Hi love! Could I request a George x Slytherin reader? Maybe she’s a bit of an outcast in her house and she’s the twins best friend but George is madly in love with her. She’s just oblivious to his feelings until someone pulls a mean prank on her and he gets in a fight to defend her before confessing his feelings while she cleans up his cuts in the bathroom💕
Loyal as a Lion : George Weasley x Reader
Summary: Lions protect those they love, and George is no exception. (aka, in which George throws hands because Malfoy is being a git to you)
Warnings: Mentions of fighting and injury
Author’s Note: Ahhh it’s been so long since I’ve posted, thank you everyone for being patient with me!
It was no secret that although Slytherin was your house, it wasn’t your home. You were a muggleborn and the other Slytherins treated you like the filth beneath their shoes.
As you walk down the corridors, Draco Malfoy brushed past you roughly, “Get out of my way you filthy mudblood,” he hissed, his aristocratic face was twisted in disgust as he glared at you.
You mumbled some choice words under your breath, quickly trying to distance yourself from him. He grabs your wrist before you can melt into the crowd, “What did you say?” He asked, voice dangerously low.
You stumbled away from his painfully tight grasp, spilling all your books on the floor with a loud bang. “I said, I’d rather be a ‘filthy mudblood” instead of a pompous cowardly arse,” you spit, channeling an inner bravery you didn’t know you possessed.
He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, Fred and George came up behind you. “Having any trouble?” George asked, looking at you in concern while Fred gathered your books.
You gave them both a thankful look, “Nope, just having a friendly chat with Malfoy here.”
Malfoy gave the twins a weary look and subconsciously touched his nose, remembering the disasterous match in 5th year.
“Well,” George said pleasantly, “I’ll walk you to your next class. Wouldn’t want you to catch the fleas that Malfoy picked up while he was a ferret.”
“Oh yeah!” Fred interjected, “Remember that Malfoy? Fake Moody turned you into a white ferret? He bounced you up and down and up and down until McGonogall stopped him? Reckon it was the highlight of my 6th year.”
Draco glared, “Blood traitors sticking up for a mudblood? No suprise there. Especially since you’re fucking at least one of them.”
All three of your faces flush at the implication, Fred and George have murderous expressions on their faces.
Malfoy turns and stalks off, dissapearing into the sea of students.
“That little-” George huffed, he looks at you and his face softens, “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”
“He grabbed my wrist pretty hard,” you shrugged, showing him the light bruises forming on your inner wrist.
“I’m going to kill him,” George declares loudly, his expression thunderous, and Fred nodded in agreement. Some passing students gave the twins weird looks.
“Don’t bother, he’s not worth it,” you sigh, “And it’ll just make everything worse.”
After making the twins promise not to do anything, George walks you to class.
The rest of the day is uneventful. At mealtime, you sit alone like always. Sometimes, Fred and George would try to sit with you at the Slytherin table, but it always resulted in them getting detention and being sent back to their own tables.
George walks you back to your dorm, like always. He started in your 2nd year when the Chamber of Secrets had been opened and has done it ever since.
When you walk into your dorm, all the chatter abruptly cuts off. The other girls stare at you and start whispering behind their hands, making barely any effort to keep their voices quiet. Pansy Parkinson looks about you and scowls, crossing her arms.
You silently get ready for bed, trying to get away from the prying eyes and judgmental glares of your peers.
The next day, you wake up feeling strangely refreshed. You go to change into your robes, but as you’re unfolding them, you notice something.
“Mudblood” was scrawled in big, red letters on the back of the robe.
“Scourifgy,” you point your wand at the robe, but nothing happens. You let out a growl of frustration and discard the robe onto your bed.
You sigh and weigh the pros and cons of wearing one of your out of school outfits. You’d surely get detention for being out of uniform, but the alternative was much worse.
Pulling out your favourite sweater, you find that it also has “Mudblood” on it. You start to search through your closing, growing increasingly frantic when shirt after shirt are all marred with the slur.
Settling for the robe, you quickly walk to class, keeping your back to the wall. Draco slams into you and you fall face first on the floor, the ugly, red “Mudblood” on display for all to see.
“You did this,” you accuse, your face burning with shame.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says smoothly.
Pansy Parkinson shoulders through the crowd and when she sees you, she laughs. “Good one, Draco.”
You can hear some people snickering and some others gaze upon you with pity.
George stumbles toward you, he’s breathing hard and sweat shines on his forehead. “What the fuck is going on?”
He catches sight of you, curled up on the floor as if you’re trying to shrink. Misery paints your face and your eyes lack the brightness they usually hold. George scans the crowd quickly, trying to look for the cause of your pain.
He locks eyes with Malfoy and before you could say “quidditch,” the two were rolling on the floor, each fighting for the upper hand.
Both boys get in quit a few punches before Flickwit Impediments them. Flitwick looks at you before zeroing in on your robe. He looks at George, and then looks at Draco, quickly putting together what had happened.
“Mr. Malfoy, with me,” he says sternly and Malfoy tries to protest, but is cut off with a sharp look.
The crowd disperses and you and George are left standing in the empty corridor. His lip is split and he has a dark bruise on his jaw. His hands are cut up and beginning to bruise.
You sigh, “George, come with me.”
He silently follows you, raising an eyebrow when you pull him into the girl’s bathroom.
You summon some basic medical supplies and set them on the counter. Instructing him not to move, you start to tend to his wounds.
“You’re an idiot,” you say affectionalty, “You know that, right?” You gently wiped the blood away from a particularly nasty cut under his eye, causing George to wince.
“That’s not very nice,” he pouts exaggeratedly.
You two lapse into a comfortable silence, occasionally punctuated with a hiss of pain followed for a soft “sorry.”
“Why’d you do it?” you ask.
“Because he’s a git,” George shrugs.
“You shouldn’t have done that. You’re lucky that Flitwick didn’t get you in trouble. It wasn’t worth it,” you say, finishing up on his face and moving onto his hands.
“Not worth it?” He asked incredulously, “He wrote ‘mudblood’ on your school robe!”
You shrug, “That’s what I am though.”
George gently urges you to look at him and when you do, his eyes are earnest, “You’re not, and don’t ever call yourself again. You may be muggleborn but you an amazing witch and you don’t deserve to have to put up with assholes like Malfoy.”
“Amazing?” you ask, teasingly.
George blushed, “Yeah, you’re pretty amazing.”
You bite your lip, unable to tear your gaze away from him. George’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows nervously.
Tilting your chin up, he presses a gentle kiss to your lips. You grab onto his biceps to steady yourself and George’s hands cup your face lovingly.
“Ouch,” he yelped, pulling away from you and touching his lip.
“I’m so sorry,” you say, mortified.
“It’s fine,” George brushes it off. “Make it up to me by accompanying me to Hogsmeade this weekend?” His voice is confident and smooth, but you can see the nervousness in his eyes.
You press a small kiss to his nose and smile, “Of course.”
