head in the clouds
request from @mycupoffanfictionreplies : Hi! I'm loving your writing! Please may I request something where George takes a shine to the really short in height, shy, 'weird girl' in his class (sort of like Luna but more shy) and she's far too shy to admit that she likes him until they are assigned to work in a pair on a project and she accidentally blurts out to George that she likes him and George thinks it's the cutest thing ever. Is that too lengthy and specific? I'm sorry if it is! Thank you so much, I hope you're keeping well 💖
word count: 1.6k
A/N: ugh. okay. just imagine—george weasley falling in love in the middle of care of magical creatures with some whimsy, magical, beautiful, slightly different, shy girl who fawns dramatically over every creature they have the chance to study. i’m super emotional. i just love him a lot, okay????
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, loves!
“Don’t you just find them absolutely mesmerizing?”
Mesmerizing isn’t the exact word that comes to mind when George thinks of blast-ended skrewts. In fact, he kind of really dislikes them, but he’s so enthralled by your wide eyes and bright smile, that he doesn’t seem to care about anything else.
He glances over toward Fred, who looks rather disgruntled to be paired with some annoyed looking Slytherin girl, and rolls his eyes in the direction of Umbridge, who is standing next to Hagrid at the front of the class. In an attempt to separate the twins—purely because Umbridge is supervising the class—George had ended up with you at Hagrid’s request. And if he’s being honest, he doesn’t dislike it one bit.
You—the shy one. The strange one. The one whose interests seem to differ from everyone else’s, the one who marches to the beat of her own drum. The one who others always seem to talk about, including those strange likes of yours. The one who, George realizes now, is quickly stealing his heart.
He grins lazily, watching you as you bend down to get closer to the strange looking creatures in front of you. You stick out your hand, as if to pet them, and George nervously grabs you by your shoulders. “Careful!”
You let out a soft giggle, and George can’t help but notice the sun glistening in your eyes and across your hair. He can feel a slight pull at his heart when you peer up at him, and hold out your hand to guide him closer to the skrewts. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” His head is saying absolutely not, get the bloody hell away from those things, but his heart wants nothing more than to feel your fingers interwoven in his.
“They’re just.. different, is all,” you say quietly, looking down at the skrewt as it lets out some strange noises. George notices every other student in the class backing away from these odd looking things; but there you are, going against the norm, slowly inching closer to them. He bites down to suppress a grin. “Reckon you just have to do a bit of research, right? Just to understand them a bit better?”
He can almost hear Hagrid in the back of his mind. Misunderstood creatures, is all.
He notices Fred standing up straighter with his arms crossed and eyebrows raised at the sight of you two hand in hand, but George ignores this. He’s too focused on the moment. His heart sinks a bit when he hears Umbridge let out a sickeningly sweet laugh, and Hagrid clears his throat gruffly, signaling the end of class.
“What’re your thoughts on fire crabs?”
You take George by surprise; he stops in his tracks as he walks next to you, side by side, up to the castle, completely ignoring Fred calling out to him from behind. Instead he clears his throat and replies, “Erm—I dunno, really—never studied them, have we?”
“They’re quite cute, actually,” you tell him, and George laughs sweetly, “their tortoise-like appearance makes them look less threatening, you know? And that jeweled shell they have—well, it’s rather beautiful, isn’t it? The bright, shining colors..”
Your voice trails off and floats in between you both and George can’t shake the feeling like there’s something lodged in his throat. He clears it once, twice, and replies back, “Yeah.. I reckon you’re right.” He sounds as nervous as he feels, and he prays you won’t notice. You don’t. It seems that your head is high in the clouds; or, perhaps, it is still back with the skrewts. George, thinking of his own favorite magical creature, asks you, “How about Nifflers?”
“Oh, the cutest!” you tell him excitedly, your eyes sparkling in the sun. Then, you bring a hand to your chin and pause to consider things, thinking a moment. “Although—I do have quite a lot of jewelry at home, so I reckon they wouldn’t be the best creature to have around.”
George laughs again; he cannot get over how absolutely adorably soft and sweet you are. “Probably not, but—would be perfect if you’re ever in search of a treasure of sorts?”
“I couldn’t agree more! Wish we could study those, too.”
“Imagine all the damage they’d cause in the castle?”
“Imagine all the damage they’d cause in Umbridge’s office?”
The two of you fall into a little fit of laughter as you trudge up the hill toward the castle for the next classes; when you reach the front, you can both still hear Fred calling out to his brother rather wildly. “Well—see you next class, George. The skrewts will be nearly three feet by then! Aren’t you excited?!”
A few girls nearby snicker at this, but you don’t seem to notice; your mind is elsewhere. George’s insides tighten; he suddenly feels very defensive of you. But then, he realizes, looking at you now, that he doesn’t need to be. It’s obvious to him that you don’t care what they think of you, and neither should he.
Not thinking much on the skrewts at all, he smiles at you and tightens his grip on his bag. “I can’t wait.”
It’s a bright and sunny day; George is nearly skipping down to Care of Magical Creatures (which nobody ever seems to do—nobody, except you), while next to him, Fred is looking positively woebegone. George slings an arm around his twin’s shoulder and says, “Brighten up, Freddie! Just a few more afternoon classes separate us from the weekend; we still planning on wreaking havoc in the fifth floor corridors tomorrow night?”
“I can’t even think about that right now, Georgie,” Fred replies, taking his brother by surprise, “not when I’ve got to spend the next hour and a half fawning over these stupid skrewts.”
“They’re not stupid,” George tells his brother. “They’re actually quite interesting. Y/N says—”
“Oh, Y/N,” Fred says teasingly, almost immediately reverting back to his normal self. George spots you already down near the forest, twirling on the spot, peering up into the trees and humming slightly to yourself. “Is that why we’re so strangely chipper for this class today?”
“No,” George lies, his voice suddenly very hoarse. He can’t take his eyes off of you. “I’m just—I’m enjoying this lesson, alright? Bugger off.”
With a click of his tongue through a smirk so painfully mocking, Fred laughs, “Mhmm—sure, mate, whatever you say,” and shoves George into a nearby tree before begrudgingly trodding over to the Slytherin, who rolls her eyes rather noticeably at his arrival.
“Hi, George!” you say excitedly, tugging on his arm to bring him closer to you. You point over to the area where Hagrid has the skrewts secured; George can see creatures much larger than the ones from the last class. He swallows over a lump in his throat, and suddenly feels butterflies flood his rib cage; but is it from the massive skrewts, or the fact that you’re still holding onto his arm?
“I reckon this will probably be one of the last lessons on the skrewts,” you say, frowning slightly. “Once they’re about three feet or so, they become difficult to get close to due to their bad temper, and they probably won’t react very well to humans.” Your frown quickly turns into a cheeky grin and your eyes widen in wonder. “But this means we’ll move onto something new soon!”
George is grinning from ear to ear at your undeniable excitement for any new creatures that will make their way into the upcoming lessons. “Rumor has it,” George tells you, leaning in closer to you, “that kneazles are next.”
You gasp audibly. He peers into your bright eyes. “How d’you know?”
He smiles sweetly at you. “I have my ways.”
“How exciting!” you reply, clapping your hands together in amusement. “They’re quite intelligent creatures, aren’t they? And absolutely beautiful—I’d love to have one, you know, as a pet or something. I reckon that would be absolutely wicked.”
“You know,” George says, suddenly feeling very keen toward kneazles, “that would be! You wouldn’t have to worry about them growing ten feet in size; plus, they won’t steal all of that jewelry you have.”
A laugh escapes your lips with no effort; you grab onto George’s wrist as it happens and clap your other hand onto your knee. He’s looking at you with nothing but admiration. He swallows thickly as he listens intently to your laugh. When you catch your breath, you place a hand to your chest and say breathlessly, “I knew there was a reason I like you, George Weasley.”
George is quite sure that his heart is in his throat; he is suddenly extremely aware of the way his feet feel in the grass. He feels as though, when you look up at him with panicked eyes, that he’s being carried by large, easy waves—his stomach is fluttering and dropping every few seconds, making the nerves throughout his body accelerate, but then a calmness takes him over, if only for a moment, before the fluttery feeling comes rushing back. You begin to stammer, “I—erm—”
And before he can fully register what he’s doing, or what Hagrid is saying to the rest of the class, George grabs your hand and squeezes tightly. He notices your face flush, and says, “I like you, too.” You swallow over a lump in your throat and proceed to bite down on your bottom lip to keep from smiling too much. You tug nervously at the bottom of your sweater when George begins to pull you toward the skrewts. “Shall we go see how much our tiny creature has grown?”
You’re suddenly looking rather anxious and shy; George can sense this, but he can’t help but wonder if it’s really the three-foot long skrewts making you feel this way. Somehow, he can tell it’s probably not. He grins at you, pulls again on your hand to bring you closer to him and says, “Don’t worry, Y/N. I’ve got you.”
reblogs & feedback are always appreciated, lovelies x
