summer

George had Draco down on the ground, his knees pressed into Draco's chest as he beat him over and over again. Draco's lip was split open, and blood sprayed from his mouth every time George's fist connected with his jaw.

you didn't even want to know what his face looked like without the blood covering it all up.

everything moved in slow motion as you dropped your books and sprinted- deep blue robes billowing in the autumn wind. you pushed past Angelina and Ron, who were yelling at George to get off of him, and past Harry, who was in shock but still trying to pull George off- with little success. it was a blur of green and red as the two were finally pulled apart and George gave him one last shove.

Draco stumbled and wiped the blood from his mouth. before he limped off the field with the help of his team he looked George in the eye. "my father will hear about this. you'll regret that Weasely."

you knew it would be bad. George was panting, knuckles still dripping with blood and a split in his eyebrow where Draco got one good hit in. he watched as the Slytherins walked off the field, hurling hurtful remarks over their shoulders. you could feel the heat radiating off of his body from where you still held onto his arm.

thank god everyone in the stadium cleared out, you thought.

nobody spoke. Fred patted George on the back as he walked past him. he mumbled something about talking to McGonnagal- clearing it all up before Draco could swoop in with his father and twist the story. Slowly but surely, the rest of the team followed behind Fred, each mumbling words of support or pity to George about what had just happened.

as the last little first year, definitely more scared of George now than was necessary, had left, George finally turned to look at you. there was still a twinge of anger in his face, but you could see now that as the adrenaline wore off, George would be in a world of pain.

you slung your arm around his midsection, grimacing at the wince that flew through George’s body when your hand made contact with his ribs. You whispered encouragement as you helped him off the pitch, leading him towards the locker rooms.

once you got him inside and casted a Lock spell on the doors, you helped him to sit down on the floor against the lockers. he had tried to escape your grasp, insisting that he was fine, but you couldn’t take that as an answer. “stop being stubborn George. I’m going to help you. God knows you’re in for a world of trouble once you get out of here so I might as well make it bearable.” he chuckled at your insistence as you conjured medical supplies and started laying them out on the bench in front of him. “Gonna prep me for surgery, doc?”

you rolled your eyes. You couldn’t believe he was making jokes at a time like this. “Well, you’ve got a nasty cut and split knuckles- and I know your wrists are going to start hurting. And while I’m at it- I believe you’ve got a bruised couple ribs. No shock, I’m sure that’s the highest Malfoy can hit you.”

you realized that sounded like a compliment to George’s height. He grinned, of course, and you shook your head as you finished organizing- as a way of telling him ‘don’t even start.’

you took a deep breath, trying to gain your courage, for what you weren’t exactly sure- it’s not like you haven’t been alone with him before. You and George had been friends for a while- after you drunkenly kissed at a party during your fifth year. the next morning you had showed up at his dorm with chocolate frogs and a deck of cards- and you both sort of.. acted like it never happened? You liked being George’s friend. He was supportive to the very end, even if it needed badly for him. And he was funny! You couldn’t count the amount of times he made you laugh even when you were in the depths of despair.

so why did it always feel like you were just pretending?

As you crouched down to get on George’s level and started pressing gauze to the wounds on his hands, your stomach was buzzing. You were worried about what was going to happen, about what Draco would do. He was powerful.

you didn’t realize how hard you were pressing- or that you were muttering to yourself until you felt George’s other hand rest on your forearm. your breath hitched and you looked up to meet his eyes.

“are you alright?” His voice was so soft, and you could hear the anxiety laced through it. “sorry George. I’m just worried about what’s happening after this. I can’t believe you did that..”

he grunted as you resumed wiping the crusted blood away. You had to act like the sound didn’t make you quiver. “Look. God- ow!”

you mumbled an apology and slowed your process. “Maybe I shouldn’t have laid into him so bad. But the Bastard couldn’t keep my family’s name out of his dirty mouth. What did you expect from me?” He seemed to be pleading his case, even though he knew you were on his side.

“George save it for Dumbledore- I know why you did it I just wish he hadn’t made you resort to that.. extent.”

“I like when you use big words.” you scoffed. But when you looked at George, you were caught. He looked so needy, on the floor and practically hopeless. You knew he was in pain, and you intended to give him medicine after you finished dressing his wounds. But for now, you ignored all the twinges of your heart, and cocked an eyebrow at him. “which one of those was a big word for you Georgie?”

“eh they’re all average, but you just speak so elegantly. I’m a right slag and I speak like one too. I always enjoyed that about you.” you giggled at the compliment. you couldn’t entirely tell if he was hitting on you or if he was just joking around like you always did.

as you finished wrapping both of his now clean hands, it sort of dawned on you that cleaning the cuts on his face would require you to get so much closer. Closer to his big Hazel eyes and freckled skin. He smelled amazing, even after an intense surge of adrenaline like that. Broom wax and chocolate. you swallowed it down. Scooted closer. you slotted yourself between his legs, thighs bracketing your own while you reached up to grab his chin. As you brought his face down towards yours, you watched his eyes flick to your lips. For just a second- maybe less.

He hissed when you pressed the antiseptic gauze to his eyebrow. You grimaced and whispered an apology, gently wiping it a few times. Then you reached to your side and grabbed the medical tape you had cut. You laid thin pieces over his eyebrow, pulling the sliced skin back together and wiping away any blood stuck deep in his eyebrow hair.

“almost done. You’re being very patient.” You whispered as you set down the tape. “you’re very good at this.”

you met his eyes and smiled, gently patting his face where you still held it. You could have let go, now that you were going to be cleaning up the nasty cut on his lip, but for some reason you didn’t want to.

George was absolutely basking in the feeling of your soft hand holding his face. He was ecstatic that you had taken it upon yourself to clean him up. He had always admired you. George thought you were the smartest girl he had ever met, and the most caring too. You always went above and beyond for everyone and you never complained. you were a much better person than he was. He thought that’s why he liked you so much.

as the cold cloth touched his lip, they parted. You met his eyes and then quickly looked back down. You tried to look absolutely focused. But his eyes were so deep. You could never look at him for too long or youd start to squirm. He was always looking right through you.

as you finished cleaning him up, you almost felt sad that it was ending so soon. Yes, you hated to see him hurt, but he was just so pretty. George Weasely was pretty. Oh Merlin, save you.

you quickly got up, almost rushing to put away all of your things and conjure them back to your dorm across the castle. You hurriedly told George how to care for his wounds in the next few days, and that you still couldn’t believe he’d do that, yada yada.

just as you were about to Unlock all the doors, George grabbed your arm. He was looking at you again, with so much care and worry.

“you’re sure you’re alright?” “I’m fine Georgie, I’m just glad I could take care of you.”

he let his grip loosen, and as his hand slid down your arm towards your own hand, neither of you made an effort to pull away. “Didn’t you uh.. mention something about me havin’ a bruised rib?”

you hadn’t said that part out loud but it was no shock he was asking. “Well.. it’s definitely possible Georgie.. does it hurt?” “hurts like hell.” He replied, never once looking away from you. His tone made it sound like maybe it didn’t really hurt. Maybe he just wanted you to stay.

You took another deep breath. It really couldn’t get any worse.

“alright. Um.. you’ll have to take.. your uh- your shirt off. Sorry.” You nervously explained to George. He just huffed, entertained. and then you watched in awe as he smoothly pulled his undershirt off- over his head. immediately your eyes connected with the tuft of Orange hair that ran from his belly button all the way down his freckled V- line, and then below his belt. You must have gulped.

George chuckled. And then awkwardly he gestured to his side, inviting you to come closer. you stepped forward, ignoring how the light from the windows had dimmed, leaving just enough for you to barely see the outline of his features in evening light. You ignored how your hands were suddenly shaky as they met with George’s warm skin.

he hissed, recoiling a bit. “What? Does that hurt? I’ve barely touched you.”

“no- Merlin, Doc! Your hands are bloody freezing!” you giggled. “Oops! Sorry..” you said as you continued working your way down his ribs. George’s skin was so soft. He was so strong- slim and lanky, but his arms and chest were wide and defined. You weren’t entirely sure what Beaters did in quidditch, but you knew it’s the reason George was so fit.

George winced when you pressed on the bottom three ribs. You pulled your hands away and he groaned at the lack of pressure on his injury. after a bit more poking and prodding- that was mostly so you could tell your friends you got to touch George Weasely’s skin- you pulled away and nodded to yourself. “What’s the verdict doc?”

“well.. you’ve got at least two bruised ones. If not worse. The surrounding tissue is inflamed so it feels like there are lot more broken bits down there. You’ve got to just take it easy, Weasely.”

“you Ravenclaws are really so smart.” “well thank you Georgie.”

George stepped closer. “Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do if we hadn’t met all those years ago.” he laughed. “Gods, I still can’t believe that’s how I did it

you quirked an eyebrow. “Did what?” “got your attention, of course. Not that it ended how I’d like wanted it to. “how you wanted it to?”

George sighed, and after he slipped his shirt back over his head, he stepped closer to you. “I liked you all those years ago. But I was such a dunce, I couldn’t even confess to you properly. Had to be drunk- and then didn’t even back it up the next morning.”

you couldn’t believe he was telling you this. You smiled at him. “George I liked you too. How funny is that? And you aren’t a dunce- I think we were both scared or stupid.. or both.” he laughed.

you didn’t still like eachother right? Right?

you patted his arm, you couldn’t stay. The only thing that could make his fate worse was being alone in a locker room with a girl. then you turned, stomach in knots of worry and feelings that were suddenly scooped up and dumped on top of the pile. as the locker room door slammed behind you, George sighed. All his feelings were bubbling up in his throat. He had a perfect opportunity right there to tell you. But he was too scared, once again.

he was so good at expressing his feelings in a violent way, but he didn’t think beating his confession into someone could get the idea across. better luck next time.

Bridgette in particular had always had George's attention. He wasn't sure why- something about her was simply less.. malicious. so he was always less targeting towards her during he and Fred's pranks, until she was accidentally caught in the middle of a dragon's breath firework that was terrorizing the dining hall- turning her hair bright orange.

she had hexed George into next week and cursed him with vocabulary words he didn't even know existed. from that moment on, he made it his mission to keep her attention: throwing her notes during potions class and taking the same routes as her in hopes that they’d run into eachother. Any conversation between them was nothing more than Bridgette calling him dim and then walking away, leaving George to sit in the smell of her shampoo and perfume like a chained bike.

Bridgette was glad to be partying. She had been stressed about the O.W.L.S. and about her home life. But nothing a pint and a joint couldn’t fix.

Unbeknownst to her, George wasn’t the only one that was smitten by her. Cormac McLaggen, a substitute chaser for the Gryffindor team had taken a liking to her. George didn’t like it one bit. cormac was aggressive. In a bad way. George hated the way he spoke about Bridgette- gross and crass, all about her looks and not about the way she likes coffee but never tea, the books she enjoys reading when shape isn’t paying attention.

but what could George do? Bridgette hated him, and he was aware of it, no matter how much he liked to pretend she enjoyed him deep down. Cormac came from a good family- a rich one with a big house- and he had a job lined up with the ministry of magic already. How could George even begin to believe he could be part of that equation?

and so he stood against the wall all night- watching Bridgette dance and laugh. The sound carried over any music that played and twisted in his brain. he nursed one spiked butter beer all night.

he almost crushed the glass in his hand when he saw Cormac slink up next to her. He said something funny- must have- because you laughed. Politely. George was funnier.

it stayed like that for another hour. And then she handed Cormac her drink- went to the bathroom with Pansy- and he watched Cormac drop a little white pill in the cup. And then he refilled it.

George was on his feet just as Bridgette got back and downed the entire thing. He wasn’t fast enough, not that it was his fault. Suddenly nobody knew how to make way.

and imagine sweet Georgie’s defeat when Cormac immediately suggested a game of spin the bottle. The common room erupted in cheers and sudden rushing to find a spot. He started to protest as he watched Cormac guide her to sit next to him. George’s blood boiled. He rushed over, stampeding through the circle formed on the floor.

he grabbed Bridgette’s hand and pulled her up, leading her quickly out of the common room, through the portrait hole, and into the hallway.

Bridgette looked shocked. More than shocked. Offended. “What the hell is your problem Weasel? Can’t stand to see me have fun?” she snarled as she shoved him in the chest.

“I swear that was for your own good! Cormac-“

“oh so that’s what this is about! You just hate when I give my attention elsewhere! So true to you George Weasely- a right daft boy!”

George was panicking. Maybe this wasn’t the best course of action. He desperately wanted to explain and have her understand that he was just looking out for her.

he watched it happen. The intoxication hit Bridgette like a truck- and surely the drug Cormac had slipped in her drink was swimming around her system. Her eyes got droopy and he watched her lose her footing a bit.

before she could stumble- he reached out and grabbed her waist. Holding her still.

she scoffed- hands lazily coming up to hold onto his arms. “Playing the hero are you? You sure look the part.”

George furrowed his brow at the remark. “Look. I don’t know what you think I’m doing right now- but I can assure you that I’m just protecting you. Cormac slipped something in your drink- I saw it.”

her stomach felt sick at George’s explanation. What a sick bastard, Cormac was. Bridgette looked at George with an uneasy expression. maybe it was just the drug, but she had never realized how nice his eyes were. “what?” oh. So she had said that bit out loud. And then she watched as a grin started growing on George’s face.

“you think I’ve got nice eyes do you?” “and nice hair.” oh god. Can she say anything other than her inside thoughts. “I think you’ve got nice hair too- real bouncy and shiny.”

Bridgette giggled. George felt his heart squeeze. “you know, I quite enjoy you, George Weasely. Even if you are a pain in my ass.”

what was happening? Was she confessing? At the very least she was being nice to him- and that was more than enough to make George pink in the face. he was about to say something in return, but Bridgette had started rubbing his bicep. Suddenly he couldn’t speak anymore. But she could.

“you’re so fit. Quidditch is such a wonderful sport. Makes you all strong- big and tall.” “look- you’re drunk- just uh, let me help you to lay down somewhere okay?”

Without another word, George reached down and lifted her- carrying her in his arms and down the stairs, through a corridor silently and into a hidden passageway that held a tiny common room. Hidden behind a portrait of McGonnogal.

as he set Bridgette down on the couch, he immediately missed the feeling of her soft hand on his chest. And while he stood over her, she looked up at him with big, gentle eyes. “you know, you aren’t like I thought. You’re sweet George.”

“you aren’t going to yell at me?” “George please. I’m in love with you, why would I yell?”

She said it like it was the simplest thing in the world. And then she rolled over and closed her eyes. George’s world was spinning. The girl he had been pining over for years had just told him that she was in love with him. He flopped into an arm chair. Watching her breathe. And then he moved closer, tucking a Stray strand of hair behind her ear.

she sighed and lifted her hand to rest on top of his. Her eyes sleepily opened and she looked at him- really looked. And then she shot up. “how did I get in here? Weasel what the hell have you done??”

George shushed her, backing away quickly. “Shush please please- I haven’t done anything I swear. You don’t remember?” “remember what?”

‘Cormac drugged you, Bridgette. I saw and I got you away from him and- well..”

her face dropped. “Well what?” “you said a lot..”

it came rushing back. She had called him pretty- inadvertently. She had groped his biceps. She had said.. that she was in love with him. George watched her go through seventeen stages of grief. “oh my gods.” “I’m in love with you too.”

George was fiddling with his hands, something Brigette had noticed he does a lot. When he presents in class and when Fred is doing all the talking. She stood. walked over to where he stood and grabbed his hands. she took a deep breath and looked him right in his face.

“I like you George Weasely. Or I suppose I love you. I like your hair. I like your eyes quite a bit- and I like your freckles. You have 433 on your face. Don’t ask, I’m still drunk- but I’ve been counting for five months. I know we’re very different, but I’d like to get to know you- really know you and please don’t shoot me down, I know I’ve been nothing but rude to you-“

George cut her off. Kissed her. Quickly and softly, not making a commitment out of it. She was infact still drunk, and he would never take advantage of it. But she was just so pretty, rambling on and trying not to scare him off. “I like you plenty, Bridgette. I’ve liked you for quite some time. I don’t care that we’re so different- I never did.”

“when im sober do you think i can take you to hogesmeade?”

“you’re going to take me?” “I’d like to take you anywhere.”

“god you’re pretty.” Bridgette giggled and leaned up to peck his cheek. “Yes you can take me out. But right now I think I’ll get you back to your dorm and I’ll see you in the morning?”

“Mmm yeah. Good idea Georgie. Carry me again?” Bridgette lazily reached up and George smiled while he obliged. Lifting her and carrying her through the same dark corridors, back to the slytherin common room. The party had cleared out, leaving only a few passed out students on the floor and couches.

George set Bridgette on her feet, watching her slowly make her way up the stairs to her dorm.

he smiled real big, a shit eating grin when he heard her call over her shoulder. “Goodnight Handsome! See you in the morning!”

George has never gone to bed happier. Knowing he would be taking the girl of his dreams, or rather, she would be taking him, to hogsmeade in the morning. he didn’t care if she hated him any longer. He loved her. And apparently she loved him too.

When you got deathly sick over Christmas, Fred stayed home with you instead of going to the Burrow for the holiday. When the twin’s magic shop was under property ownership issues, you stayed up late with him, going over paperwork and bringing him tea. Your wedding was beautiful. In the big open field behind the burrow, lit up with twinkly lights and you two surrounded with your closest friends and family.

it’s been two years since then. And suddenly, you’ve lost your confidence in “it’s you or nothing.” Fleur and Bill were expecting their first child. Molly was ecstatic- primping and preening over Fleur her whole pregnancy up until the Baby was delivered. And at that point you’d think Molly was the mother the way she worshipped that child like it was her own.

you didn’t mind kids, the baby was plenty cute and quiet, a perfect child. But you saw the way Fred was with the baby. He was soft and gentle, cradling this tiny creature in his big hands and whispering sweetly to it. You had known him for such a long time and you had never seen him like this.

something ached deep inside of you. You and Fred had never had sex, you had kissed and touched of course but he never pushed to take it further. And you were grateful. But part of you wondered if he ever wished for more. you didn’t want kids. Not really- nothing about it was appealing to you. Not the process not the labor not the Intimacy of it.

now you laid awake in your bed, Fred gently snoring against your shoulder where he had fallen asleep, mid peck to your skin. The pit that had been deepening inside your gut finally snapped hearing his soft breathing. He deserved more than this.

a whimper escaped you. Then a shudder. Then a sob. It raked through your body and sent you sitting upwards violently. There was no air in your lungs, none in the room. Your sobs echoed through the room. Fred was hurriedly sitting up, rubbing your shoulder as he blinked the sleep from his eyes. “my sunshine- what- what’s happened?” you cried out, reaching to hold his hand where it rested on your arm. “Fred this isn’t fair!” You shuddered in between sobs. He had anxiety written on his face as he pulled you back into his chest and held you tight.

he shushed you, rocking back and forth. “What’s going on love? What’s not fair?”

“us Fred! This isn’t fair to you!”

your tears had slowed but you were still shaking, breathing shallowly. “I don’t want Kids, Fred! I don’t want sex! I’m asexual- I never will. I don’t want kids and I know you do and I just- I can’t keep you from a dream- I won’t. And I don’t blame you if you’ve been out finding it somewhere else..” you choked out the words inbetween cries.

it was silent for a while. Fred kept rocking you, rubbing the sides of your arms up and down. You had stopped crying. Just sniffles filled the room. You were waiting for him to say something, anything. To admit that he had been out, with other women or that he had been harboring feelings of doubt for a long time.

instead he kissed the top of your head. You felt him inhale the scent of your hair and breathe out slowly.

‘I don’t want kids.” his voice rumbled in his chest.

you turned to face him. Tears stained your cheeks and his heart tore a little bit at the seams when he saw the hope glimmering in your eyes. “You don’t?” “no Sunshine. Or I don’t Need them.” “but- but what about Fleur’s baby? You looked so happy.”

“love, anyone would look happy to be holding a baby that cute. It’s a shock she looks like Bill- the ugly bloke.” “so.. you aren’t harboring a secret family ?” he laughed. His laugh was always genuine and light. It made your heart flutter. “if I was Harboring a secret family you would know. I’d need your help.”

you smiled. He was sweet. The sweetest. and as if he could see the sliver of doubt you were holding onto, he kissed your forehead. And then your cheeks. Then your nose. and then he kissed you gently. When Fred pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours.

“it is you or nothing for me. I told you that six years ago and I meant it just as much then as I do now. I don’t care about kids.” he pulled back and looked you in the eyes.

“I love you Fred Weasely.” “I love you sunshine.”

“so nothing changes?” “nothing changes. We’ll just be the best aunt and uncle- we’ve got to beat George and Angelina anyways. What do you say?” you laughed and raised your hand to cup his face. “do you have to make everything a competition love?”

“you’d know that better than anyone wouldn’t you?”

and you two laughed. You laid awake together, talking for another hour about birthday gifts for a baby and ways to help out around Bill and Fleur’s house. You could stay like this forever with him.

and when you both fell asleep, Fred stayed. His arms locked around your waist and holding you close to his chest. he didn’t need more than that.

as you got out of bed and you got ready for the day, you kept flashing back to his hands on your waist- holding you steady. Holding you close.

gods he was right there- he was so warm and he smelled like cinnamon and wool. The scent had burrowed into your brain and made home in the very front and centre of it. “nothing happened. Get over it.”

you repeated the mantra to yourself as you smoothed out your shirt and finally opened the door to your room, stepping out into the sun-baked hallway. You thought you were in the clear, hearing bustling activity coming from the kitchen downstairs, but as soon as you closed your door behind you, the door across from yours opened.

and of course George was standing there. Leaving at the same time as you. You offered him a small smile, and he returned it. The silence wasn’t awkward, per se, but it definitely wasn’t entirely comfortable.

You opted to say nothing but a soft ‘goodmorning’ and as you passed him to walk down the stairs, you heard him take a breath. he had, infact. did she put on perfume? he shook his head and followed you down, silently so thankful that he had forgotten to brush his hair- he had spent just enough time going back yo brush it- just to emerge at the same time as you.

that’s normal, right?

you, on the other hand, were more than thankful to step into the kitchen, and immediately be enveloped in tasks. Fred was pestering Hermione, Ron was (not very successfully) trying to get him to stop, and just as you nearly missed walking into Charlie, who was holding a very tall stack of plates, molly bumped into you with the kettle. the very hot kettle. you curled into yourself, holding the spot on your arm where you’re sure all the hair had been singed off.

molly tossed a hurried ‘sorry darling!’ Over her shoulder and continued working around everyone. You opted to simply grab a dish of potatoes that was sitting on the counter and bring it to the table. You’ll focus on your burn later. George saw it all happen. He grimaced when the kettle hit your soft skin and his eyebrows raised in surprise when you didn’t do much to tend to the injury he knew was hurting you.

he was always impressed with how you cared for others before you even thought about yourself.

he took his place at the table next to you and Fred. While everyone ate, he couldn’t help but feel the pit in his stomach grow every time you moved your elbow further from his. Was something wrong?

it stayed like that the whole day. In the garden, you worked on the other side, chasing the gnomes and talking with Charlie- instead of him. When everyone else went inside to have lunch, you went with Arthur to run errands.

it wasn’t until you got back that night that he finally got a conversation out of you. he caught you as you were walking into your room. He rushed in behind you, closing the door with a slam that was a little too loud.

you turned to look at him in shock. “George- what are you doing?”

“what’s going on?” His eyes were begging, pleading. He looked at you with such care it made your knees weak. You faced his question defensively. “What do you mean- nothing is going on.” he shook his head. “No.” “no?”

“no. I won’t accept that. You’ve been avoiding me all day. I haven’t seen you take a break to sit down once.” “Georgie please. I’m fine.” “and what about your arm?”

he had noticed that? You somehow looked even more shocked now- but all George could do was look back and forth between your eyes and your lips. He wanted the avoidance to be over, he wanted you. “my arm is fine-“

“no it’s not! Merlin, put yourself first for once! I’m tired of acting like it doesn’t hurt me to see you pull away so much!” “it- it hurts you?” “yes gods! I thought you’d understand by now that I’m smitten with you! You’re my best fucking friend I can’t lose you and I’m sorry if last night I went too far but I could’ve sworn you felt the same and I just- I want it to go back to the way it was!”

oh my gods. George Weasely, the most sarcastic and outspoken person you had ever known was broken down- damn near on his knees grasping at anything at all- and telling you he loved you.. where was this last night? He’s doing this now?

you laughed. The sound made his eyes pop open. “you’re laughing?”

“Merlin George, if this is how you act after one day of me being a little bit distant, I don’t know how you’ve survived this long.”

“well- its been difficult I suppose..”

this was so amusing. He had no idea what to do with this. You reveled in the lost puppy that was standing before you. And then you reached out. Took his hand in your hands. Tracing his knuckles with your soft fingertips. “George.” “mm- mm yes?” He looked up from your hands and met your eyes.

“I do feel the same. I always have.” you watched as it clicked in his brain. You loved him. He loved you. You were holding his now cold hand in your soft warm ones. A huge smile erupted across his face. But then confusion flickered in. “But- then what was last night? All of today?”

you sighed. You did feel bad. “I’m sorry Georgie- I didn’t know how to manage everything I was feeling I think? Last night I just felt so connected to you and I didn’t know.. how to tell you.” he squeezed your hand and you looked up at him. He stepped closer and he slid his hand up your arm- resting on the sore burn. “It’s okay. I just missed you.”

“I missed you too Georgie.” “can I kiss you?”

kiss you. Can he kiss you. Oh gods- that’s a sentence you had only dreamed of him saying. You nodded, so quickly you could hear your brain bouncing around. He smiled- so so soft and lifted his hand to hold your chin. Pulling you in, you watched as his eyes drifted closed- and you followed.

you locked your lips to his and felt every burden lift off of you. He fell into you immediately, cupping your face with his hands. He was impossibly close and somehow pulling you closer. you felt all the air leave your lungs as you kissed him. His lips were so soft, his hands were so big, covering both sides of your face. His smell was so strong, mixing with the lavender body wash you had used that morning. God he was so perfect.

he never wanted to stop kissing you. but he pulled away, pressing a quick peck to your cheek as he went. But he stayed with his hands holding your face. You had never realized that the way he looked at you- with big needy eyes and a mushy grin- was just love. Plastered all over his face like a bad case of the stripes. He was admiring you. You looked all drunk on love, lips swollen and face red. Absolutely adorable.

“so what now?” You asked quietly. The house was silent now- and you knew, just like last night that you two were the only ones left awake. “Now?”

“I don’t know Love. What do you want?”

it was the final quidditch match of the year, and Gryffindor had absolutely cleared the Hufflepuff team. they were electric. George took down their beater within the first twenty minutes, harry caught the golden snitch like it was the missing other half of a him-shaped magnet, and the stands were cheering all the while. the party in the Gryffindor dorms afterwards was just as wild. there was spiked butter beer, courtesy of Fred, who managed to sneak muggle alcohol past the fat lady, games, and congratulations all around.

everyone was drunk very quickly. Angelina had the bright idea to start a tipsy game of telephone, insisting that everyone play spin the bottle. many backed out, saying it was dumb, just a stupid party game. others left entirely, saying things about exams the next day, needing to get back to their dorms.

the group that ended up playing was a small one. Fred, George, Angelina and some of her friends, Harry, Ron and Hermione, and a couple more of the quidditch players. after a few spins, and a few kisses, split by laughter and jokes, it was George's turn. your heart raced as you followed the movement of his hand as he spun the bottle, and you watched it fly round and around and as it slowed and then stopped.

on you.

in the moment, it was just another kiss in the round of this game but to you, it was the single most jarring realization you had yet to have. you were about to kiss George Weasley in front of all your friends.

this was not where you wanted to kiss George. this was not the astronomy tower, In soft lighting under the moon and stars, with his big hands gently cupping your face and sliding down the back of your neck. your hands would not be threaded in his soft hair, or gripping his scarf, pulling him unreasonably close. instead, you were both tipsy and sweaty, surrounded by drunk friends who would continue talking about this for days to come.

but you pushed all those thoughts down as Fred gave him a little nudge in the side and made some smart quip- and then George was leaning in. you took note of how he wiped his palms on the knees of his trousers and how his tongue darted out to wet his lips. and then he kissed you. soft and simple, with his forefinger and his thumb coming up to rest under your chin. yes, it was just a small kiss, but it felt like it lasted forever.

you swore you could've felt him sigh against your lips.

and then you snapped back to reality- the giggles from Angelina and her girls and the snickering from Oliver and Fred- and that George was slowly pulling away, a charming glint in his eye and a shit eating grin on his face. He stroked his finger under your chin once- leaving goosebumps- before he sat back against the couch, nursing his beer. you sat back between Hermione and Oliver, nerves exploding in your fingertips.

spin the bottle ended quickly after that, when Hermione spun the bottle and it landed on Ron- eliciting a hasty cheek kiss between them and then immediate excuses and rushed goodnights. Fred clamored on drunkenly about them being no fun, and was ushered upstairs by George and Lee. Angelina turned in too, and soon, you were left by yourself in the common room, finally rid of the noise from the day.

you started cleaning, picking up fallen streamers and empty cups. you didn't even realize anyone was still there until you heard someone clear their throat. when you turned, there was George, leaning against the door frame leading up to his dorm. his arms were crossed over his chest, and you knew he could see your eyes flick down to his biceps before they met his eyes. they had that same sparkle in them that they did earlier.

then he moved, helping you clean. "how'd you like the match today?" he finally asked.

you smiled to yourself. "it was fine. the beater on our team could really use some work on his aim though." George scoffed. "I really do hope you're referring to Fred.. because im the best this team has seen in a long time."

now that made you laugh. "a bit cocky, aren't you?"

"always have been love."

love?

what does that even mean? you had stopped, halfway to the trash bag. you turned to look at George. and he was there, strong and tall and helping you without an ask, seemingly oblivious that you were standing there rethinking every occurrence that had happened in the last hour. before he could turn and see you short-circuiting, you moved. closer to the stairs, trying to put more distance in-between the two of you while you continued picking up.

you both finished in silence, only occasionally broken by a door opening above you and then closing again. as you stood with your hands on your hips in accomplishment, George made his way to your side; matching your pose and admiring the clean common room.

"we make a good team, you and i." you said, glancing up at him. he chuckled. "you're a good kisser."

excuse me?? you could tell he was amused by the flicker of shock that crossed your face before you covered it with sarcasm. "very kind Weasley, but you don't have to flatter me. spin the bottle is a kiss waiting to happen."

George's brow furrowed a bit and he tuned to face you fully. he was so tall, it twisted in your stomach how badly you wanted him to lean down to look you in the face. he nodded- "sure, it's waiting to happen, but maybe I wanted to kiss you."

now that takes the cake. "George are you flirting with me? how bold of you to come right out and say-"

he cut you off. not with his words or with a laugh like he sometimes does, with his lips. he had leaned down and had kissed you again. this tine it was softer, just a peck- just to shut you up.

"im serious." his voice had dropped and now your stomach was really in knots; your face was definitely not a natural color. "I've wanted to kiss you since the moment I met you."

"you have?"

he laughed and reached out, warm palms squishing both sides of your face.

"yes, Godrick, I thought it was obvious how gone on you I am."

you blinked. gone on you.. George Weasley- gone on you? you let out a soft sound of disbelief and slowly reached up to lace your fingers in-between his, your other hand cupping his face in return. then you leaned in.

you pressed your lips to his, soft and tentative, like opening the envelope of a letter containing important information. and then it deepened. George pulled your face up into his and slid his other hand down to your lower back. he pressed your body against his firm chest and you felt his heartbeat kick.

the kiss picked up, your fingers unraveling from his and gripping onto the front of his jumper instead, and his fingertips digging into the soft flesh of your hip. you felt his tongue swipe across your bottom lip and you returned the action, nipping at his lip with your teeth. you felt him chuckle against you and you smiled into the kiss.

when he finally pulled away you felt as if you were floating. your eyes stayed closed, and when they slid open again, he was looking at you. really looking. you could hardly tell what he was feeling but he was looking at you with so much intent you couldn't help but understand.

you both stood there for another second, cradling eachother's faces in clammy palms. then he spoke, softly.

"it was my idea to play spin the bottle. thought it might finally give me some courage."

you giggled, turning your head to press a kiss against his hand. "George Weasley, you are unreal."

"says you love- you have no idea how long I've been waiting for you."

"and you have no idea how long I've been wanting this. wanting you."

he grinned, your favorite, a proud and crooked grin. "so I take it you'll come with me to hogsmeade tomorrow?"

"yes Georgie, ill come with you to hogsmeade tomorrow. id love to."

he finally stepped back, and as soon as his body left yours you missed his warmth. he smiled at you, eyes low and gleaming. he reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. you looked at him with one thought in mind: you only wanted to kiss him for the rest of your life. this giant, gentle boy, freckled and blushing and looking like he wanted to kiss you again. "best get to bed love. don't want you having a headache in the morning." he murmured.

"best get to bed then." you echoed. but neither of you moved. only when you caught his eyes flick down to your lips again did you smile. you grabbed the collar of his jumper and pulled him down to you and locked your lips together once again.

when you pulled away he looked absolutely dazed. there was a slight sheen of chapstick on his lips and he had fully blushed from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. you started to walk towards the stairs, leaving him in the common room- smelling like your perfume. "goodnight Georgie." you called over your shoulder. "ill see you tomorrow."

you were halfway up the stairs when he ran and grabbed your wrist, spinning you around and pulling you into him for one last kiss. he pecked all over your face and held your waist tightly.

and then he pulled away. he whispered goodnight against your lips, and then he was down the stairs and to his dorm without another word.

you were asleep before your head hit the pillow, but as you drifted further and further from what had just happened, your chest was warm, and you swore you could feel yourself tingling everywhere he had just kissed.

you were tucked in the corner of the couch, curled up with a thin knit blanket and a book, weathered by all the times you’ve read it, pages yellowed from the oils of your skin and the markings of pencil in the margins. It wasn’t uncommon for you to struggle with sleeping, you found it much easier to stay up and tire yourself out with the comforting sounds of the Burrow.

George was similar. Not that he couldn’t sleep, but that he didn’t want to. between him and Fred, he was always the last one asleep. Especially if anyone else was still awake; he was considerate like that, not wanting anyone to feel alone or scared at night. You heard him before you saw him, tip-toeing down the stairs, making sure to step left at the last one so it didn’t creak. He slowly padded into the Tea room where you were perched.

you glanced up as you heard him come in, offering a soft smile. He carried his blanket and a book he’d found at hogsmeade right before school let out: “Card tricks: muggle magic vol. 7” you let out a soft laugh at remembering the excitement on his face when he discovered it.

“what?” George said, throwing you a smug look as he sat down at the other end of the couch, resting his calves over your feet that were just barely peeking out from under your blanket. He was warm. He was always warm. you shook your head and sighed, turning back to look at your book. “I just can’t believe you bought that. Don’t you have enough tricks up your sleeve already?”

he scoffed in false offense. “I don’t know what you heard but bigger is better.” You giggled and shook your head in response, diving back into the book you knew so well. It was quiet, comfortable silence between the two of you for a while. The candle flickered from the cool breeze a couple of times, and the sounds of the house were starting to take an effect, lulling you softly.

George had given up on reading long ago. Instead, he sufficed to watch you. How your fingers follow the words and your chest rises and falls so slowly that sometimes he thinks you’ve stopped breathing. you are the single most beautiful creature he has ever seen. And he has no idea how to deal with it.

you’ve been the twins right hand since fourth year, when you walked in on them setting fire to the trash cans in Snape’s classroom. But instead of tattling to McGonagall, you insisted they add Puff powder to each fire- “make them more colorful,” you said so simply. Like it was the most obvious thing in the world. You did that often. Give unsolicited advice, yes, but it was never without reason. He appreciated it.

you stirred a little bit, and he quickly looked back to the page he was on, trying to make it look like he had never stopped reading. It was your turn to observe him.

he had the most impressive features you had ever seen. His red hair was one of the most familiar, of course, but you had a particular fascination with his nose. It curved sharply at the bridge, more than Fred’s. His face was slender and long, soft and sprinkled with freckles. You had always thought he was a beautiful man. And now, in the soft warm candlelight, you felt absolutely confident that the warmth in your chest was more than “best friendship.” Not that there was much you could do about it. you could never confess, not when you were so deep into the routine of friendship. And especially not now. Not when if it went badly, you would still be sleeping one room down from him for another two weeks.

you sighed. That was enough thinking for one night. You closed your book, and as you started folding the blanket that had been covering you, George started to do the same. “Going to bed?” He asked quietly. You nodded in response, and as if your body needed to prove it, a yawn escaped you. George laughed. You love his laugh. It’s so warm and familiar.

he nodded and moved in sync with you, stepping behind you to put a throw pillow back in the cabinet. You two moved in rhythm putting away mugs from the day and blowing out candles around the room. It was just as you finally grabbed your book and he grabbed his that you bumped into each other. His strong chest collided with your cheek and his large hands came up to grab your waist. Stopping you from stumbling.

you let out a hushed breath, hearing only his breathing match yours in the silence. “you alright?” He whispered. “Yeah. Thanks Georgie I’m alright.” You softly said back. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t feel anything except his hands on your waist. Burning your skin, it felt like. All you wanted was to grab him and kiss him; all you wanted was him. but you simply squeezed his bicep where your hand was resting, and then patted it. “Goodnight.” You said in a hushed voice.

then you turned, and padded up the stairs gently, heart pounding in your eardrums. George felt like he might be sick. You were right there. So close to him. Holding his arm like he imagined you would so many times before. He stood there in the dark, trying to gather his entire heart back up into his body before he followed up the stairs.

once he finally made it to his bed, he suddenly was the one with the problem sleeping. It was like your handprint was burned onto his bicep. He kept imagining your lips pressed against his. God, they looked so soft and beautiful in the candlelight; mouthing certain words he knew you loved to say out loud. groaning, he rubbed a hand over his face and rolled over, facing the wall he knew you were sleeping on the other side of.

this will go away in the morning.

The first time they ever actually noticed each other was the first day of October. Homecoming was two nights before, and Deena and Sam had equally bad times for completely opposite reasons. Sam had spent the whole night alone because she realized she'd rather die than spend it with the douchebag she was meant to go with; while Deena had spent the whole night making sure Simon didn't drunkenly talk to any of the teachers.

It was a whole new day now, and Deena was on part 3 of her daily routine. In the bathroom with Kate. They had already finished the rotation, and Kate had gone back to class, leaving Deena by herself in the bathroom. This was the one bathroom in school that nobody used, on account of the door being so broken that it wouldn't stay open for even three seconds. But as Deena sat on the closed toilet lid and shoved her Pen back into her backpack, she heard someone successfully shove the creaky door open and scurry across the tile floor.

Sam had spent all of second period itching to use the bathroom. Her Choir class was rehearsing for their Halloween concert- she wasn't allowed to use the restroom until they finished. and now she was stuck waiting again, silently bobbing up and down and praying that the girl who was currently occupying the only toilet in-order would hurry up.

Yet as soon as the stall door swung open, Sam forgot she ever wanted time to go faster. Deena was equally as regretful, but for the fact that she looked as high and stupid as she did in front of the coolest looking girl she'd ever seen.

And as soon as time slowed down, like something out of a movie, it sped back up. Deena swung her backpack over her shoulder and murmured a "my bad" as Sam stepped past her into the stall. Nothing usually comes from three seconds of eye contact, and in this case, that's true. The routine stayed the same- they each went to their practices, and then home, and then continued like that until Wednesday.

Deena was late for Band, she had gotten stuck behind a group of boys who only know how to walk at 5 miles per hour. Sam was late for Choir, and as they both rounded the corner, they slammed into each other and all of the things that sam was holding in her arms clattered onto the linoleum floor. in a panic, they both dropped down and began grabbing the books and folders, all while muttering hurried apologies to each other. it wasn't until they reached for the same book and touched hands that they made eye contact. After recognizing each other, Sam cracked the biggest, brightest smile and erupted in appreciation for Deena's help. then she stood, hair resting gently on her shoulders, and turned to give Deena one last appreciative grin before striding into the Choir room, the door closing behind her.

Deena laughed to herself about the whole thing, finding it funny how clunky all of their interactions have been so far. After she made it to band and got to her seat, Her friend Nicole turned around in front of her to ask why she was late.

Deena just said there was a line for the bathroom, but before Nicole could turn back around Deena leaned in. "do you know anyone in choir?" She asked. Nicole nodded and listed a few names.

"why?" she prompted. Deena just said she was curious, and then remembering the few times she had seen sam leaving the auditorium after school, said that she was wondering if any of the kids in choir were also in theatre.

"just Sam and Jameson, why?"

wow, isn't Nicole a curious one.

She made up an excuse about wanting to see the fall play, yada yada, maybe she'll make Kate and Simon go, and by the time she was done with her excuse, their band director had entered the room and began his lesson. Deena and Nicole both turned their attention to the front, and as they picked up their instruments to start playing, Deena listened into the choir singing next door.