yas

hogsmeade felt different now.

before, it had always been teasing nudges, lingering stares, hands almost brushing but never quite touching.

now george walked beside her like he physically couldn't stay away.

his shoulder kept bumping hers as they walked through the crowded snowy streets, scarf loose around his neck, freckles pink from the cold. every few minutes he'd glance over at her for no reason at all, smiling to himself when he caught her already looking.

"what?" she asked finally, trying not to smile back.

"nothing."

"george."

he grinned. "still can't believe you actually fancy me."

she rolled her eyes immediately. "don't start."

"sorry, sorry." he held his hands up dramatically. "just processing the fact that the prettiest girl at hogwarts cried over me."

her jaw dropped. "oh my god."

"which, by the way," he added quickly, leaning closer as they crossed the street, "still makes me feel terrible."

the softness in his voice caught her off guard.

she looked away for a second, cheeks warming despite the freezing weather.

they stopped outside honeydukes, and george opened the door for her with an exaggerated bow.

"after you, sweetheart."

"you are unbearable."

"and yet here you are."

inside the shop was warm and crowded and smelled overwhelmingly sweet. george immediately started tossing random things into their basket while she followed behind him laughing.

"george, nobody needs this much chocolate."

"incorrect. winter is hard."

"you just grabbed four bags."

"for emotional support."

she snorted softly, and george's expression instantly softened at the sound.

he loved making her laugh.

it was obvious now. painfully obvious.

while she was looking through sugar quills, george wandered off for exactly thirty seconds before returning with a small paper bag hidden behind his back.

she narrowed her eyes. "what did you do."

"nothing."

"that smile is guilty."

he bit back a grin before holding the bag out toward her. "saw these and thought of you."

she opened it carefully.

her favorite sweets.

the exact ones she always picked.

her expression softened immediately. "you remembered?"

"course i did." george shrugged like it was nothing, but his ears had gone slightly pink. "i pay attention."

her heart did that awful fluttering thing again.

before she could answer, a familiar voice cut through the shop.

"george!"

angelina.

she froze slightly.

angelina walked over with katie bell beside her, smiling brightly before her eyes flicked between them.

and george noticed immediately when her entire posture changed.

his expression softened instantly.

without hesitation, he moved closer until their shoulders touched.

then, even more deliberately, he reached down and hooked his pinky loosely with hers.

small.

subtle.

but intentional.

i'm with you.

she looked at him in surprise.

angelina's smile faltered just slightly.

"didn't know you two were here together," she said casually.

"yeah," george answered easily, squeezing her hand once. "wouldn't wanna be here with anyone else, honestly."

her stomach flipped violently.

angelina looked between them again before forcing another smile. "right. well. see you around."

the second they walked away, she turned toward him.

"you did that on purpose."

"did what?"

"the hand thing."

george looked entirely unapologetic. "wanted her to know."

"know what?"

his grin faded just a little into something softer.

"that i'm yours, i think."

the words hit her so hard she almost stopped walking.

and george— suddenly nervous again for the first time all afternoon, rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

"unless that's insane to say already," he added quickly. "which it might be. fred says i come on too strong sometimes but personally i think he's a hypocrite—"

she cut him off by grabbing the front of his coat and kissing him right there in the middle of hogsmeade.

george made a startled noise against her mouth before immediately melting into it, one hand finding her waist while the other nearly dropped the bag of sweets.

when they finally pulled apart, both breathless, snowflakes catching in his hair, george stared at her like she'd hung the moon.

then he grinned slowly.

the room of requirement was dimly lit when she walked in.

candles flickered against the stone walls, shadows dancing across old bookshelves and worn velvet furniture. george was already there pacing near the fireplace, running both hands through his hair so much it looked messier than usual.

the second he saw her, he stopped dead.

for the first time since she’d met him, george weasley looked genuinely nervous.

his eyes immediately dropped to her face, searching it carefully, like he was trying to figure out how much damage he’d done.

“hi,” he said softly. she stayed near the door. “you wanted to talk.” he visibly flinched at how cold her voice sounded.

“right. yeah.” he swallowed hard. “look, i know you probably hate me right now-”

“i don’t hate you.”

his expression twisted slightly. somehow that seemed to make him feel worse. she looked away first. “i just… don’t understand why you’d do that to me.”

silence.

then george let out a shaky breath and sat down heavily on the edge of the sofa, elbows on his knees.

“because i’m an idiot,” he admitted quietly. “a complete, unbelievable idiot.” she didn’t say anything.

he laughed once, bitterly. “fred told me if i made you jealous, you’d finally admit you liked me.” his eyes lifted to hers. “and i knew you and angelina already hated competing with each other so i thought…” he trailed off, disgust flashing across his face. “merlin. hearing it out loud sounds even worse.”

“it was worse,” she whispered. that one clearly hit him hard. his jaw tightened immediately and he nodded slowly like he deserved it.

“i know.”

the room went quiet again except for the crackling fire.

“do you know what the worst part was?” she asked softly, finally looking at him again. “you looked at me after she touched you.”

george closed his eyes instantly.

“like you wanted me to see it,” she continued, voice trembling now despite trying to keep it steady. “like you wanted it to hurt.”

“i did,” he admitted hoarsely. her face fell. and george looked like he hated himself for it immediately.

“not because i wanted you hurt,” he said quickly, standing again. “god, no— i just…” he dragged a hand over his face. “i wanted proof you cared about me the way i care about you.”

his voice cracked slightly on the last part.

that shut her up completely.

he laughed quietly again, except this time it sounded miserable.

“you stopped talking to me and i thought okay, she’s angry, she’ll yell at me eventually.” he shook his head. “then day after day you wouldn’t even look at me.” she remembered every ignored text.

every “hey, wait up!”

every time she’d pretended not to hear him.

“i saw you crying,” he admitted softly. “outside the girls’ dormitory. ginny was with you.” her eyes widened.

“you didn’t see me.” his own eyes looked glassy now, full of regret. “but i heard you crying and i swear i’ve never felt that sick in my life.”

her anger cracked a little at the edges.

because george looked awful.

not fake guilty. not dramatic guilty.

genuinely wrecked.

“i couldn’t sleep after hermione yelled at me,” he continued quietly. “all i could think about was the fact that i made you cry over something so stupid.” he looked at her helplessly. “you’re my favorite person.”

her breath caught.

“you know what’s funny?” he murmured. “everyone thinks i’m good with people. good with words. but the second it came to you, i ruined everything.”

she stared at him for a long moment before speaking carefully.

“why didn’t you just tell me?”

his expression softened immediately.

“because i’m george weasley,” he said weakly. “i joke about everything.” he stepped closer slowly. “but with you… it stopped feeling funny a while ago.”

her eyes burned suddenly.

“i hated seeing you with her,” she admitted quietly.

something painfully hopeful flickered across his face.

“yeah?”

she nodded once. “angelina’s gorgeous. talented. everyone likes her.” her voice got smaller. “i thought maybe you realized you wanted someone better.” and there it was, her true insecurities finally out in the open.

“better?” george repeated like the word offended him personally. “are you mental?”

despite everything, she let out a tiny laugh through her tears.

he softened instantly at the sound.

“there’s no one better than you,” he said firmly. “not to me.”

the tears she’d been holding back finally spilled over.

and george’s face completely crumbled.

“hey, hey— no, sweetheart, don’t cry again, please.” he crossed the room immediately, stopping just in front of her like he was afraid to touch her without permission. “please don’t cry because of me again.”

his voice sounded genuinely panicked.

she wiped at her face angrily. “i hate you.”

“fair.”

“you’re horrible.”

“also fair.”

“you’re manipulative and annoying and stupid.”

“extremely true.”

she shoved his chest weakly and he caught her wrists gently before she could pull away again.

“but i’m sorry,” he whispered. “i’m so, so sorry.”

the sincerity in his voice broke whatever was left of her anger. his thumbs brushed softly against her wrists. “i missed you,” he admitted quietly. “everything felt wrong this week.”

her face crumpled slightly and george looked seconds away from losing his mind over it.

“c’mere,” he whispered. this time when he pulled her into his arms, she let him.

he held her carefully, one hand cradling the back of her head while the other rubbed slow circles against her back. like he was trying to soothe every hurt he caused himself.

the aftermath of hogsmeade left them in a dangerous gray area. he was always there— wrapping his crimson scarf around her neck in the courtyard, his thumb brushing her jaw, his hand lingering on her waist in the halls. it felt like they were holding their breath, waiting for someone to finally say it.

hermione noticed first.

"you fancy him," she said matter-of-factly during lunch.

she choked on her pumpkin juice. "what? no i don't—"

"you're wearing his scarf right now."

"he gave it to me!"

"exactly."

she groaned. "it doesn't matter. we're just friends."

"does he know that?"

"hermione—"

"i'm just saying," hermione interrupted gently, "he looks at you the same way you look at him."

her heart did a stupid, hopeful flip.

but george was getting impatient, and fred gave him terrible advice: make her jealous. show her what happens when you give someone else that attention.

that night, the common room was suffocatingly loud. she stepped through the portrait hole and froze. george was sprawled on the couch, and angelina johnson was sitting dangerously close beside him. angelina reached over to straighten the collar of his jumper, laughing, and george let her.

worse, he glanced up immediately after. right at her. like he was checking to see if she noticed.

her heart dropped to the floor. the warm, fluttery feeling from hogsmeade turned to pure ice.

"oh," she murmured quietly. "cool."

george's grin sharpened for a second when their eyes met, almost smug, before he deliberately turned his attention back to angelina.

she didn't wait for him to look back again. she turned on her heel and practically fled upstairs to the girls' dormitories, ignoring the sound of his laughter echoing behind her.

ten minutes later, her phone vibrated on her bed.

george: "you okay? you left pretty quick."

she stared at the screen for a long time. then, she turned her phone completely off.

the next day, she disappeared.

george thought she'd just be a little annoyed. he thought she'd confront him, maybe finally admit she cared. instead, she completely shut him out.

in potions, she took the seat next to neville at the very back of the dungeon before george even walked in. when he tried to catch her in the courtyard after charms, calling out, "hey, wait up!" she purposefully linked arms with ginny and walked the other way, acting like she couldn't hear him.

all of his texts were met with devastating silence.

day 1: "hey, where'd you go last night?"

day 2: "you didn't save me a seat."

day 3: "seriously, are you ignoring me now?"

day 4: "fred says i'm being dramatic but i know you're ignoring me"

day 5: "i saw you in the hall today and you looked right through me. what's going on?"

by day six, the smugness was completely gone, replaced by pure panic. he was pacing the library looking for her when he ran into hermione instead.

"where is she?" he demanded, blocking hermione's path.

hermione slammed her massive arithmancy book shut, glaring at him with pure venom. "you are an absolute idiot, george weasley."

"hermione, please, i just need to talk to—"

"no. you don't get to play stupid games and then act surprised when she actually gets hurt," hermione snapped, lowering her voice to a furious whisper. "she's been crying in our dorm for three nights straight because she genuinely thinks you're falling for angelina. so unless you're going to stop being a coward and tell her the truth, leave her alone."

george felt the blood drain from his face. crying. he made her cry.

all the jokes, the games, the trying to make her jealous, it all dissolved into intense, crushing guilt. he pulled out his phone, his hands actually shaking, and typed the only thing he could think of.

george: "room of requirement. tonight at 9. please. i'm not leaving until you show up."

he stared at his phone for ten agonizing minutes.

then finally, three dots appeared.

y/n: "fine. 9pm."

it happened slowly, in the quiet moments that no one else saw.

one day she was rolling her eyes at george's terrible jokes, and the next she was looking forward to defense class just to see him. it wasn't just the big things, it was the way he’d nudge her shoulder when she got too stressed about exams, or the way he always seemed to know when she needed a distraction.

"you're gonna burn yourself out," he said one night in the library, his voice dropping into that low, serious tone he only used with her.

"i'm fine." she muttered.

"you've read the same sentence four times. i've been counting."

she blinked, her face heating up. he was right. george gently closed her book, his fingers lingering on hers for a second longer than necessary. "come on. let's get out of here. i know a spot."

they ended up on the astronomy tower, sitting side by side with their legs dangling over the edge. it was freezing, but every time their shoulders brushed, she felt like she was standing too close to a fire.

"better?" he asked, looking at her with an expression that definitely wasn't 'just friends.'

"yeah," she breathed. "thanks, george."

he just grinned, bumping his arm against hers. "always got your back. even if you are a bit of a nerd."

but the real shift came when cedric diggory started 'helping' her with potions. suddenly, george wasn't just playful— he was possessive. he’d find excuses to interrupt their study sessions, or he’d spend the whole night texting her just to keep her attention on him.

the more cedric showed up, the more george leaned in. and she realized, somewhere between george's protective streaks and the way he looked at her when he thought she wasn't watching, that they weren't just friends anymore.

they were right on the edge of something real.

by early december, the scottish wind was biting, but she barely noticed. mostly because she was too busy trying not to overthink every single thing george weasley did.

the problem was, he made it impossible.

"you're shivering," george noted one morning as they walked across the courtyard. before she could argue, he was already pulling his crimson scarf from his neck. he stepped into her space, looping the thick wool around her. his knuckles brushed her freezing jaw, lingering for a fraction of a second.

"george, i'm fine," she lied.

"shut up, your lips are literally blue," he murmured, tugging the ends of the scarf to pull her slightly closer. "keep it."

she buried her nose in it. it smelled exactly like him—cinnamon, parchment, and a faint hint of fireworks after fooling around with them all day.

that weekend was the hogsmeade trip. george had asked her to go on tuesday. just the two of them. he didn't call it a date, but when she slipped on a patch of ice near zonko's, his hand shot out to catch hers.

and then... he just didn't let go.

they walked all the way to the three broomsticks with his fingers laced through hers, his thumb tracing absent circles on the back of her hand. her heart was beating so loudly she was terrified he could hear it.

he bought her hot chocolate with extra marshmallows, remembering exactly how she liked it without asking. they sat in a booth in the back, tucked away from the crowd.

"you're spoiling me today," she teased, tracing the rim of her mug to give her hands something to do.

george leaned across the small table, his playful smirk softening into something much more dangerous. "maybe i want to."

his eyes dropped to her lips. the air between them suddenly felt thick, heavy with everything they weren't saying. he leaned in closer. her breath hitched.

"GEORGE!!"

the door banged open. fred and lee jordan burst into the pub, covered in snow and grinning like maniacs. "we've been looking everywhere! the new decoy detonators are ready to test!"

george shut his eyes, exhaling a sharp, frustrated breath before pulling back. the moment completely shattered. "yeah," he called out, his voice slightly tight. "coming."

the tension was left completely unresolved.

which is exactly why, two days later, when cedric diggory casually offered to help her catch up on the potions notes she missed during her distracted weekend, george absolutely lost his mind.

she was sitting by the common room fire when her phone vibrated in her pocket.

george: "so heard you were working with diggory today"

y/n stared at her screen, biting her lip to hide a smile.

she typed back: "yeah? he offered to help me with potions :)"

almost instantly, the bubbles appeared.

george: "cool cool cool"

george: "totally fine with me"

y/n: "you sure about that? lol"

george: "100%. why should i care anyway."

she could practically hear the sarcasm dripping through the screen.

y/n: "george"

george: "okay FINE. maybe i'm a bit bothered. better?"

y/n: "at least you admitted it"

george: "only to you though..."

y/n: "your secrets safe with me ;)"

george: "so... does that mean you'll ditch diggory and help me instead??"

y/n: "you're really not gonna let this go huh"

george: "nope, he's got his chance already"

y/n: "i had ONE tutoring session with him"

george: "exactly!! one too many."

y/n: "you're being ridiculous, george. "

george: "maybe, but you're still texting me instead of him... ;)"

she scoffed, feeling that familiar flutter in her chest.

y/n: "that's because you won't stop texting me"

george: "see, you DO like me"

y/n: "i like that you're entertaining, that's different"

george: "for now...but im growing on you, i can feel it"

y/n: "you're insufferableee"

george: "you loveee me"

she didn't reply to that last one. she couldn't. it hit a little too close to the truth.

she had never particularly noticed george weasley before fifth year.

sure, she knew who he was, everyone did. the pranking twin who set off fireworks in the great hall and made snape's hair turn purple for a week. but they'd never really talked.

until defense against the dark arts.

"partners," professor lupin called out, gesturing between yasmin and george.

george slid into the seat beside her with an easy grin. "try not to hex me by accident, yeah?" she raised an eyebrow. "try not to turn my wand into a rubber chicken."

"no promises." he slightly grinned.

but george surprised her. he was good at defensive spells, really good, and he didn't treat her like she was fragile when they dueled. he laughed when she nearly knocked him flat with a disarming charm.

"you're actually pretty decent at this," she admitted after class.

george clutched his chest dramatically. "was that a compliment? from you?"

"don't let it go to your head, weasley." - "too late."

after that, it became a sort of routine. they'd partner up in defense, sit together during theory lessons, pass paper notes when lupin wasn't looking.

y/n: "why are you writing on my parchment"

george: "because mine's full of doodles and you have actual notes"

y/n: "you're irritating"

george: "you like it"

she so did.

authors note: back in my hp era so i had to start this immediately!!!

The hidden chamber deep within the Red Keep was stiflingly hot, the air thick with the scent of burning wax, spilled wine, and slick skin. The only sound in the room was the heavy, rhythmic slap of flesh against flesh and the ragged hitch of her breath.

Daemon had her pinned face-down against his massive oak desk, scattering maps of the Stepstones to the floor. His hands were bruised from the training yard, his grip like iron on her hips as he pulled her back into his relentless thrusts.

"Do you know what the Hand suggested today?" Daemon asked, his voice completely casual, save for the slight grunt that escaped him as he buried himself to the hilt.

She could barely form a coherent thought, let alone follow royal politics. Her nails dug into the dark wood of the desk, her spine arching as a whimper tore from her throat. "D-Daemon, please—"

"He suggested," Daemon continued, leaning his chest flush against her bare back, his silver hair brushing her shoulder, "that I be sent back to the Vale. To my bronze bitch of a wife." He snapped his hips forward, a vicious, punishing thrust that made her cry out. "Otto Hightower has been whispering in my brother's ear again. Like a fucking snake."

He pulled almost all the way out before slamming back into her, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin at the nape of her neck.

"I should take Dark Sister to his throat," he muttered, his breath hot against her skin, completely unfazed by the fact that he was currently ravaging his favorite whore on the very desk where he was supposed to be planning war. "But instead, I have to sit there. And the entire time, all I could think about was getting you in here."

His hand moved from her hip, sliding up her stomach to wrap a large, calloused hand around her throat—not tight enough to cut off her air, just enough to ground her, to force her to pay attention.

"Which brings me to my next point," he growled, the casual tone vanishing, replaced by something dark and intensely possessive. He slowed his pace, dragging out the friction until she was trembling. "You are done at the pleasure house. You don't go back to the Street of Silk. You don't serve another man, you don't even pour wine for another man."

"Daemon," she gasped, her eyes fluttering shut as he hit that perfect spot inside her. "I need the coins…the madam—"

"I will buy the madam's entire establishment and burn it to the ground if she argues," he sneered, thrusting harder now, his control finally beginning to slip. "You stay here. In these chambers. You wear the silks I buy you, you eat the food from my table, and you spread your legs only when I walk through that door. Do you understand me?"

His thumb pressed hard against her pulse point. "Say you understand. Say you're mine."

"I'm yours," she sobbed, completely wrecked by the sheer force of him. "Only yours."

"Good," he snarled, finally giving into his own ruin. He buried himself as deep as he could go, a guttural groan vibrating in his chest as he poured his seed into her, holding her tightly against him as they both came apart over the ruined maps of Westeros.

For a long time, the only sound was their heavy breathing. When Daemon finally pulled away, the sudden loss of his heat made her shiver.

She expected him to dress and leave, or perhaps toss a pouch of coin on the table as he usually did. But instead, he lifted his heavy velvet cloak from the back of a chair and draped it over her trembling shoulders, swathing her in the scent of dragon and leather.

He didn't call for a servant. He walked over to the heavy door himself, opening it just a crack to bark an order at a Kingsguard stationed down the hall.

Ten minutes later, while she was still catching her breath wrapped in his cloak, a massive silver tray was brought in. Roast quail swimming in honey and garlic, fresh bread still steaming from the ovens, sharp Dornish cheese, and a pitcher of the King's own Arbor gold.

Daemon poured a goblet and pressed it to her lips himself, waiting until she drank before setting it aside. He didn't just give her a pouch of coin this time. Instead, he reached into his tunic and pulled out a heavy purse of gold dragons, enough to buy a small estate—and dropped it onto the desk.

But it was what he did next that made her heart stop.

He stepped behind her, brushing her hair over her shoulder. She felt the cold kiss of metal against her collarbone. She looked down and saw a delicate, masterfully forged necklace of Valyrian steel resting against her bare skin, a small ruby dragon in the center.

Daemon secured the clasp at the back of her neck, his lips pressing a soft kiss to the same spot he had bruised earlier.

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON 🗡️໒꒱ ‧₊˚

| daemon targaryen

his loyal servant

the rouge’s claim

TWILIGHT 🐺 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

| jacob black

coming soon

| paul lahote

coming soon

HARRY POTTER 🪄 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

| george weasley

waiting on you - prologue

waiting on you - part one

waiting on you - part two

waiting on you - part three

waiting on you - part four

| fred weasley

coming soon

| harry j potter

coming soon

| draco malfoy

coming soon

| ron weasley