george weasley x shy! reader
synopsis: your long-term crush, george weasley, asks you to the yule ball and suddenly every daydream you’ve ever had is finally a reality.
a/n: this is not good, bear with me as i rejuvenate my fanfic writing skills from when i was 13 ok
“ It’s feminine intuition, cuz I always had a vision of us standing like this. ”
The Great Hall is unusually quiet, filled with the sounds of quills scratching parchment and the silent suffering of students. With the Triwizard Tournament celebrations at their peak, and a ball just around the corner, the last thing the students of Hogwarts wish to be doing is studying.
Under the long Gryffindor table, your leg shakes anxiously, eyes darting around your paper; completely unfocused.
Just across the table from you is the boy you’ve had an immense interest in since you boarded the train when you were younger. Ever since you had sat alone on the train ride to Hogwarts and the twins had joined you, keeping you from your lonesome habits.
Fred had socialized with nearly everyone who’d come within a meter of your compartment, but George had kept his eyes on you. He’d gone out of his way to include you, and you’d been smitten with him ever since. Over the years this feeling didn’t dwindle, even as you went separate ways.
Encouragement had come your way over the years, pushy friends who begged you to do something, but you never approached him. You opted for longing gazes across the Great Hall, long hours spent daydreaming, and unyielding passion in the form of your imagination.
“How would I even approach him?” You’d asked once, on a day where confidence decided to actually be on your side, for once.
“You’ll know when the time comes, take the opportunity when it shows up.” A confusing, unhelpful answer that was at the time, but you think you understand now.
You didn’t have a date to the Yule Ball, and George didn’t either, as far as you know. It was the perfect opportunity. You had spent countless nights envisioning a way to ask him, but your nerves struck down those ideas.
The sound of parchment hitting the table snapped you from your thoughts, glancing up as Ron opened a crumpled note from his brothers. You watched as the red-haired boys teased each other, until Fred turned his attention to another person. Angelina, otherwise known as a good friend of yours.
Fred shot a quick glance around the room, eyes searching for the professor's before poorly imitating dance moves towards Angelina, shooting her a wink. You, along with the girls near you, chucked softly, before Angelina sent him a quick thumbs-up.
Just like that, you thought, eyes trailing over to George. Maybe you could do this.
However, the moment you locked eyes with George, who was already looking in your direction, you snapped your eyes back down to your paper. A giddy feeling engulfed your body, heart pounding against your chest; was he really looking at you? It must’ve been your imagination.
Your quill trembled as you tried to shift your focus to your parchment, wanting to quickly leave.
But you could feel his eyes. Or, could you? Surely not.
A crumpled piece of parchment lands perfectly on your materials, smearing the ink of your previously written words. You froze the moment it landed before you, cautiously setting your quill aside and reaching out for the parchment.
You slowly unravel the crumpled paper, revealing a note:
The opportunity had just dropped itself directly into your hands, yet, a sinking feeling filled your chest. With your heart in your throat, you trail your eyes over to George’s position, watching as he leans towards you with anticipation evident in his eyes. Fred’s looking at you too, and you know your friends are, so you give him a small smile and a gentle nod before returning to your paper.
Quiet celebration fills your ears and Angelina gives you a teasing nudge, but you can only manage a tight smile.
He probably only asked so he would have a date, you told yourself, fully convinced you were just a last minute decision.
With a hearty sigh, you pack up your materials and hurriedly exit the table, handing in your parchment to Professor Snape before rushing out of the Great Hall, your head down.
The time to the Yule Ball passed gruellingly slow, with only a few awkward words exchanged between you and George. No doubt made awkward by your sullen attitude, mind consumed by your insecurities.
The night had arrived with much anticipation, and sweat droplets beaded on your forehead as you struggled with your dress. It was snug in all the right places, but so snug that it took your breath away. The dormitory was full of gleeful chatter, girls helping each other with hair and makeup and sending heartfelt compliments towards one another.
Angelina came up to your side just as you finished putting on your heels, “You’re stunning, girl.” Her voice was so sweet, you couldn’t help but relax in that brief moment.
”Me? Look at yourself!” You answer cheerfully, joining her when she laughs softly, “Fred’s gonna go bloody mad when he sees you.”
She laughs louder at that comment, giving you one last compliment before she trails off to join another group of Gryffindor girls. With a lingering smile on your face and a quick glance to the time, you follow them out of the dormitory and join them in the corridor. It’s easy to slip into conversation with them as you journey towards the ball, easily guided by the decorated hallways and bustling crowds.
Immediately upon arrival, you can spot the fiery hair of the twins, and your mood instantly changes.
One side-step later, you’re hidden behind a wall, the downward staircase just one step away. Taking a few deep breaths, you barely notice Angelina standing before you,
“Y/n, come on! No need to be nervous!” She reaches out an offering hand, and you take it with a grateful smile, letting her drag you towards the stairs.
You keep your eyes down as you descend down the stairs, not knowing if your heart is strong enough to see George’s face. However, you don’t miss a stuttered gasp from one of the twins as you draw nearer. Angelina releases your hand to venture off with Fred, leaving you flustered and nervous before George.
As you shift your weight from one foot to another, swaying, you hear a muttered “Bloody hell.”
That makes your eyes snap up to his, wondering what possibly could have elicited that reaction from him. George’s face is burning red, blending in with his hair, and for once, his laidback confidence is replaced by something else, but you can’t quite place your finger on it.
Noticing your eyes on him, he quickly clears his throat and offers you his arm, “May I?”
You loop your arm through his with a shy smile, softly resting your arm against his and giving a soft nod. He returns your smile with a cheeky grin, confidence returning to his face, and leading you into the ball.
The music is slow, contrasting to the previous booming music that had students rowdy on the dancefloor. You and George had not joined the crowd yet, still seated at an empty table, shoulder brushing before you both jolted away.
You stare enviously as the couples wrap their arms around their partners, heads laid on shoulders, hands rested upon waists, and gazes staring into the eyes of their partner. You couldn't even look George in the eye.
You’d envisioned this moment so many times before; practiced your words in front of the mirror, listened intensely to advice, danced alone in your room so many times you’d had blisters.
You were a Gryffindor for Merlin’s sake, have some courage.
With that thought, you jump to your feet, a sudden surge of confidence overtaking your body. Turning to George, who looks unsurprisingly shocked, you clear your throat and hold out your hand, “Care.. care to dance?”
You curse at your stutter, but hold your facade of fake confidence as you await his answer. George rises to his feet, immediately towering over you, his warm hand taking yours, “It'd be my pleasure.”
You try not to look too happy as he leads you to the dance floor.
Hesitantly, you wrap your arms around his neck, but his hands are steady on your waist. You move in sync across the floor, weaving through couples and sending each other fleeting looks full of warmth and soft smiles filled with unspoken words.
As the night slows down, couples leaving for the night, you and George sway softly among the scattered group of people still upon the floor.
You recognize a look of nervousness upon George’s face as he speaks, “I want to be straight with you.”
Your heart drops. Is this the rejection you’d readily prepared yourself for during all these years?
”When I asked you to the ball, it was because I knew you’d say yes. You see, Angelina spilled your business to me and Fred during quidditch practice some time ago…” His voice is solemn as he speaks, something so unfamiliar coming from his mouth that you visibly flinch out of his hold, but he drags you back before you can leave him completely, his hand so firm on your waist you aren’t sure you’d even be able to leave, physically.
”But, I was wondering if you wanted to go to Hogsmeade together after all this is over?” His voice is shaky in a way that tells you this isn’t one of his infamous jokes, and finally, you start to believe that you’re not deluding yourself.
“Do you know how long I’ve waited for you to say that?” You laugh softly, resting your head on his shoulder in an unspoken answer. You feel as he physically deflates, as if a weight has been lifted off his shoulders.
