birdie

Backstory: George Meets Reader

It was nearing the end of second year for her and the twins. Hagrid had given her what seemed to be the most important task possible: Create artworks of each of his unique companions. During her free time daylight hours she sat in the grass in front of Hagrid’s hut and produced watercolor paintings of the creatures she saw. She was working on a painting of Buckbeak, who seemed to enjoy the modeling gig as he sat politely in front of her.

A quiet scratching sounds from behind her, pulling her from her concentration. She turns, and spots a Weasley.. pretending to draw her? She is not one for confrontation but this intriques her too much to ignore. “What are you doing?” She asks. “Same as you, I think!” He replies. She can tell this is either Fred or George because he looks to be about her age, yet he’s got to be one of the tallest of the Weasleys. George sees the contemplation in her eyes, “only joking, name’s Fred. Pretty good, isn’t it?” She smiles, and takes a few steps closer to inspect the drawing. Upon first glance, it looks like a bunch of wavy lines and rudimentary shapes. She laughs and meets his eye again. “Is that.. the back of my head?” He beams, happy his drawing is recognizable as anything at all. “Seemed easier than drawing Buckbeak.” She looks up into his eyes and squints. That crooked smile, the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs, the way his hair is parted to the left.. She tilts her head “You’re not Fred. You’re George.” He’s surprised. “Are you sure?” “Positively. Why’d you lie?” He looks to the sky, “didn’t want to take credit for the drawing if you couldn’t figure out what it was” he says with an embarrassed smile. “How do you know I’m not Fred?” She explains her observation. “My own mother can’t even do that, guess it takes an artists eye to spot my true beauty” He says airily.

a casual evening

(y/n) sits cross-legged on the floor of her room, multiple oil lamps placed haphazardly around her for light as the sky begins to darken. Multiple papers lay sprawled across the floor, she is working on a series of drawings of each common room.

Fred and George enter unannounced

“(y/n)!”

George shouts at her. Startled, she turns up from her drawing.

“What?!”

“You are going to light yourself on fire.” He teases, with a serious tone.

“You know, the older you get the more you become your mother,” she teases back.

Fred gets comfortable on (y/n)’s bed and laughs loudly at the retort.

George rolls his eyes but struggles to hide his smile. He kneels down behind her and begins braiding her hair. “I’m serious though! This is quite possibly the most flammable room in all of Hogwarts.”

Fred scoffs, “She hasn’t moved the lamps in days George. You just wanted an excuse to touch her.”

(y/n) smears a line of charcoal from her hands onto Fred’s pajama pants. He just smiles, “You’re lucky these are George’s.”

“Hah! That’s funny, so are the ones I’m wearing.” (y/n) replies.

George pokes (y/n) on her back as he finishes the loose braid in her hair. “Do both of you think my closet is some sort of charity shop? Or do you just want me to run out of pants, (y/n)?”

She squirms from his poke and laughs, “If you run out of pants I guess all three of us run out of pants.”

Fred and George look at one another

“Fred if you incinerate all of my pants just to see her in her underwear I will incinerate one out of every pair of socks you ever own.” George says, dead serious.

the backstory

(y/n) has lived in a single room atop the Ravenclaw tower (which was once a semi-abandoned storage closet) since her third year, when she began using the space as an undisclosed art studio. Trelawney found her there early into the school year, and lucky for (y/n), she was so enamored by the space she convinced Flitwick and Dumbledore to let her keep it.

(y/n) is a 6th year Ravenclaw. She particularly enjoys astronomy and alchemy. (y/n) keeps to herself, she enjoys her solitude to draw, paint, or read.. but she enjoys it much more when Fred and George are present. (not that she often admits it.)