✧ his love language is acts of service. peeling oranges for you, holding his hand over sharp corners so you don’t hit your head, pouring your drink before he pours any for himself, and yes — he knows the sidewalk rule. you’ll even find that things you had mentioned needing to do will be done by the time you get around to it. he enjoys helping you anyway he can.
✧ he just has a romantic soul. molly raised him to be a gentleman, and that’s what he strives to be for you.
✧ he carves your name / initials into his broomstick. during quidditch matches, he will always keep an eye out for you in the stands, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t try to show off a bit for you.
✧ he will always lend you his clothes, but especially if you’re in a different house because seeing his favorite slytherin in gryffindor colors makes him all giddy no i’m not projecting.
✧ alternatively, he will constantly try to steal your clothes, wearing your shirt right in front of you like it belonged to him.
✧ he remembers everything about you. your favorite color? your childhood pets name?? the one very niche book you only mentioned once??? all of the above (and you will absolutely be finding that book in his bedroom after the fact).
✧ he loves just being close to you. he’s not overly touchy, but if you’re sitting together, his arm or knee is brushing against yours, or if you’re standing in the hallways, he’s standing behind you with his chin on top of your head or your shoulder.
✧ so much playful banter. he will constantly flirt with you like he isn’t already dating you, and if he makes you blush, you will never hear the end of it until he starts blushing and you get to tease him for it.
✧ he’s the slightly more shy twin (which isn’t saying much when you look at fred), so he will get bashful if you compliment him enough.
✧ he isn’t huge on public displays of affection.
✧ grand gestures are a big deal for him, however. leaving love notes in your textbooks, running straight to you after winning a quidditch match to lift you up and spin you around, waking up extra early to meet you outside your common room every morning (or in front of the fireplace for the gryffindors out there).
✧ when he kisses you, he always cups your face with his soft hands (surprisingly soft for a quidditch player, may i add).
Summary: As the Gryffindor Quidditch team celebrates their win on the field, Malfoy begins to openly throw insults in front of George and Fred towards them, their parents, Harry, and you. George isn’t able to ignore and shrug off his mockery. It only ends in a shocking altercation between the Redheaded Gryffindor and sneering Slytherin.
Pairing: George Weasley x Fem!Reader
Category: hurt/comfort, fluff
WC: 2.9k
CWs: physical fighting, depictions of violence/fighting, blood, yelling, injuries
A/N: this fic is based off that one part in OOTP (chapter eleven), i’m still so upset they didn’t include it in the movie </3
The Gryffindor section of the stadium roared with applause and hollered once Harry caught the Golden Snitch, getting the team 30 points ahead of Slytherin, causing Gryffindor to win and finally end the game.
Harry flew to the middle of the stadium, flying high up, smiling as he held up the snitch in his hand with two fingers wrapped tightly around it, presenting it to the entire stadium. He flew down and landed carefully on the field, Fred and George went down after him, then the rest of the Gryffindor team did as well.
Fred and George abandoned their brooms and ran over to Harry, Fred was giving him aggressive pats on the back while George ruffled his hair as they praised him. You grinned at their brotherly behavior towards Harry. The proud athletes began to grin and cheer loudly while punching their fists in the air in victory, hugging each other tightly, giving each other high-fives and handshakes all in celebration.
But of course, Draco landed by, ready to ruin this happy moment, and started to sneer about something towards the Gryffindor team, it seemed that Harry was the only one to notice, he turned around to look at Draco, then turned back towards his team when he stopped talking, he was trying his best to ignore him and not bark back at the Slytherin boy.
You smiled and applauded along with everyone else, you decided to leave your spot and excitedly walk down the stairs to go and congratulate Harry and the rest of the team on the field, also because you mostly wanted to see George. You were too impatient and too excited to wait an hour or so because George had to clean up.
You completely forgot that Draco was spitting something at the other team and constantly pointing at Harry, George, and Fred.
While Fred was squeezing Harry’s shoulder and George was in the midst of a handshake with Harry, you watched the twins’ heads snap up at Draco and their bodies stiffen, the big grins they previously had on their faces disappeared immediately. Yours did as well.
summary: when y/n gets restless one night, they go to george’s dorm room to cuddle
pronouns used: they/them
warning/s: none! | word count: 524 |
navigation
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Swirling thoughts left Y/N awake in their bed, clutching their blankets, wrinkling more and more by the minute. Their mind wouldn’t rest, keeping them from a good nights sleep. An unexplained reason kept Y/N awake, and they couldn’t seem to figure out why. They tried every method to coax themself to sleep, though nothing worked.
In a weak attempts to solve the problem, Y/N reluctantly pushes off their bed, their covers dropping off of them. Cold breezes hit Y/N’s exposed skin, causing shivers to strike down their spine. They grabbed a soft pair of socks, slipping them on as they pad down the stairs. Y/N kept their breathing to a minimum, dodging every last creak in the floor to stay quiet.
George’s room wasn’t too far away. Up some stairs and across a hallway would get Y/N there. They’d stood warily outside of the dorm room, sucking in a deep breath as they stood. Should they let themself in? Or should they turn back to their room?
Pondering their options, Y/N decided to go on. They slowly pushed the creaky door open, face contorting as they cringe. A few boys stirred in their sleep, Lee mumbling out nonsense as he turns over. Y/N’s eyes laid on George, who laid peacefully in bed. They couldn’t help but smile.
Shutting the door behind them softly, they walked on the tips of their toes to get to his bed. Y/N was as quiet as can be, slipping in next to George in the empty spot. His back was to them, which they didn’t mind. Instead, they’d just clung to his back, spooning him as they took in all of his warmth and scent. Cinnamon!
Y/N wrapped the blanket better around the both of them, kissing his shirtless back. A sudden rush of comfort hit them, their eyes drooping, sleepiness hitting them. They’d finally let themself fall asleep.
*ೃ༄
Bright sunlight stung Y/N’s eyes as they fluttered open, strong arms wrapping around their waist. It took a few moments to come to their senses, slightly overwhelmed by their surroundings. However, George’s snoring filled their ears, smiling as they realized where they were.
Y/N slowly turned around, careful not to disturb their boyfriend. They were inches apart when they fully turned around, noses brushing together slightly. George stirred slightly, only to pull them close, nuzzling into his chest happily.
It took another ten minutes for George to arise from sleep, though Y/N didn’t mind. It was nice being this close to him. Large blankets engulfed the two of them like a cloud of warmth, legs tangle slightly together.
George had woken up slowly, going through near the same process Y/N did. They knew the moment he processed their presence, his grip growing stronger, a soft, chaste kiss placed on their forehead.
“Hello darling,” George mumbled against Y/N’s head. “Funny seeing you here.”
“Wanted to see you,” Y/N smiled innocently, tracing his sides as they continued to lay. Silence filled the air, Fred’s snoring ruining that peace. Y/N wouldn’t change it for the world.
request from anon: A fluffy, soft, and pining George please? Like, he was really young when he fell in love with her upon first meeting—he made a joke that caused her to laugh, and he just found it to be the most beautiful sound and was smitten ever since. 😭❤️
word count: 3.9k
A/N: i love a pining, head over heels, irrevocably in love george with a girl who knows it and is totally going to make him work... bye i’m crying
tag list: @mintlibri @georgeweasleyx @seppys-return-to-madness @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @darling-details @laneygthememequeen @lupinsx @keoghans @helloallthethingsilove @bobduncanlover @dreamer821 | message me if you’d like to be added!
Your laugh seems to echo across the entire Quidditch pitch. Okay, not really, but it’s both loud and soft at the same time in George’s ears, and it floats in the air between you both, and he’s desperately clinging to the sound of it—just like he does whenever you laugh. Just like he did when you were both eight years old and met for the first time in the village outside of Ottery St. Catchpole all those years ago, after having shown you a magic trick when you giggled yourself into oblivion.
In love with you right then, he was.
“You’re not allowed to laugh at me,” he teases you now. His voice is calm and steady in his ears and he’s thankful that he doesn’t sound as nervous as he feels. He rebalances himself on his broomstick after nearly falling off and peers at you with a smirk.
“I’m sorry—but you can’t expect me to not laugh when you do something as silly as try and surf on your broomstick, George.”
His feet finally touch the ground, and much to his dismay he sees the rest of the team emerging from the changing rooms, undoubtedly gearing up for tryouts. He swallows over a lump in his throat when both Harry and Fred nod at him from the other end of the pitch. He knows he’s a fantastic bloody beater, but the fact that you’re going to be watching tryouts with Ron, Ginny, and Hermione are making him feel less confident than before. He stands up straighter to try and push these feelings away. It doesn’t work. You seem to notice.
“Hey,” you say after a moment and place a hand on his shoulder, “you’ll be great. Just try not to fall off of your broom this time, okay?”
A laugh escapes his lips and he says to you as you make your way toward the stands, “Well I bloody hope I don’t fall, since I’ll be spending the majority of this tryout doing my very best to impress you, anyway.”
You roll your eyes at his comment, but he sees a rosy pink color flood your cheeks. “Best focus on the bludgers, Georgie, don’t want any of them to whack you, yeah?”
He laughs again, takes a deep breath, and turns toward his teammates. Fred is looking at him with raised eyebrows and a laugh so sweet it could cure an illness. Once he realizes that you’re now out of earshot, Fred teasingly slings an arm around his twin’s shoulders, turns to Harry and asks, “He’s been in love for the longest bloody time—how much longer d’you reckon before he finally does something about it?”
“I dunno, mate,” Harry says and kicks George playfully in the shin, “he’s been pining for what—eight, nine years now? Give it another five or so, I reckon he’ll be able to maybe ask her out then.”
“I’ll be sure to send bludgers toward the both of you today, then,” George replies with a mischievous grin as the other two fall into raucous laughter. He peers up at the stands, easily finding you sitting with his siblings and Hermione, and when you finally look up and meet his gaze, you wiggle your eyebrows at him, and wink.
Like George seriously needs to be sent into overdrive before what is arguably the most important Quidditch tryout of his entire life. He does his hardest to nudge Fred very hard in the ribs when all he can hear are snickers and kissing noises in his ear.
— -
George peers up at the very dark, cloudy gray ceiling in the Great Hall. He absolutely hates it when it rains. He’s looking particularly grumpy as he listens to the thunder clap outside the tall windows. He’s sipping rather moodily on his pumpkin juice when you plop down next to him and say, “Brighten up, would you, Weasley? Why the long face?”
“It’s raining,” Fred replies before George can catch his breath and answer you himself, “Georgie hates it when it rains.”
“Why?” you ask suddenly, scooping a bit of vegetables onto your dinner plate, “We’ve known each other for so long, how have I never known this about you? I love it when it‘s raining! The sound of the pitter-patter on the roof, the way the grounds smell right before a rainstorm—it’s absolutely beautiful.”
“Don’t ramble on too much, Y/N,” Fred says, again. George can’t seem to get a word in edgewise. “George might just try and make it rain all the bloody time if you love it so much.”
You turn to George, who’s rib cage is being flooded with butterflies. He tries to ignore it. He grins cheekily at you when you raise your eyebrows and inquire, “Is that so? Trying to impress me more, are you?”
“Can’t help myself,” he replies with a wink.
“I’ll get you to enjoy the rain one day—for real. You can count on it. You’ve got to find the beauty in everyday life.”
He wants to tell you, when he peers into your sparkling eyes and feels the nerves grow stronger, that he already does find the beauty in everyday life. Instead, he asks, “Mmm, is that a promise?”
“Most definitely.”
“If you don’t mind,” Fred stands up from his place across from you and looks in the direction of Ron, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny and winks at his twin, “I’m going to go and have a chat with that lot while George continues to embarrass himself with his rubbish flirting.”
George is upset when he realizes that Fred is far enough away from him that he’s unable to kick him quite hard underneath the table. But then, much to his surprise—and delight—you respond to Fred with, “His flirting isn’t rubbish.” Then, you turn to George with a slight little smirk and continue, “it’s quite cute, actually.”
George finds himself biting down on his lip to keep from smiling too much as he watches you twirl your spoon carefully in your fingers. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“I swear to Merlin,” Fred says under his breath, but both you and George are still able to hear him.
“Oi! Get over here, you three!” Ron calls from a few seats down. Hermione rolls her eyes when he continues, “We’re placing bets on how the Hufflepuff versus Slytherin match is going to go next week—first of the year!”
Fred jumps in between Ginny and Ron and begins animatedly discussing the first match. To you, George shrugs his shoulders and says, “We’ve been summoned.”
“Too bad,” you say, picking up your bag to take your spot next to Hermione before continuing with a bit of flirty sarcasm in your voice, “that little smirk of yours was getting me all flustered.”
The banter between you both hardly gets George all worked up anymore. In fact, it’s pretty normal for the two of you, and has been for years. But sometimes, he finds himself thinking now, you’ll say something, or do something, or bat those beautiful long eyelashes at him and he feels nothing but nervousness take him over. This is one of those times. You notice the tension rising between you both, alongside the cherry red color now flooding his face. You squeeze his arm and say playfully, “C’mon now, Georgie—we’ve got bets to place.”
Another bout of nervousness creeps up on him when you pull him by his arm and you place yourself down next to Hermione. Harry, Ginny and Fred are all discussing the upcoming matches very animatedly, Ron is pulling at his hair due to confusion and stress, Hermione is immersed in her spell book, but when George looks down, all he can focus on is the very small amount of space on the bench between his hand and yours.
— -
The sun is flooding the Hogwarts grounds, and it’s quite warm for an autumn afternoon. George, Fred, Lee, Harry, Ron, and Neville are all sitting beneath a tree near the water’s edge, certainly not working on the assignments they’d planned on doing, but instead, engaging in what could only be described as tomfoolery and a complete and utter waste of time.
Fred is laying in the grass, one hand behind his head, the other twirling his wand in between his fingers. He’s saying something to the others, there’s a bit of mock laughter floating through the air, but all George can do is watch you up near the castle, immersed in a conversation with Ginny and Luna and a few other students, and he can’t help but smile as he watches you place your bag gently on the ground and proceed to engage in some type of hopscotch-like jumps.
When Lee throws his hands up at the fact that George is completely ignoring him, Ron shoves his older brother playfully and says to the others, “You’ll have to excuse him.”
“You see,” Fred continues, “little Georgie here is quite in love—”
“—and he can’t seem to focus on anything,” Harry finishes.
“Shove off,” George retorts before sticking out his foot to trip Ron, which sends his younger brother into the grass while another roar of raucous laughter echoes across the grounds.
“So Georgie,” Ron says, getting to his feet and brushing the dirt off of his robes, “today the day then, mate? Finally going to tell her how you feel?”
Fred chimes in with his eyes closed, “He doesn’t need to tell her how he feels, he makes it rather obvious, doesn’t he? I reckon she’s known for years.” In his heart of hearts, George knows this, too. He doesn’t exactly hide the fact that he’s mad for you. But he wonders, now, as he watches you laugh at something Ginny says, if you know deep down how he truly feels. Do you just see it as him being playful, overly friendly—flirting just for the sake of it? Or can you really tell that he actually does have feelings for you?
It’s as if his thoughts alone call out like a signal to you, because he’s taken by surprise when you peer up at him when he’s not fully prepared, and you wink. And there they are. Those butterflies again. He smirks mischievously at you.
“Settle down, you lot,” Fred says rather politically to the crowd of rambunctious boys. George finds himself finally coming back to the conversation after being a bit distracted yet again. Always letting his mind wander, he is. “All in favor of placing bets on when Georgie, here, finally makes a move? Yes, Lee—I am planning on winning this one, actually, nobody knows my twin better than me.”
“I’d like in on these bets,” George says suddenly, taking the entire group by surprise.
“You can’t place a bet on yourself,” Ron says through laughter.
Harry and Neville say together, “I think he should be allowed.” Harry continues, “Would make for quite the adventure, don’t you reckon?”
Fred peers at George, who’s standing now, with his hands in his pockets, glimpsing back and forth between you and his friends, waiting patiently for his twin to make a decision. A very slow decision, George comes to realize.
“Alright then, George,” Fred finally agrees, sticking out his hand for a very professional, firm handshake, “you’re in. What’ve you got for us?”
“Give me a week,” George says. A week? There’s no denying that George Weasley’s a confident bloke, but when it comes to confessing his feelings to the girl he’s been pining over for years, well—even hearing himself say it now sends a bit of a chill down his spine. “Seven days. If I don’t do anything by Sunday evening’s feast, you lot win. Alright?”
George looks around the group, each and every one of the boys has raised eyebrows. But they all nod in agreement, and the feeling of dread suddenly looms over George—he can handle it though, can’t he? Fred notices his skittishness and says with a bit of a smirk, “See you on the other side, mate.”
— -
It’s been four and a half days since George stupidly decided to get involved in Fred’s antics, and the boys have absolutely no problem reminding him that less than seventy-two hours remain for him to finally “make a bloody move already.” This isn’t helping George’s nerves—nor are the winks you’re sending him from across classrooms, as your entire friend group is creating mischief right under your nose.
“Hey, wait up!” Your voice bounces off of the walls in the corridors as you frantically hurry through the sea of students to catch up with George, who’s heading to Potions with Fred, rather reluctantly, of course. Fred begins trying to poke George in the ribs, winks, and vanishes before you can even notice he’s there, leaving you and George alone near the entrance to the dungeons.
“Hey you,” he says and immediately regrets how cheesy it sounds in his own ears. Quick to hide the fact that he’s very embarrassed, he continues, “what’s going on?”
“What’s going on with all of you?” you ask curiously. “Fred keeps telling me that we’re all in for a rather exciting weekend, but as far as I’m concerned, I have absolutely nothing planned except to sit outside and read. Yes, a very wild few days, I know—” you say when George stifles a bit of laughter, “—so, you want to tell me what you have planned? Some sort of major prank, or something?”
You’re essentially giving him an opening and George isn’t sure why he’s not just asking you out right now. It’s the perfect opportunity! Not yet, he thinks. There’s still around seventy-something hours, or so. Instead, he opts to go for something different. “Oh, erm, there’s some—Gryffindor bloke who’s been mad for this girl for years and hasn’t told her yet, so we’ve all placed bets on when he’ll finally do something about it—next few days, apparently..”
“Really?” you ask, intrigued. You wiggle your eyebrows at him and clutch your books tighter in your arms. “Who is it?”
“Can’t tell you that, Y/N,” George replies with a smirk, “That’d be breaking the rules, wouldn’t it?”
You roll your eyes. “Oh, fine, I’m not even going to try and argue. How much time has he got left?”
George swallows thickly, thinking of the ticking clock, and says, “Til Sunday evening.” The words sound foreign in his mouth. He can feel his face flush and much to his dismay, you certainly seem to notice.
“Two and a half days, huh?” you ask, clicking your tongue. You inch forward to him and continue in a lower voice, “that’s not a lot of time, is it?”
George swallows again. He has a love, hate relationship with the effect you have on him. “No, certainly isn’t.”
“Think he’ll do it in time?”
“Well, he’s got too, hasn’t he?”
You send a mischievous grin his way, and he’s surprised he isn’t falling to the ground right now. He’s being supported by none other than caffeine and his own nerves. His heart is nearly pounding out of his chest when you look up at him with those sparkling eyes. He can tell now, by the look you’re giving him, that you’ve easily unraveled this. You know. You’ve got too. You’ve completely read him like a book and at this point you’re just teasing him mercilessly. He bites back a smile. “Certainly hope he does—can’t keep the poor girl waiting, can he?” you say now, taking one step closer to him, now just inches from one another. You place your hand on his arm, squeeze tightly, and shoot a teasing, cheeky grin in his direction. Then, you pull back, shrug your shoulders, take a deep breath, and leave George breathless before continuing down the corridor, “Anyway—see you later? Stay out of trouble, Weasley.”
You wink before vanishing completely. When you’re completely out of sight, George actually tightens the grip on his bag and falls back into the wall and to the ground in some sort of emotional, flustered chaos. He’s grinning from ear to ear and is feeling incredibly elated but also beyond frustrated at himself. He should be kissing you by now, but instead, he’s biting his lip in pain due to a sharp blow to his shin.
“You’re an idiot,” Fred says now, and George realizes he’s been hiding around a corner this entire time. “Like putty in her hands, you are. Pathetic. She just gave you an in, mate! And you didn’t even take it!” Ron and Harry are on the other end of the corridor, laughing at this exchange they’ve just witnessed, when they make their way over to the doubled-over George.
“Relax,” George tells them once he regains his balance. “I’ve got to lay the foundation, haven’t I? ‘M taking my time. Still have two and a half days, like she said.” Foundation. You two have known each other for years already.
Fred slings both arms around Ron and Harry and glances cheekily at his twin brother, shaking his head in utter disappointment. “Maybe so, Georgie. But I reckon you’re still an idiot.”
— -
George slumps into the Great Hall rather begrudgingly, not at all looking forward to this feast. At the Gryffindor table are Fred, Ron, Harry, Ginny, Hermione, Lee, Neville and many others who look up and begin to clap sarcastically at the sight of him. George narrows his eyes at them and sits down on one of the benches and places his head directly onto the table.
“Why so glum, Georgie?” Ginny and Hermione ask teasingly.
As predicted by the others, George unfortunately had let time run out. Many opportunities had been handed to him, of course, but had he seized any? No. He absolutely hadn’t. Fred sticks out a hand and nods to the others to follow suit. “Cough it up, mate. One sickle each.”
“Oi, let the poor bloke wallow a bit first,” Ron jokes. George is already feeling poorly. He’d been so stressed about this stupid bet that he forgot to hand in his Herbology assignment, he had an absolutely rubbish Quidditch practice yesterday, and, on top of it all, the gloomy, rainy weather outside is not helping to lift his spirits at all. He groans. In a voice muffled by his face leaning directly on the table, he says to nobody in particular, “I’m an idiot. I’m an idiot who’s in love and I reckon I will be forever.” The others do their best to try and stifle some mock laughter, but George can’t help to let a small, pathetic laugh escape his lips, too.
“It’s alright, then,” Neville says in a low voice, “you don’t have to pay me. I know first hand just how scary it can be..” he glances in the direction of a shy looking Hufflepuff.
But then, when George looks up and rubs his eyes due to exhaustion, he notices a couple entering the entrance of the Great Hall. A Ravenclaw boy is draping his own robes over a tiny Slytherin girl who, by the looks of it, unfortunately has just been caught in that rainstorm outside. Together they huddle closer to one another, laughing at the sight of her drenched clothes and hair. George stands up, quickly throws a bunch of sickles onto the table in front of his friends and says to nobody in particular, “Reckon I can still win in the end!” He’s just got to get over himself.
“No,” Fred laughs through a mouthful of potatoes, looking down at the sickles on the table, “it’s quite obvious that you’ve definitely lost this one, mate.”
But George ignores this, and instead runs through the crowd of students and out of the Great Hall and straight out into the rain. The wind is rather blustery, he comes to realize. Two seconds outside and his clothes are already soaked through, but he’s not regretting his decision—not when he sees you splashing in a puddle a few feet away. He smiles genuinely at the sight of you.
“Hey!” you yell over the howling wind. Your voice continues to soften as he gets closer to you, “You told me you don’t like the rain! If you’ve been lying to me this entire time, then, I suppose you owe me a Butterbeer in Hogsmeade.”
You’re quite a sight to behold. Your white button down shirt is soaked through, tie askew, cardigan wet and dripping and shoes covered in mud. Your soaked hair is plastered to the sides of your face, and your cheeks are the natural rosy color they always are, but it seems to make your eyes sparkle even more so than usual. You’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. You bite down on your lip as George walks over to you, his uniform completely drenched from the rain, and he brushes your hair out of your face and presses his lips to yours.
And first kisses are meant to be chaste, soft, innocent—but nothing George Weasley does is ever innocent. He smiles against you, biting on your bottom lip just a bit before melting into you again, his hands wrapped tightly around the back of your neck, his fingers getting entangled in your wet hair. It’s eager and hungry and desperate. He can feel your hands slip underneath his shirt, spread out over his ribs and abdomen and hip bones, and soft, small moans escape his lips in the surprise of the moment.
When the two of you finally pull apart, he peers closely at the droplets of water on your eyelashes, falling down your cheekbones every single time you blink, “It’s a date.”
You peer down at your watch, noting the time and peering inside the entrance to the castle in the direction of the Great Hall. With a sensual smirk, you ask him, “So—that bloke lose the bet then?”
“Yeah, he did,” George tells you now. The wind is picking up, the rain coming down sideways now. He swallows over a lump in his throat but lets out a small laugh, “but a few lost sickles isn’t a big deal—not compared to what he won, at least.”
You sling your arms around his neck and run your hands through his wet hair, teasing him slightly, “Well at least he finally did something about it.”
“Sorry it took me so long, darling.”
“No apologies needed,” you reply, leaving light kisses against his lips, “but you owe me, now.”
“Yeah, the Butterbeer in Hogsmeade.” he agrees, tightening his grip around your waist, eager to get his lips back on yours, “haven’t we established this?”
You throw your head back and let hearty laughter escape your lips. “You’re adorable. No, my love, you owe me for lost time. Best find a way to sneak up to the girls dormitory tonight—and don’t get caught.”
He laughs fully now, poking you in the ribs as nervousness and adrenaline course through his veins. He’s counting down the seconds until he can, undoubtedly, fly in through your open window tonight. You pull on his shirt to get him back into the castle; there’s no part of your bodies or clothing that are dry now. But he grabs your hands and pulls you back toward him, still standing directly in line of the rain and the wind, and he continues to move fat strands of wet hair out of your face. “What’re you doing, Georgie? Thought you didn’t like the rain?”
He wraps his hands around the back of your neck again and pulls you closer. Against your lips, he says through a cheeky grin, “I reckon I can get used to it now.”
reblogs & feedback are always greatly appreciated!
prompt: 4. “What did you hear?” by @creativepromptsforwriting
word count: 700
summary: george overhears your very private conversation with hermione about your crush - who happens to be him.
source of gif
“You like him!” Hermione accuses, her face beaming at the revelation. You look around at your surroundings - 12 Grimmauld Place could hardly be called spacious - in order to ensure a sufficient amount of privacy. It always seems there’s a presence lurking around somewhere, somehow: most of the time it’s Fred or George, sometimes both. And the conversation you’re about to have with the witch is definitely one you don’t want to be overheard.
Of course no full level of privacy can ever be guaranteed in the ever-busy house packed with witches and wizards, but you’ll take what you can get. And Hermione’s stubborn and insistent face tells you that this conversation is happening now - whether you like it or not.
You cross your arms over your chest, narrowing your eyes at her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But of course you do know what she’s talking about; a vial of Veritaserum doesn’t have to tell you that.
all the love to the authors of all these masterpieces: @shadowbriar @mgcldydrms @gimme-gimme-georgie-weasley @weelittleweasley @ickle-ronniekins @maricoolerthanme @thoseofgreatambition @grangersnotes @iheartmysun @wzrd-wheezes @elfenbensord @lcisabc23 @storycomesalive @georgeweasleyslostearhq @shadowsinger11 @mayraki @wickedw3asleys @hpimaginesandblurbs @acciojaeyun
George sat on the living room couch, the smile on his face persistent as he watched you lay on the floor, Ginny resting in your lap laughing, as you argued with Ron about Godric knows what about now. You rolled your eyes as Ron passionately exclaimed something about how body blowing should be considered a foul in quidditch.
“I’m not intentionally hurting anyone if I body blow someone, Ronald. I’m simply ensuring that they drop the Quaffle in a manner that’s not directly me hitting it out of their hands,” you explain as Ginny just cackles harder in your lap, making you chuckle at her hysterics and Ron’s frustration with the both of you.
Ron throws his hands up in exasperation before exclaiming, “But you do end up hurting someone, (Y/N)! For Merlin’s sake, it’s called body blowing! Meaning that you literally knock the wind out of someone from sandwiching them!” His frustration only makes you and Ginny laugh harder, clutching your sides as he groans out. “Whatever, you two are impossible.”
George watches your amusement and his heart beats faster and his eyes glow with adoration. You nose scrunches up as you laugh, grabbing Ginny’s arms as the two of you come down from your fits fo laughter. You wipe tears from your eyes as you catch your breath, George lightly chuckling to himself before rising from the couch to enter the kitchen to pour himself a cup of tea.
In the kitchen, Fred sits on the counter, sipping on a mug of his own tea as he watches George stride into the kitchen, whistling a happy tune to himself. Fred shakes his head and chuckles to himself, knowing the reason for his twin’s especially happy mood. “Enjoying yourself, Georgie?” he wiggles his brows as he takes a cautious sip from his hot tea. Georgie looks at his brother who has a teasing smirk on his lips, making George roll his eyes. “Don’t lie to me, brother. I know there’s a reason for the goofy grin.”
summary: the first night that you slept at the burrow, you accidentally wear george’s sweater the next morning. but here’s the thing, your relationship is a secret.
masterlist
Some people say the way you start your morning is the way your day will go. Well, let’s hope that that isn’t the truth because this wasn’t the morning you hoped you’d had when the Weasley family invited you to stay over for the night.
Specially when you had to keep your relationship with one of them a secret.
You knew the family since your first year at Hogwarts. So many trips, dinners, sleepovers shared with the family you couldn’t even count them with your two hands after that. You saw them as another part of your family with only one difference, red hair on their heads. Like the Weasleys, your family was as big as the house itself. You were the middle child, having two older brothers, one little brother, and a little sister. So, when you needed to talk about how everything was too much sometimes, you had someone to talk to; George Weasley.
Since the moment you met him at the Hogwarts Express on your first year at Hogwarts, you two clicked instantly. Well, let’s just say that when he accidentally exploded your just bought drink, there was nothing much to it. He expected for you to get angry at him, but for his surprise, laugh started coming out of your mouth and without even hesitating, took revenge on that instant by grabbing another drink from the trolley and pouring it on him. Obviously, you two got detention for almost two weeks. That was not a great start of your first year at Hogwarts, but something good came out of it. A new friendship.
But that wasn’t all, with that relationship came another one, just like a package. Fred Weasley, George’s twin. They were always together so automatically you three became inseparable and unstoppable. But, even if you loved the two Weasley twins equally, you always knew since that moment at the Hogwarts Express, your relationship with George was different. He was the best friend you could ever asked for, he was there when you most needed it, when you two were together it was like the world suddenly got better and laugh like it was the last day you two would live.
Obviously, with that, came people that thought you two were dating. But your relationship with George wasn’t like that at all, you even helped each other get dates and celebrate when the other one took a chance and talked to their crush. You finished your last year at Hogwarts with your best friends next to you the happiest you could ever be. It was all perfect. Until, something inside of you changed.
The second that Fred asked you to go on a double date, with George as your date, you immediately said yes. The girl that Fred suddenly got interest in was a coworker of yours, so when the idea that the four went out came into Fred’s head, it was all settle. You didn’t think much to it, since it was just helping a friend out. That was it.
Well, it wasn’t.
The moment that Fred gave you and George the look, you two nodded saying that you needed to go the toilet, and George, kindly offering to go accompany you, leaving Fred alone with the girl he was so strangely interested in. The idea was that after ‘going to the restroom’, you two got lost, giving more time alone for Fred to make his move. But those minutes that you had planned to be ‘lost’ turned into the rest of the night. You couldn’t even count with one hand the amount of times your heart started to beat faster when he got closer to you, or when he noticed you were feeling kinda cold, so he landed his sweater to you. You didn’t know what it was, maybe the dark sky full of stars, the couple of drinks you had minutes ago, but you started to see George differently after that night. You wanted to spend more time with him, but not like those days at Hogwarts, were you helped him and Fred planned their next prank, it was different. You wanted to be more close. Maybe physical or emotionally, you didn’t know.
You spent the entire week confused at your own feeling and thoughts, it was consuming your brain so much that you decided to talk about it with him. Of course, you were terrified. Terrified that he didn’t feel the same way and it was going to ruin the friendship. But the moment that you couldn’t even focus on your work, you took that as a hint that it needed to be talked about.
So, when the weekend came, your heart started to beat faster because you already knew it was the day you were going to... confess your feelings towards him.
Was it the word ‘confess’ your feelings, when you don’t even know what you’re feeling?
The moment you saw him, standing there with that big cheeky smile that you loved so much, your heart started beating so fast that you got the feeling it was going to jump out of your chest. It had to be done, you knew that. You couldn’t stop. You needed to know what he felt, and you wanted him to know how you felt, even if you didn’t even know it yourself.
“What is that pretty head of yours thinking right now?” You heard George asking behind you the moment you put your tea cup on the table, making you snap out of your thoughts.
You turned around giving him a little smile. “Thinking about the time I told you I liked you.”
George let out a smile and gave you a kiss on the forehead, before sitting down next to you. “Can you believe it’s going to be already three months?”
“Honestly, no. I didn’t even know you were going to say you liked me back, so thinking about how much time has passed, I can’t believe non of it.”
Without thinking about it, George grabbed your cheek with the intention to pull you closer and unite his lips with yours, but you grabbed his hand and stopped him from doing it.
“We can’t here, anyone can come in at any second.”
“Dad’s working, mum and Ginny are in the back, Fred is at the shop, and who knows where Ron is with his friends. It’s alright.” He said with a smile and you gave in, since you loved when he got so needy.
You spent the rest of the afternoon talking to George about some new ideas he had for the shop and you got so happy seeing him so excited and passionate about it. You couldn’t take your eyes away from him while he was talking, you felt how your heart was slowly melting and your ears loving that sweet sound of his voice. You were so into the moment, that without thinking about it, you took your hand and left it on his shoulder to caress it with your thumb. He didn’t even notice, since apparently this particularly idea he was talking about was the best he had in weeks.
“Sweetie! Don’t forget to make sure there’s no gnomes left. We don’t want those nasty creatures stealing the food again.” You heard Molly talking fast while entering the house backwards, facing you and George with her back. You immediately took your hand off George’s shoulder once Molly turned around and gave you one of her famous warm smiles. “Darling! I didn’t know you were here.” She said.
“I arrived when you started doing the housework in the backyard.” You said getting up, and once Molly left the heavy box she was carrying, welcomed you with a tight hug, like she always did.
“It’s so good to see you darling.” She said after breaking the hug. “Oh! Do you want to stay for dinner?”
“I don’t know, it’s getting pretty late. Probably should get home before it gets too dark.”
“Then you should stay the night!” A familiar voice talked on the front door. Ginny Weasley walked closer to you to wrap your body in a tight hug. “I love when you stay the night! I miss our sleepovers, Y/n!”
You let out a laugh. “I missed them too.”
“That’s settle, then.” Molly said while Ginny was clapping in excitement. “I’m already ready to feed another mouth.” Molly did a little tap with her hand on your cheek and walked away, leaving you with the two siblings alone in the kitchen.
You turned to lock eyes with George to see that he was already smiling at you, and when Ginny turned around to take off her jacket, he winked at you making you melt on the inside.
“C’mon, I have something to show you.” Ginny grabbed your hand and quickly walked you upstairs, after you shrugged your shoulder at George and he just let out a tiny laugh.
“I’m never going to get tired of eating Molly’s food.” You said as you and Ginny were walking upstairs with George behind you.
“Then you have to come more often, too bad.” Ginny said sarcastically and you let out a tiny laugh. “Alright, see you tomorrow George.” She said but then when she turned around noticing that you weren’t moving towards her room and were staring at George, she quickly asked: “what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” You shook your head turning to face her. “I just need to go to the toilet.”
Ginny nodded still a little bit confused of your sudden strange action, but still, turned around and you lost her as deeper as she got into the house.
“I may be wrong,” George said once you turned to look at him “that when we tell everyone about us, Ginny is the one that’s going to be the most happy.”
You let out a tiny laugh and nodded. “Maybe.”
“She does love you, a lot.” George grabbed your waist to pull your closer and caress your cheek with his thumb. “I don’t blame her.” He said almost in a whisper while staring at your lips.
“Hold yourself, anyone can see us here.”
“You’re no fun, what happened to the troublemaker I met at Hogwarts?”
“She’s still here,” you got closer to his lips “but this Y/n likes to tease you, a lot.” The second he tried to unite his lips with yours, you pulled back leaving the poor George and his needs all by himself.
“You’re awful.” George said jokingly as you were walking backwards and waving at him. “I’ll be waiting for you.” He said, as you winked at him and turned around, finally heading towards Ginny’s room.
“That was fast.” Ginny said the moment she saw you crossing the door.
“What?”
“Didn’t you had to go to the bathroom?”
“Right!” You said normally, but on the inside you were slapping yourself on the forehead with the palm of your hand for being so stupid. “I forgot.”
“You forgot to go to the bathroom?”
“Yeah.”
Ginny furrowed her eyebrows confused. “Strange.”
“Not really.” You shook your head and quickly looked for something to change the subject. “So, what to do you want to do?” You hoped that Ginny didn’t ask more questions, and that seemed to work, since she did a single clap excited and started naming all of the things she wanted to do on that sleepover.
You spent the last hour and a half talking non stop with Ginny while playing some games you two would love playing as kids. It was like you two were teenagers all over again. It didn’t matter that you were a couple of years older than her, she was just another little sister you adore so much. One more is just nothing to you at this point.
As much as you enjoyed talking and hanging with Ginny, you couldn’t wait for the moment she would go to bed and fall asleep. And for your luck, that time came. You started to hear little snores that were coming out of her nose and you smiled to yourself on your bed. Without making any noise and slowly as you ever moved, you walked towards the door and once you were outside, made sure no one was around. And with quiet steps, walked to George’s room.
As you moved the door, your eyes saw him laying on his bed next to an empty one, Fred’s bed. He had his eyes closed while his arm was behind his head, making him look as beautiful and peaceful he has ever been. You bit your lower lip trying to not wake him up as you were walking with your slow steps, but the second you were next to the bed, with his other arm he quickly grabbed your waist and pulled you to the bed, making fall on top of him. “You took your sweet time, gorgeous.”
“I like spending time with your sister, if you would like to know. We were just talking and time flew fast.” You said as you were getting comfortable on the bed, letting your head rest on his chest and your hand caressing his stomach.
“About what?” He asked almost in a whisper.
“Life. Our memories at Hogwarts.” You said and George let out a tiny laugh.
“Hope all good.”
“Yeah. I mean, I had you and Fred as best friends, what could possible go wrong?” You asked sarcastically since almost everything, like you remembered, went wrong ending up in detention.
“We had a great time.” He said and you nodded against his chest. “But it did go fast. Look at us now.”
“Yeah.” You said so softly while remembering all those old memories that your word were almost covered by the wind blowing outside. You felt your feet getting a little bit cold so you pressed them against George’s legs and immediately felt his heat going towards you, but it wasn’t enough.
“Do you think it’s time?” George asked out of the blue and you lifted your head to give him a quick look with your eyebrows furrowed, but then went back to his chest.
“Time for what?”
“To tell everyone.”
You let out a sigh and closed your eyes while thinking your next words. You remembered the moment that you two decided to finally be a thing and to also, keep it a secret. At the moment, it seemed the right thing to do. His family and you were extremely close, so close that they were your second family. The idea of dating never crossed your mind as you were growing up, until it happened. You had denied liking George romantically multiple times, so when it finally happened it was even weirder for you. And it’s not like you expect it to be weird for the Weasley family, the opposite. The amount of times Molly said jokingly that you would make a perfect couple for one of the twins you couldn’t even count them with one hand. So, it wasn’t news that you dating one of them wasn’t going to pass as some news that they talk for a week and then carry on like it’s normal. Because it wouldn’t. You didn’t want to get anyone hopes up of you two working and living the happily ever after, like Molly and Arthur wanted for the children, and then the relationship not working and ruining what you had with the entire family.
You and George not working out was not even in your list of things that could happen, but in reality, it could. So, you two decided to wait and see how the thing was going to turn out. And it did, better than you ever imagined it could.
“I mean,” George added since he noticed your silent. “we decided to tell them once we were ready and we started to noticed our relationship was working... do you think it’s working?”
“Yeah.” You said softly after looking at him with your elbows against the bed. He let out a tiny smile and you couldn’t help but unite his lips with yours. You immediately felt his cold lips but you didn’t mind, somehow it did bring warmth to your body.
“You’re freezing.” George said once he touched your arm and he felt the coldness of it.
“I didn’t plan to stay the night, so I didn’t bring any warmer clothes.” You said shrugging your shoulders with the intention to go back to your prior position but George gently pulled you back and got out of bed and went to the tiny closet he had between the two bed.
After a couple of seconds looking for something, he finally did and let out a tiny smile. “Here.” He said once he handed a tiny sweater that had the letter “G” on it. “Mum made it my second year of Hogwarts, I think it’s going to go well.”
“Perfect.” You said once you put it on and you felt how the warmth or if immediately hit your body.
“You look adorable.” He said getting closer to you and leaving a kiss on your forehead.
“Bless your mum.” You said caressing your arms while you waited for George to get back on the bed so you could rest your head against his chest once again.
Moments had passed in silence while he was caressing your head and you were slowly feeling how your eyes were getting heavy and your body giving up to the bed and comfort you were feeling. But when your head remembered you were on his room, your eyes quickly went open.
“I should probably go, we don’t want anyone coming in and seeing me here.”
George didn’t respond immediately, so you looked at him and let out a tiny smile when you saw him so peacefully. You got closer to his face to give a kiss on his lips, but before you could do it, he said “5 more minutes?” You let out a tiny smile and melted on the inside.
“5 more minutes.”
“I’m disappointed you guys didn’t invite me to the party.” That was the first thing you heard before you opened your eyes with a familiar voice. It took you and your just woken up brain to realise what was in front of you.
You looked at the red haired boy that you had in front of with a cheeky smile on his face. You were about to smile but then you noticed it was the wrong twin.
“Fred!” You said in a loud whisper getting up from the bed, making George quickly wake up and stare with sleepy eyes at his brother.
“Did you two had fun last night?” Fred asked grinning at you and then his twin.
“What?” You asked and then closed your eyes with strength. “Oh fuck.”
“Oh fuck indeed.” He added. “So, when did it all start?”
You turned to George who was staring at you with a smile. He just shrugged his shoulders and you nodded, biting your lip and locking eyes with Fred, who was patiently waiting for the two of us to talk. “Do you have time?” You asked before deciding to tell every single detail.
After telling everything to Fred, he just shrugged his shoulders and added, before leaving the room; “I’m not surprised. Still sad you didn’t invite me to the party.”
George threw a pillow at him and you bit your lower lip trying to hide the smile that wanted to come out.
“Breakfast!” You heard Molly yell once you stepped on the staircase towards the kitchen.
“Mum! Smells great.” George said.
“Like always.” Fred added, giving Molly a kiss on the forehead.
“Y/n, darling,” Molly looked at you while walking towards you with her arms wide open to give you a tight hug. “did you sleep well?”
“Perfectly.” You said with a smile and gave George a quick look.
“Did Ginny let you sleep? She gets a little bit chatty sometimes.”
“No I don’t!” Ginny appeared at the end of the staircase and you let out a tiny laugh. She walked closer to you and wrapped her arms around your shoulder. “Where did you go last night?” She asked and you quickly turned to see if Molly was gone, and for you luck she was and didn’t hear Ginny’s question.
“What?” You asked pretending to not have heard her but before she could repeat herself, Molly spoke before her.
“Was it cold in Ginny’s room yesterday?” She asked and you quickly turned to her.
“What?” You and George asked at the same time. Both Ginny and Molly turned to George confused but then carried on.
“Was it?” Molly asked again. “Because I’ve noticed you burrowed one of her sweaters.”
You felt how your heart dropped to your stomach once you looked down and noticed you were still wearing Goerge’s sweater that he let you use last night. Your brain was looking for excuses to say, but nothing was coming to you.
“That’s not mine.” Ginny said.
“What?” Molly asked confused. “But it has the ‘G’ in it.”
“I don’t remember this sweater being mine.”
You turned to George when your brain couldn’t think of the next thing to say. You two kept staring at each other and even though no words were coming of each other’s mouth, you two knew exactly what the other was thinking.
“Oh, now I remember!” Ginny said, before any words could come out of your mouth or George’s. You turned to her and you noticed something clicked on her brain, since she saw you and George staring at each other. “Yes, it’s mine. I forgot I had it.” She said and then a big smile appeared on her face.
“Oh, good. Now, everyone come sit down, eat your breakfast.” Molly said, thankfully, forgetting about the whole thing immediately.
You turned to George who had a little smile on his face, and when no one was looking, he winked at you which lead you to melt on the inside and your heart to skip a beat. But before you could do anything about it, you felt Ginny grabbing your arm and pulling you aside where no one could hear her.
“So that’s where you were last night?” She asked in a loud whisper and you furrowed your eyebrows confused.
“What?” You asked, hoping that she would soon forget and drop it, but knowing Ginny she wasn’t going to do it. And you knew her very well.
“C’mon, the ‘G’? That’s George’s sweater!” She said more loudly and then looked back hoping no one heard her.
“You’re too smart for your own good, you know that?”
Ginny let out an excited smile and then added, more calmly: “Mrs. Y/n. Weasley. I like that.” She nodded and then without giving you any time to answer, turned around to join her brothers at the table.
You stayed there for a couple of seconds smiling, pretending to not be so in love with that too.
Space Girl, show me the stars
You know the galaxies of my heart
George Weasley was not excited for his first astronomy lesson of the year. He’d agreed to do the class simply because he needed to fill his timetable and it seemed more enjoyable than history of magic.
That’s what he had told Fred at least.
In reality he had opted for astronomy for one specific reason. Y/N Y/L/N. She was a shy Hufflepuff girl and although he had never spoken to her George was absolutely enamoured with her.
So, as he dreaded the lecture ahead he tried to remember that this cloud had a silver lining, and it was a silver lining that was absolutely worth it. This was all confirmed when he walked into the astronomy classroom and saw her.
She was sat at a desk at the back of the room. Her hair twirling round her finger as she studied the open text book in front of her, seemingly unaware of the chaos around her. George noted happily, that none of her friends seemed to be in the class and rather than asking to sit with Angelina and Katie like he had been planning he figured what the hell and went for it.
“Hey, is it alright if I sit here?” He questions, willing his cheeks to not flush red when he looks up at him
“Oh, of course you can George,” she nods, moving her stuff to the left to make room for him. He feels his heart leap at her knowing that it was him and not Fred.
“How did you know?” He questions, head cocking to the side to look at her better. He smiles slightly at the bright red flush on her cheeks.
“You aren’t that hard to tell apart,” she shrugs
“Our own mother can’t always do it,” he pesters, he’s genuinely intrigued how she seemed to know so easily.
“Uh, okay then. You’re slightly taller so when you are together I could always work out who was who. From there I just kind of noticed little things, you have two freckles on your neck, Fred has a scar above his eyebrow. Your face is slightly longer, your nose is a little longer and has that cute little bump in it, your hair falls completely differently and your lip has a little curl in it. But the easiest way is that you have a different vibe about you,” She rambles like it’s the most obvious thing in the world and George himself wouldn’t haven’t been able to explain the physical differences so well.
He’s pretty sure his heart melted on the spot.
“You should tell my mum all of this,” he smiles gently, not knowing how to respond and explain that he’s never felt more seen in his life.
“Sorry, I’m not a creep or anything I swear. Just observant,”
“It was quite sweet actually,” George smiles, biting back a chuckle when her face blushes a bright red. “So, you any good at Astronomy?” He questions politely
“I’m okay. It’s probably my best class. I’ve always known about it so,” she shrugs, cutting herself off. She knew that George was a pure blood and probably wouldn’t want anything to do with her if he knew she was a muggle born.
“You’re a muggle born right?” He questions, she’s surprised his tone doesn’t sound angry or accusatory like was often the way with pure bloods, instead genuinely interested.
“Yeah,” she confirms “my older sister is obsessed with astrology so I knew a lot about it before I got here. It’s probably the only subject I didn’t fail first term,” she admits, George smiles softly. He can only imagine how hard it would be to come to the school with no magical knowledge.
“Look at you now, you’re top of the year in almost everything,” he points out
“Yeah, Ced helped me find my feet and after I settled in it all made sense,” she explains. George knew that her and Cedric were best friends, he was a lot more outgoing and George had never quite understood how their friendship worked but it was no secret wherever one was the other wasn’t far behind.
Girl, are you a cancer?
‘Cause you make me cry
When we kiss or dance in the sky
We’re dancing in the sky
“Hey space girl,” George grinned brightly as he dropped into his seat
“If you’ve forgotten my name you can just ask you know,” she blushes a little, not thinking that the boy she had fancied since second year could actually have given her a cute pet name.
No. The only logical explanation is that he had forgotten her name but after being sat next to her for two weeks now was much too polite to ask for it.
She had told Cedric this and he had laughed loudly, ruffling her hair and telling her that she would do well to remember how beautiful she was.
“I know you’re name. Y/N Y/L/N. You’re a Hufflepuff, obviously,” he gestures to her tie before carrying on “Your best friend is Cedric Diggory and you two are always together. You tutor my little sister in potions. You help Professor sprout with the plants in the green house on a Sunday morning. You like to study in the library, specifically the second table from the back left corner. You never eat carrots but you love peas and you always buy two chocolate frogs at Honeydukes one for the walk back and one for a treat that night. I’m not a creep. I’m just observant,” He finishes his ramble with a reference to when she had proved just how well she knew him a few weeks prior.
She sits, slightly astounded as he looks at her like his ability to list off so much information about her that she had never specifically told him shouldn’t be a shock.
Her heart melts on the spot and she’s pretty sure her crush just became real feelings.
“Why?” She questions quietly, not really meaning for him to hear
“You’re beautiful and I like looking at you,” he shrugs, turning to the text book in front of him. He notices her eyes still staring at him and turns to look at her “hey, you wouldn’t want to study together one night this week would you?” He questions, smiling at the blush that overtakes her cheeks
“Yeah. I’d love that,”
“Amazing, does Wednesday work for you? I could meet you at the library after classes end,”
“Sure,” she nods shyly, biting her lip to stop a smile and having no clue the very action makes George want to kiss her senseless.
“I know the table,” he grins, chuckling when she blushes bright red before turning back to his book.
Summary: George asks you to help him study for potions, but you suspect that he doesn't really need it. (Gender neutral reader).
Word count: 1.3k
A/N: Some fluff with my favourite Weasley twin. I wrote the reader hinting that they are not in gryffindor, but it's not specified anywhere. Let me know if there are any spelling errors, English is not my first language.
It took you 15 minutes into the first study session to realize that George Weasley didn’t need help with potions in the slightest.
However, you said nothing.
‘Why is he doing this?’ and other million doubts roamed your mind. There was no way he actually needed tutoring, why on earth would he waste his free time asking stupid questions?
No, they weren’t stupid, not at all. That’s what gave him away. Someone who didn’t get the subject would ask simpler questions, or wouldn’t have enough information to even ask! He’d sit there and claim not to understand, then utter the most brilliant question ever. The kind that gets resolved with one simple answer, or that can only be formulated when one actually comprehends.
Even after this sharp demonstration of knowledge, George would look directly into your eyes and lie!
“I don’t think I got it, think you could explain that again?” All with a bashful expression and a sheepish grin.
If anyone asked, you would completely deny it, but he got you giggling almost the whole time you were together. He’d put on an exaggerated grimace every time you would go over any formula, and made a fantastic imitation of Snape that got both of you scolded by Madame Pince for laughing too loud, and disturbing the peace of the library.
There were also your blushing cheeks, which you hoped he didn’t notice, whenever he’d get too close to you. You were so transparently awkward, but you couldn’t help it! Not with those eyes looking attentively, with him seemingly hanging to your every word, and it didn’t help the fact that he spoke so softly, so smoothly.
“Why! Why is he doing this? It doesn’t make any sense! Do you think he’s planning to prank me or something?” Your friends were getting tired of hearing you complain, because nothing they said would get through that stubborn mind of yours.
“What if he just likes you?” They’d offer, and you would scoff.
“I surely hope not!” Lies, big, tremendous lies. “Maybe I am overthinking this, maybe he does need help with potions, right?”
Then, your friends would just roll their eyes and let you be. It had been almost a week since your study session and you just wouldn’t shut up. Mostly because it was almost time for your second library meeting.
When you caught yourself in the mirror, completely engrossed in styling your hair perfectly, you almost gasped. Could it be possible that, just maybe, you had a tiny, minuscule crush on George Weasley?
While still making sure your hair and outfit looked good, you groaned, suddenly remembering that this was not the first time you fancied him.
Back in first year, getting used to Hogwarts was a terrible challenge for every new kid, but especially for muggleborns like you. The moving stairs were particularly tough. Thankfully, you crossed paths with another kid who was happy to help you. While his twin laughed cheerfully, George was quick to come for your aid and stop you from missing our hallway by the constant moving staircase. You had transfiguration together the whole year, and that’s how long it took you to learn to differentiate the twins physically.
If they were talking with you, you could definitely tell them apart, because Fred didn’t beam at you like George did. Still, you had many classes together until you discovered the little mole on his neck, and the slightly crooked nose on his brother that distinguished them.
That’s when your little crush began to flourish. Suddenly the twins were incredibly different from each other, and no other boy compared to George, not even his own identical brother. But you were eleven at the time, by the beginning of second year you didn’t see each other as much anymore. Inevitably, your tiny infatuation became nothing more than that and stayed in the past. Or so you thought.
You looked at your blushing face one more time in the mirror before you left your room, and directed yourself to the library. Walking purposely slow, little hopeful thoughts formed in your head. And you giggled at the thought that maybe he did fancy you. But you stopped in your tracks, then shook your head, telling yourself that you were getting way too unrealistic for your own good.
There still was a certain awkwardness in the way you spoke and explained things to him, but you were a little more comfortable than the last time. He grinned whenever you chuckled, and you’d joke more freely, which seemed to distract him a little.
While preparing to leave the library, having studied much less than the first session, he observed you quietly for a moment. When you raised your eyebrows at him, George finally spoke.
“Do you remember first year? We used to be together all the time.” He grinned, his cheeks taking a little pink colour which you didn’t notice because of the rising heat of your own face.
Before you could answer him, he spoke again.
“You were incredibly bright even back then, and I was…” Chuckling a little, you interrupted him.
“And you were top of the class on charms, remember? Before you enchanted all of Flitwick’s books to fly out of the window.” While trying to muffle your giggles behind your hands, George complained.
“In my defence, that was Fred’s idea!” But he couldn’t contain his laughter either, and he had the biggest grin on his face. “I had the biggest crush on you too.”
Everything went quiet after his words, and you looked at him with your eyes wide open. After an awkward minute of silence, you mumbled.
“Shit, me too.” And you both broke into a fit of giggles again, earning a loud “Shh!” from Madame Pince. Continuing your conversation in hushed tones, he muttered:
“Wait, no way. And you never said anything!”
“It’s not like you said something either, Weasley!”
“I was just a stupid little kid, what did you expect?”
“George, we are the same age!”
“Yeah, yeah. But you are the clever one here, darling.”
Without even stopping to think about what you were going to say, you opened your mouth and pointed at him accusatorily.
“You don’t even need tutoring in potions! You could teach me, in fact!”
Your hand flew to cover your mouth as soon as you were done talking, your cheeks starting to burn, and your gaze averting George’s eyes trying not to expose yourself any more than you had already.
After a prolonged uncomfortable silence, you spoke.
“Or that’s what it seemed… I never actually got to see you in a potions class, but you learn really fast, and also you make the brightest questions. Not to say that it’s bad to ask for help with studying, that’s not what I mean, of course! But since you are so good with inventing products and also, you have to know a lot of potions for the pranks you pull, too… It’s just…” Without any breath left from your quick rambling, you looked up to him for the first time in a while, to see him with a genuine bashful expression.
Slowly, a charming little smile appeared on his face, and he looked deep into your eyes. He caught you. It was clear in your gaze, in your voice, in the way you twitched your hands nervously. It was now or never, he thought.
“I heard you were helping a girl with potions, and I thought what better excuse to spend some time with my sweet crush, don’t you think?”
It took you a moment to process what he had said, then you let out a little humming sound, like in a trance. Shifting your eyes from the table, to the mole on his neck.
“I also wanted to check if you were as good with potions as everybody said, or if you were just bluffing.”
Finally reacting, you feigned offense and hit his arm.
“Get out of here, George Weasley.”
And he beamed, just like he did back in first year.
A/N: if you see me butchering british slang 🤨 it never happened 🤫
Pairings: George Weasley x Fem!Reader
Summary: Your worst nighmare takes a nasty spill during a scrimmage because he was distracted by you. It’s only right you go and check on him. 1.9k words
Warnings: violence by bludger, description of injury, cursing, lovesick losers, enemies to lovers???? ‘enemies’ to lovers but really idiots to lovers
George taking a bludger to the face was not the kind of news you would have liked to wake up to. Something had gone wrong during an emergency weekend scrimmage. He was laughing at something Fred said or shouting at Ron or maybe he was just distracted by his own thoughts and hadn't noticed the pesky bugger barreling towards him with every intent to bludgeon him unconscious. So he took a nasty spill from a considerable height and has been passed out in the hospital wing since six forty-five.
You rush down the hallway in your pajamas, cursing under your breath, face scrunched into a scowl, dead set on your target. Bloody quidditch. A few first years watched you nearly trample a group of girls in the hall. They were traumatized. It was bad.
"He's gone daft! This is absolutely mental—nothing is that distracting!" you shout at Ron who is actively trying to defend himself against you. He stopped you at the door because he heard you storming down the hall a full minute before you arrived.
"Calm down! He’s still alive isn't he?" he says.
"Not for long if I have anything to say about it—"
"Oi," Fred shouts, lounging in a rickety chair beside George's cot, "would you wait 'till he's at least cognizant to threaten him?"
"You!" you fume, "why didn't you warn him!" Ron has given up trying to stop you at this point. You push past him, headed straight for Fred.
"I did! I shouted for him three times. The git was proper distracted. Must've been dreaming of something really special." He winks at you, and you think you could ring his neck right about now.
"I think you mean someone," Ron teases.
Both of them. You'll ring both of their necks.
"What the hell are you two chittering about?" you hiss.
"Oh, nothing at all, your graciousness. We'll leave you two lovebirds"—Fred clears his throat, standing and nodding to his youngest brother—"I mean friends... to it."
You grumble and flip them both off as they leave. You plop down into the chair just in time for Madam Pomfrey to come fluff the pillow propped beneath his left leg. She catches your weary glance over his limp body.
"I wouldn't worry too much, dearie. Nasty spills are what young men are made for. He just needs a little rest. Time to recover," she coos, smiling up at you from the base of the cot. You briefly worry the back of your neck before managing a nod.
"Thank you, madam. I appreciate it."
She grabs a quilt from the stack she had brought to his bedside and flattens it across his torso. You tug the side to even it out, a hitch in your breath when your fingers brush his cold knuckles.
"You know, when I attended Hogwarts, the quidditch boys were all the rage. My boyfriend was a Beater as well—"
"Oh, George—! He's not my..."
"He was wonderful. But of course, he was always getting into spills. It drove me mad to see the boy I loved in so much pain. In the end, I told him he'd have to be more careful or I'd call it quits. He told me he had to focus on his career anyway." She stands silently for a moment. Solemnly.
"That's terrible. I'm so sorry."
"You live and you learn. Boys will be boys, I suppose." Out of her trance, she shrugs and gestures to the clipboard sat on the desk. You hand it to her.
"May I ask... what became of him?"
"He retired from Quidditch very young. Only a few years in and, bam: traumatic brain injury. Some people can't be helped!"
You can't help but snicker at her frankness. She smiles, pats your shoulder, and sighs.
"You just have to love ‘em while you can."
"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey."
"Of course, dear. You let me know when he wakes up." She scuttles away.
You take the silence of the moment to look at him. While you can. You prop your elbows on the edge of the cot and rest your head in your hands.
"Not sure how I feel about all of that information. Not sure how much I trust that advice." You tell him like it’s a secret, nose scrunched like there’s anyone else within earshot.
How fragile he seems laid flat atop this plastic wrapped bed. How rich the watercolor purples and yellows of his bruise. Down his neck, out across his jaw. The subtle swoop of his lashes, the rosy bridge of his nose. Then down to his bird bone fingers, your heart skips at the thought of tracing over the delicate skin.
He twitches, and you startle and sit pin straight. His muscles relax, though yours refuse to. You notice a rip at the hem of his folded quidditch robes and perk up.
Eight minutes later, you’re tugging just the edge of his robe into your lap while the rest is feathered out across the linoleum floor. Your emergency sewing kit is perched on your other thigh as you thread your needle and begin stitching.
George blinks the ache from his eyes, finally awake just to find you with a thin string caught between your teeth, your brow furrowed, and your fingers pinching fabric together. He reaches up and presses the heel of his palm to his forehead.
"Thank Merlin I wore something under my uniform today—"
"George!"
The sewing kit clatters to the floor along with the robe and thread. Hopefully that needle will be easy to find. But you smile for now, and it’s one of the sweetest things he’s ever seen. No wonder he took a bludger’s hit. You’re bloody distracting. Even when you’re not around.
“I’ll go get Madam Pomfrey, she said—"
"Were you... stitching up my quidditch robes?” he says, just a hint of teasing in his hoarse voice.
You look down and gape at the mess.
"There was a tear in—when you fell, the bottom—there was a rip! I had a sewing kit on me, I was just... helping a friend."
He blinks. If he wasn’t completely crushing on you before, it’s safe to say that was the nail in the coffin.
"That's adorable," he warbles.
You look cross and put your hands on your hips and scoff.
“Well, you can’t very well play with a rip in your uniform!"
"No. No, of course not,” he mumbles, “Silly me.”
Usually, you’d mock him. You’d call him names and tease him for getting knocked on his ass by and inanimate object. But that smirk has you incapacitated. He's making this very difficult for you.
"Well!” he chirps, “Don’t let me bother you, I’ll just be lying here."
"But Pomfrey—"
"I'll live. My mind is alive, the neurons are firing. All is well, it can wait,” he says, “Please.”
Goddamn you, George Weasley. You muster up a pathetic sigh and sit back on the stool, getting back to work on his robe.
But he’s back to grinning like a fool, admiring the way your tongue pokes the corner of your mouth when you focus. It’s incredibly endearing.
"You're very beautiful."
Daggers. “Shut up.”
He chuckles. "What? I find you to be very agreeable, poppet."
"Gee, thanks, Weasley,” you huff, “Do you want this stitch fixed or not—"
"Don’t get your dear panties in a twist, I’m only trying to compliment you. Would you just take it while I’m too ill to make fun of you properly?"
But he finds you very agreeable. And now you know that out loud. More than an inkling. More than friends. Oh, he’s awful.
"Quit staring."
"Sincerest apologies."
You roll your eyes and glare at him while the needle punctures the thick fabric.
"Why don’t I just tell Madam Pomfrey—"
"And ruin a moment? Come on, let me get a good look at you, you're the reason I’m in this mess,” George mumbles.
"Me?"
"Yes, you! Your stupid face won't get out of my head."
"Be serious, Weasley—"
"I am! You’ve cursed me, poppet, can't think straight unless I’m thinking of you."
"That's not fair!" you say.
"No, it’s not," he huffs, "I love you."
Shock. From both of you. More than friends, and more than a simple crush, now. But love. Love, for Merlin’s sake! Do you love him?
"You're being idiotic—”
"No. I'm not. I've thought long and hard about it, and I love you, and you can't change my mind—"
"George, quit it,” you say.
"Everyone knows it, poppet, I adore you, and—"
"I love you, too, George, now would you shut up!"
Well, then. Secrets out, no holds barred.
And he’s smiling all smug to himself, even though his left side is a bit swollen. And you’re back to fiddling with the stitched up tear in his robe. You’ve got crazy eyes. He thinks you might murder the stitched up tear in his robe. Or confess your love to it.
You groan.
"Stop smiling like that. You look crazy."
He shrugs. "I am crazy…"
"Do not—"
"… Crazy in love."
"I hate you"
"I know."
You look at him. And he’s looking back at you terribly fondly. As fragile as he seems now, he feels invincible. You fold up his fixed uniform and set it on the desk.
"George,” you sigh, “you have to stop getting hurt."
He nods curtly. "Okay. I’m sorry."
You squint at him, suspicious and expecting just a little pushback.
"... It's... okay, I just worry about you. I don't like seeing you like this." The stool scrapes against the floor, and George reaches for your hand.
"I know you don't, poppet. It won't happen again,” he says.
"Good. And if it does, then—"
"Then I’ll quit the team.”
"What!"
"I’ll do it. I’ll quit for you. I’ve got other things to worry about anyway. More important things than some silly sport where balls fly at your face."
Your eyes sparkle. For him, and it makes him absolutely giddy. He presses his thumb to the back of your hand and cocks a brow.
"Now,” he sighs, “would you come here and give me my hard won kiss?"
"Oh, so you won a kiss.”
"Nobly so. Dutifully and honorably. Nothing less than the best for your highness."
"Fine, whatever, only because you think I’m beautiful.”
You lean over his arm, trying not to nudge any of his tender injuries. While you’re being so careful, he’s straining for your kiss, jutting his neck out and shuffling under the quilt. He grunts at the overexertion, and you sit back before he gets his kiss.
"Nope! I’m getting Pomfrey!"
"One peck! Swear, I won’t move an inch!"
"Madam, he's awake!”
"Wonderful news, darling!" she calls from the other side of the wing, preparing a jug of water and a two glasses.
"You're horrible, and you torture me. You don’t love me at all, witch!" he whines, voice low
"On the contrary, I love you a good deal too much, which is why I’m so horrible."
He grumbles something under his breath.
Then chirps: "Be my girlfriend.”
You fold your hands in your lap. "If I must"
"And let me be your boyfriend,” he pleads.
"Well, what else would you be?"
"Your servant, your house pet. A footstool if you needed it.”
“George Weasley, you’re a fool,” you tease, reaching over to fix a strand of hair behind his ear.
requested by anon: "ooh if it vibes with you I think you'd do the prompt "I'm not staring at you, I'm admiring you." with George weasley really well :3"
word count: 1.2k
warnings: a whole lot of fluff, like a lot a lot
pairing: george weasley x fem!reader
author's note: I needed some fluff and this was the perfect request. thank you for sending it in. I definitely vibed with it.
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On some weekends, when most of your fellow students were all in Hogsmeade, you liked to stay behind and enjoy the quietness of the common room. There were still the first and second years around, but seeing as though it was now spring, most of them were outside and enjoying the warmth of the sun.
You sat on the sofa, in front of the fireplace that wasn’t lit up, yet it still felt cosy to sit there. You had your favourite book in your hands, smiling every so often whenever something funny or sweet happened to the characters. From time to time, other Gryffindors walked past you to either go up to the dormitory or to slip through the portrait hole.
You were too immersed in your book that at first, you didn’t even notice someone sitting down next to you. Only when they cleared their throat you looked up at that person. A bright smile graced your face once you noticed that it was your boyfriend, George.
“What are you doing here? I thought Fred, Lee and you would be in Hogsmeade getting new stuff for your products.”
George shook his head, moving closer to where you were. He pressed a soft kiss on your temple, quickly glancing down at the book that you were still holding tightly in your hands before he looked up into your beautiful e/c again.
“We were supposed to get a few things, but the delivery takes one more week, so we all must wait. And I, the good boyfriend that I am, thought I would come back and spend the rest of the day with my gorgeous girlfriend.”, he explained, wiggling his eyebrows.
You couldn’t help but laugh while you playfully pushed him away from you. You looked down at your book, swiftly flicking through the pages, noticing that there were only a few more pages left.
“This is really sweet, but can you give me a few more minutes? I’m almost done with this chapter and I want to finish it. It’s getting really interesting now.”
“Sure. I’ll just sit here and wait.”, your boyfriend stated, moving away from you so he could completely stretch out, his feet almost touching yours.
You uttered a quick ‘thanks’, and before you knew it, you were back in the world of your book, reading as quickly as you could without missing a thing. You didn’t want George to wait for too long. Seeing as though the young man who you were lucky enough to call your boyfriend was a year older than you, hence you weren’t really able to see one another as much as you would like. He was not only busy with schoolwork, which of course he sometimes neglected a bit too much but he was also immersed in developing his and his twin brother’s new products. So, normally the two of you mostly saw each other late at night in the common room or in one of the abandoned classrooms that no one really used anymore. You were able to spend most of your time together on the weekend though.
Occasionally, you looked up at George, wanting to know what he was up to, but whenever you glanced his way, you noticed his eyes already watching you, a soft smile gracing his lips until you looked at the words in your book again.
The more you peered over at your boyfriend, the more embarrassed you got. Why couldn’t he stop staring at you? Of course, it was adorable, but it also made you lose focus.
“Can you quit staring at me? I can’t concentrate.”, you said, shutting your book a bit too harshly.
“I’m not staring at you, I’m admiring you.”
You could feel the heat rushing up your cheeks after your boyfriend's confession. You put your book in front of your face, hearing George chuckle. He moved closer to you again, lifting his hand up only for him to lower your book.
“Why are you hiding? I love to see you blush.”
It was true. George loved to make you blush and seized every opportunity to do so. He loved the way your face was almost as red as a tomato whenever he complimented you or whenever he teased you. You were lucky though. It was mostly compliments that your boyfriend used to make you blush.
“And what were you admiring? I was just reading my book.”, you mumbled, putting the book on the floor before you sat up properly and waited for George to explain himself. You pushed a strand of hair behind your ear, your eyebrows lightly raised.
“You looked really cute … beautiful actually. You were so concentrated on the story, and your eyes moved so quickly from side to side. Your hair fell in front of your face multiple times. Sometimes you didn’t even notice, but when you did, you pushed them back, only for them to fall back. You even tried to blow them out of your face. You pouted, I don’t know why, but it looked adorable, and - ”
“Okay. I get it.”, you said quickly.
George chuckled once more, stretching his arm so his hand could find yours, which he gently squeezed. He pulled you closer to him, wrapping his arms around you before he pressed a gentle kiss on top of your head.
“I could see the passion you have for this book. Maybe you can lend it to me, so I can find out what it’s all about.”
You looked up at the young ginger-haired man, your eyes slightly widened, still comprehending the words your boyfriend had just said to you.
“You? You want to read? Voluntarily?”
You both couldn’t help but laugh out loud, knowing exactly that George would never read a book. He wouldn’t even read the books he needed for his classes. He always hoped that you or maybe Hermione had already read it. Although both of you were younger than the twins, you liked to read books that needed advanced knowledge.
“You just know me too well. Come on, let’s go outside.”
Your boyfriend got up from the sofa, simultaneously pulling you up as well, only for you to stand face to face now; George was just a bit … a lot taller than you.
Now it was your time to admire him. His beautiful smile, the slight crinkles by his eyes, his fluffy hair …
“Stop it.”, he interrupted you, his lips finding yours almost instantly, kissing you as lovingly as possible.
You smiled into the kiss, reluctantly pulling away, knowing that a few first years sat in the common room, watching the two of you making out in the middle of the room.
“Let’s go, admirer.”, you whispered against his lips, kissing him once more before you made your wait through the portrait hole.
Pairing: George Weasley x Gryffindor!reader, background mentions of Cho x Harry.
Timeline: Set during OOTP (mentions of Harry and Cho’s canonical date on Valentine’s Day 1996)
Summary: After Harry’s failed date with Cho at Madam Puddifoot’s, he tells the reader and George all about it. They decide to check out the place for themselves.
Warnings: Brief mentions of sexual acts, no smut or detailed description. Friends to lovers. Just a big ball of fluff 🤍
"Ughr I'm telling you, it was awful," Harry groans as he throws himself onto the couch next to you in the Gryffindor common room. George, who is sat opposite you in a little armchair looks up from tinkering with his newest invention and gives Harry a look which tells him to carry on. Harry looks around to check no one is listening in before he continues. "It's that stupid teashop! She talked about Cedric the entire time, cried through most of it and when I briefly mentioned Hermione she stormed off and disappeared."
You and George's eyes met very briefly as you tried to stifle the giggles that were threatening to spill out of both of you at the awfulness of the story but you quickly recovered and tried to console Harry.
"It was probably just too soon mate, she probably felt guilty that she wanted to go out with you so soon after his death," you reasoned, earning a slight nod from Harry, who had listened to your opinion.
"Yeah but how long does she need?" George says with a tone to his voice you couldn't place.
"What, you think she can just get over it like that? If it were-." You began to say, only to cut yourself off sharpish when you realised what the next words out of your mouth would be. George gave you a strange look and Harry seemed to be completely oblivious as you carried on. "It's not the same for everyone, these things take time, especially when it was such a shock like that." Both boys silently agreed and we carried on talking about the whole debacle until Fred and Lee joined later on. Harry had described in excruciating detail the floof and frills of the tea house, with its chintzy furniture and outdated wallpaper that looked like a remnant from someone's great grandmothers house. The conversation quickly diverted as Fred began waffling about an idea for a new product that had piqued George's interest and had lost Harry's.
George tinkered with the project a little while longer whilst Fred talked you into designing new packaging for his new idea and drawing up a basic plan for how he wanted it to look. Only when Lee had fallen asleep and had slunk down and dribbled onto Fred's shoulder did you all declare that it was time for bed, seeing that the common room had been vacated by everyone else hours ago.
"I'll be up in a minute," George says, ushering his brother and a very sleepy Lee away. Fred pauses, waiting for you with an outstretched elbow for you to take but you also say you'd be up later with George so he shrugs and walks off to bed.
"So, Harry and Cho..." George says with a smirk, chuckling to himself. You had to giggle back, finally able to now that everyone had disappeared.
"Do you think she meant to take him there? Like, for the reason everyone else goes?" You asked, still laughing.
George looked up at you with confusion for a second, "what, for tea?"
"No you great oaf, it's where couples go when they want to be alone... away from the prying eyes of Hogwarts," you said with a wiggle of your eyebrows. George's eyebrows shot up high on his head at the information, clearly not knowing it was Hogwarts' number one make out spot.
"Go Cho," George says, his shoulders shaking with laughter, to which you snorted in reply.
"Do you think Madam Puddifoot knows that she's running a teen brothel? Or maybe a live sex show at least." George barks out a laugh that is much too loud for the current time and situation and you both fight to hold back your laughter.
"Probably, she is a Madame after all," George laughs with a shake of his head.
"Maybe she puts something in the tea," you joked, "you and Fred should get on that. Aphrodisiac all sorts," you said cheekily, alluding to the popular liquorice muggle sweets that Arthur was so fond of. He laughed again, finally putting down the invention and assortment of tools.
"Shall we go?" He asks.
You look at him completely dumbfounded at his question, shocked that he'd even ask. Reading your reaction, his eyes immediately shoot open and words fall from his mouth to recover, "I didn't mean like that! We should go tomorrow and scout the place out." You can almost make out a small blush settling on his cheeks and you laugh whilst nodding your head.
"It's a date, Weasley. Dress nice!" You smiled and walked over to him to hug him goodnight, something you had both done for years, before you climbed up the stairs toward your dormitory.
The next morning you dress nicely, choosing a cute skirt and sweater to wear as you prepare to meet George ready for tea. When you walk down the stairs from your dorm you see him sat there with a single flower in his hand. He looked so handsome in his blue floral shirt and nice chinos, apparently having listened to your warning of dressing nice.
He rises as soon as he sees you, smiling as you walk down the stairs and you have to remind yourself briefly that it's a fake date.
"You look really pretty," he says as he hands you the flower, causing you to blush as you smile shyly up at him.
"It's not going to squirt water is it?" You laugh, gesturing to the flower. He looks at you with a puzzled expression, clearly not getting the joke.
"It's a muggle thing, like a magic trick? They have flowers that squirt water, mostly clowns," you explain as his eyes widen.
"Muggles have magic tricks?" He asks in complete astonishment. You laugh, nodding as he continues to look amazed.
"You and Fred should sell some, when you open your shop," you chuckle as he leads you out of the common room and down the staircases.
"One eyed witch or regular walking?" You asked George, preparing how you were going to get to Hogsmeade.
He shoots you a little look before replying with a smirk, "regular, I'm not taking you down one eyed witch in your little skirt."
"God it's like Umbridge threw up in here," you commented as you sat at the intimately small table at Madam Puddifoot's tea shop, waiting fir tour tea to arrive, the hideous decor already making you feel claustrophobic.
"Yeah except there's less cats," George mutters, scrunching his face up as he looks around with a loom of utter repulsion.
The exterior of the tea shop should have been enough evidence that the inside was going to be as frilly and pretentious as it was with the powder pink windows and door frames but nothing could have prepared you for this.
There wasn't a single surface inside that wasn't covered in either powderpuff pink, florals or lace. Harry really was telling the truth. There were armoires filled with delicate China teacups and boxed teas that fit the aesthetic of the shop, China plates lined up on the walls alongside some truly hideous artwork of loved up couples and badly painted floral bouquets.
How this place had become a den of inequity you had no idea but there were subtle references to love all around; erotically named teas and treats, picture on the wall that seemed to blend into female silhouettes the longer you looked at it, even some of the cakes on display looked phallic.
You looked around at the couples that were clearly there on dates and had to stifle a laugh at the awkwardness of it all. Some couples looked like it was their first date and were sat awkwardly amongst the sea of people clearly much more comfortable and familiar with each other. Some of the boys looked painfully uncomfortable amongst the ostentatious decor, clearly having not chosen the venue of their date. Most couples however were more than comfortable, most of them glued to each other in one way or another.
Your tea was brought over and you thanked the waitress as you poured the tea for you and George. He hadn't said much since you walked in, more silently observing with an outright puzzled and disgusted expression that you couldn't help but chuckle at.
A few couples, particularly near the back were snogging, no doubt regulars on account of their knowledge to sit at the back and wrapped around the little cozy corners.
"Godric, he'll get lost if he gets any further down her throat," you whispered, laughing at a couple far off in the corner, nodding your head subtly towards them so that George could see. He immediately snorted after catching a glimpse of them, looking around to mock more of the patrons.
"How is this place getting couples riled up? It's like my great aunt Muriel's front lounge," George laughs, shaking his head in disbelief.
"Well it seems to be working regardless," you chuckle, taking a sip of your tea which was actually quite delicious.
"She's definitely getting fingered under the table," you whisper suddenly, nodding towards a couple in the back you and George had been mocking.
George immediately spits out his tea, eyes bulging at your blunt words making you laugh. He wipes down the front of his shirt as his eyes flick over to the couple in question and he quickly looks away from them realising you're probably right. His reaction was so cute that you couldn't help but laugh, seeing George Weasley shy was an incredibly rare occurrence and you were loving it.
"Cushion in the lap," you nod towards a guy on your left sat with a frilly, heart shaped velvet cushion placed in his lap, "might as well have a sign over his head saying 'I've got an erection," you laugh.
"Girls know this stuff?" George whisper-yells, eyes bugged wide, horrified that you'd apparently cracked guy code.
"Only the bad girls," you wink at him before taking another sip of your tea. You couldn't help but notice George begin to vividly blush, all the way up from his collar to the top of his hairline and you smiled sweetly up at him, finding his reaction entirely too endearing.
You both carried on making fun of the couples around you, happily sipping your tea as you enjoyed spending time with George. He'd become a little less bashful over the course of your visit and had began actively mocking the couples, pointing out particularly aggressive ones and making little quips.
When you walked up to the little counter, the waitress passed over your bill and you began reaching into your bag to pull out your little coin purse. At the same time, George reached into his pocket to pull out his own money but you quickly placed down your money and dragged him out of the tea shop before he could fight you on it.
"Why did you pay?" He asks, frowning as he looks over at you. You smiled sweetly if not a little sarcastically at him as you replied.
"My treat, for you being gentlemanly enough not to feel me up under the table," you joked.
"Not like I wasn't thinking about it," he mumbles, making you pause. His eyes widen at he realises he just said that out loud as you both stand frozen, looking at each other with shocked and surprised eyes. Usually you would have thought nothing of a comment like that coming from George, thinking he was simply teasing you but his reaction told you otherwise.
"What?"
"What?"
"You wanted, with me?" You said in utter shock, wanting him to clarify what he meant. He was blushing again, not as heavily as before but you could definitely detect a pinkness to his cheeks underneath his freckles.
"Yes," he says, looking up at you nervously.
You didn't think twice and immediately stepped forward, shyly pressing your lips to his. He began kissing you back a few seconds later, assuming the shock had settled and he reached delicately for your hip, holding you to him as he kissed you back.
When you pulled apart, you both smiled nervously at each other, letting out a little awkward chuckle at the sudden twist.
summary — george weasley is very bad at getting a girlfriend.
paring — george weasley x fem!bookworm!reader
disclaimer — i do not own harry potter or its characters.
warnings — i didn’t edit, my bad lol. also i inserted wuthering heights a little too much (by the way you should read wuthering heights)
read part one and part two!
“You are repulsive.” The words left her mouth bitterly as she stared at him, her eyes narrowed.
“Woah!” He exclaimed, his eyes widening, “I’m sorry—it just wasn’t my thing!”
“Frankenstein is everyone’s thing!” She fired back, though, a small grin cracked on her face, “You are a waste of perfectly good eyes, you know that?”
“You like my eyes?” He wiggled his eyebrows, a smirk lighting up on his face.
When George Weasley had taken out the girl he’d long been staring at, a stroll through the book store turned to hours of talking, and one date turned to three. It was so natural, and yet, so odd. A girl who’s presence was only marked by the books she read and a boy who’s troublemaking reputation surpassed that of many fictional characters had somehow found harmony between fantasy and reality. Well, most of the time.
“I meant that your eyes are perfectly capable of seeing and consuming beautiful literature, yet you’re squandering it.” She huffed at him, though, the smile on her lips was obvious.
“Beautiful literature and beautiful ladies,” George spoke, still smirking, “And I’m using up all that eyesight power by staring at you.”
“Horrible boy,” she scoffed, the grin still on her lips.
“Beautiful girl,” George replied, his eyes dancing across her face.
Whatever had bloomed between the two had proved strange to almost every other student at Hogwarts. It wasn't as if people shouted or stared when they saw them walking together in the halls, but there was the occasionally lingering look that said 'huh, I wouldn't have put those two together.' It was especially odd that a known flirt had seemed to retire his previous career. George, who'd always been one to chat up a new girl each week, was now only seen with the same girl day after day. If that hadn't been enough to set off a few social alarms throughout the school, a few students had even seen George reading — and not just dirty magazines.
"Things seem to be getting pretty serious," Fred chuckled as he talked. He and George had just gotten out of detention and were headed through the halls towards the Gryffindor common room.
"I'd say that was rather normal." George shrugged, "Flitwick snored just as much as usual."
"Not detention, you git." Fred couldn't help it when another laugh left his lips, "Things are getting serious with your girl."
"Oh," George shook his head, a smile lighting up on his face, "Yeah, I guess."
"D'you make it official?" Fred nudged him, "Tie the noose around your neck? Connect the ball and chain?"
"Shove off," George groaned, nudging him back with a bit more force.
"Oh, come on, did you?" Fred sighed, relenting his antics for a moment. George looked at him, a sudden frown curling on his lips. He shook his head.
"No." He shrugged as though it didn't matter, "It's only been a couple dates."
"What?" Fred's eyes seemed to widen to the size of planets, "Only a couple dates? I've never seen you this gross and lovesick! She's got you reading those old muggle books for Merlin's sake!"
"I like to read," George spoke, lying straight through his teeth, "I'm a big reader."
"Yeah? And I think hours long Transfiguration lectures are riveting," Fred let out a dry laugh, "Listen, even if I find the puppy-eyes you give her disgusting, it's obvious you're head over arse for her."
Even if George wanted to retaliate, it was true. He walked her to class, insisted on carrying her things for her. He even read Pride and Prejudice to understand a joke she made once. He was enamored with her in a way only dead old ladies like Emily Brontë could describe.
"Yeah, I know," George let out a sigh, "Trust me, I know."
"Don't tell me you're nervous." Fred chuckled, a smile spreading on his lips, "I may be the more attractive twin, but you've still got a nice face on you. Give it a shot, alright?"
George groaned, but as they pushed past the portrait of the fat lady, he couldn't help but feel that Fred was right. Not about being the most attractive, of course; he was right about giving it a shot. And so he planned.
Plan A seemed nearly impossible to screw up. It was simple, really; he'd catch up with her on the way to breakfast like he always did, and ask her to be his girlfriend. No pomp and circumstance, no fanfare, just a quick question and a sweet smile. When the time finally came the next morning, he was so confident in himself that his toes were barely touching the ground. He left the common room with a skip in his step, ready to meet with her near the stairs where they always did. His eyes met hers.
She was lovely. She'd done nothing different; her hair was how it always had been, her smile was the same. Yet, when George saw her, it took all his willpower not keep his jaw from dropping to the ground.
"Ready for breakfast?" She asked, her voice like a serenade in his ears. His face reddened as he nodded, and he knew then that Plan A was impossible.
Plan B was much more exciting, yet, still simple. This time, he made sure that he'd have his words prepared for him so he didn't have to do any talking. Over the weekend, he'd picked up a rather nice copy of Wuthering Heights at the muggle book store in Hogsmeade. She'd been eyeing it for a while; he'd noticed her staring at it while telling him about another book. Along with the book, he wrote her a sweet (albeit grammatically poor and rather cheesy) note that ended with the question 'will you be my girlfriend?' He was going to slip it into the novel before he gave it to her. While walking from Charms to lunch, George couldn't quite contain his smile.
"Hey," he said as they exited the classroom, "I've got a surprise for you."
"Oh?" She raised an eyebrow, her eyes glowing with anticipation. Without any further teasing, George slipped the novel out from between his stack of books and handed it to her, a proud grin on his face.
"Merlin!" She exclaimed as she exchanged her things for the book, "George, this is wonderful! I've been wanting to get this copy."
"I know," George spoke, trying not to look too adoring of her as he took her books into his hands, "Flip through, it might have an introduction or something." With a smile, she did as told, thumbing through the pages eagerly. George craned his neck, trying to see if she'd found the note nestled within the pages.
"Find anything good?" He sounded almost smug.
"Yeah," she said excitedly. Looking to George, the smile on her lips only spread wider. This was it. She was smiling, she was happy, she was going to say--
"There's a biographical notice of Ellis and Acton Bell in the front." Her gaze moved back to the book, "I told you about that, right? How the Brontes wrote under male pseudonyms? Well, Emily used Ellis. It looks quite interesting."
"Oh, yeah," George's face fell a bit, but he tried to hide it, "Is there, uh, anything else?"
"There's an editors note, too." She shrugged, but grinned at him, "Thanks, George, this is really incredible."
His mouth opened, the words on the tip of his tongue, when he froze. He'd woken up so excited that when he left his dorm, he'd snatched the book off his desk and ran down to the Great Hall. He'd never put the note in — it was still on his desk.
"No problem," he responded, a bit stunted, as he tried to swallow the frustration he felt with himself, "No problem at all."
Plan C had to work — it had to. The second he returned to his dorm later that afternoon, he threw the note in the trash and got right to work. If there was one thing George knew how to do, it was to go big. He could write out a sign in the sky using fireworks, or maybe hang a banner over the astronomy tower. Maybe a thousand flowers in her dorm would do. A giant cake that he pops out of could work.
As he collected his ideas, he couldn't help but feel that everything he thought of just wasn't right. He went through Plan C, Plan D, Plan E. Eventually, he had to start numbering his plans. As the sun dropped lower outside the castle, a huff left George's lips, catching the attention of Fred, who was laying against his bed, playing with some sort of puzzle contraption.
"What's got your knickers bunched?" Fred chuckled, sitting up to look at his brother.
"Every plan I try doesn't work," George shook his head, "I've been trying to ask her to be my girlfriend for days now."
"Fireworks?" Was Fred's immediate reaction.
"Thought about it. Not sure how much she'd like it." George shrugged in response.
"Oh, come on, everyone likes a bit of dramatics sometimes." Fred moved, sliding his legs off the bed to sit down on the edge.
"Yeah, I know, but this just feels different." George's nose scrunched, "I want to do something personal, y'know?"
"Fireworks spelling out her name is personal." A smile crept onto Fred's lips.
"That's not what I mean." George slumped against his desk chair, letting out a dramatic groan. At that, Fred relented with a sigh.
"Did you ever try just asking her?" He asked, cocking his head.
"That was Plan A." George let out a long breath.
"Well, maybe just retry Plan A," Fred suggested with a shrug, "And just don't screw up whatever you screwed up before."
"I didn't screw anything up." George stuck his tongue out at his brother.
"Whatever you say." Fred grinned, and with that, he returned his attention to the contraption in his hands.
Retry Plan A. The thought stuck in George's head as he looked down at his desk. He had given up on it fairly quickly. She made him nervous — sure, he could flirt with her, but when it came to fessing up his actual feelings, he was at a loss. He ran a hand through his hair as he thought it over. Looking out the window, the near absence of the sun reminded him that it was time for dinner. She would be at dinner.
Without even a goodbye from Fred, George shot up, scrambling from the dorm, through the common room, and down the stairs. He hastily tried to fix his rushed appearance: he redid a few of the buttons on his shirt and combed his fingers through his hair (the mess was untamable). When he finally made it to the Great Hall, he was nearly out of breath. His eyes scanned the tables for her, and when he finally found her (laughing her head off about something with a boy that George was easily ten times more attractive than, in his opinion), he set off. His steps were heavy and confident, and when he reached her, he sat down right next to her, not even bothering to introduce his presence.
"Oh, hey!" Her eyes immediately lit up at the sight of him, "I was wondering where you've been."
"I'm right here." He grinned at her. Once more, his lips parted, ready to ask her the question. Will you be my girlfriend? Would you mind being my girlfriend? Please, my Queen, I will beg on my hands and knees for you to even consider being my—
"This is my boyfriend, George, the one I was talking about." She smiled kindly at the boy across from her, gesturing to the redhead next to her.
Boyfriend.
George's brain nearly short circuited at the word, his eyes going wide and lips curling into the largest grin anyone had ever seen.
"Boyfriend?" He repeated the word as though he'd just imagined it.
"Oh!" Her face twisted in horror, "I'm sorry, I guess I never really asked. It was an assumption, I guess." Before she could continue her apologies, George grabbed her by the shoulders, trying not to squeeze her to death.
"I have been trying to ask you to ask you to be my girlfriend for a week," He said, the smile never leaving his lips, "I tried to ask you in the morning, but you were too pretty, and then the book I gave you, I wrote this note that I was going to put in it but forgot—” The words rushed from his lips in quick succession, his cheeks rosy enough to match his hair.
"So," She cut him off, a small giggle leaving her lips, "You want to be my boyfriend?"
"For Merlin's sake, yes, yes I do!" He couldn't help the excited laugh that escaped him.
"Could I have my notes back now?" A voice spoke up, causing George to whip his head to its source.
"Oh, sorry Theo." She chuckled as she slid the boy his book, and he nodded, giving a quick wave as he stood and left.
"Well he's grumpy," George mused, turning back to her with the same smile he'd been wearing.
"Oh, that's just Theo." She shrugged, "He's always like that."
"Well, enough about him, we haven't talked about me nearly enough." George's eyes sparkled as he spoke.
"I feel like we talk about you far too much." She laughed back.
"Ah, but being your boyfriend obligates you to talk only about me for about ninety-eight percent of your time," he beamed.
"Does that mean I reserve ninety-eight percent of your thoughts, being your girlfriend and all?" She tilted her head.
"You reserve a lot more than ninety-eight percent of my thoughts, darling," he chuckled. When each of their laughter subsided, they stared at each other for a moment, content but unsure. Tentatively, George reached forward, his hand gently making contact with her cheek.
"So," his voice was a low whisper, "Since I'm your boyfriend, can I kiss you?" An even brighter smile lit up on her face, and she let out another small laugh.
"That can be arranged." She grinned. When George leaned in, so did she, and their lips met in gentle kiss. It was light and sweet, yet the undertone of excitement lingered as they pressed against each other. When they separated, a bit breathless, they gazed at each other a moment more. It was a tender stare that held something strong. Maybe it wasn't love just yet, but it was close. After all, he was seeing her, and she was seeing him.
hope you guys liked the last part!! i’ll probably be doing some more george soon bc he’s 🤭🤭🤭 but besides that i’m working on an enemies to friends to lovers remus fic with a bit of angst and such. also i’m DEF making some sirius stuff soon bc he’s my number 1 🤭🤭
oh and btdubz, i’m gonna make a google thingy for my tag list. everyone who’s currently on it, you’ll still be there, but you can specify what type of content you’d like to read from me. okay, toodles!!
summary: you teach george about some muggle traditions
word count: 1.6k
masterlist
“This Muggle tradition… what exactly is it?” Arthur Weasley asked, his curiosity alight as the Christmas festivities at the Burrow wound down.
“It’s a way to celebrate the end of one year and the beginning of another,” Hermione explained patiently. “It usually involves singing, dancing, and other festivities. People stay up until midnight and count down the seconds. Then they shoot off fireworks.”
At the mention of fireworks, you could almost feel the sharp turn of Fred and George’s gazes toward Hermione. Mr. Weasley’s face lit up with intrigue, his trademark fascination with all things Muggle clearly piqued.
This little discussion had only started because of a casual comment you’d made to Hermione earlier.
Growing up, you’d loved celebrating the holidays with your family—filled with traditions and superstitions that were magical in their own way, even without wands or spells. But now you were older, and though you cherished these memories, you’d started spending the holidays with friends instead. It made sense, but it didn’t make this year any easier—it was your first without your family.
“Finally, a Muggle invention I can get behind,” Fred declared, his voice breaking through your thoughts as he approached with his characteristic grin.
“Seems they weren’t as boring as one might’ve thought,” George added, sidling up beside Hermione. Unlike Fred, though, his gaze was focused on you.
“So, do tell us, Mine,” Fred said, leaning in conspiratorially. “How does one go about celebrating this so-called Muggle tradition?”
Before Hermione could answer, Mrs. Weasley appeared, tea towel in hand, her expression a mix of suspicion and exasperation. “I beg you, Hermione, don’t give them any ideas,” she warned.
Fred and George exchanged a grin that spoke volumes. Whatever ideas were brewing in their minds, they were likely more explosive than Hermione’s explanation.
The talk of New Year’s Eve made you nostalgic, memories of past celebrations with your family surfacing. The pang of longing was sharper than you cared to admit, and perhaps that was why you decided to join the conversation.
“My favorite part has always been the New Year’s resolutions,” you offered quietly.
“What’s that, then?” Arthur asked, his attention swinging to you with the eagerness of a child opening presents.
Before you could answer, Hermione interjected, her tone brisk. “It’s just people setting goals because the calendar changes. Honestly, I think real progress comes from working toward something year-round—not just because it’s January 1st.”
She glanced at you apologetically, realizing too late that her practicality might’ve come across as dismissive. You returned her gaze with a small, reassuring smile. You knew she hadn’t meant any harm—it was just Hermione being Hermione.
“These resolutions,” you explained, “are like promises people make to themselves at the start of the year. It’s a way to mark a fresh start—a chance to become a better version of yourself. I think it’s a beautiful tradition.” A faint smile tugged at your lips.
“Me too,” George said softly, surprising you. His agreement, simple as it was, felt oddly significant.
“What do you think, love?” Arthur asked, turning to Molly with a hopeful smile.
“No Firewhiskey!” she declared firmly, cutting through any mischief before it could take root.
And just like that, plans for a New Year’s Eve party at the Burrow began to take shape—with you and Hermione at the helm.
The Burrow was a flurry of activity. Strings of fairy lights had been charmed to hang themselves across the living room, glowing softly in the dim light. Plates of finger foods hovered over the table, and laughter echoed as Fred and George attempted to enchant a Muggle disco ball.
“You’ll blind someone with that thing!” Ginny hollered from the sofa, shielding her eyes dramatically as the ball emitted a cascade of multicolored sparks.
“Don’t be jealous of our craftsmanship, Gin,” Fred retorted, smirking.
“You mean your craftsmanship. This is clearly my genius,” George corrected, giving the disco ball a smug pat before it spiraled out of control.
Mrs. Weasley bustled past, muttering under her breath as she righted the ball with a quick flick of her wand. “I swear, if anything explodes tonight—”
“We’ll take full responsibility!” Fred called after her, earning a sigh in response.
Despite the chaos, the atmosphere was warm, filled with the kind of energy only the Weasleys could create. Friends filtered in as the night went on, and soon the living room was packed with chatter, music, and the clinking of glasses.
You found yourself weaving through the crowd, smiling at familiar faces but searching for a quieter corner. The noise was wonderful, but it left a small ache in your chest—a reminder of home and your family traditions.
That’s when you spotted George slipping out the back door, his tall frame silhouetted against the moonlit garden. Curiosity tugged at you, and before you realized it, you were following him.
Outside, the crisp air bit at your skin, but it was refreshing after the heat of the crowded living room. George leaned against the railing of the porch, gazing up at the stars with a thoughtful expression.
“Escaping your own party?” you teased as you approached.
He turned, startled for a moment before his lips curved into a small smile. “Needed a breather. You?”
“Same.” You joined him at the railing, the sounds of the celebration muffled behind you. For a moment, neither of you spoke, content to share the quiet.
George broke the silence first. “What’s your New Year’s resolution?”
You tilted your head, pretending to consider your answer. “I can’t tell you, or it won’t happen.”
He raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in his eyes. “That’s not how it works. Resolutions aren’t like wishes.”
“Oh, and you’re an expert on Muggle traditions now?” you teased, giving him a pointed look.
“Well, no,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck. “But I don’t think you’re supposed to keep me in suspense.” He kept quiet for a moment, before asking, “How about another tradition instead?”
You smiled, leaning slightly closer as you explained. “Alright, here’s one for you: kissing someone at midnight means you’ll be with them for the rest of the year.”
George blinked, and for a moment, the only sound was the faint rustling of the wind. Then, his lips curled into a sly grin. “Just the year?”
“Just the year,” you confirmed, though your heart beat a little faster when his eyes didn’t leave yours.
“Well then,” he murmured, voice low and warm, “I suppose I’ll have to do that every year, won’t I?”
You laughed, though it was softer than usual, your cheeks warming against the cold. His expression was teasing, but the sincerity in his gaze lingered long after the moment passed.
“What about you?” you asked, shifting the focus away from yourself. “What’s your resolution?”
George hesitated, the playful air around him faltering for just a second. “Can’t tell you, or it won’t happen,” he mimicked, grinning.
You rolled your eyes, nudging his arm lightly. “Touché.”
The two of you stayed out there for a while longer, talking about everything and nothing. Eventually, the cold drove you both back inside, where the party was in full swing. But as the countdown to midnight crept closer, you couldn’t help but wonder if George’s resolution had something to do with the way he’d looked at you under the stars.
The living room was alive with anticipation as everyone gathered near the clock, the air crackling with excitement. The enchanted disco ball spun lazily overhead, casting shimmering lights across the room. Plates clinked, conversations hummed, and the countdown loomed closer.
“Alright, everyone!” Fred called out, standing on a chair like he was addressing an assembly. “It’s time! Ten seconds to go—don’t mess it up now!”
The room erupted in laughter and shouts of excitement. You found yourself squeezed between Ginny and Hermione, your eyes flicking through the crowd in search of George.
But he was nowhere to be seen.
“Ten!” the group began, voices blending in chaotic unison.
Your heart started to race. Had he slipped outside again?
“Nine!”
You craned your neck, trying to catch a glimpse of his tall frame, but all you could see were the swaying heads of everyone else.
“Eight!”
The disco ball flickered, and you felt Hermione tug on your arm, smiling at you as she yelled the next number. You managed a half-hearted smile in return.
“Seven!”
Where was he?
“Six!”
Your stomach sank a little. You told yourself it was fine—after all, it wasn’t like he had to be there. It wasn’t a big deal.
“Five!”
But maybe it was.
“Four!”
A hand brushed your elbow, and you turned so quickly you nearly collided with him. George stood there, his hair slightly disheveled and cheeks flushed, grinning at you like he’d just pulled off the greatest prank in the world.
“Three!”
“Where were you?” you blurted, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably.
“Had to grab something,” he said cryptically, slipping his hands behind his back.
“Two!”
Your heart jumped into your throat. “George, what—”
“One!”
Before you could finish, he moved faster than you thought possible, dipping his head to capture your lips in a kiss. It wasn’t hurried or awkward—it was soft and warm, full of a quiet kind of confidence that left your knees a little wobbly.
Cheers and whistles erupted around you as everyone shouted, “Happy New Year!”
When George finally pulled back, his grin was nothing short of triumphant. “What were you saying?”
You blinked at him, flustered. “I—what—what did you grab?”
He stepped back just enough to reveal a small, sparkling firework in his hand, the kind that shot out glittery sparks. With a quick flick of his wand, it lit up, fizzling into the shape of a heart before fading away.
“That,” he said simply, his voice soft but his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Happy New Year, love.”
a/n: AHHH thank you so much for my very first request. i know you said you liked longer fics so i hope this is long enough
word count: 4.8k
request: @feelinglikeineedlotsofnaps
Could I request a george weasley x reader.
Where reader is working at their shop and george is stressed and is a bit horrible towards reader. But could we end with some extra fluff???
I love longer fics, so that would be great 💚
The bell above the shop door jingled for what felt like the hundredth time that morning, signaling yet another wave of customers. The once neatly organized shelves of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes now looked like a hurricane had swept through, with items scattered and empty spaces glaring where products should’ve been. Children zipped around, testing Extendable Ears and Whizzing Worms, while parents tried, and mostly failed, to rein them in.
Standing behind the counter, you rang up purchases as quickly as possible, occasionally pausing to flash a polite smile at the more patient customers. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted George darting between shelves, trying to keep things running smoothly. His usual easygoing grin had been replaced with a furrowed brow, his freckled face tight with concentration.
You’d been working at the shop since its grand opening, mostly because you couldn’t say no when George had asked. The two of you had been close since Hogwarts,partners in crime during countless pranks and late-night study sessions. He’d always had a knack for making you laugh, even on your worst days, and you liked to think you brought out his softer side.
But today, the George you knew seemed buried under layers of stress.
“Oi! Don’t open that until you’ve paid for it!” George’s voice boomed across the chaos, though it didn’t do much to stop a freckled boy from unwrapping a Canary Cream. You watched as George rubbed the back of his neck, muttering something under his breath before diving back into the madness.
“Need more Nosebleed Nougat at the front!” Fred shouted from somewhere near the Skiving Snackbox display, his arms full of brightly colored boxes.
“I’m on it!” you called back, already halfway to the storeroom. The path was like an obstacle course, with a kid swinging a Decoy Detonator narrowly missing your head and a pile of Puking Pastilles scattered across the floor nearly sending you flying.
As you reached the storeroom, you grabbed a tray of Nosebleed Nougats and took a moment to catch your breath. It had been non-stop since the shop opened, and your muscles were beginning to protest. You couldn’t help but think of George again, he was probably even more stressed than you, juggling the responsibilities of the shop while trying to please every customer.
By the time you made it back to the counter, George caught your arm. “What took you so long?” he asked, his tone sharper than usual. His hand lingered on your sleeve for a moment before he let go, stepping back.
You blinked, startled. “Sorry, I was restocking the Peruvian Powder from earlier.”
“Well, don’t take all day next time,” he said, already turning to a customer waving a handful of coins. His voice had an edge to it, one that you weren’t used to hearing from him.
You bit your lip, holding back a retort. George didn’t usually snap at you, and the sting of his words caught you off guard. But he was clearly overwhelmed, so you let it slid for now. With a deep breath, you pushed the thought aside and returned to ringing up customers, plastering on a smile as you handed over change.
“Thanks for your help,” you muttered under your breath, knowing he wouldn’t hear over the noise. It was easier to vent quietly than risk adding to his stress.
The hours blurred together as the crowd surged and ebbed, only to swell again. You found yourself weaving through aisles, fixing displays, and helping kids choose the “coolest” prank items, all while keeping one ear on the counter in case Fred or George shouted for help.
At one point, George brushed past you while carrying a stack of boxes. His shoulder bumped yours, and he muttered, “Watch it,” without even looking up. Normally, he’d apologise, or make a joke, but today, there was no sign of the George who used to playfully nudge you when you worked side by side.
By the time the shop doors finally closed, you felt like you’d run a marathon. The bell’s last jingle echoed faintly as the lock clicked into place, marking the end of what had to be the busiest day since Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes opened. The chaos left behind was staggering: colorful wrappers and bits of packaging littered the floor, displays leaned precariously, and the air still smelled faintly of smoke from a prank product that had gone awry.
You leaned against the counter for a moment, rolling your aching shoulders and letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “That was... something,” you said, glancing over at George.
He stood a few feet away, sorting through a pile of stock sheets, his brows drawn tight with concentration.
“Something,” he repeated dryly, not looking up. His voice had lost its usual playful warmth, replaced by the edge of someone teetering on the brink of exhaustion.
“I’ll start with the Peruvian Powder display,” you offered, pushing yourself off the counter. “It looks like a war zone over there.”
“Fine,” George replied shortly, still rifling through papers. He didn’t even glance in your direction, and something about his tone sent a prickle of unease down your spine.
You shook it off and grabbed out your want, making your way to the disaster zone near the Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. With a flourish the broom began sweeping up the fine black powder. After the floor was visable once more you scooped up the dustpan, careful not to spill more. Your hands were smudged within seconds, and you wrinkled your nose as a cloud of powder puffed up around you.
Behind you, George’s voice carried through the quiet shop. “Where’s the inventory sheet for the WonderWitch line?” he called out, frustration creeping into his tone.
You paused, thinking. “I think Fred grabbed it earlier to check the stock in the storeroom. It’s probably still back there.”
A loud sigh escaped him, and he tossed the parchment he was holding onto the counter. “Of course it’s not where it’s supposed to be,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “Why would anything be where I need it today?”
“I can grab it,” you offered, standing up and brushing the dust off your knees. “It’s not a big deal—”
“It is a big deal, Y/N,” George snapped, cutting you off mid-sentence. His tone was sharp, sharper than you’d ever heard it. “We’ve been behind all day, the shelves are a mess, and now I can’t even find the one bloody thing I need to sort this disaster.”
You froze, blinking at him. George was usually the calm one, the one who could find humor even in the worst situations. But now, his frustration was spilling over, and it was aimed directly at you. “I’m just trying to help,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.
“Well, maybe you could help by making sure things actually get done for once,” he shot back, his hand running through his already messy hair as he turned away. His words hit like a slap, the sting leaving you momentarily stunned.
The shop fell silent except for the faint rustle of parchment as George busied himself with the stock sheets. He didn’t look at you, too caught up in his frustration to notice the hurt flashing across your face.
Swallowing the lump rising in your throat, you forced yourself to keep your voice steady. “I’ll get the inventory list,” you said flatly, not waiting for his response before walking briskly toward the storeroom.
The moment you stepped into the quiet, dimly lit room, you let out a shaky breath. Your hands shook slightly as you rifled through the stack of papers on the desk, finally finding the missing list. You clutched it tightly, replaying George’s words over and over in your mind.
“He’s just stressed,” you muttered to yourself, trying to push down the knot of hurt forming in your chest. “It’s not about me.” But no matter how much you rationalised it, the crack in George’s usual warmth lingered, leaving you feeling more shaken than you wanted to admit.
When you returned to the front, George was still at the counter, hunched over the parchment. His shoulders were tense, his head bowed. You placed the inventory sheet beside him without a word, your hand brushing the edge of the counter as you stepped back.
“Thanks,” he mumbled, his tone softer now but still distracted.
You nodded curtly and turned away, biting your lip to keep from saying something you might regret. The rest of the cleanup passed in strained silence, the once-easy rhythm between you and George replaced with an uncomfortable distance.
The next morning, the shop was eerily quiet, the calm before the storm. The faint scent of leftover fireworks hung in the air as you moved around the store, straightening shelves and mentally preparing for another chaotic day. Your hands worked mechanically, placing products just so, but your thoughts were still on the way George had snapped at you the night before.
You hadn’t slept well, tossing and turning as his words replayed in your mind. George didn’t usually act like that with you, his frustration had always been directed at malfunctioning products or customers with questionable attitudes, never at you. You told yourself it was just stress, but the sting hadn’t faded.
Behind the counter, George was scribbling furiously on a parchment, muttering under his breath. His hair was even messier than usual, sticking up in tufts that he hadn’t bothered to tame. Normally, the sight of him so disheveled would’ve made you smile, but today, the tension between you weighed too heavily.
“You ready to open?” His voice broke the silence, clipped and business-like. He didn’t look up from the parchment.
“Yeah,” you replied simply, grabbing a tray of products to restock near the front. Your voice was quieter than usual, and you didn’t bother trying to fill the silence the way you normally would.
If George noticed your shift in mood, he didn’t show it. He leaned down to check something under the counter, his focus entirely on the task in front of him. You glanced at him briefly, hoping for a flicker of the George you knew, a teasing grin or even just a soft look, but there was nothing. Just the same furrowed brow and tight jaw that had defined him yesterday.
As you worked near the window, the morning sunlight streaming through, you felt his eyes on you for the briefest moment. When you turned to look, he quickly glanced away, pretending to adjust a stack of Skiving Snackboxes.
You let out a soft sigh, turning back to your work. “If you’ve got something to say, just say it,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him.
“What was that?” George’s voice carried over, laced with irritation.
“Nothing,” you said quickly, your cheeks flushing. The last thing you wanted was another argument, especially not before the shop even opened.
He straightened up, crossing his arms. “No, seriously, what was that?” There was a sharpness to his tone again, though it wasn’t as biting as yesterday.
You hesitated, fiddling with the edge of the tray in your hands. “I just... I don’t know,” you said finally, your words faltering. “You’ve been on edge lately, and I feel like no matter what I do, it’s wrong.”
George blinked, clearly caught off guard. “I’ve just been busy, Y/N,” he said defensively. “You know how much there is to do around here.”
“I do know,” you said, your voice firmer now. “I’ve been trying to help, but it feels like nothing I do is good enough for you lately.”
He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. “It’s not that. look, I just... I don’t have time to deal with this right now.”
The words hit harder than you expected, and you looked away quickly, blinking back the prick of tears. “Right. Of course. Why would you?”
Before he could respond, the bell above the door jingled as Fred strode in, whistling cheerfully. He stopped short, looking between you and George with a raised eyebrow. “Did I interrupt something?”
“Nope,” you said quickly, forcing a smile and grabbing the empty tray. “Just getting ready to open.” You brushed past Fred, making your way to the storeroom without looking back.
Fred turned to his brother, arms crossed. “What’s her deal?”
George exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. “She’s just... I don’t know. She’s been weird since yesterday.”
Fred gave him a pointed look. “And what did you do?”
“Nothing!” George said quickly, though the slight waver in his voice betrayed him. “I might’ve snapped at her. Once.”
Fred rolled his eyes. “Yeah, because that always works. Fix it before she quits and leaves us to deal with this shit ourselves.”
George mumbled something under his breath, but Fred was already heading toward the back to check on you. George stayed at the counter, staring at the now-empty space where you’d been moments before, a flicker of guilt creeping in.
The shop was a whirlwind of activity again, bustling with customers eager to grab whatever tricks and treats they could get their hands on. It was as if the chaos from yesterday had never ended.
You were stationed near the Skiving Snackboxes, reorganizing the shelves after a group of kids had knocked half the display onto the floor. You worked your wand quickly, but your mind wandered, replaying George’s curt words from earlier in the morning. The sting was still fresh, and every time you caught a glimpse of him behind the counter, it sent another wave of frustration through you.
“Excuse me,” a stern voice interrupted your thoughts. You turned to see a well-dressed woman holding a box of U-No-Poo, her face set in a scowl. “This product doesn’t work as advertised. My son tried it, and it was completely ineffective.”
“Oh, um—” you started, fumbling for a response. “I can help you exchange it or—”
“What’s going on here?” George’s voice cut in, sharp and commanding. He appeared beside you, his eyes narrowing at the customer.
“This product is faulty,” the woman said, holding the box out as if it were toxic.
George crossed his arms, his jaw tightening. “I can assure you, there’s nothing wrong with that product. It’s one of our best sellers.”
“Well, it didn’t work for us,” she snapped. “I’d like a refund.”
George’s expression hardened, but before he could respond, you stepped in, your voice calm and measured. “I can take care of this. I’ll replace the box and make sure it’s working properly this time.”
The woman hesitated, then huffed and handed the box over. “Fine.”
You quickly swapped the item for a new one, apologizing politely as she walked away. When she was finally gone, you turned to George, ready to explain, but his scowl deepened.
“Why’d you give her a replacement?” he snapped, his voice low but dripping with frustration. “There was nothing wrong with the product. You should’ve just told her no.”
“I was trying to de-escalate the situation,” you replied, keeping your tone even despite the anger bubbling under your skin. “It’s better to lose one item than have a shouting match in the middle of the shop.”
“That’s not the point, Y/N,” George said, throwing his hands in the air. “We can’t just hand out free products every time someone complains. Do you even think?”
The words hit like a punch to the gut, and this time, you couldn’t hold back. “Excuse me?” you said, your voice rising slightly. “I’ve been running around this shop all day trying to help, and all you’ve done is criticise me. Do you even realise how hard I’m working here?”
“Hard? Really?” George shot back, his voice louder now. “If you were working that hard, maybe things wouldn’t be such a mess.”
A few customers turned to look at the two of you, their curiosity clear. Heat rushed to your face, and you clenched your fists, fighting to keep your composure. “You know what? I’m done,” you said, your voice trembling with restrained emotion. “I’m going to the back before I say something I’ll regret.”
Without waiting for a response, you spun on your heel and walked briskly toward the storeroom. Your chest felt tight, and your eyes stung, but you refused to let George, or anyone else, see you break.
In the quiet of the storeroom, you sank onto a nearby stool, letting out a shaky breath. Tears pricked at your eyes, but you wiped them away angrily. “Why does he have to be such a prick?” you muttered to yourself, the tension of the past two days finally boiling over.
As you sat there, trying to collect yourself, you couldn’t help but think about how different George had been lately. The playful, kindhearted boy you’d grown close to felt like a stranger now, replaced by someone snappish and impossible to please. It wasn’t fair, and you weren’t sure how much more you could take.
Back in the shop, George stood frozen for a moment, watching the customers go back to their browsing as if nothing had happened. Fred appeared at his side, raising an eyebrow. “What did you do this time?”
George sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. “I might’ve gone too far.”
Fred smirked knowingly. “Might’ve? George, you’re lucky she hasn’t hexed you yet.”
George didn’t respond, but guilt twisted in his stomach as he glanced toward the door you’d disappeared through. He knew he’d crossed a line, he just wasn’t sure how to fix it.
The shop had finally quieted down, the last customer leaving with a cheerful jingle of the bell. The floor was still littered with stray wrappers, and the shelves were half-empty, but at least the day was over. George leaned heavily against the counter, rubbing the back of his neck. The tension in his shoulders hadn’t eased all day, and the argument with you earlier kept replaying in his mind like a bad joke he couldn’t laugh at.
Fred tossed a broom at him, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Start sweeping, mate. The mess isn’t going to clean itself.”
George caught the broom without looking up. “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, his voice flat. He moved sluggishly, his mind clearly elsewhere.
Fred paused, watching him. “All right, what’s going on with you?”
“Nothing,” George replied quickly, though the tightness in his voice betrayed him. “Just tired.”
Fred didn’t buy it. “Right. Tired. That’s why you’ve been moping around since Y/N stormed off.” He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. “What did you say this time?”
George sighed, leaning the broom against the wall. “I might’ve... lost my temper.”
Fred raised an eyebrow. “Might’ve?”
“I told her she doesn’t think,” George admitted reluctantly. “And that she’s part of the reason the shop’s a mess.”
Fred let out a low whistle. “Blimey, George. Why don’t you just hand her a resignation letter while you’re at it?”
George groaned, resting his forehead against the counter. “I know, all right? I screwed up. I was stressed, and I took it out on her.”
“Yeah, you did.” Fred’s tone softened, and he gave George a light slap on the shoulder. “You’re not mad at her, you’re mad at yourself. Don’t make her pay for it.”
George didn’t respond, but the guilt gnawed at him. Fred wasn’t wrong, he wasn’t angry at you. He was angry at himself for letting the pressure get to him, for losing the lightness that used to make the shop feel like more fun than work. And now, he’d driven you away in the process.
As Fred busied himself with tidying up, George’s eyes drifted to the counter where you usually worked. Sitting there was something small and familiar: the bracelet you always wore, a simple piece of braided string you’d once told him was a good luck charm. You must’ve taken it off during one of your breaks and forgotten to put it back on.
George picked it up, turning it over in his fingers. The sight of it hit him harder than he expected. It was such a small thing, but it was yours, and it made the space feel emptier without you in it.
Fred noticed the shift in his expression and smirked. “Go on, then,” he said, waving him toward the storeroom. “Fix it before she hexes your broomstick.”
George didn’t need more convincing. He slipped the bracelet into his pocket and made his way toward the back, his footsteps slower than usual. When he reached the storeroom door, he hesitated, hand hovering over the handle. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say, but he knew he couldn’t leave things as they were.
The storeroom door creaked open, and you glanced up to see George hesitating in the doorway. His hands were stuffed into his pockets, and his hair was even messier than usual, as if he’d been running his hands through it non-stop. His usual confidence was absent, replaced by an almost sheepish expression.
“Hey,” he said, his voice softer than usual. “Can we talk?”
You set the rag down and crossed your arms, leaning against the counter. “Go ahead,” you said, your tone distant.
George stepped closer, his gaze flicking to the floor before meeting yours. He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly struggling to find the right words. “Look, I’ve been a complete prat the past couple of days,” he started. “And I owe you a proper apology.”
You didn’t respond right away, letting him stew in the silence. His shoulders sagged slightly, but he pushed on. “I’ve been stressed, yeah, but that doesn’t excuse how I’ve treated you. Snapping at you, blaming you for things that aren’t your fault... it wasn’t fair. You’ve been working your arse off, and I didn’t appreciate it the way I should’ve.”
Your eyes softened slightly, but you didn’t drop your guard just yet. “You really hurt my feelings, George,” you admitted, your voice quiet but firm. “I’ve been doing everything I can to help, and it felt like no matter what I did, it wasn’t enough for you.”
“I know,” he said quickly, his voice thick with regret. “I know I made you feel that way, and I hate that I did. You’re—” He paused, his eyes searching yours. “You’re the best thing about this shop, Y/N. I mean it. Without you, I’d be drowning, and... I don’t know. I think I got so caught up in trying to keep everything perfect that I forgot the most important part.”
Your heart softened at his words, though you weren’t ready to let him off the hook completely. “And what’s the most important part?”
“You,” he said simply, his voice steady now. “You keep me sane. You make this place better—hell, you make me better. I was a git, and I don’t deserve it, but I’m hoping you’ll forgive me anyway.”
The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, and you felt your defenses crumble. You studied him for a moment, the tension in his posture, the way his eyes held yours, desperate for some sign that you weren’t still angry.
Finally, you let out a small sigh. “You’re lucky I’m terrible at holding grudges,” you said, the corners of your mouth twitching into a reluctant smile.
George’s face lit up, the weight lifting from his shoulders. “Does that mean I’m forgiven?” he asked, hope shining in his eyes.
You pretended to consider it. “Depends. Are you planning to yell at me again anytime soon?”
“Not a chance,” he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “From now on, I’ll be a perfect gentleman. Promise.”
You rolled your eyes, but your smile widened. “You’d better be.”
George stepped closer, his expression softening as he reached into his pocket. “Oh, and I thought this might help smooth things over.” He pulled out a small box and set it on the counter in front of you.
You raised an eyebrow, opening the box to reveal one of the shop’s newest products: a miniature fireworks set, charmed to spell out the word Sorry in glowing letters. You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “Really? An apology firework?”
“Thought it was fitting,” he said with a grin, his usual humor creeping back into his voice. “Plus, it’s limited edition.”
You snorted, but the warmth in your chest outweighed the sarcasm on your lips. “You’re impossible.”
“Yeah,” George said, his grin softening into a smile. “But you like me anyway.”
Your cheeks flushed slightly, but you didn’t deny it. Instead, you stepped around the counter, surprising him with a quick hug. He froze for a moment before wrapping his arms around you, his hold warm and steady.
“Don’t make me regret this,” you murmured into his shoulder.
“Never,” he promised, his voice low and earnest.
And for the first time in days, the knot of tension between you finally unraveled.
The quiet of the shop was a welcome change, the hum of activity replaced by the soft creaks of the floorboards and the faint rustle of parchment. After your conversation with George, the two of you had worked side by side to finish cleaning up. The tension that had hung in the air for days was finally gone, replaced by a sense of relief and something softer, something closer to what you’d always felt working with him.
You were sitting on one of the stools behind the counter, fiddling with the tiny fireworks set George had given you. He was nearby, organizing the shelves for what must’ve been the third time that evening. Every so often, you caught him glancing at you, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
“So,” George said, breaking the silence, “any plans for dinner? Or are you planning to eat all the leftover Canary Creams?”
You laughed, setting the fireworks box aside. “Not unless I want to spend the night squawking like a bird.”
“Well, you’d be a very charming bird,” he quipped, leaning against the counter with an exaggerated grin.
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you like me anyway,” he said, his tone teasing but his eyes soft. It wasn’t the first time he’d said those words today, but now, they felt more deliberate, more... certain.
“I guess I do,” you admitted, your cheeks warming slightly. “Though I wouldn’t mind liking you a little more if you treated me to dinner. You know, as a thank-you for not quitting on you this week.”
George’s grin widened. “Deal. I’ll even throw in dessert, but only if you promise not to let Fred eat all the pudding before we get there.”
“Pudding and fireworks? You’re really pulling out all the stops, Weasley.”
“Anything for you,” he said, the playfulness in his tone softening into something genuine.
You felt your heart skip a beat, and for a moment, you were both quiet, the weight of his words settling between you. It wasn’t the first time George had been sweet to you, but tonight, it felt different—less like a joke and more like a promise.
“Come on,” he said suddenly, holding out his hand. “Let’s get out of here before Fred decides to start another experiment.”
You hesitated for only a second before slipping your hand into his. His grip was warm and steady, and when he gave you a small tug to pull you to your feet, you didn’t resist.
As you walked toward the door, George reached into his pocket and pulled out his wand. With a quick flick, the tiny fireworks set you’d left on the counter sprang to life, bursting into glowing letters that spelled out Thank You in shimmering gold. You turned to look at him, your eyes wide with surprise.
“I know you already forgave me,” he said, his voice soft, “but I wanted to make sure you knew how much I mean it. I don’t know what I’d do without you, Y/N.”
Your heart swelled, and for a moment, you were too overwhelmed to respond. Instead, you stepped closer, standing on your toes to press a light kiss to his cheek. When you pulled back, George was grinning, his freckles standing out against the faint flush on his face.
“You’re lucky I love you,” you said, your voice teasing but warm.
“I’m the luckiest bloke in the world,” he replied, his grin widening as he held the door open for you. “Now, let’s get that dinner before I embarrass myself further.”
As you stepped out into the cool evening air, the shop behind you glowing faintly with the remnants of the firework, you felt lighter than you had in days. George’s hand brushed yours as you walked, and when his fingers finally laced through yours, you didn’t pull away.
Whatever the next day brought, you knew you’d be ready—as long as you had George by your side.
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