Pairing: Platonic!Draco Malfoy x Twin!M!Reader; Theodore Nott x M!Reader
Warnings: Minor making out between Theo and reader
Requested by: @syd-games, I hope you like it, my friend! My requests are open, everyone!
A/N: Hello my lovelies, I really just can't stop writing lately. It's getting in the way of my homework, oops.
Flickering Twin Flames
The common room was quiet, with only a few students sitting in the large room. Most people were out at dinner. It was nearly winter, and the castle grew ever so colder at night. This made the fireplace the most perfect place to lounge. You were propped up against the back of a loveseat, Theodore curled up with his head in your lap. You ran your fingers through his soft and silky brown curls, admiring his features as he dozed. Rather than go to dinner, your boyfriend managed to grab some food from the kitchens and you had a romantic meal by the firelight. It was the perfect end to a nice Saturday spent with Theo. The rest of your friends, including your twin brother Draco, went down the Hogsmeade for the day and left the two of you to hang around your dorm lazily, cuddling and kissing for pretty much the whole afternoon.
However, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt when you remembered your brother. He was pretty bummed when you bailed out on Hogsmeade, and even more annoyed when you told him you weren’t going down to dinner with him. You knew he was feeling jealous and abandoned, because he’d tell you exactly how he was feeling at all times of the day. That was one good thing about Draco, he never left you guessing. He was always upfront and blunt, though sometimes he was a bit too blunt. Last week, he made a second year cry when he attempted to give her flying lessons with the rest of the Slytherin quidditch team. He wasn’t the most tactful.
When the entrance to the common room opened and about six younger students filed in, you assumed dinner was ending and people would start filling up the common room. You weren’t happy about waking up your precious boyfriend, but you knew he wouldn’t like it if a whole bunch of fourth years saw him napping. You poked at his side, startling him awake. “Whazzit?” He mumbled, and you couldn’t help but lean down to press a kiss to his cheek.
“People are coming back from dinner, sweetheart, would you like to move this to the dorm? You can keep sleeping on me.” Theo blinked up at you, wiping the sleep from his tired blue eyes.
“Hmm, that depends,” his voice was low and his accent thick as he struggled to wake himself up. “Do I get to grope you a little bit first?” You chuckled and nodded your consent, allowing yourself to be tugged up and toward the dormitory. Your back hit the door the moment you closed it behind you, allowing yourself to be manhandled by Theo. He pressed his lips to your neck and began sucking a bruise as his hands reached out and clutched at the hem of your shirt. You pressed forward and pushed him toward your bed at the back of the room, next to the window. The back of Theo’s knees hit the bed and he collapsed backward, bringing you along with him. It was then that the door swung open and your twin brother waltz into the room.
“Oh, for fucks sake.” Draco covered his eyes and groaned, but continued forward nonetheless. “Get off him and scoot over, I want to talk.” Theodore looked at him in disbelief, as if he couldn’t believe that Draco was barging in on you in this way. But to you, it was normal. When Draco wanted your attention, he didn’t let anything stop him. You clambered off Theo’s lap and moved to sit up against the headboard. Theo didn’t let Draco’s presence deter him too much, following you up the bed and wrapping his arm around your waist, his face buried in your side. You guessed that he decided he’d take you up on that nap while Draco did whatever he wanted to do.
What Draco wanted to do, apparently, was also climb into your bed and lay across the end, facing you. “Did you need something, Draco?” You asked, clearly irritated at him for interrupting.
“Well, I’m bored for one. And you’ve been with Theodore all damn day, is it such a surprise I wanted to spend some time with you?” You had to admit, he hit you where it hurt. You knew that your brother had been missing you, but you’ve continued not to make time for him. It was so much more fun opting to hang out with Theo, in hidden alcoves and the back of the library where the two of you can have some privacy to your conversations.
“I suppose that’s fine. How’s Pansy?” While Draco droned on about his girlfriend, you felt Theo snuggle in deeper, and you couldn’t help but look down and admire the handsome boy.
“Oh for- Y/n!” Your brother whined, grabbing your attention once again.
“What? I was listening!” You said, indignately, despite it being a complete lie.
“Really, then tell me what I was saying?” You didn’t have an answer to this, and the silence in the room was deafening. Draco huffed angrily.
“I’m… gonna let you two talk.” Theo mumbled into your shirt, before scooting off the silk sheets and onto the floor. His feet patted along the hardwoods toward the door, mouthing “good luck” to you as he headed out of the dorm room. Draco didn’t say anything, he just looked up at the ceiling and huffed again. You knew what he was waiting for.
“I’m sorry, Draco.” You spoke softly, to show that you were being sincere. He huffed again. So dramatic. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t just listening to you, for one. Not only that, I’m sorry for spending so much of my time with Theo and not enough with you.”
“It’s just… I didn’t ditch you for Pansy, you know? But with Theo, it’s like you don’t have any time for me whatsoever. Who else would appreciate the joke I played on Granger this week more than you?” You looked over at him, curious.
“What did you do to Granger?”
“Spelled her books shut when she wasn’t looking. She had to go to Flitwick to reverse the charm.” You laughed, wondering how you managed to miss that happening until you remembered you skipped Charms Tuesday to hangout with Theo. Oops.
“Damn, did that make that vein in her forehead pop?”
“It sure did. She was so frustrated, it was hilarious. But you weren’t there, so you missed it. Skipping classes isn’t like you, either. Maybe Theo is a bad influence on you.” You considered this, thinking back to before you started dating through now. While it was true that you had never skipped class, Theo had also never snuck into Filch's office like you convinced him to do a few weeks ago to recover your missing dungbombs.
“I think we’re equally bad influences on each other. In our own unique ways.” Your twin rolled his eyes, but dropped it when you gave him a look. “I haven’t dropped you, Draco, and you’ve been dating Pansy since you learned how to talk. So you can’t compare me and Theo to you and her. Our relationship is still really new, okay, we’re in the Honeymoon phase. It’ll pass and return closer to normal soon. But I really, really like him and if you somehow mess this up for me, I’m going to kill you.” Draco’s hands went up in the air, giving you a look of innocence.
“I wouldn’t dare mess with your precious Theo, Y/n. I’m just asking that you don’t forget me in the process.”
“I’ll carve out more time for you, I promise. How about tomorrow?” You asked him, reaching up and pulling his head to your shoulder. You stroked his blonde hair, making him sigh in delight.
“Pansy and I have plans tomorrow.” He stated, missing the irony entirely. You let out a burst of laughter, and the two of you succumbed to giggles together. The two of you would be alright.
Prompt(s): "I just... want to be close to you." + "I love you."
Word Count: around 1,000
Warning(s): I suppose it's implied the reader is Gryffindor, but not specifically stated
Rating: T
Author's Note(s): our boy Draco is sad and stressed
-----
The great hall was buzzing with noise and activity. After a long day of classes and studying for exams, the students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry were thriving over a break in their day.
"Listen, Autumn is the superior season and I can list a million reasons why." Dean stated, looking right at Seamus.
Seamus rolled his eyes as he shoved a spoonful of mashed potatoes in his mouth. "Absolute nutter."
Dean's eyes widened with purpose and started counting reasons on his fingers. "The weather." One finger. "Sweaters." Two fingers. "Halloween." Three fingers. "Pumpkins." Four fingers.
"The weather?" Seamus questioned. "Sweaters?? How old are you, 70?"
Dean shrugged his shoulders. "Summer's too hot, mate." He, too, shoveled mashed potatoes into his mouth. "And yes, I love my sweaters."
(Y/N) giggled as she listened to their antics, but it wasn't long before she let her eyes wander in hopes of finding her favorite pair of blue eyes at the Slytherin table.
He wasn't there.
It wasn't exactly odd. There had been times when he didn't show up to dinner, choosing instead to sneak down into the kitchens with her late at night, but he almost always told her beforehand. She saw his group of friends. Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy, Theo.
Blaise was missing too.
She tuned back into the conversation briefly as Dean and Seamus argued what the best flavor of pie was - Dean said pumpkin, Seamus said apple - before her eyes found the entrance. Blaise was standing there, in partial darkness. Their eyes met and he motioned her over.
(Y/N) grabbed her bag, threw it over her shoulder, and made her way towards the Slytherin lurking in the shadows. Once she was close enough, Blaise gently placed his hand on her back and started moving down the corridor. By the look of seriousness on his face, she could tell something wasn't right. "What's wrong, Blaise? Where is he?"
"In our dorm." He steered her towards the dungeons. "Something is up with him, (Y/N)... and I'm not sure how to help."
(Y/N) knew Blaise was right. Something had been bothering Draco for some time now, ever since they started their sixth year. She'd asked him about it, and he swore it was nothing, but (Y/N) knew better. She always knew better.
Draco had been her best friend since first year, and she could always read him like a book. It only amplified over the years, but now that they decided to take their relationship to the next level, it was like she had to protect him. Unlike what everyone else at Hogwarts thought, (Y/N) knew Draco's home life was less than perfect, especially now that his father was in Azkaban. He refused to tell her what went on in Malfoy Manor - claiming it was for her own protection - so he kept it bottled up.
(Y/N) hated it.
Blaise led her to the entrance of the common room, looked around to make sure they were alone, and whispered the password before he quickly ushered her inside. Before she knew it, (Y/N) was standing in front of the dormitory door, a bronze plaque with the number six on the front.
"If he's in the same place I left him, he's just lying in bed. I couldn't get him to come to dinner." Blaise whispered. "I didn't know what else to do."
(Y/N) laid a hand on his arm, trying to comfort him as best she could. "Thank you for coming to get me."
He nodded before turning and walking towards the commons area.
Slowly and quietly, (Y/N) reached for the handle of the door and opened it, revealing the boy's dorm room. There were four beds, each adorned with ornate black curtains and green bedding. Her eyes went to the bed in the corner near the window. She could see him.
He wasn't underneath any blankets. He just laid there, his chest slowly rising up and down. He was still wearing part of his uniform, his white shirt only buttoned halfway and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His robes, sweater vest, and shoes were strewn across the floor at the foot of his bed.
Moving slowly to the side of his bed closest to the window, she delicately put her bag on the floor against the wall before shedding her own robes. (Y/N) studied his face. He was just staring at the canopy of his bed. It was like he hadn't even registered her presence.
"Draco?" She whispered.
No response.
She shifted her body onto the edge of his bed, but stopped herself from going any further. She'd never been in his bed before. She'd never been in any boy's bed before. Was Draco even okay with her being in his bed?
They'd been best friends for so long, but there were so many things they hadn't discussed. Like whether or not he was okay with her being in his bed.
(Y/N) could see tear stains on the side of his pillow and her heart broke.
"Draco..." She started, inching even closer, "please talk to me." (Y/N) propped herself up on her elbow and leaned over him, her eyes catching his.
There was finally a sense of recognition.
"(Y/N)?" He murmered.
She nodded and gave him a soft smile before stroking the side of his face, wiping right underneath his eye. "Yeah, it's me."
Draco sniffed and closed his eyes before rolling to his side and moving his face to (Y/N)'s neck.
(Y/N) kissed his forehead before wrapping her arms around his body. He was so cold. "I know you've said you don't want to talk about it, Draco... but I'm always here for you. I hope you know that."
He nodded.
"Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?"
Draco sniffed again before shaking his head no. "I just... want to be close to you."
"Okay." (Y/N) whispered. "I'm not going anywhere."
There was a moment of silence, but it wasn't awkward. It was pleasant. Draco's body was beginning to warm up as (Y/N) cuddled him. She maneuevered the green throw blanket that was thrown on the side of the bed so it partially covered their bodies together.
Felt liked I’d mix it up a little from my usual fred/george/draco/ron shit I do and add some fluffy fluff fluff fluff with Neville because he deserves love too.
Neville wasn’t like his classmates when it came to feelings of romance. While Harry or Ron would strike up a conversation, or Fred or George would make some grand gesture in front of everyone, Neville liked to keep his feelings to himself, showing his affection in ways that wouldn’t backfire or make him feel awkward.
Neville had first noticed Y/N after a quidditch match. She’d been right by the side of her house’s winning team, laughing and cheering as they made their way to the great hall. Neville had been behind her and he was instantly mesmerized by the joy that radiated off of her. Her smile was captivating, shining brighter than anyone else's. Her laugh to him was like a siren song, he couldn’t help but follow it as she moved in the group.
Since that first moment, Neville had been captivated, but as mentioned, he didn’t express his emotion in the same ways that his peers did, instead, he decided to do something that, if it went wrong, could not be linked back to him.
--
Y/N had been receiving little gifts for a few weeks now. The first had been a box of her favourite chocolates from Honeydukes. A random first-year student had given it to her, just pointing at the messy note attached to the top reading I think you like these. Have a nice day.
The second had been a rather cute teddy. It was a small and fluffy version of her favourite animal. No note had been attached to it but she felt like it was probably from the same person who left her the first. A few more gifts had found their way to her. One was left on her regular seat in the library, another one had been delivered by some random student, and one had made its way into her dorm room, sitting happily on her bed for when she arrived. Even though there had been a couple more notes she hadn’t yet worked out who it was sending her these adorable little gifts. She had to admit, she was always pleasantly surprised by how much this person knew about what she liked.
--
It had been a couple of days since the last gift had turned up. Y/N hadn’t forgotten about them but they had been pushed to the back of her mind due to an upcoming test in potions class. She decided to go and revise somewhere a bit quieter, seeing as her common room was full to the brim, the best place was the library.
Walking through the aisles, she made her way to her special place. It was a table that had been long forgotten by the majority of the school because of how far they had to walk to reach it. It was hidden right at the back, surrounded by old texts books that were rarely used by staff or students. It was the best place to revise in the school, it was quiet and always free… or so she thought.
As she rounded the corner she was shocked to see someone leaning over her favoured spot. All she could make out was the fact that it was a guy, but with his back to her, she wasn’t able to make out who it was.
She was about to leave when he turned, their eyes meeting as his face flushed bright red. He shuffled awkwardly to stand in front of the table as if he were hiding something.
“Er… sorry. I was em just leaving… sorry again,” he muttered, and yet made no attempt to move from his position. Y/N smiled sweetly at him. Neville may not have been the hottest of boys in the school but he was certainly among the sweetest. She’d seen him around a few times, mostly when she went to visit Hagrid's animals or to take care of the plants in herbology. Every time she had seen him in these situations he had always seemed so genuine, so kind towards all the forms of living things he cared for.
“It’s okay, it’s not my table, you’re more than welcome to use it,” she smiled again causing a warmth to spread through Neville's body. She was radiant, her beauty was beyond compare. Maybe not in everyone's eyes, but certainly in his. She was as kind as he, caring for all creatures great and small.
Her eyes tried to find what was hiding behind his back, noticing as his hands tried to carefully reach behind him.
“What you got there?”
“Er its nothing, just homework stuff really, nothing… nothing important,” Y/N could feel as this sweet boy filled with nerves. Bless him.
“Its oka-” she was going to make her way to another table, to leave him and the hidden object alone so he was more comfortable when, as his hands reached for the object, he let out a little yelp. “Are you alright?” She instantly made her way forward as he removed his hands from behind him, placing the injured finger in his mouth. Her eyes danced over where his hands had been, noticing a small rounded cactus in a little yellow pot. Attached was a little note, messy handwriting attached that she knew all too well.
“Oh don’t look at that. It’s for a friend… er, Ginny… it's for Ginny,” he stuttered and slipped over his words as they fell from his lips, the blush seeping onto his face, watching her as he faces displayed a whirlwind of different emotions.
“You were the one leaving me the little gifts?” She said, her eyes fixated on the note she had now picked up.
“Yeah,” he sighed heavily, his eyes finding the floor. He knew it would backfire.
An awkward silence fell around them. Neville's eyes remained trained on the floor as though it were the most interesting film he had ever seen, while Y/N’s had shifted, now facing Neville. She couldn’t help but smile feeling how nervous he was. Stepping so her shoes were in his line of view she gently grabbed out for his hand, turning his attention onto her. Just this small amount of contact made Neville's heart feel as though it were about to implode.
“Neville, that is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me,” she beamed, causing the butterflies in his chest to simply flutter away. “You got me so many of the things I love, like this cactus. Most people don’t know how much I love cacti, so thank you. How about this weekend, you and me, we go to the three broomsticks, as my thank you, and you can also tell me how you knew so much.” The smile never left her face as she talked. Leaning in she placed a gentle kiss to his warmed cheek, causing another red flush to ignite his skin.
“That sounds really good,” he smiled when she pulled back.
“It's a date then,” and with that she left, cactus and note in hand, a smile on her face. Behind her was a lovestruck Neville, staring on as she skipped away, his heart leaping with every breath he took. He was going on a date.
“Are you flirting with me?” “You finally noticed?”
@werewitchling fluff 13 charlie weasley?
“Are you flirting with me?” “You finally noticed?”
Request List HERE!
Fandom: Harry Potter
Summary: Charlie Weasley x Reader
Notes: I know there is a lot of speculation on what Charlie looks like but I have always pictured a Momoa style. Some super man's man outdoors dude. (Maybe even not as jacked, like a bit of a beer gut and unruly hair and clothes that he slept in)
“You don’t have to be scared, she won’t bite.” Charlie laughed coming up behind you as you, very warily, tried to hold out a carrot for the Unicorn that was chilling in the Hogwarts stables. You had wanted to study the care of magical creatures but… unicorns kind of freaked you out.
Maybe it was their beautiful human-like eyes that could look into your souls.
Or maybe it was that pointed horn that could basically stab your heart out.
The one that was beating out of your chest from how close Charlie was to you as he tried to help you feed the horrific beast.
“You faced animals twice this size with no fear” he laughed shaking his head “you never cease to surprise me.”
“Well prepare to be amazed because I’m making you do my chores this time.”
“No,” Charlie said getting up behind you taking your hand in his. “We are facing your fears.”
Oh yes Charlie, you standing behind me like that is totally going to help with my nerves. You thought angrily as you took a deep breath trying to calm your already freaked out nerves. But now they were going haywire for another reason. Why was he doing this to you?
“That’s it.” his voice whispered as he moved with you getting closer to the animal, “Just reach out, palm out flat, like a horse.”
The unicorn’s inhuman eyes watched you as its lips took the carrot from your hand munching it thoughtfully. As if sizing up your very soul.
Creepy.
“See she likes you.” Charlie laughed still very much right behind you. Very close. Which you were also VERY aware of. Turning you your nose brushed against his cheek. His bright eyes glancing down at you. “But I can see why.”
“Are you flirting with me?” you said pulling away facing him feeling your cheeks flushed. After years of the banter, you two had you already knew his answer to this.
“You finally noticed."
Wait, what?
“Wait, wha…”
Charlie smiled shoving his hands in his pockets shrugging, “come on, it’s obvious to everyone. Please tell me you weren’t that oblivious”
Yes
“No”
He could see right through you. “Wow, you really were that clueless.” then he shrugged, “Cool”
“Wait!”
“I wasn’t going anywhere.”
“Uhhh… ok good, because I flirt with you too… like you? I don’t know.”
“You don’t know.” he was laughing now. God, why were you so awkward?
“No, I like you too… you like me right?”
He took a step toward you so he was only inches away, towering over you. You always forgot how tall and bulky he was. Even at 17, he was a huge guy. Years of running wild around the Hogwarts grounds probably helped with that.
“Yes,” he said leaning forward, a small smile playing on his lips, “very much so,” he added before those smirking lips touched yours.
This is based on a prompt that @imagines-for-the-unpopular recieved and I got inspired by. My first post here, hope you like it.
The first time they met they hadn't been sorted yet, and still he knew that there was no way she was to be a slytherin.
She had come into his cabin on the train asking about a toad named Trevor, and at this point, it had been clear that she had been searching for a while. The poor girl looked exhausted, and glancing out the window, he could see that it was already getting dark.
With a shake of his head and a small smile, he offered her a chocolate frog before she left, only getting a quick glance at the wide-eyed smile that she had at noticing the frog bounding out the window.
The second time they met, it was late at night in the library, well past curfew, and he noticed she had been staring intensely at a book for nearly an hour without turning a page.
Sliding past her to replace a book, he noticed the drawing of a giant snake on the page. With all the petrifying happening recently, he knew that he should be scared, but with all the help she had been in potions as his partner, he couldn’t help but grow the slightest bit concerned for her.
Forgoing his book, he slid into the seat beside her disturbing her from her thoughts as she pulled her overly bushy hair back in a tie before facing him with a small, tense smile.
The third time they met, he silently cheered when she punched his so-called friend in the face.
For years, he had put up with his friends piss poor behaviour, all so that his father would be in his family’s good books. “It’s all business, you know,” his father would say, and he would have to keep his mouth shut, because he was 13, he didn’t know (and he didn’t know why his father would think he did).
Watching her land a punch after everything this year, he felt himself swell with pride. I taught her that, he thought to himself, not that he would ever tell anyone, not her Gryffindor friends, or worse, his Slytherin ones.
There were so many different levels of wrong with their friendship, if you had asked anyone else, not that they’d know. A Slytherin and a Gryffindor? A pureblood and a muggleborn? A member of the golden trio and one of Malfoy’s cronies? His friendship with her, he realised it was the first real thing in his life, and he would do anything to protect it.
The fourth time they met, he saved her from being overwhelmed by the overrated fool, Krum.
The famous quidditch player had been stumbling along the shores of the Black Lake, through the library, every possible quiet place he thought he could find. His only relief was the Slytherin common room, but that silence never lasted, not as long as Malfoy remained the prince of Slytherin.
Sitting on the shores of the Black Lake, his eye caught that of hers, and together they both rolled their eyes at the sound of Krum and his gaggle of gossiping girls that followed him.
Snapping his book shut, he scuttled over to her before the lump of a man could, and took a deep, shuddering breath.
The fifth time they met, his breath was taken away.
You'd heard once that sleep deprivation was torture. You now believed that to be true. You were a shaky ball of nerves that kept jumping at the slightest sound, and had only managed to get eight hours of sleep in the past three days.
George had gotten even less. His eyes had huge bags underneath them and looked as if someone had smeared lilac paint there. He kept snapping at everything-- at the kettle when it “took too long” and the icebox for “not being cold enough”. Not violently, not even explosively, you would just hear a ‘Dammit--!’ from another room and would try to quell your nerves as they flared up at the unexpected sound.
It had been eight weeks since Fred died, and you had moved in five weeks ago after George’s first night.
You let out a whine, as you curled back up on your futon. You just wanted to sleep.
“Are you still up, Y/N?”
With a defeated nod, you looked toward George who was lying on his back on the sofa. Your little futon in the living room had made things seem much too crowded for comfort. Especially considering neither of you liked to leave the apartment anymore. “Yeah.”
He stared at you for a long time, a frown on his lips. “Why are you here?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” your brow furrowed as your heart began to sting a bit. George had proposed at least a couple dozen times since you moved in, it had become sort of a daily thing. As of yet the first night was when he was the most upset about it. He’d taken to just muttering it to himself. You didn’t know if he was trying to spare your feelings or anything but you were very grateful for the fact that you could ignore it without causing a scene. “I live here George. I moved in with you. I sold my flat--!” towards the end of your sentence your voice became more shrill, as the lack of sleep sharpened your nerves.
Like that, George popped up to a sitting position and you had a sneaking suspicion he’d picked a fight on purpose. “You don’t want to be here!” his voice bounced over the all too quiet flat.
If things were like before it’d be nice and loud. Fred would be playing some record and telling a loud story. But with just you and George everything felt silent and echoed when there finally was a noise.
“What the fuck does that mean? I don’t want to be here? When did you start reading my mind for me?” You sprang up from the futon and drew yourself up to your full height. “I moved here to sleep on a futon in our living room. Don’t tell me what I do and do not want, George Fabian Weasley!”
George wasn’t sure of what he was hoping for here. To hear you say that you didn’t really want to live with him? He was fairly certain he’d be crippled with guilt if he heard you say that. You’d had a nice apartment. Right near where you’d worked. The two of you had even joked about moving into there together before the war.
You had been so unbelievably wonderful.
George didn’t know why he was doing this.
Picking a fight that didn’t matter.
Picking a fight that didn’t exist.
But he was tired.
And he was angry at himself for so many things.
However, grief had clouded the rational side of him that would have simply taken a walk to calm down his nerves and instead he was lashing out every which way. “You don’t want to be with me.”
“I said I wanted to be here, George!”
“I said with me!”
Caught off guard, your volume warbled until it was at a speaking level, “Are you really going to yell at me about that? About not wanting to marry you?”
Despite how tired he was, even George hesitated in this. “Why are you here?” he stared up at you like you were an enigma. Like you were written in some foreign language he didn’t understand. Like you were a brand new world that he wanted to explore but didn’t know how to get to. “I don’t get it.”
“You’re my friend.” you watched as George stood up slowly, as only the coffee table littered with newspapers and old cups of tea stood between you. “You’re hurting. I wanted to move in with you eventually anyways--”
You fell silent again after that, and the emptiness of the flat once again crushed out any outside noise. That wasn’t something you’d meant to let slip. After the war you’d thought that you and George would have finally gotten together. That you’d be in love and get engaged and move in together before starting a family. Of course Fred would drop by at odd times and spoil the ever living hell out of whatever kids you two had at that point.
But that wasn’t possible now, was it?
And you’d just told the man who was grief-proposing to you, and who you loved, that you’d once hoped to move in with him.
Fuck.
This was the first time in weeks that George had some look of hope on his face and it felt like a stab to the heart. You knew what was coming. “George don’t say it.”
“Y/N.”
You shook your head. You didn’t want to outright tell him no. You’d avoided that so far. An outright answer. “Please. Don’t.”
“Why not?” his voice broke a bit, as emotions began to bubble up to the surface once more. “I think I deserve an answer.”
Your throat felt tight, like someone had a belt around your neck. That was probably only fair, you’d want an answer too in his shoes. But this was just going to make things so much more worse. “I won’t marry you.”
It felt like someone had taken all of the breath from George’s lungs. He wondered if this was what it was like to lose your own soul. Was he supposed to make a patronus right now? George couldn’t seem to grasp onto any happy thought. “You don’t love me.” He spoke rather matter-of-factly and noted the fact that his voice sounded rather like Percy’s at the moment.
Instinctively you flinched-- that wasn’t it! You didn’t seem to have a good option here. Either lie, and say you weren’t in love with him or tell the truth. Say you were in love with him. Both were messy in their own ways but you knew that while lying would effectively stamp out any proposals, it would ruin almost everything.
Telling the truth though, would simply make everything more messy than it was right now. When everyone could claim ignorance.
“I love you.” George looked like someone had breathed life into him as you said those words, and for a few moments there was a light in his eyes. “I’ve loved you for years. You are my soulmate.” you used the heel of your palm to wipe away the tears that started to stream down your face.
You hated this.
Love was supposed to be happy. Love was supposed to be like flowers and kisses on a spring day. It was supposed to be sweet tea and cream with soft touches and sweet scents.
But this was pain. This was standing out in a hailstorm in the middle of winter. This was coldness until your fingertips froze off. This was the stinging in your lungs when the cold made it too hard to breath in. This was when your tears became ice in your eyes.
“You are... everything to me George Weasley. I cannot stand to see you in pain, and I cannot even... bear the idea that I cause you pain.”
“You don’t--” he caught himself before he instinctively lied. You’d hurt him. But it was okay! It was all going to be okay-- “It’s okay. I bet I’ve hurt you too right?” when you nodded he wasn’t quite sure how he felt but George brushed that aside to take a step out from around the coffee table towards you. He stopped, when you smoothly took a step away.
“What’s wrong, Y/N?”
The thread of joy in his voice was the most beautiful thing you’d ever heard. You would do anything to keep hearing it. But the rest had to be said. Doing your very best to speak clearly through your tears, you stared him straight in the eyes, “I’m still not marrying you.”
He didn’t get it. “You just-- you just want to date?” that was okay. That was okay! You didn’t have to get married yet. You just had to be together. You had to have a happy ever after.
“No.”
Was Fred in this much pain before he died? George wasn’t sure.
His voice warbled as he spoke and George looked at you like you’d just stabbed him in the chest. “Why?”
“It’s not the time.” you didn’t have a better reason. Not one that he could understand with how upset he was. If he was calmer-- if things were farther after Fred had died then you could sit him down and have a real conversation with him. You could tell him that you were afraid to jump into a serious relationship like the two of you were bound to have so soon after a tragedy like this.
George got afraid every time you two were separated. Not enough to follow you but the first day you’d gone to work after the war you’d come back to a George that had his first panic attack and was frightened that he was dying like Fred had.
He tried not to guilt you into staying with him, but you knew that if you started something now his dependence would only grow stronger and you’d be the one feeding it.
“That’s not--!” his voice cracked as it raised in volume, “You don’t get to just-- to just break my heart and say that you love me and then--” George choked on a sob and wondered how such a good sized apartment could feel so much like a prison cell. He had never before been claustrophobic, but now that he was sleeping less and less he was feeling more and more constricted.
“I’m sorry.” your voice was quiet. Your tears felt hot on your face. You were hurting him. When he’d come to you after Fred had died you’d held his head close to your heart and stroked his hair until he’d fallen asleep. You couldn’t remember what you’d said to him. You loved Fred too. Not the same way but he’d been near and dear to you as well. He’d been one of your best friends. Fred was the boy who could burst into a room and make all eyes turn to him.
Who wouldn’t be friends with someone like that? Who wouldn’t love them.
At Fred’s funeral you’d told yourself that you would protect George. It was what you were trying to do now, but it seemed that all you were doing was hurting him more. Your shoulders shook as you tried to keep your sobs in. You didn’t get to cry. You were the one hurting him here.
You just wanted to help.
George opened his mouth and shut it several times. His eyes were wide, and uncomfortably you noted the fact that this was the same expression he held when he told you Fred had died.
“I can’t look at you.”
You recoiled at his words, and bit your lip.
You just wanted to sleep.
You wanted to lie down and to sleep until nothing hurt anymore and this was all over and you and George could have the happy ending you wanted. “George--”
He shook his head rather violently, “No.” he ran a hand through his hair and quickly grabbed his wand. “No. No I can’t. I can’t do it. I can’t keep looking at you. I can’t do it, Y/N. Not-- not when.” His mouth twitched and George shook his head once more before apparating away from the flat.
You stared at the space where he once stood for a moment before stumbling backwards into a chair and collapsing into sobs.
For a worrying moment George realized he wasn’t sure where he’d apparated. He’d been thinking of Hogsmeade. Of the first time Fred and he had bought fireworks and had immediately gone about tampering them. The clearing he was in seemed a tad unfamiliar until he realized that it was in fact just a bit away from Hogsmeade, but that someone had chopped down some of the trees. Or blasted them rather. He wasn’t sure what happened but if some duel took place here somehow he wouldn’t have been surprised.
George walked further into the forest, his hands in his pockets. He needed to breath. It felt like he couldn’t breath before.
You loved him.
That was supposed to be good.
That was good right?
But it wasn’t.
If you didn’t love him, George could understand why you didn’t want to be with him. He could move on. He could deal with it--
Oh who the hell was he kidding? It would probably make him feel just as bad as he did right now. Why was he even lying to himself, there was no way George could have come out of that conversation feeling good.
Unless you’d said that you did love him and you did want to get married.
He’d be over the moon.
George wondered for a moment what Fred would say to him right now. The idea that his brother would be comforting was a nice notion but George had a better feeling. That Fred would be calling him an arse right now for picking a fight with you just because he was tired.
And for yelling at you.
And for saying that he couldn’t look at you.
You’d been so kind to him. You’d used up all of your vacation days so he didn’t have to be alone. You were working from home every chance you got. Regardless of whatever feelings were between you to, you didn’t deserve what had just happened.
George knew for a fact that his father never would have done that to his mother.
He took another breath and wondered how he’d become such a spiteful person before remembering with a yawn that the lack of sleep probably had something to do with it.
If he was a betting man, which he had been to a certain point before Fred had died, he’d say that a lot of your little spats the past few weeks were from lack of sleep. However chances to bet on whether or not Fred would get destroyed by tequila shots and try to snog Flint were going to be quite rare nowadays.
Both of you needed sleep. As much as he loved you-- and George wished he didn’t love you-- you’d been snappy as well. Little quips, small remarks.
That didn’t make him feel better though.
George stared up at the night sky and sucked in three deep breaths. This was the plan. He was going to go home. He was going to apologize. He was going to say that you both needed sleep. He was going to get ready for bed, and make sure you got to sleep. He was going to wake up in the morning and have a proper conversation with you two about your living situation and everything would work out alright.
He wanted you there. More than anything else he wanted you in his life and right by his side. But between you two both grieving and being in love and also not wanting to date him or marry him things were messy.
There needed to be lines.
He didn’t know what those lines were, but there needed to be lines dammit.
At the moment it was easy for him to say this, but he worried that once he got back into that flat it would all leave him again as the grief hung over him.
Like ripping off a bandage, George apparated back into the apartment. He wasn’t sure where he thought he would find you, but it certainly wasn’t curled up in the chair with your knees tucked under your chin as you hugged your legs. Your hair covered your eyes and upon closer inspection George noticed two things. One-- you were asleep. Two-- you had cried yourself to sleep.
He could see you taking long breaths in and out and for the first time in a long time, you looked peaceful.
George set his wand on the table and walked over to your futon to clear a space for you when he noted with a frown that this did not seem comfortable at all. Maybe for a night or two in a row it’d be fine, but as he was pressing on the mattress pad he realized it was rather lumpy and firm. When you’d said you’d move in you hadn’t asked for Fred’s room and told him that he didn’t need to clear it out yet. That it was fine that he wasn’t ready.
But he didn’t like you sleeping on something like that. He’d have to do something about this.
For tonight though, there was a quick fix. George very gently scooped you up into his arms and carried you to his room. He was a bit sheepish about how disgusting it was at the moment. His floor was a carpet of old clothes and papers. His bed was fine for now though. George set you down very carefully and tucked you in.
He noticed Fred’s old rabbit on the floor and picked it up, staring at the stuffed animal for a long moment. George used to have an identical one when they were children-- but he’d given it to Ron when Ron was a baby and had gotten colic.
And the little bastard had never given it back.
Fred had leant him the rabbit whenever George was feeling down though. It’s what George had been sleeping with every night since he moved back into the apartment. For a moment he thought about simply walking out as it was and taking it with him to sleep on the couch.
But he looked at your face and saw that your eyes were red from rubbing at them and there were track marks on your cheeks from where the tears had fallen. If it had been before Fred died George simply would have crawled into bed with you and held you until he was certain that you felt all better.
Things were different now though.
You two touching had become quite sparing since he’d declared his love and George knew that getting in bed with you would only make you upset.
Instead he uncurled one of your hands and pressed the rabbit inside of it, gently maneuvering your other arm to drape around the cloth animal. He brushed some hair out of your face so you wouldn’t be awakened by it flying into your nostrils or anything like that and made sure that the blankets were secure around you once more.
You needed the comfort more than he did, it seemed.
With that, George stood up, walked out and closed the door most of the way-- leaving a sliver of light shining in from the hallway in case you woke up and needed to find your way around.
