TARGET — george weasley x fem!reader
✧.* you share a potions class with the weasley twins, who make the whole class’s experience with snape a challenge. however, you find that one twin in particular is fond of making you struggle the most, in the class and with your feelings.
author’s note: hi loves! this is my first fanfic and english is not my first language, if there are any mistakes let me know please! all work is my own (not a hint of AI here), and should not be repurposed or taken. i lowkey wrote this with a british voice in my head to make it more authentic. feel free to imagine your character however you like! enjoy!
Your house was one week into potions with the Gryffindors and you had somehow managed to feel like you were in that class for a full semester.
The Gryffindors weren’t a bad lot as a whole, you actually quite liked them, despite being rivaling houses, and had made acquaintances with some of them through your classes. But it wasn’t the entire house that made potions such a difficult class. It was two boys who’d brought most of the mysery upon you.
You’d known George and Fred since your first year, in fact, you had sat in their compartment with another boy by the name of Lee on your first ride on the Hogwarts Express. They were kind enough, but would not quit talking about their “plans for pure chaos.” It was when they got sorted into Gryffindor and when the year began you realized just how much they could do your head in. Your six years at Hogwarts had been composed of playful jabs in the corridors, miniature fireworks in bookbags, and dyed hand soap in the communal lavatories. These acts had been performed on and known to the entire school. Never would you have thought the twins, or a twin, would have put a large target on your back specifically.
On the 9th of September, Professor Snape announced that the two houses would be brewing the Draught of Living Death.
“This is an incredibly advanced potion,” Snape droned on, “and will only earn you full marks if the instructions are completed to the letter.”
You could already feel yourself falling asleep. The class hadn’t even started 10 minutes ago. You heard the Weasley twins snickering two tables behind you, but paid them no mind. You were only focused on crafting your potion perfectly, getting your marks, and forgetting about potions for the rest of the day. You were paired up with Angelina Johnson, Gryffindor’s chaser and quidditch captain.
Angelina had gone to fetch a sopophorous bean, while you read over the instructions multiple times. Snape was right; brewing this potion would be hard. As you pondered the side effects of not following the instructions, you heard a pair of feet creep up behind you.
“Didn’t know someone could care so much about a useless class like this one, Professor Snape’s no less.”
You turned your head slightly and caught a flash of red hair to your left out of the corner of your eye. You’d always been able to tell the Weasley twins apart, and you knew it was George because he had a crooked smile.
“Some of us want to get on Professor’s good side,” you mumbled in reply, eyes locked on your potions textbook.
George countered, smiling. “Snape doesn’t have a good side, love.”
Ugh. George repositioned himself to look at your book, bringing his body closer to yours, putting his hand on the counter, but focusing on you. It was almost like he was begging you to look at him. You pushed that idea aside.
“Maybe I want to pass this class.” Saying this, you had shifted towards George, the two of you just centimetres apart. You had meant to look intimidating, but George just looked amused.
“Why?” George asked. “It’s not like you’ll be cooking up the Draught of the Dead everyday once you leave this place.”
“Draught of Living Death,” you corrected him.
“Makes no difference, still useless.”
Why is this clown talking to me? You thought. It was a surprise Angelina still hadn’t returned with the bean.
“Why do you care, Weasley?” You were genuinely curious. You and George would speak on numerous occasions, usually during passing periods in the corridors, but Fred would be present as well. You only spoke to George alone sometimes, and rarely ever about a class. This conversation about Professor Snape’s potions class was out of the ordinary.
“Just making conversation, Y/L/N.” George answered. He still had a smirk on his face. At that, he pushed himself off the counter and walked back to Fred. The twins had begun to whisper something you couldn’t understand, and Angelina came back with the sopophorous bean.
Nearing the end of the class, voices erupted in panic as all the students’ potions exploded in clouds of orange sparks. Those twins. To everyone’s surprise, Professor Snape’s included, George and Fred’s potion was the only one that had been completed correctly. When you turned to Angelina to express your disappointment, she stared back at you and gasped.
“Your hair,” she managed to stutter.
My hair? You pulled out a pocket mirror and saw it. Your hair was all the colours of the rainbow. You don’t remember reading “rainbow hair” as one of the side effects of failing the potion, and as you looked around the class, you realized you were the only student with colourful hair.
It hit you then; George must have slipped something in your cauldron while “making conversation.”
The students started to filter out of the class to go to lunch, and you were determined to question the twins about your hair. Once you’d caught sight of them in the corridors, you quickened your pace.
“George! Fred,” you called out.
They spun around to face you.
Fred chuckled. “Interesting choice of style.”
George finished his sentence. “Is that a disguise or are you just really terrible at potions?”
“This wasn’t my doing and you know it, Weasley.” You shot back. “How do I get rid of this?”
“Are you trying to insinuate we did this to you?” Fred put his hand on his chest and acted like he was hurt.
“Honestly, I’d expected better from you,” his twin said next to him.
“We made those potions explode, yeah, but we haven’t yet mastered changing hair colour.”
“Afraid that’s a mistake on your end, love.” George finished.
That nickname again. The twins turned to leave, still quietly laughing, when George stole a glance at you over his shoulder and winked. His twin didn’t see, it seemed as though no one saw that act but you. That just made you all the more suspicious of him.
You couldn’t go to the Great Hall for lunch, not with hair like yours. You decided to make your way back to your dormitory, and as you fished through your book bag to make sure you had your quill, you felt a small piece of parchment.
Great. So it was George. And you had to stay like this for the remainder of lunch. You were just grateful it didn’t last longer. Knowing the Weasleys, the effects of their pranks could last days, sometimes weeks. It was cute though, how he’d made sure you knew how long this particular prank would last. Ew. You told yourself your priority was passing your N.E.W.T.s and never seeing George’s face again. That thought made you sad, despite yourself.
The next month and a half consisted of the same routine; the entire class would face a Weasley gag, but you’d get the worst of it. The textbooks would fly around the class, but yours multiplied and ripped itself to shreds; you alone had to clean up this mess. Potions would make red steam emit from everyone’s ears while your potion hurled insults at Professor Snape, worsening his views of you. Fireworks had spun the class upside down while you were stuck walking on the ceiling for the rest of the day. This was by far the worst prank George had concocted. You felt the biggest relief on the rare occasion the twins would take a break from their jokes for a day.
The strangest part is, Fred never seemed to be in on it. George would wink, laugh, or raise his eyebrows at you after lessons, but Fred would just turn away, chuckling at their successful performance. Your suffering had been a result of George Weasley’s lame ideas alone.
You wanted to get back at him, but how? It wasn’t like you were on the same level of pranks as the twins were. But you were tired of them, and wanted George to feel remorse for his actions.
You knew the library might have the answers you were looking for. Going through a book of ingredients, you found what had given you your rainbow hair at the start of the semester: Streeler Shell. George must have stolen it from Professor Snape’s cabinet. Now, you were going to do the same.
You walked into options with motivation for revenge. George and Fred hadn’t planned any pranks, you hoped. As you went to retrieve a textbook from the back of the class, you slipped a bottle of crushed Streeler Shell into your pocket.
The Weasley twins were off getting ingredients, and you decided this was your moment to get George back for his jokes. You sprinkled the powdered Streeler Shell into Fred and George’s cauldron, but you had overlooked the fact that the shell might not react well with certain ingredients.
Before you got back to you and Angelina’s counter, you heard a loud bang behind you, and Snape was glaring directly at you.
Unfortunately, the Streeler Shell had, in fact, not reacted well with the other ingredients in the cauldron. This explosion was incredibly large, covering the entire classroom in a flash of white. When it had faded away, the entire classroom’s hair looked like how yours had one month ago. Even Snape’s hair was multicoloured, and he did not look happy about it. Your hair remained its original colour, so had Fred’s and George’s because they were in the ingredient cabinet when your plan backfired. Of course, Snape noticed this.
That wasn’t supposed to happen. There was an outburst of anger from the students, and above it all, Professor Snape’s voice was still the loudest.
“Quiet!” He yelled, still in his monotonous voice. “Miss Y/L/N, Mr. Weasley, and Mr. Weasley will face detention with me after classes and 60 points will be removed from each of you.”
The school bell chimed, and as your classmates left they shot scowls at you, Fred, and George.
You’d known why you were receiving detention, but you still needed to ask. How could have Professor Snape known it was you that caused this issue?
“Professor, why have you given me detention? Fred and George are usually the ones making you miserable.”
Snape replied quickly. “Miss Y/L/N, you are among the three people unaffected by this incident and perhaps you did not know, but I saw you sneak that crushed Streeler Shell into the Mr. Weasleys’ cauldron. I will see you in my class after lessons.”
I am not passing this class, am I? You felt defeated, and didn’t even bother giving the Weasley twins a look before you left the class.
At the end of the day, you found yourself in Snape’s empty potions classroom with George and Fred Weasley, still not speaking to them. Out of anger? No, out of embarrassment more like.
The professor stormed in and explained your task. You were to rebottle and relabel all the ingredients on his shelves without the use of magic. Snape took your wands then grabbed Fred by the arm and dragged him out of the classroom, mumbling something about helping Professor Umbridge. Umbridge was a right foul woman, and you felt worse for Fred than you did for yourself.
A small part of you was glad to be stuck with George. You always thought George was one of the kindest and fittest boys you’ve met, but because of his and his brother’s pranks, you never thought he saw you in the same way.
“Guess we’d better get started then, hm, love?” George asked, oddly cheerful. You made no reply.
30 minutes into rebottling, George spoke up.
“You hate me, is that it? Why you haven’t spoken to me in a while?”
“I’m not fond of you,” you said to your side.
George stopped what he was doing and turned to look at you. “And why’s that, love?”
You heard this nickname from him one too many times to think that there was no reason behind it. You turned to him and asked your own question. “Why do you keep calling me ‘love’?”
George smirked. “Answer my question first.”
“You’ve been the source of my suffering in potions since the semester started and you want to act like you don’t know why I’m not fond of you?” You sighed, and turned back to the ingredient shelves.
George saw this and leaned in to make you look at him. “Just friendly fire, you either accept it or fire back.”
“I tried, now look where we are.”
“Ah yes, the student wanted to be the master and moved too fast.” George laughed when he said this.
“Whatever,” you muttered. “Answer my question.”
“You want to know why I call you love, yeah?”
You fully turned to face him, having to look up because of his height.
Instead of opening his mouth to speak, he touched his finger underneath your chin to lift your head and brought his lips to yours.
You were in complete, frozen shock.
“Does that answer your question?” George uttered, pulling back.
You managed to get some words out despite being in a state of silence.
George chuckled. What was so funny?
“All these years, all that teasing, all those looks and winks, you never understood?”
His words struck you; how could you have been so blind? He was trying to get my attention.
“I fancy you, and something tells me you do too.”
You panicked a bit, and scoffed. “Oh, please.”
“Come on, love. I can see more than you think.” He knew exactly how to talk to you.
You didn’t mean to, but you started smiling.
You wrapped your hands around the back of George’s neck, and this time, you were the one to initiate the kiss. It was slow at first, then George opened his mouth slightly, letting you kiss him properly.
You forgot about everything during that moment. Detention, the pranks in potions class, how infuriating he could be. It didn’t matter to you because you had him.
His hands roamed around your back until they finally settled on your waist, pulling you closer to him and deeper into the kiss.
“You’re insufferable, George,” you spoke against his lips.
