Imagine George Weasley thinking your pajamas are cute.
You had been invited to attend the Quidditch World Cup with the Weasleys, given that you were good friends with the family. Your mother was Molly’s best friend, so in the way that things sometimes went, your father became Arthur’s best friend, and you got to know the whole family of boys. Bill, Charlie and Percy looked out for you during your first year, just as they had with the twins at the same time, really making you feel like you were family.
You shared a room with Hermione and Ginny, coming back all excited after the game, changing into your pajamas - yours being the more outrageous of the three. Ginny’s were hand-me-downs from her brothers but they were cozy so she didn’t care that much. Hermione, of course, was sensible and matching and warm. But you? Maybe you spent too much time with the twins and had that fun streak in you because you had gone for a total full-body Shark onesie.
Fin included. Tail included. Totally soft. Hood up so that there were felt teeth around your face, chasing everybody around while feeling a bit dizzy on butterbeer and pumpkin juice.
The fun didn’t last long. So much started to go on. The dark mark floating in the sky. Death eaters. Had to escape. Running around in this thing wasn’t actually as easy as it looked. You nearly flopped over a couple of times but Fred and George had both looped an arm under you and taken you out of there. Once you were in the forest, waiting for Arthur to come along with the portkey or to take a statement of what had happened, you leaned against George.
“They’re lucky we’re on land,” You said, pulling out your best Gilderoy Lockhart impersonation. “-if we were in water, they would be no match for me.”
That helped to lift George’s fears a little big. Just enough for him to poke you in the side. “Cute,” He muttered.
“Me or the pajamas?” You questioned.
“Oh, only the pajamas,” He teased, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You’re just the chum the shark ate.”
Absolutely unambiguous dialogues in “Poldark”s3ep1
(George)-Why have you really come?
(Ross)-To make a bargain with you
(George) -Always if you have something I want
(Ross) -I do.Myself!
(George) -O_O
(Ross) -Out of your life
(George) ->_>
Imagine the Weasleys teasing you for enjoying Batman comic books.
Your parents sent you a new issue in the post every week. Batman. Batman: Bride of the Demon. Batman/Judge Dredd: Judgment on Gotham. Batman Gothic. Batman: Dark Joker. You had a large array that scattered around your dorm, and you were hardly ever seen without it either beign in your hand or sticking out of your book bag. It became sort of your thing. Just like how the Weasley twins’ had their pranking, Oliver Wood had Quidditch, andHarry Potter had the weight of the world on his little shoulders.
It was nice to escape into another world. Especially with Umbridge around all of the time. The walking pink nightmare. You were reading Batman: The Ultimate Evil and even that didn’t seem nearly as bad as having her breathing over your shoulder.
“So you’re saying -” George said, taking the volume out of your hands and flipping through it. You had to spend the majority of the year before explaining how yes, it told a story using pictures but NO, the picture didn’t move. They just didn’t get it. “-that this guy, this man that’s a bat-”
“He dresses as a bat, he’s not actually a bat,” You mumbled.
“Be a lot cooler if he was a bat,” Fred chimed in.
“- and he dresses in black all of the time, and he’s usually pretty grumbly and-”
“With how many of those books I’ve seen you have, no wonder why they’re called issues, there’s always an issue!” Fred cut in again.
“-and you’re supposed to have me believe that this doesn’t just scream Snape to you?”
“Snape’s not nearly as cool as Batman,” You said, trying to get the book back. But George was taller than you and he held it over your head. “Batman is - Bruce Wayne, he’s just - he’s really cool and -”
“Cool?” Fred asked, grabbing the book from George. “Really, look at this drawing. Hold up-” He took a quill out of Hermione Granger’s hand from where she was working on an essay and started to draw the nose bigger, and add some more hair. He turned the book around to show you what he had done to Bruce. “See? Snape.”
“You’ll never understand,” You sighed, shooting an apologetic look to Hermione. “Just because you look like you could be Two-Face’s Henchmen, Min and Max, doesn’t mean that you’ll ever fully appreciate -”
Wordcount: 3383
Summary: Your father gets revenge on you, and a prank goes wrong.
Inspired by: (x)
It was your first Christmas without your mother. Without the big family dinner in the dining room of your home. Without the smell of all of the Christmas-y candles that she enjoyed lighting despite the fact that it made the room nearly noxious. Without the CD of Christmas carols coming through, Frosty the Snowman and some other stuff. Honestly? You were sort of glad for it. You missed her, she was still your mother, but her stiffness when it came to traditions was always ... obnoxious. The costumes that she forced you and your father into for a Christmas picture each year. It might have been cute the first couple of times, but come on. You were no longer five. But to avoid a hissy fit and to avoid her absolutely ruining Christmas break, you always had to oblige. Your father and yourself would exchange glances, both full of pity to one another as she was put up with year after year. This year would be different. You would come home from Ilvermorny and would just have a simple dinner with your dad. You could stay in your pajamas. He could stay in his. It would all go swimmingly - right?
Apparently not.
You had Christmas morning the way that you wanted it. That was something. You and your dad both slept in, and then would eventually make your way into the living room for presents. You blew a kiss to your mother’s portrait which hung on the wall and she smiled down graciously at you. But of course a moment later, there would be the mumbling and the complaining that you weren’t doing Christmas right so your father covered her portrait with a blanket. You opened up presents while still in your pajamas. You didn’t immediately clean up the wrapping paper or read the cards out loud, all embarrassing like. You lounged around eating sweets for a while before your dad dropped the bombshell.
“Do you remember my co-worker, Arthur Weasley?” Your father asked, drinking some of the powdered hot chocolate he made. Your mother never would have stood for that. It would have to be the real thing, no matter how much time or work had to put into it.
“Sort of,” You said. “He was the one who had all of the kids right? Oh, and didn’t one of his sons take a flying car to school or something? I remember that being in the news. It was the talk of the school for a little while.”
Your father chuckled at that one, nodding. “Ronald, yes. Well - he and his wife have kindly invited us over to dinner tonight.”
“Oh dad - you didn’t,” You frowned.
“I’m not very good at saying no to people,” Your father admitted, which was the understatement of the year. It was the result of having such an over-bearing wife for many years. “Would you be terribly upset if we went?”
“I guess that depends on two things,” You sighed. “Is his wife a good cook? And do I have to dress up?”
“She’s wonderful - for English cooking, anyway,” Your father said with another little laugh. It didn’t have the best reputation for being tasty. Other than fish and chips, you guessed. And Cadbury bars. “And yes, unfortunately, you would have to put on something nice. We want to make a good impression.”
-
You lounged around for a while longer before you got ready to go to the Weasleys. At least you didn’t have to wear the horrendous Christmas outfit that your mother made you wear last year. But you went with your nicest, you supposed, something that fit nice and made you feel rather attractive, which was a weird feeling for a regular, insecure teenager like yourself. You read over the list that your father had given you of the names of all of the Weasley children. There were more than you had anticipated. “Okay, Ginny, Ron, Fred, George, Percy, Charlie, Bill,” You said, attempting to remember them all. At least Ginny would be easy to remember, she was the only girl. You were between the ages of Ron and Fred and George, apparently.
“You ready?” Your dad asked, poking his head through your open door.
“Yeah, I guess,” You answered. “Do I look alright? Fancy enough?” You gave him a little spin so that he could see exactly what you were wearing. Once you came to a stop, you saw that he was dressed rather nice too. He had a nice jacket on, which covered up whatever he was wearing underneath. It was buttoned up all nice and tight. It showed that he did lose a little weight since your mother died but it wasn’t exactly a bad thing.
“Yeah, fancy enough I’d say,” He nodded. “Come on, we’re going to apparate.” You winced, hating the feeling of it. The topsy turvy sensations that took over your stomach and made it feel like you would be sick. Portkeying was almost as bad. Your preferred method was floo but you could see why you didn’t want to risk showing up covered in soot and ash. The fireplace probably hadn’t been cleaned in some time. Your father had freed the house elf after mom passed. You slipped on your shoes and took hold of his arm. The familiar sensation of feeling like you were being pulled apart came and then went quite quickly.
You found yourself outside of a cute house. It looked like it was being held up by magic and perhaps an elevator might be inside to traverse all of the floors but it was adorable. Snow was falling lightly around. There was a glow coming through the windows. The promise of a warm fire. Actually, just the promise of warmth was good enough for you. “Let’s not waste time,” Your dad said, giving you a nudge to walk ahead. You did so, shoes going through the snow, hearing it crunch beneath your feet. It was quite satisfying. You knocked upon the door.
A woman with a wide smile and copper curls opened the doors. She was the picture perfect image of a mother, like something in the fairytale books that you had read growing up. Friendly, pleasant, very welcoming. She looked over you and a little look of confusion went over her face though. “Welcome, y/n. I’ve heard so much about you. You look very nice this evening.”
And then you noticed that she was hardly dressed up at all. A long skirt and a sweater but they both looked cozy, worn in. You turned to your dad to ask what he had meant by you had to dress nice but you saw that he had removed his own jacket to reveal an ugly Christmas jumper. Oh. So he thought that he was funny did he? He certainly did, because he gave you a big grin and put his hand on your shoulder and lead you on inside.
Once inside, you were re-introduced to Arthur. You had met him a couple of times before. Work parties that you had been your father’s date too, things like that. Your father often said that Arthur was one of his best friends and yet he hadn’t come around very often - but with so many kids, who could find the time? And then all of the kids. Fred and George stood out the most, especially with Molly fussing around and warning you that they had switched jumpers. The one in the F was George, and the one in the G was Fred, according to her. But they were all pretty nice, once they got over the shock of someone so elegantly dressed in their home.
But your main takeaway from those first couple of moments was this was a loved family. They were all wearing what looked like brand new jumpers. And they looked like they were home made as well, not something bought and embroidered by a professional, like your mother would get you if she ever got you anything personalized. They were all so warm. It was the only word that came over you, again and again. Warm. Cozy. Home.
You listened to the family talk amongst themselves, which though they did try to make you feel included, they had a lot to say to one another. They were teasing Percy about being prefect, and what he would do if he didn’t become Head Boy next year. Ginny was teased about still having a crush on Harry Potter, and that reminded me that of course, this was the Ron Weasley, everyone knew that he was Harry Potter’s best friend. That made me listen even more intently. Though Ron did talk mainly about Quidditch, something about maybe trying out for his house team eventually. His older brothers, the twins, they made fun of him for that a bit. All in all, it was a very wholesome setting. That and the smell of food that kept wafting over from the kitchen. Ron kept trying to get up and go in there and sneak a bite but he was shooed out by his mother each time. She finally announced that it was time for dinner though and you all got up to eat, stomachs feeling famished.
Your dad sat next to Arthur, and then you sat beside him, with Fred on your one side. Or at least, you thought it might be Fred, if Molly’s story about the jumper-switching was to be believed. You kept glaring at your father, which he found hilarious. He kept chuckling while side-eyeing you, looking all comfortable in his sweater while you were wearing a rather uptight-looking get up. “This is just my revenge for the restaurant,” He said, eyes sparkling.
“Revenge?” The twins perked up as the word was brought up.
“For the prank that I pulled,” You admitted. “It was brilliant. Fair play, dad, fair play.”
There was instantly a bunch of questions about what the prank was, and while I started to fill my plate up with all of the delicious looking and smelling food, my dad began to tell the tale.
“We were at a restaurant, just casual, out to dinner one night,” He began. “And we notice that a couple of tables down, Troy Duvall is eating with his family.” That got a couple of gasps from the table where most of the people were large Quidditch fans. Only Molly seemed to not get the hint - and her son Charlie leaned in and whispered something to her, probably about the fact that he was a star on the American team. “I kept looking over and well, I didn’t want to lose my cool. I didn’t want to go over and embarrass him while he was trying to eat with his family. But my y/n here tugs on my sleeve and says, hey, I know her,” And points at the daughter of Troy Duvall. They’re about the same age, it makes sense. Y/N says that they’re in the same house. They study together sometimes. Y/N wants to go and say hi,” Your father playfully glared at you. You smiled, cutting into your meal, remembering it very well. “So I finally give in, and say sure, we’ll go say hi to your friend, maybe introduce myself to Troy Duvall, so simple. We finish our meal, pay the bill, go on over, and I say, Sorry to bother you Mister Duvall. My kid y/n here says that they know your daughter, so we just came to say hello.” You started sniggering as the best part was coming up. “So they look to y/n, who looks to me and says, no I don’t. You’re the one who came over here wanting to talk to Troy Duvall. I don’t know why you’re lying about me.”
The table erupted into laughter. Even Molly was giggling. The boy beside you, Fred/George, was laughing the hardest, even putting a hand on your shoulder. You had to admit, that gave you some faint butterflies and you weren’t sure why. The big grin, maybe. He was cute close up.
“You were speechless,” You laughed. “To date, still the best prank that I ever pulled. The war isn’t over just because you won this battle, father.”
The conversation turned back to more family matters. Your dad chattered away with the Weasleys, already looking like he belonged here. It was genuinely good to see him looking so happy. So free. So de-stressed. You felt a little nudge on your elbow from beside you as you were finishing your meal. The twin that was beside you. You looked over and he motioned for you to lean in a little.
“I actually am George. Decided to prank mum this year by wearing the right jumper. And she calls herself our mother.”
You grinned and said, “Brilliant.”
-
After dinner were some family games. Ron set up a chess board and was eager to play with anyone who would. Most of his family refused since he had won some famous chess game back in his first year. But your father was game. Molly settled into what looked like a very loved chair to work on some knitting, and a large game of Exploding Snap started up.
“Oh, dear,” Molly said, looking up at me. “If you would like, I have a jumper in my room that you can borrow. If that would make you feel more comfortable.”
As the only one who wasn’t wearing one, you did feel a bit like the odd one out. You nodded, thankfully. “Yeah, that sounds nice and cozy. Thanks.”
“I’ll take you,” George in his G sweater said, stepping away from the game, much to the chagrin of the other players.
“George - ahh - never mind,” His twin said, shaking his head. That brought Molly’s attention. She pointed at her standing son and then at the one that was still sitting on the floor.
“You’re wearing the right sweaters!”
“Guess the gig is up, George.”
“Yeah, great going Fred,” George retorted. He lightly put a hand on your shoulder and started to guide you to the stairs. “Easy to get lost up here, honestly. Ickle Ronnikins still does.”
“I heard that!” His younger brother called from the stairs.
“Stop coming into our room then!” George called down, snickering. The bedroom of Molly and Arthur Weasley was on the second floor. Probably so they would be able to hear if their children were trying to sneak out at night, very clever. The door was slightly open, a faint yellow light inside. It drew you in. You opened it more and started to step in. George started to call out your name in protest, and grabbed onto your shoulder but you found yourself stuck. Right in the doorway. Unable to move.
“What is happening right now?” You asked, looking to George with wide eyes. He groaned. He seemed to be caught as well. He pointed upwards to the doorway and when you raised your glance, you saw some mistletoe hanging there.
“That’s what Fred tried to warn me about. It’s this thing we do every year, just to be cute with mom and dad.”
“Okay, that’s cute but why can’t I move?” You asked, furrowing your brow. He sighed out, his breath coming upwards to move the bangs out of his face.
“Enchanted. Gotta kiss to get out of it,” He muttered, shyly. Your lips made an o as you realized. You leaned in and then you kissed his cheek. Not a big deal right? You tried to get away then but still, like you were barricaded. You huffed a little and then laughed.
“Guess we gotta do it for real?” You questioned. Your stomach was a-jitter with nerves - this was going to be your first kiss. He nodded, still shyly pulling down on his jumper. You didn’t know him well enough to know that George Weasley, nor Fred, never got shy. That this was a side of him that most people had never seen before. Would never see. But here he was, looking bashful, looking as embarrassed as you felt on the inside.
There really was no choice. It was either be stuck up here for an obnoxiously long time until someone sees you, probably just teases you, or get it over with. There wasn’t much room in the doorframe. You were already standing close. So you stepped a little bit closer and put your hands upon his shoulders. “I’ve never done this before, have you?”
“Never,” George shook his head.
“Okay. Well - on the count of three then?” He nodded, agreeing with me. “One -”
“Two -” He counted after.
“Three.”
Our lips touched. It was soft, tender, gentle. Like rubbing flower petals against skin. Perhaps a little wet but as you were both experienced, it was a miracle that you both went for the lips rather than awkwardly getting the chin or the nose or tongue lolling everywhere. And then it was over. It was simple and sweet and awkward and you were blushing and he was blushing so hard you could barely see his freckles anymore. He found that he could move and he quickly went into the bedroom, opening his parents closet and pulled out a rather large jumper. It was in the same warm colors that Molly was wearing downstairs. It was far too big for you but that’s what made it all the more appealing. I stepped into the room after him and found myself getting stiffled as he literally put the sweater over your head. You managed to wiggle your head out of the top and George started to laugh. You could see why. In the looking glass upon the wall, your hair was standing up near straight thanks to static electricity. Any attempt to get it to back down just made it worse. You pushed your arms through the sleeves which were also quite big, hung down over your hands. She might be a rather short woman but Molly did have some length on her in other areas. George kept on snickering so you slapped him with the end of the sleeve playfully.
“You’re just jealous that I’m M for Marvelous,” You said, sticking your tongue out. Indeed, right on the front in a faded golden color was an M. That’s what you were going to take it as. “I suppose G could be great but Marvelous is still so much better.”
“G as in Gorgeous, actually,” George winked. While you were trying to get the sweater to somehow fit your smaller frame, George slipped out and stood in the hallway, clear of the mistletoe. “Well come on, we haven’t got all night. I might be able to get in on the next game of Exploding Snap.”
He was acting like the kiss had never happened, and you couldn’t blame him. It would be a very awkward thing to explain to his parents, his siblings. To bring up in conversation. It was just a little secret, that would never go beyond the two of you.
You attempted to fix your hair as you followed him down the stairs. You managed to get it to mostly sit down the way that it should when you entered the busy living room again. George was settling back down to Exploding Snap with his brothers. Ginny was out of the game, apparently having lost and was washing up in the nearest washroom, getting the scorch marks off of her face. Your father waved you over to the game that he was playing with Ron - apparently both better than each other thought since it was still going strong for both sides.
“I was speaking with Arthur during the game,” Your father said, stopping to command a pawn to move. “He was already inviting us over for next Christmas. What do you think?”
You inadvertently looked over at George who caught your eye and grinned, no longer seeming as shy as he had upstairs.
Imagine the Weasley twins bringing you into the Forbidden Forest
“Guys ... I’m honestly starting to freak out here.” You admitted to the Weasley twins as they brought you further into the forest. Fred was holding your left hand, and George holding your right - at least that’s what you thought, you had trouble telling them apart on some days. By the star and moonlight, which was all that the three of you had, you could see that the one on your right was wearing the jacket - definitely George.
“Just a little bit further-”
“Need us to carry you?”
“You’re a bit heavy but-”
“Shut up.” You hissed, your face turning red. “Can’t you just tell me why we’re - uck!” Your foot slipped into something wet. God, you hoped that it was mud or a puddle or something. You never could tell in the Forbidden Forest.
“Ta-Da!” The twins said in unison. They lit their wands up with lumos, and sent the little ball of light forward so you could see around you.
“A bog? We snuck out in the middle of the night... to a Forbidden Forest for a bog?”
“And not just any bog!” Fred said, letting go of your hand to present to you a particularly nasty bit of water. “The inspiration for our new nature line of products!”
“Unbelievable.” You said, tugging your hand away from George to walk back to the castle, rolling your eyes at their absurdity.
Imagine being George Weasley’s Nurse after his ear accident.
You had to literally beat Fred Weasley with a broom until he left the room. The trouble with dealing with wizards is that even if you manage to kick someone out, or you lock the door, they could just apparate or alohamora their way right back into the room. But you thought you made your point. George had to rest.
“It’s going to take Draught of the Living Death to get you to sleep, isn’t it?” You asked, going back to George so you could change the dressing on his ear before he fell asleep.
“A cuddle or two would probably work. Maybe. We’d have to see.” He said, smiling cheekily. “What are you going to do, reject an injured man?”
You laughed, and swatted his side. “If you let me change the bandages without giving me any trouble, you just might get your cuddle George. Maybe. We’d have to see.” You teased.
Modern AU, where Demelza is so fucking tired from Ross' mine and contraband adventures, so she sends him to striptease gay-bar to earn money with his All-Cornwall-Famous biceps.
Also this is the story where George Warleggan chokes on whiskey and falls from the bar stool.
