenting books he’s consumed over the last few months all talk about how important it is for babies to have a routine, and it’s hard getting into one when George’s work schedule is in the air and Remi never knows if it’ll be her grandmother or her dad getting her up from her nap. 
When discussing what childcare arrangements George wanted now that he’d be back at work full time and Molly would be back up North, both Fred and his Mother vetoed his idea to just have Remi at work with him all day. Day care seemed like the obvious solution, but even after touring the best rated facility in London George was hesitant. He hated the idea of dropping his daughter off at some strange building everyday, and wasn’t too keen on the idea of Remi not being the only child someone was looking after. 
So George tasked his Mum with finding him the best Nanny in all of London. 
While more expensive than daycare, George liked the idea that Remi would be at home where she’s most comfortable and she’d have her caretakers undivided attention. Not to mention he liked how easy it would be to stop by and get some time with his baby whenever he could sneak away from work.
He left all of the hiring decisions up to Molly, citing his inexperience with raising a child. Who better to pick the person that will be caring for his child than the woman who raised seven of her own kids? 
And George didn’t regret trusting his mother for a second. 
Well until he answers the door on his Nanny’s first day, only to find the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen standing on his doorstep. 
She smiles up at him brightly, and George curses himself for not at least asking his Mum for a picture of his Nanny. All she had told him was that her name is Y/N and she has a degree in early childhood development. Truthfully, when George thought about having a Nanny, he always pictured an older woman who was looking for work now that her children have grown and flown the nest. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine someone like Y/N standing on his doorstep. 
“Hi,” she greets awkwardly when George doesn’t say anything. “You must be George, I’m Y/N. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Snapping out of his daydreams, George gives her a nod. “Nice to meet you as well. Come on in.”
He steps aside so Y/N can walk through the door, and he has to suppress a shiver when their bodies brush. She can’t be much younger than him, and the subtle scent of strawberries wafting from her skin is driving him crazy. George shuts the door a little too hard, before motioning for her to follow him into the living room. 
Remi is sitting on the floor supported by some kind of special pillow Fleur bought for him, drool running down her chin as she chews on a toy. George watches as Y/N gets a look at his daughter for the first time, and the smile that takes over her face is breathtaking. 
“Oh my goodness,” Y/N coos as she approaches, crouching down in front of Remi. “And you must be Miss Remi,” she greets, her voice soft and cheery as she reaches out to stroke the baby’s cheek. “Your Granny has told me so much about you, Gorgeous. I’m Y/N and I can’t wait to get to know you better.”
George is a puddle as he watches this woman interact with his child. That little girl is his entire world, and watching people fall in love with her always fills him with pride. Remi giggles as Y/N strokes her tummy and a grin breaks out over George’s face. 
“She likes you.”
“I like her too.”
Remi squeals with joy as George scoops her up in his arms and he presses a kiss to her wet cheek before he places her on his hip. “Let me show you around and get everything sorted before I have to head off to work.”
Y/N follows behind George as he gives a quick tour, taking note of where everything is. Which is harder than it should be, since she’s distracted by the adorable baby and the gorgeous man that’s holding her. Molly had shown Y/N dozens of pictures of Remi during the interview process and talked about her nonstop, but she had been pretty silent when it came to her son. All she said was that George was young and had become a father unexpectedly when Remi’s mother abandoned the two month old on his porch. 
Her heart had broken for the little girl and her father, which made saying yes to Molly’s job offer a piece of cake. And as George points out all of his daughter’s favorite things Y/N is sure in her decision to take this job. It’s clear that George doesn’t know a lot about being a parent, but it’s even more clear that he’s trying his best and he loves his daughter with every fiber of his being. 
Y/N would be lying if she didn��t admit how attractive that is. Seeing this man who so clearly used to live the bachelor life bend over backwards to give his daughter the life she deserves is a major turn on. It doesn’t hurt that he’s extremely good looking either. 
But it’s really in her best interest to push those kinds of thoughts away considering the fact that George is her boss and he’s trusting her to care for his child. Remi is the only Weasley Y/N will allow herself to fall in love with. 
“So as far as a routine goes, Remi doesn’t really have one,” George admits sheepishly as they make their way back into the living room. “When she gets cranky we put her down for a nap and when she cries we feed her. We tried, but with my work schedule always changing and my Mum and I switching on and off, nothing we tried ever really stuck.”
”That’s what I’m here for,” Y/N reassures him with a smile. “It’ll probably take a few days for Remi to settle in from the change and get used to me, but once things settle we’ll start putting a routine in. And I’ll write everything down so you can follow it on the weekends as well.”
“Ugh, you’re amazing,” George gushes, and he doesn’t miss the way Y/N’s cheeks flush. “Okay well I guess that’s everything. I should head out now.” He’s thankful that Y/N turns away, pretending to look at her phone so he can have a private moment with his daughter. 
“I love you Rem-Dog,” George murmurs as he presses his lips to the top of his daughter’s head. “I gotta go to work now, but I’m gonna miss you so much. And you’re gonna have so much fun with Y/N. Okay, baby?”
George kisses his daughter one last time, pressing his nose to the crown of her head and taking a deep inhale of her sweet baby scent before he pulls away and hands Remi off to Y/N. 
“Call if you need anything,” George says as he walks towards the door. “My cell and office number are on the fridge. I should be home by five but I’ll call and let you know if that changes.”
”Sounds good.” Y/N follows George out, picking up Remi’s hand and making her wave. “Say bye to Daddy, Remi. Say don’t worry about me, everything’s going to be okay.” Her voice has that same dreamy quality it did when she first greeted Remi, and it immediately puts George at ease.
Y/N stays on the porch while George climbs in his car, bouncing Remi as she makes the little girl wave. He keeps his eyes on them for as long as possible, sighing when they disappear out of view. 
-
“Well your first full week back is almost over,” Fred starts as he enters George’s office. “How does it feel?”
”Fucking exhausting,” George groans, flipping Fred off when he laughs. 
Truthfully he really has enjoyed being back in the office. Over the past few months he’s been pretty hands off with the business, only coming in for important meetings or for emergencies, and it’s nice to get back working on the actual fun parts of his job. But holy hell is George tired. 
After being at work all day George heads home, and after a quick pass off Y/N also heads out, putting George on Dad duty for the rest of the night. Which he totally loves after being away from Remi all day, but by the time he gets her fed, bathed and settled in for the night he’s absolutely exhausted. It doesn’t help that she’s started some kind of sleep regression since he went back to work, so he’s up a few times to put Remi back down. 
When discussing with his mom what he might want from a nanny, they had discussed whether the position should be a live in one. George had shut that down pretty quickly, adamant that he only wanted someone there when he couldn’t be and that he could handle everything else. But after only one week he’s already considering asking Y/N if she’d be willing to make that change. 
And if part of that is motivated by his craving to spend more time with his nanny it isn’t anyone’s business.
The only time he gets to spend with Y/N is the few minutes before he leaves for work when he hands Remi off, and then the few minutes in the evening before they do it again when he gets home. But seeing the way she lights up when she talks about his daughter has George craving her presence every moment of the day. 
It helps that Remi seems to be just as infatuated with Y/N as he is. When he got home from work last night, Y/N had gushed about how amazing Remi has been, and that she barely seemed to need an adjustment period. She explained that sometimes babies have difficulties getting used to their parents being away and having a stranger in the house, but from that very first day Remi took everything like a champ.
The photo George has on his phone of Remi fast asleep on Y/N’s chest from Monday afternoon is a testament to that. The little girl has formed a bond with her nanny right from the start, and George knows his daughter would be thrilled to have some more time with Y/N.
“And how’s the nanny? Still hot?” Fred asks as he plops down in a chair across from George’s desk.
”Ugh, fuck. I never should have told you that.”
”Don’t worry, dude. I’d never try and screw one of your employees,” Fred assures. “Especially one that you wanna fuck too.”
George throws a pen at Fred in an attempt to knock the stupid grin off of his face. “I don’t wanna fuck Y/N.”
”Oh right, you wanna kiss her and hold her and date her and make love to her,” Fred teases.
”You’re such a fucking prat.” George sighs, shuffling some papers on his desk. “Fuck this. It’s Friday and I’m tired and I wanna see my baby. I’m going home early.”
Fred stands up as George starts to collect his things. “Fine, go back home to your girls. I’ll see you later.”
He’s almost out the door when George registers what he’s said and he whips a pad of post it notes at his brother’s retreating back. “Fucking prick!” He shouts, trying to ignore the bright pink blush on his cheeks. 
-
George’s decision to ask Y/N to move in is solidified the second he comes through the door. 
Remi’s cries echo off the walls, and he barely has the door shut behind him before he’s barrelling down the hall towards his daughter. When he reaches the living room George stops in his tracks. Y/N is slowly swaying back and forth, quietly murmuring to Remi as she rubs her back soothingly. His daughter’s red face is pressed into her nanny’s neck and even from across the room George can see how wet her cheeks are. 
“Is she okay?” George asks as he approaches, his voice frantic. 
Y/N spins around so she’s facing him, an attempt at a grin crossing her face. “Teething,” is her simple reply, and George nods in understanding. 
He vaguely remembers when Victorie, his niece, started teething since Bill often came to hang out with Fred and George when he needed a break. Not that George can blame a baby, if he had something sharp cutting through his gums and had no ability to verbalize the pain and ask for help he’d be screaming his head off too. 
“Yeah, my Mum thought she might be close to cutting one in the front.” Y/N passes Remi to him when he holds his hands out, and he immediately cuddles her close to his chest. “It’s alright, love. Daddy’s here.”
Y/N can practically feel her heart melt as she watches George soothe his daughter, and she silently kicks herself when she realizes how attractive it is watching this big man hold a baby. Of course she’s read those books, the ones where the hot single dad and the nanny end up falling in love and becoming a family. But when she graduated from Uni and decided to go into private care over a day care or teaching she had promised herself she would always remain professional.
Except the moment George Weasley opened his front door that notion went right down the drain. 
Watching this man be a parent makes her ovaries ache, and in a futile attempt to squander any feelings she may have for George, Y/N has tried to keep their interactions to a minimum. She keeps their hand-offs as brief as possible, showing up in the morning with only a few minutes to spare and exiting so quickly in the evening that George barely has his shoes off before she’s out the door. 
The last thing she needs is to fall in love with the man who signs her paychecks. 
It doesn’t help that Remi is probably the best child she’s ever looked after, and considering she started babysitting at 10 that’s a huge compliment. After only a week she already has formed an attachment to the little girl, and it pains her everytime she has to hand her back at the end of the day. Which usually ends up pissing her off, because how could the woman that gave birth to such a beautiful baby just give that all away? 
Apart from today’s teething related meltdown Remi has been nothing but a ray of sunshine. She giggles at everything, and Y/N instantly fell in love with her gummy smile. She’s also learned that Remi is a baby that loves to cuddle, and she spends most of her afternoon laying on the couch, holding the infant close to her chest as she sleeps. 
Sometimes she feels thankful for that horrid woman who gave all of this up, because Y/N is the one who gets to bask in the glow of little Remi. But sometimes those thoughts lead her down the bath of daydreaming what it would be like to be Remi’s Mum, and by extension George’s wife, and she has to shut them down quickly. Lusting after a life she can’t have is not helpful. 
“I put some of her teethers in the freezer,” she explains as George starts to sway back and forth in his own attempt to soothe Remi. “The cold will help soothe and numb the pain, but if you have a hard time getting her to bed you can give her some children’s tylenol.”
Y/N can feel her heart breaking as Remi lets out another wail, hating the fact that she is about to leave when she’s still so upset. She steps closer to George, resting a hand on Remi’s back before she leans in to kiss her tear-stained cheek. 
“Bye, Rem-Dog. I’m going to miss you so much, but you have your dad here with you, yeah? And I know you’re in pain but go easy on him, okay? I can feel the anxiety rolling off him,” she pauses to look at George, giving him a teasing wink before she refocuses her attention on the baby. “I’ll see you on Monday.”
“You got this, George,” Y/N reassures, giving his arm a squeeze. 
She turns to grab her things and head out when a hand closes around her wrist. 
“Wait, Y/N,” George calls, tugging so she turns to look at him. “There’s actually something I wanted to talk to you about, before you go. I was wondering if you’d consider becoming a live-in nanny?” He rushes the question out, clearly nervous.  
“You want me to move in?” Y/N asks, her voice breathy. Immediately she clears her throat, shaking her head to bring her back to reality. This is George asking for more help with his baby, nothing more. 
“I do yeah,” George confirms with a nod. “I'm in way over my head, and I could really use the extra help in the evenings. I can tell how attached Remi is to you already, and I know she’d love to have you around more.” He leaves out the fact that he’d love to have her around more too, figuring that would be anything but helpful to hear. “I’d pay you more, obviously, and you’ll still have the weekends off. If you’re stuck in a lease I can pay to get you out of it, anything you need.”
“I’ll do it,” Y/N agrees without even taking a second to think about it. 
Is moving in with her hot boss and his incredible daughter probably a bad idea? Absolutely. But with the wide grin George is directing at her it’s easy for Y/N to push all of those negative thoughts to the back of her head. 
Besides, living here with George and Remi is a good thing, she’ll probably learn all of George’s annoying habits and whatever feelings are starting to develop will fade just as quickly as they started. 
At least Y/N hopes so.
-
Turns out her plan to use moving in with George as a way to diminish her feelings for him is a failure. An epic, fucking failure. 
Because as it turns out, George has no annoying habits. 
When he wakes up with Remi in the morning he’s quiet, taking extra care to whisper and tiptoe around as to not wake Y/N up before her alarm. When he makes his breakfast he always sets some aside for her as well, and there’s always a fresh pot of coffee waiting. He’s always sure to clean up after himself, to the point where sometimes Y/N forgets he even lives there. And despite the fact that she moved in to help him out more, George is always respectful of her time. When he gets home from work he takes over with Remi, giving Y/N some time for herself. When she takes over again, putting Remi to bed, George always cooks them dinner and they spend the rest of the evening talking and hanging out. 
Everyday it feels less and less like she’s his employee helping him care for his daughter and more like they’re a couple caring for their baby together. 
Which Y/N knows is a bad thing, and there’s constantly a voice in the back of her head telling her she needs to put up boundaries to keep both George and Remi at arms length. But the more time she spends around them the harder it is. She is quickly discovering that she isn’t just attracted to George’s looks and his dedication to being a father, but to his personality as well. He has a great sense of humor and such a kind heart, and Y/N finds herself missing his presence when he’s not around. 
So again, her plan has been an epic failure. 
It certainly doesn’t help that three weeks into her new live in position, Y/N rushes into the nursery one night to comfort a screaming Remi only to find her boss standing in the middle of the room shirtless as he rocks his daughter. 
“Oh,” Y/N gasps as she steps in the room, alerting George to her presence. When he spins to face her it takes all of her willpower to keep her eyes focused on his face and not his naked torso. “I just wanted to check and make sure everything is okay.”
George swallows thickly, reminding himself that he’s got his crying child in his arms and now is not the time to be ogling his nanny. But fuck is it hard. Because Y/N is standing there in the tiniest pair of sleep shorts and the thinnest tank top George has ever seen, her hair still mussed from sleep. 
“Yeah, everything’s fine,” he mumbles once he finds his composure. “I was hoping to get her back to sleep before she woke you, I’m sorry.”
Remi’s been cutting two new teeth this week, and it’s safe to say sleep has not been something happening here in the Weasley house. He and Y/N have been taking shifts during the night, but he could tell that the lack of sleep was starting to wear her down, so when Remi woke him tonight his sole mission was to soothe her back to sleep as quickly as possible.
“And is there a reason why the two of you are half naked?” Y/N teases, and even in the dim light George can see the blush tinting her cheeks.
George shrugs a shoulder, giving her a grin. “I read in a book that skin to skin contact is supposed to help comfort babies.” Truthfully he hadn’t even considered the possibility of Y/N coming to help him, so George hadn’t given it a second thought when he stripped Remi down to her diaper before he pulled his own shirt off. All he wanted to do was soothe his child, but seeing the way Y/N is having a hard time from looking at his bare chest George is thankful for his actions for a totally different reason. 
“I’ll have to keep that in mind,” Y/N responds playfully, and she doesn’t miss the way George’s eyes scan her body. It sends a shiver down her spine, and if there wasn’t a crying baby in his arms she certainly would be throwing herself at him. 
Over the past few weeks Y/N has had an inkling that the feelings she has are not totally one sided, and the way George is looking at her now is confirmation. Clearly they are both trying to keep from crossing into unprofessional territory for Remi’s sake, but she’s not sure how much longer they’ll be able to resist this pull. 
“Go back to bed,” George instructs, his voice low. 
Y/N nods, her stomach fluttering at the command in his voice. Wanting him to be just as affected as she is, she approaches George, maintaining eye contact as she places one hand on his bare shoulder and the other on his abs. She smiles to herself as he tenses under her touch, leaning in to kiss Remi on the forehead. 
“Goodnight, baby girl.”
Just as quickly as she was there Y/N is retreating, looking back over her shoulder at George as she lingers in the doorway. 
“Sweet dreams, George.”
As soon as she’s gone George tosses his head back and groans. “God damnit,” he mumbles. He looks down at Remi, who’s cries have finally started to quiet. “You two girls will be the death of me I swear.”
-
It’s the first sunny day they’ve had in weeks, so when he woke up this fine Saturday morning he decided a picnic in the park was the best way to spend it. Even though it’s technically her day off, after he’d packed up the food, Remi George had stopped by Y/N’s room to see if she wanted to join them. Much to his delight, a yes was coming out of her mouth before he’d really even finished asking. 
And as he watches her push Remi in a swing, both of them giggling like crazy, George knows one thing for certain: he’s fallen for his nanny. It’s something he’s come to terms with in the two weeks it has been since that night in the nursery. After the way she touched and teased him George had an inkling that his feelings for Y/N were mutual, and their interactions these last few weeks have only confirmed it. 
For starters, touching has become a normal part of their relationship. Now when they pass Remi back and forth it’s normal for their hands to brush, lingering just a few seconds too long. When they sit on the couch together in the evenings Y/N takes the spot right next to him, as opposed to sitting on the opposite end like she had previously. It seems like both of them take every opportunity to be close to the other. 
Their conversations seem to have a flirty air to them now too, with both of them taking every opportunity to make the other blush. Not to mention the fact that Y/N is supposed to have the weekends off, and yet she somehow always ends up spending them with George and Remi. 
Sometimes George even forgets that Y/N is his employee, because when the three of them are together it just feels like they’re a family. Much to George’s pleasure it seems that way to others as well, because on at least four different occasions when the three of them have been out together people have complimented them on how adorable their daughter is, and Y/N has been mistaken as his wife at least a handful of times. Even strangers know that they’re meant to be together. 
And George is just waiting for the perfect moment to make it official. 
He grins as Y/N starts to head towards him, holding his arms out for the baby. 
“Dada, dada, dada!” Remi babbles as Y/N places her in his outstretched hands, and it makes his heart burst just like every other time she’s said it. 
“Hi baby,” George coos, settling Remi down on his lap. He shivers when Y/N takes a seat next to him on the blanket, their sides pressed together tightly from how close she chooses to be. “Did you have fun on the swings?”
“Yes I did,” Y/N answers for Remi, her voice morphing into the delicate tone she always uses when talking to the baby. “Y/N is so much fun, Daddy. So much more fun than you,” she teases.
They both let out a laugh when Remi reaches for Y/N, seemingly confirming her words. 
Instead of taking the baby Y/N leans into George’s side, holding out both her hands so Remi and grab on to her pointer fingers. George immediately wraps an arm around her waist, pressing Y/N even closer into his chest. It feels so natural that George has to resist his urge to lean in and kiss her on the forehead. 
Y/N smiles as Remi tries to shove her fingers in her mouth, keeping her attention focused on the baby so she doesn’t get lost in George’s eyes. She can feel his gaze on her, and it’s taking everything in her not to return it. 
She shouldn’t even be here right now. She’d had plans to get brunch with some of her Uni friends, but the second George stopped in the doorway of her room, a stupid smile on his face and his perfect baby in his arms as he invited her on a picnic she couldn’t say no. It’s definitely not normal, the amount of time she spends with George and Remi when she’s off the clock, but Y/N stopped caring about that weeks ago. In reality, George could never pay her another cent and she’d still be sitting right where she is. 
Which should terrify Y/N, but it doesn’t. 
“I can’t believe how big she’s getting,” George comments, pulling Y/N out of her thoughts. 
She hums in agreement. “It’s crazy how fast they grow at this age. I swear some days she grows overnight.”
“She looks so much like her mom.”
Y/N freezes, just watching George stroke his fingers over the dark, wispy hair that covers Remi’s head. He’s never talked about her before, and Y/N would be lying if she said she wasn’t curious about the woman who makes up the other half of Remi’s DNA. 
“Maybe,” Y/N comments, grinning as Remi giggles. “But she has your eyes and your smile.” When all George does is hum in acknowledgement she continues. “What was she like? Remi’s mom?”
George shrugs as best he can with Y/N pressed against him. “I don’t know, really. Which sounds awful. We didn’t really spend too much time talking, if you get what I mean. I had totally forgotten about her until Remi showed up on my doorstep and the note from her fell out onto the ground.”
“I know I probably shouldn’t think ill of someone I don’t know,” Y/N says cautiously. “But it must take an awful person to just abandon their baby. Especially a baby like Remi. I mean, what if you weren’t home? Remi would have just been sitting out there on the porch for who knows how long.” She shudders in horror at the thought. “I just can’t ever imagine leaving her behind.”
The protective tone in her voice drives George crazy in the best way possible. He knows, obviously, that Y/N cares for his daughter, but hearing her be so angry at the woman who abandoned his daughter is something different. 
“I know what you mean. Being a dad was something I never even considered. But the second I held that baby for the first time I knew I could never give her up.” George pauses, considering his next words carefully. “Sometimes I think about what life would be like, if Remi’s mom had come to me when she found out she was pregnant and we had the opportunity to be a family. But I don’t think I would have liked it that much.”
“Oh?” The soft tone of George’s voice is sending goosebumps all over her body. “Why is that?”
“Because then I never would have needed a nanny, and Remi and I wouldn’t have met you.” 
His words take all of the air out of Y/N’s lungs, and her heart feels like it might beat out of her chest. Because she’s had those thoughts too, and as selfish as it is Y/N has always come to the same conclusion as George. Remi will never know her biological mother, and part of Y/N aches for that little girl. But a larger part of her is thankful that Remi will never know the pain of her mother’s abandonment, and she’s thankful that she gets to be the woman in her life. 
“Thanks for coming with us,” George murmurs after a few moments of silence, causing Y/N to finally look up at him. He has the dopiest grin on his face and it makes her heart race. 
“There’s no place I’d rather be,” Y/N responds, and the conviction in her voice lets George know she’s being honest with him. 
George reaches out to tuck a stray piece of hair behind Y/N’s ear, and he grins at the hitch in her breath. “Remi likes spending so much time with you.”
“Just Remi?” she asks teasingly, digging her teeth into her bottom lip. 
“No,” George murmurs honestly, reaching up to trace Y/N’s jaw with his thumb. “Not just Remi.”
-
Things finally come to a head a few days later, and they have to decide whether to end this arrangement all together or finally cross that line. 
-
“Y/N? Remi?”
Y/N grins as George’s voice echoes through the house as the front door clicks shut behind him. “Living room!” she calls back. 
As soon as George comes into view Remi starts babbling, her tiny fists reaching out towards George. “Dada, dada, dada!”
They’re sitting on the floor, with Y/N’s back against the sofa as Remi sits in her lap so they can read a book. But as George comes closer Y/N tosses the book aside, focusing on the man approaching her. Ever since the picnic in the park they’re subtle glances have become more obvious, and she doesn’t shy away from checking George out. 
Because damn that man knows how to wear a suit. 
“Hey Rem-Dog,” George greets, taking a seat on the floor across from Y/N. He opens his arms as Y/N lets Remi go, waiting for her to crawl closer before he swoops in. Picking Remi up under her armpits George hoists her in the air, blowing raspberries against her belly to make her laugh. 
Y/N waits for George to return the giggling baby to his lap before she acknowledges him. “Hi. How was work?”
George shrugs, giving her a smile. “It was okay. Couldn’t wait to get home though.”
The intensity in his gaze makes Y/N blush, and she clears her throat as she looks away. “Well it’s a good thing you’re here now,” she manages to squeak out once she’s calmed down. 
Things have felt so intense between them lately, but Y/N is waiting for George to make the first move. While she’s absolutely sure he feels the same way as she does, she doesn’t want to risk it by being the first one to make a move. Because on the off chance she goes for it and George rejects her, not only will Y/N be humiliated but she’ll lose Remi and that’s not something she’s willing to risk. 
“Yeah, good thing.” George leans down to kiss the top of Remi’s head. “How was she today? Any problems?”
Y/N chuckles at the notion of Remi being anything but a perfect angel. “Nope, she was perfect, as per usual. She tried broccoli for the first time and went down for her nap easily. And every time I’d show her a picture of you she’d reach for it shouting Dada.”
That makes George’s heart melt. “That’s my smart girl,” he coos. 
They both just watch for a minute as Remi squirms on George’s lap, one of her hands fisted in his dress pants while the other smacks his knee. No one says anything, but the silence between them isn’t awkward at all. 
George suddenly takes a deep breath and just as he’s about to open his mouth to say something Remi cuts him off. 
“Mama, mama!” she babbles for the first time, her little arms reaching out towards Y/N as she makes grabby hands. “Mama!”
Tears immediately spring to Y/N’s eyes, and she stands up, turning away from George so he can’t see how affected she is. “Oh. Um. I’ll be right back.”
George watches dumbfounded as Y/N disappears down the hall, presumably into his room. “Shit, shit shit,” he murmurs, standing up to follow after her. He places Remi in her playpen, kissing her quickly on the forehead. “Hang on, baby. Dada has to go check on Mama.”
Y/N’s door is closed when George reaches it, and he gives a tentative knock. “Y/N? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, George!” She calls, but George can hear her sniffling. 
“No, you’re not.” He pauses, grabbing the doorknob. “I’m coming in.”
She’s sitting on the edge of her bed, furiously wiping away tears and George immediately takes two steps into the room before falling to his knees in front of her. “Baby, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing, nothing,” she dismisses, shaking her head. “I don’t even know why I’m crying to be honest. It shouldn’t be a big deal, obviously I’m not Remi’s mom-”
“But you wanna be,” George murmurs, cutting her off. 
“Fuck, I’m so sorry, George,” Y/N apologizes. She wipes away the rest of the tears on her cheeks before she starts to push him away. “Let me just pack my stuff and I’ll be out of here, I’m sorry.”
George grabs Y/N’s wrists, keeping her hands pressed to his chest but keeping her from pushing him away. “What the hell do you have to be sorry for, Y/N?”
“I’m her nanny, George. I’m just supposed to be looking after her while you’re at work or whatever. I’m not supposed to be imagining a life where she’s my child and we’re a family. I crossed a line and you should fire me.”
“Fuck that,” George scoffs. “Look at me, Y/N.” He doesn’t continue until Y/N meets his gaze. “If anyone here crossed a line it was me. The second I saw you on my porch that morning I was fucked, I wanted you in every single way I could have you, Y/N. Hell, I asked you to move in under the guise that I needed more help with Remi when in reality I just wanted an excuse to be closer to you.”
George’s confession shocks her, and a humorless chuckle leaves her lips. “Really?”
“Really,” George confirms. “So if I should fire you for what you did, then you should quit for what I did. And if you really want to leave I will walk away right now. I’ll head back into the living room and sit with Remi while you pack and I’ll let you walk out the front door.”
“And if I don’t want to leave?” Y/N immediately asks. 
“Then I’m going to kiss you, and once I've conveyed to you how much you truly mean to me, we’ll go back out to the living room to spend time with our daughter. Because Y/N, you stopped being just the nanny weeks ago. And I think you know that.” George gives her a pointed look. “The choice is yours.”
Her choice comes in the form of her hands fisting in George’s shirt seconds before she pulls him into a kiss. George’s arms immediately wrap around her waist, and he pulls Y/N off of the bed and into his lap, needing to get her as close as possible. 
“Dada! Mama!”
Remi’s shout breaks their kiss, but George keeps their foreheads pressed together as they chuckle. “I guess we’ll have to wait until Remi goes to bed to cross other lines.”
Y/N shakes her head, playfully smacking George on the side of his head. He can be such an idiot. But at least he’s her idiot, and that’s all that really matters. 
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fangisms · 8 months
Text
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
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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."
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beautifulbuckys · 2 years
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Can’t Stay Away (1)
Out of all of the wizarding kids Harry’s best friends could’ve been, why did it need to be a Weasley?
George Weasley x Reader
A/N: Hello! I’m back to writing! I’ve been in a huge Harry Potter phase recently. So...I’m doing some come back writing with a multi-part story! Enjoy!!
Warnings: Some swearing, enemies to lovers. Some back and forth between characters! No use of Y/N
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Out of all of the wizarding kids' Harry’s best friends could’ve been, why did it need to be a Weasley?
Don’t get me wrong, the Weasley’s are a lovely family. Molly treats me with warmth as she would another daughter. Arthur would send me owl after owl questioning me on muggle happenings. Whenever I could see Charlie and Bill it was always pleasant. Percy would be tolerable at best. Fred constantly dropped flowers off in my dorm room yet always denied it. Ron confided in me and trusted me with anything regarding Harry. Ginny was almost like a little sister to me, I’d braid her hair and she showed me how to sew.
George?
Where do I begin?
Since we began our first year, he found a way to get under my skin. Literally. Once a spell he meant to cast on Filch backfired and lead me to the uncomfortable feeling of movement under my skin for 3 weeks. A time after that, he’d stained my silk scarf gifted to me by Harry when we were small. If you add on the act that he’s loud, disruptive, unruly, and barbaric; he’s a total unlikeable package!
The worst of it? The time he broke my pearl necklace during a failed escape from Snape after a prank. He’d collided with me right by the corridor closest to the Great Hall. Our chests collided violently and he pushed himself away. Unfortunately taking my necklace with him. The same necklace that my Mom had gifted to me when I was around 3. The last thing I had to remind me of her. The closest thing I had to her.
Fred had begged and pleaded with me to forgive George. Damage was done.
And since, I haven’t had a pleasant experience with him. Yet I find myself at the Weasley’s crumbling house every summer. It’s become a routine since we left the Dursleys. I’d room with Ginny, while Harry would stay with Ron. It worked out perfectly. Ginny and I would find ourselves sitting in the glowing sun helping Molly with the gardening. I found it quite peaceful. Us three stuck together a lot considering the amount of testosterone that lived in the Burrow. We’d sit in the same corner of the wobbly, patchy wood dinner table that sat in the middle of the cramped dining room. We’d share tea and Molly would educate us on the proper ways to crochet or knit.
Harry was surrounded by the lively Weasley boys. I never see them repeating a single task during the day, always onto something new. They’ll have practice quidditch matches during midday. Harry and Ron always manage to be on the same team, much like Fred and George. They’d move onto roughhousing near the garden patch, leading to a solid scolding done by Molly. I’d never missed the few occasions the boys would disappear for hours, only to return muddy and worn.
Today was no different.
“Oi, boys! What have I said about you lot wrestling in the mud! I absolutely refuse to clean this laundry. Fred and George. First to the showers! You’re helping us with dinner this evening!” Molly shouted at the returning group from just behind a small berry bush sitting outside the kitchen window.
Fred scoffed, throwing his pale arms into the air. “Mum! We were having fun, Harry learned some new moves!”
Nevertheless, the twins disappeared inside.
“I don’t know what I’ll do with those two boys. Always dabbling into trouble.” Molly turned to me, pushing a small ginger back curl with her forearm.
The sun was just beginning to set, creating a soft pink and orange hue in the sky. Whenever sunsets like this happened, they made me smile. Orange was a happy color. It reminded me of the Weasley family no matter the hassle they added to your lives. The Weasleys were my found family. Whenever a tough day happened and a sunset like this followed, I couldn’t help but picture the zany family bouncing in the sky.
I barely realized I was spacing out before a tall figure appeared to the right of me.
George.
I looked over to my left, where he stood next to me. He was wearing a periwinkle tee that wasn’t shy highlighting the slight muscle tone in his arms. George’s fiery hair was messy and wet. Some pieces clung to his forehead, while others stuck up like bedhead. Small freckles dusted his nose, adding a pop of color to his otherwise pale face.
“What’s got your focus?” He spoke softly. The kitchen was bustling with life, a few Weasleys and Harry running to help with supper. I was assigned to snap the ends of the fresh green beans we had grown. George picked up a few from the pile in front of me and began assisting.
“Nothing too important.”
“Seems it.” He pushed.
I tilt my head slightly in his direction. His tall frame is balanced on the aged kitchen counted by his hip. George’s legs were crossed, his patched white ankle socks slightly revealing themselves from underneath his discolored red pajamas.
“What’s it to you, Weasley?”
The sharp corners of his mouth perk into a smirk. “I can’t help but notice I’m the only one you call Weasley. I live in a house full of Weasleys. Yet Ron is Ron. Percy is Percy. Bill is Bill. But I’m Weasley.” I finally turn my head fully in his direction. His smirk is still prevalent on his face. I wanted to smack it off of him.
“Congratulations.” I sassed.
George snapped an end of a green bean off, tossing it in his mouth. “Someone is awfully snippy today,” He whispered. “Harry get some mud on your scarf?” The smirk he had been wearing never left his face. It sat, proud. What an asshole.
Thankfully, Molly had swiped me away to set the dinner table. The table, obviously repaired to expand its area, was rough and bumpy. There were a few times I’d assisted Harry and Ron with splinters they gained from the old piece of furniture. It was wobbly. What some would consider run down, I’d call it well loved. The original table dawned a dark oak color. The staining darkened the color and once made the woodwork shine. The first addition to the table was some leftover wood from Molly’s garden boxed. It was a birch slab nailed onto the original table. When a table cloth covered the table, a large dip was noticeable due to the level difference. The legs were also constructed with scrap pieces, causing one leg to be longer than the other. Yet, it still held the original charm the initial table was blessed with.
Molly had handed me an emerald green table cloth to cover the rugged surface. The various sets of worn china decorated the tabletop. Small ivory plates decorated with cornflowers were scattered on the table. While Arthur and Molly’s seats had the older, cream and rose plates they loved. Molly’s mother had gifted the couple with this set of dinnerware after their wedding. It definitely didn’t go unappreciated.
As the family settled down for dinner, conversations varied from Harry’s dream last night to Ron’s rat eating a hole through Percy’s special prefect robes.
“That damn rat needs some bloody training. He’s the worst behaved Weasley! And that’s counting Ron! Do you have any idea how much those robes cost?” Percy whined, gripping his chipped metal fork. His thin eyebrows furrowed, causing a horrible wrinkle on his forehead.
Ron shoved a slab of chicken breast into his mouth. “The school gave them to you.” He spoke with his mouth full. Thin pieces of chicken slipped out of his mouth while speaking.
Percy glared at Ron.
“They’re priceless.”
I giggled at Ron’s antics, him joining me. Percy began ranting about how his position of power made Ron jealous and that’s why he sent Scabbers to go chew a hole in the hood of the robe. While rambling, he flailed his frail arms into the air; nearly smacking Fred in the process. Fred dodged the hit dramatically while scoffing.
“Oi, can you watch where you’re swinging those muscles? I get you’ve been doing 5 push-ups every night but spare us from your fury,” The older twin snickered. The dim yellow lights of the Burrow cast a shadow down his face. His brow bones shadowed his chocolate eyes. From this angle, he could’ve been mistaken for one of those cheap muggle Halloween statues.
Percy didn’t take this comment lightly. He shut up quickly and began rapidly eating his food. Occasionally, he’d mumble something under his breath and glare at Ron.
“Dear brother I think you hurt poor Percy’s feelings!” George gasped. He raised his hands to his cheeks and feigned a shocked expression. Slight chuckles could be heard from Ginny beside me. “I demand at once that you apologize to my esteemed relative. If you don’t, I fear your food may be coming out from the other end!” George’s fake expression was replaced by a boyish grin. If you looked closely, you just see the tiniest dimple on both corners of his mouth.
“Thank you, Geor-” Percy began.
“My brother cannot help the brute strength that he gets from being part cyclops! It already ruins his self-esteem enough that he looks like one. Do not begin to make him fear using his true strength around those he’s supposed to feel safe around.” The entire table of Weasley’s erupted in laughter, excluding Molly. Ginny’s face could match her hair color. I could’ve sworn I saw tears falling from the corners of Fred’s eyes. I laughed too, I can’t lie about that. I’ve always found Percy to be tightly wound and in need of a serious laugh every once in a while.
As I wiped the falling tears from my face, I glanced across the table. George was staring right at me. We made brief eye contact before I broke it, bringing my eyes to the meal in front of me.
Shit. I laughed at George Weasley’s joke. I broke my front.
Dinner otherwise was rather peaceful. Of course, Molly scolded both twins for picking on their older brother. Arthur included himself in the punishment too. I’m assuming it was to cover up the fact that he slammed the table laughing in reaction to the conversation. Molly definitely saw it though. She was just letting him off easy. Percy left the table the second he finished his plate. As he stomped up the stairs, Ginny heard him grumbling about how Fred and George would soon get a reality check. Soon after that, a nearby door slam shook the Burrow.
As the evening continued, members of the Weasley family dropped like flies. Ginny was the first to go to bed. Eventually, Fred and Harry followed. Molly and Arthur disappeared without a word. Ron sat with me by the fireplace for a while.
The familiar warmth of the Weasley fireplace was always comforting to me. I spent hours tutoring Ron and Harry on charms homework during cold winter nights by the fireplace. I experienced my first heartbreak here. 2nd year, after Clarence Hillbox broke up with me the day before the summer break. Molly sat with me all day, comforting me and telling me about Arthur’s first fight.
“He had shattered my father’s vase! He was meeting my family. He tried teaching my younger brother the wonders of muggle ‘baseball’. Somehow in the mix, a ball flew in the opposite direction straight through the den window! Completely shattered the family heirloom that had been in the family for over 800 years!”
I sniffled. “Did he make it up to you? Or your Dad?”
Molly’s familiar smile appeared on her round face. “Well, he tried. He took me to a muggle pottery barn to paint a new one. He paid for the costs, and let me do anything my heart desired. He was the one to pick it up from the barn and brought it to my Dad. Obviously, he was still hurt but he appreciated it.”
Ron and I sat in silence for a while, staring at the yellow and orange flames that danced on the charred logs. Then I felt the couch dip to my right.
“Hope I’m not interrupting something.” The loudest, and younger of the twins broke the silence.
Silently, Ron stood up and left the room. Not a ‘goodbye’ or a ‘goodnight’ left his mouth. His soft footsteps could be heard above my head, walking quickly to his room. Great. Now Weasley and I are left alone.
I clear my throat, “Not exactly. My scowl must’ve been present on my face, as his face dropped slightly once he looked at me. “I was just hanging out with your brother. Obviously, he had other plans. So now I’m left alone.” My hands were fidgeting with the hems of my sleep shorts. There were a few frayed strings that stuck out from the sides.
“But I’m here.”
“Take the hint, Weasley.” I groaned, pulling the sides of my shorts out in frustration. He chuckled softly, turning his head to look at the fire. However, his arm had other plans. It snaked its way behind the back of the plush couch. His pink knuckles sitting inches from my cheekbone. I turned my head slightly, to see exactly how he was sitting. As he obviously wasn’t getting up. His broad-shouldered form sat comfortably on the seat. His left ankle was balanced on his right though, legs forming a perfect 4. Due to his arms being raised, his shirt lifted a little. A small blue boxer line peeked out from under his pajama bottoms.
“I can’t stand you.” He said.
I frown. “Yet you can’t seem to leave me alone.
“Touche.”
And for the first time ever, I didn’t want to smack George Weasley across the face.
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