You’re My End
Summary: George takes care of you after a long night at a party and you start to warm up to him.
Pairing: George Weasley x Reader
Word Count: 1365
Warnings: None
“You’re acting strange, are you sure you’re alright?” The voice sounded very far away even though the person saying it was right next to you. It didn't make any sense. You laughed at this.
George Weasley lay the backside of his hand on your forehead. "You’re not hot."
"Really? Cause you sure are," you chuckle.
George's eyes widen and he picks you up bridal style from the bench you were sitting on. "You are definitely not well."
Scenery flashes by, glimpses of grey stone, wooden doors and damp night grass fill the next few seconds of your vision. Or hours. You didn't really know nor care. You chuckled again.
Suddenly, you felt comforting soft sheets underneath you. You let your muscles relax into the bed, before realizing that you completely forgot to do your assignment.
You got up quickly - well as quickly as you possibly could, right then your legs were as if they were made of jelly, and you sort of fumbled out of the bed. George looked back to you from talking to Madam Pomfrey.
"Get back in bed, Y/N,” he says walking to you.
"But I have an assignment due," you protest. Your eyes droop down a bit, but you open them as wide as possible.
"That doesn't matter right now. Just get back into bed and everything will be alright."
"I sure hope so," you say before closing your eyes fully and falling back into nothing.
You start to gain consciousness and open your eyes for a split second. Bright white lights blind you and you shut your eyes. Trying to remember what happened the night before, you clench your eyes.
The Gryffindor party celebrating the Quidditch win; Shots and chugs of Firewhiskey; George laying you on a bench in the hallway beside the Fat Lady. All these memories flash by, even though you were surprised you remembered anything at all.
George. You sit up abruptly, wide eyed and frantically look around the room. There's a pounding in your head and crumple back into bed, your middle finger and thumb wrapped around your temple.
Madame Pomfrey quickly rushed to your side. "How are you feeling dear?" she asks in a soothing voice. Her cool palm meets your forehead and you sigh from the pleasure of the cold. "Your temperature is a bit high. But with a bit more rest you'll be-"
What you would be, you never found out, as you had interrupted her mid sentence, by leaning over the the edge of the bed and throwing up all over the tiled floor. "Oh my," Madame Pomfrey says. She quickly gets up and charms a mop from her office to the side of the bed, making it clean up the mess.
"Where's George?" you manage to croak, as Madame pomfrey comes back with a glass of water.
"He's at his classes. He said 'I'm in as much trouble all ready. I don't want to get even more detentions for being late.' He'll be back when they're over."
Your thoughts were muffled by the aching pound in your head and sour taste of leftover vomit, but knowing that George would be there soon made you relax a bit more. Even before Madam Pomfrey gave you the resting potion your eyes had dropped down and you mind was slipping into calm.
"Y/N. Y/N wake up."
Your eyes flutter open to the sight of George Weasley's face above you. "Madam Pomfrey says your allowed to go now."
You groan and turn to the other side, trying to avoid getting up.
You are stripped of your warm blanket and the cold makes you shudder. "Come on. I made sure Hermione would tell the Professors about you. Your assignment due date has been extended by two days."
"Give me back my blanket," you demand, huddling into fetal position, trying to grasp some warmth.
"Not unless you get up."
"Is that supposed to be blackmail?"
"Yes. Now get up, or I'll make you get up."
You roll over and fall out of the bed. "Ow," you moan. George helps you up and you rub your elbow which had taken a hit at the metal part of the bed.
George starts chuckling. You glare at him, "This isn't funny."
"It really is," he replies. George tries to keep his composure, but he ends up laughing all over again.
You ignore him and walk over to Madam Pomfrey, thanking her before you walk out of the Infirmary and onto the damp grass of the Quidditch field.
A pair of feet crunch the grass quickly behind you.
"Y/N," George pants. "Y/N, I'm sorry."
You turn around with you arms crossed. "I don't see a reason to be sorry. I was touchy for a second. It's not your fault."
"But I'm still sorry."
"Okay."
George leans in close and just as his lips are about to meet yours he wraps his arms you. You keep your arms by your side but nuzzle your head onto the small space between his shoulder and neck.
"I forgot your blanket." his voice softly breaks the comfortable silence that could have lasted hours. You break away from the embrace and start walking towards the school.
"That's okay. I'm not that cold." As if on cue, a cold breeze ruffles your clothes and you shudder.
George takes of his sweater and wraps it around your shoulders. You instantly feel warmer and shivers run down your spine from the smell of his cologne coming off you.
"Thanks," you mutter and turn to look at him. George catches your gaze and smiles at you. Your heart flutters and you feel heat rise up to your cheeks.
You continue the walk in silence, occasionally taking side glances at George to make sure this was really happening.
"You know that night?" George asks, keeping his eyes on his piece of parchment.
You look up. "Yeah?" You always called the night before you went to the Infirmary for your hangover 'that night.'
"The reason I took you away from the party was because," he sucks in a long breath, "I saw you snogging McLaggen. And I was so," he pauses, "so jealous. He pinned you against the wall and was all over you. Your fingers were in his hair and your legs were wrapped around his waist." You watch as a tear rolls down your boyfriend's cheek and stains his parchment.
“George," you begin but he continues.
"Even though I barely knew you, even though it shouldn't have bothered me, it did. I tried to look away, but I couldn't. I kept watching until he was about to lead you up to the boys dormitories. I knew what was going to happen. So I had to." George's voice cracks and he looks up at you for the first time since he began talking about that night. His eyes were red and puffy and just looking into them shattered your heart into about a million pieces. "I had to stop it."
"George," you say, holding his face in your palms. "Why didn't you tell me?"
He looks away. "I don't know."
You press your lips against his. You use your thumb to wipe away the tears from his wet eyelashes. His hands slowly travel from your waist to your hips, as if he was using them to carve your curves.
You break away to swallow in some air. "George," you breathe out. "George, why didn't you tell me?"
"I was afraid." George admits. "Afraid that you would think I was some freak instead of the 'knight in shining armor' pedestal you've put me on. I loved someone thinking that I had saved them from a horrible hangover, even though the thing I did was out of pure jealousy. I was afraid that if I told you, you would take me off the pedestal and I wouldn't be special to anyone."
“You are special. You're special to me, if I think of you as a knight in shining armor or not."
"Y/N?"
"Yes?"
"I think your my end."
"What?" you lean back, surprised by the sudden blurt of honesty.
"I always knew it would happen. Sometimes thinking about you makes my heart fly and sometimes it makes my stomach sink. I know it would be a long process to get to you and my life would be a rollercoaster of ups and downs before you until you would complete my life."
"I think you're my end too."