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🖤 You Need Vitamins #10

🖤 Summary: After the Yule Ball, and with no apparent girlfriend in sight, George makes a bet with Fred. Get a girlfriend and keep her until the next school year, or be the sole product tester until they open the shop.

🖤 Pairing: George Weasley x Fem!Reader.

🖤 Warnings: Fake dating, maybe OOC George.

🖤 Word count: 4.5k

🖤A/N: I almost forgot today was update day! Also, it's July 9th, Argentinian Independence Day. This Saturday we play against Switzerland, and I'm learning how to cure the evil eye. If Argentina loses, I'll break a few things (my computer). Maybe I should link my Twitter; I have a lot of things to yap about every time I post, and I shouldn't do it in the notes. Let me know what you think of this chapter ;) Remember, if you want to be tagged, leave a comment! Taglist: @eliiiiiiieeee @lulunix15 @shewhomustnotbenamedshhh @avee-wavee @yaintpaint @mysticspruce @eviesletters @falsedivide @lulzs-world06 @stari-struck @aallis0n @wannabe-rotten-sunflower @peterthehorseisinhere @lilians17 @kinggosia @i8akitkattt @keithrys @n31ly @thequeenofdramaqueens @call-me-mr-delulu@llkea @lilyyyyy08 @tesstickles01 @kakaolover @chicken-hot-pockets @khumiko @liv-109 @koala-wonderland @buibeeboo @sneezelee444 @doomsdqy @velvetangelitaxo @probably-a-femcel

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Though the night was just starting and people continued arriving, the party was a total success. Maybe it was because they had extended the invitations to the Beauxbatons delegation and some of the Durmstrang girls, too, but this year’s party was even bigger than any other celebration yet.

McGonagall very seriously advised them against the use of alcohol, and Flitwick reminded George that he had the orchestral practice tomorrow evening. Yet, as he saw Lee being handed a plastic cup full of straight vodka from a Durmstrang girl, George couldn’t help but wonder how many days of detention they would obtain after the party.

Probably for… till next year.

Fred nursed a bottle of butterbeer in his hands, claiming he needed a clear head if he was going to help you set Nessa up with what he called 'that little snake’. Surprisingly, Lee was the one who had started drinking earlier on, and everyone could see that in the way he was happier and chattier than ever.

Meanwhile, George was waiting for you.

It wasn’t something they had agreed on. He was simply attentive to the door every time someone opened it.

“You look like a lost pup.”

A voice behind him startled him, and when he turned his head a bit, he saw a dolled-up Ginny smirking at him.

“Waiting for your owner, are we?” She sat beside him, smoothing her skirt as she did it.

“Isn’t that skirt too short?” He pointed.

“Your girlfriend picked it up for me this morning.”

The way she had pronounced 'girlfriend' sent shivers down his spine, and it reminded George that Ginny was the only one who knew that you two were pretending to be together. You had told him you had confided that small secret in Ginny, which left him confused because he never thought you and she were that good of friends. Apparently, you two were as thick as thieves.

He rolled his eyes. “Well, then my girlfriend should know you’re too young to wear that kind of skirt.”

“And you’re too old to be playing pretend,” she hissed.

George was about to answer her when a pair of warm hands settled on his eyes, obscuring his vision and filling his senses with the smell of lavender and something smoky, like incense. He didn’t even have to hear your voice to know it was you.

He would recognise you everywhere.

It wasn’t like you used the same perfume every day; just like with your lip balms, you liked to use various scents on your skin. But there was something so characteristic about all your aromas that he could guess which was yours and which weren’t.

Flowers, for example.

Every time he smelt lavender, or jasmine, or roses, he couldn’t help but be taken back to you. His mind filled with thoughts and sensations related to you, adding to his already messed-up feelings.

Were you, just like him, able to recognise him by his scent? Doubtful; he hardly ever remembered to use cologne.

“Who am I?” You asked.

He placed his hands above yours, gently intertwining his fingers with yours.

Not only was it your perfume, but also the length of your fingers and the weight of them against his own. It was your middle finger with that small callus from writing with that Muggle pen for years, and your slightly long nails painted a different colour every week.

Before, he wouldn’t have been able to recognise you by these small things, but after spending almost every free moment he had with you, knowing you, and seeing you, he considered himself an expert on you.

George hummed, smiling as he felt your body pressing against his back. “Angelina?”

“Don’t be cliché," you chuckled.

“You’re the one being cliché.”

He shrugged your hands away before turning and grabbing you by the waist, pulling you onto his lap. By doing so, he had to use a bit of strength to hoist you from behind the backrest.

“Happy birthday,” you mumbled, placing a small kiss on his lips.

Unknowing to you both, Ginny had turned to your group of friends and stared at them with incredulous disgust, which they mirrored.

“I have never in my life seen such a disgusting scene,” Heidi spoke, walking from behind the sofa and stopping near them, palming George on the back, making him wince.

“I did,” you chirped. “When you and Gabe kiss—”

“Daphne and Astoria are here!” Gabriel interrupted you, shoving the two girls forward.

In an instant, Fred had arrived at the scene and plopped next to Ginny. He wasn’t happy, and you could see it in the way his shoulders were tense and his jaw tight.

“Welcome,” he said, not bothering to extend his hands towards the girls, and taking a swing from his butterbeer.

Ginny, too, wasn’t too happy, but contrary to Fred, she was better at hiding it, greeting the girls with a small smile.

“Happy Birthday," Astoria spoke first, pulling from her pocket two small packages.

“You prepared a gift?” Nessa asked.

“It’s rude to go to a birthday party without a gift.” Daphne shrugged, another one who wasn’t thrilled about the situation.

Heidi huffed. “Great, Daph, now you’re making us look bad.”

George grabbed the package and opened it. It was unnecessary, actually; he didn’t even think half of the people even knew it was their birthday.

Inside, he found a guitar pick.

The weird sister’s guitar pick he had seen plenty of times around Astoria’s neck.

One day after a rehearsal, he had asked her why she had it around her neck, and the girl had said that her cousin's sister-in-law worked with the Weird Sisters, so it was one of the picks they used, and, apart from being amazed, as a joke, he had said he would steal it someday.

It looked like he wouldn’t need to.

“Thank you so much, Astoria.” He mumbled, smiling sincerely at the girl. “But I couldn’t—”

She shook her head and turned her head, but George saw her blushing. “Just take it; I’ll ask my cousin for another bigger thing.”

“Yeah, yeah, thank you,” Fred mumbled, still not happy but not tense anymore.

George peeked over at Fred’s gift and saw a small but fancy-looking gift card belonging to Honey Ducks and something else he hadn’t been able to see before his twin stood up.

Slinging his arm around the sisters’ shoulders, Fred started to drive them away from there. “We have some introductions to make, don’t we? Parade you two around so people don’t freak out if they see little snakes hanging around.”

Quickly, Nessa wished George a happy birthday before grabbing Heidi and Gabe and pulling them to trail behind the other three. And when he turned to see his own sister, she wasn’t there anymore.

“Happy birthday,” you mumbled again, hugging his shoulders.

He raised a brow. “Didn’t you say you prepared a gift?”

“So greedy, do you only want me for the thing I can do?” Your fingers slithered up and grabbed his hair.

“I want you for that… and for matters far more wicked,” he whispered, his voice completely devoid of his usual tone, replaced by a regal and poised one.

You squeezed his hand on his head. “If this is your idea of gentlemanly conduct, sir, I fear for my virtue.”

“What virtue?” he smirked, head tilted and unmoving as he allowed you to be a little rough with him. “You possess none; I have never seen a more vixen-like creature than you.”

“Hey, I’m not.” Pouting, you slapped his back.

George couldn’t help but stare at you. With your face so close, it was hard not to.

Blush crept up his neck to his cheeks when his eyes slowly made a downward path to your lips. They were slightly pink, with a small coat of gloss that just made them look luscious and delicious.

It bothered him a little that there was no scent this time. Part of his routine when he saw you was guessing what flavour you were using, and it made him feel slightly less conscious about looking at your lips.

Now, he had no excuse as to why his eyes lingered so much on them.

“No flavour this time?” Mumbling, his hand lifted to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Wanna guess?”

It was enough for him to close the distance and pull you down for a kiss.

***

“It’s your turn!”

George groaned as Lee pointed at their roommate and told him to spin the bottle.

It was a childish game, very silly. Yet people seemed to be eager to do something with the sexual energy the alcohol brought out in them, because as soon as Fred proposed playing spin the bottle, various other students joined in.

At first, they had tried to play truth or dare between their group of friends, but then everybody refused to do the truths or the dares, which only made you mad and call everybody cowards. George didn’t mention you had decided to drink, too, instead doing the dare Ginny had told you.

The point of that game had been to get Nessa and Daphne to do something as a pair, something romantic you had said earlier on. But after it had failed, Fred had decided to go with what he said would work from the beginning, against your and George’s protests.

Ginny had bailed as soon as it was announced, and you had looked at her with a knowing look; Harry, Ron and Heidi had decided not to play after the first round; Hermione had never played any games.

At first, George had wanted to refuse this game, but then Lee had proposed that if a person didn’t want to do the kiss, they needed to take a vodka shot. With that, you had batted your pretty eyelashes, and he had agreed.

“She had you wrapped around her fingers, doesn’t she?” Fred had mumbled.

He didn’t say anything, but it was pretty clear what the answer was.

You were the only one who, without saying anything, could make him do things he didn’t want to do. And not because she was forcing him, but because he wanted to make you happy.

He wanted to make you happy.

That was it. That was why he had been accepting everything that was happening right now.

When you were happy, he felt something inexplicable that bloomed in his heart and travelled through his veins to every part of his body, warming him with a feeling he felt no need to decipher.

If you were happy, he was too. Radiantly so.

“Okay, Gi,” you whispered, leaning closer to him, pretending you were resting your forehead on his shoulder. “After that boy, when he spins the bottle, you need to make it land on Nessa, and when Nessa refuses and spins it again, you need to make it land on Daphne.”

“And what if they refuse to kiss?” he wondered.

“Nessa won’t drink two shots back-to-back, and you can see Daphne is already too drunk.”

Well, yes. Daphne had been dragged into the game by Astoria, and Astoria had been dragged by you.

Despite them being there, people were still wary of the Greengrass sisters. Normal, considering they were Slytherin and Daphne had been seen with Draco’s group multiple times. Though Astoria claimed they weren’t friends with them, it was weird.

You had vouched for them very vehemently, and so he had no reason to believe you were wrong about their characters. But his friends had no reason to believe they were nice outside of George believing you.

“What if it still doesn’t work?” he mumbled, but he started pulling his wand out of his pocket.

“We use Imperio.”

George turned to look at you, and you smiled sheepishly at him.

Sensing his change of demeanour, you quickly grasped his chin and shook his head slightly. “I’m joking.”

“You better be.”

When the lad finished kissing the girl, George flickered a spell when the boy spun the bottle again. It went on for a few seconds before it slowly landed on Nessa, who, as fast as she could, grabbed the vodka, a shot glass and drank it.

Your hand rested on his thigh as you watched attentively.

It was Nessa’s turn, and just as you had asked, he messed a bit with it and made it land on Daphne.

He could almost hear you vibrate with energy as Daphne lifted her head and looked at the brunette girl and then, slowly, to the bottle of vodka. She was about to reach for the cup when a hand stopped her.

Your nails dug into his thigh as Astoria convinced Daphne not to drink, claiming she had already drunk plenty.

“Please, let her do it.” You whispered to yourself, yet he heard it.

Daphne had conceded. And you almost squealed in delight. It made George chuckle at the absurdity of being so invested in other people’s love lives. He would never be able to understand that part of you, but he could always appreciate the fact that it obtained such reactions from you.

He looked at you.

Really looked at you.

The sun had come down to earth and personally turned you into sunshine by how bright your smile was.

It made the wrinkles on your eyes even more pronounced; your eyes disappeared, closed into half-moons that made your pupils spark very noticeably. Without lying, you were the most gorgeous girl he had ever seen in his life.

It made him wonder why you had developed a crush on him in the past. It’s not like he was that good-looking.

Not compared to you.

All of a sudden, he felt his heart skip a beat when your eyes found his. His hands felt sweaty, and his mouth went dry.

And that something new, something that he had never felt so strongly, flourished inside.

Scorching heat.

But this time you weren’t kissing his neck. You weren’t pulling his hair.

Something he hadn’t dared to name before, yet now it was clear as day.

Desire.

“They kissed," you said low.

He cleared his throat. “Good.”

***

It didn’t take a lot for everybody to get drunk. Plenty of people wanted to play, but only to kiss the one they were attracted to, so many decided to take a shot instead of the other option. To be honest, besides Nessa and Daphne kissing, he believed the game was pretty boring. So did you, by the look on your face.

Daphne had quit long ago and was watching from the sidelines, and Nessa had gone on and kissed another person before she quit, too.

Of course, the bottle had landed a few times on George, but just as they had agreed early on, he refused to even breathe the same air as another girl or boy. Be it a game or not, he was no cheater. And the times it had landed on you, your glare had made the other person take the shot instead of you. So, in comparison to him, you were more sober.

Right now, the bottle was pointing at you, and the one who had spun it was Astoria. Without much thinking, you bent forward and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek before spinning it.

Slowly, it stopped, pointing at him.

“Boring!” He heard Fred mumble.

Easily, he grabbed you by the hips with one hand and with the other, he squeezed your cheeks together, making your lips purse. He placed a peck on you but didn’t let go of you fully; his hand travelled to the small of your back and stayed there.

Rather than moving to the centre of the circle and spinning, he took out his wand and flickered it in front of everybody, just as he had been doing the past rounds.

It spun again, and as if it were destiny, it pointed to you.

George blinked. Out of all the times people had been playing, not once had the bottle been pointed twice in a row at the same people.

“Oh! Tongue—” Fred started, but was quickly shut up by George’s glare.

“I know.”

He was fairly sure, almost completely, he could say, that it was Fred’s doing. He had that smirk on his lips, the one that was a permanent feature on his face, but what stood out the most was the playful gleam in his eyes.

It was the smirk of doing something wicked.

But the thing was, they had never kissed with tongue.

That kiss you had shared at the start of their journey, the one on the stairs of the secret passage, had been deep and heady, but with no tongues involved. Maybe he had graced his with your lips, but that had been all.

And he remembered you telling him that had been your pseudo first kiss.

So it was French kissing you when you had no experience in that, or drinking a shot.

Luckily, you were a quick learner, and he had big enough hands.

“I’m regretting ever saying yes to this game.” You mumbled, hands trembling as you grabbed his collar and brought him closer.

Your cheeks were painted a pretty crimson he hadn’t seen in a long while. And your breath brushing against his lips was shaky, not necessarily afraid but nervous, unable to contain the jittering.

That time, you had been like this, shyer even.

George placed his hands on your cheeks and pressed his lips with yours again, shifting his hands in a way that covered their locked lips. He moved his lips in that way you knew well, not rushing or making you more self-conscious than what you already were.

The roar of the room dimmed, not because everybody had suddenly shut up to see them kissing, but because George’s attention shifted entirely to you and your lips and the way your breath got agitated, hands tightening on his collar.

With tentative slowness, his tongue brushed your lower lip, a small request for access that you conceded by opening your mouth.

Timidly, your wet tip found his.

If George had been half the man he was, he would’ve sent every precaution out of the window and devoured you the way he wanted to. You tasted like firewhisky mixed with liquorice chocolates. Not the cherry of your lip balms, but the utter devastation of you without any external flavour.

Someone patted him on the back, and he snapped back.

“That was pretty hot!”

It was a girl who had said that in a high voice and completely wasted.

When his eyes opened, he found a vision that would haunt him in his most sinful dreams. Lips stained pink, slightly swollen, and shining with the mix of them.

Behind your eyes, there was a fire that he recognised almost immediately.

It mirrored his.

“Spin the bottle, love,” George mumbled, watching as you caught your breath.

Not offering any other comment, you moved and spun it before returning to your place, eyes never leaving his.

If you kept that, then there was going to be a bigger problem than kissing with tongue in public for the first time.

A gasp took them out of their staring contest, and when George looked to the centre, the spout was pointing once more at him.

He turned to Fred, but he raised his hands, then signalled behind George. There, sitting at a lover's seat with a big, brilliant smirk, was Ginny.

She raised the butterbeer in her hands and winked in his direction.

Well, he had been wrong.

***

Rules said one time was a peck, two times was a deeper kiss, and a rare third time was for seven minutes in heaven. Or at least that was what Lee had said before grabbing them and shoving them to the small service room that nobody but the house elves used.

You were so close.

So close, in fact, he could feel the slight tremor of your body trapped in the small yet cold closet. To look fashionable, you had sacrificed your comfort over looks, and so the clothes you wore did nothing to shield you from the gust of wind coming in through the open window above you.

He was about to be a gentleman and take off his jacket to give it to you, but you had other plans.

“It’s cold,” you mumbled before wrapping your freezing arms around his waist, hiding your face on his chest.

It took him a moment to realise what was happening, arms frozen in the air as you shivered against him. His jacket was open, so you were touching his back, rubbing it to steal his heat.

Shivers ran down his spine, though for a different reason than the chilly weather.

“I noticed,” he said, arms wrapping around you, shielding you. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you apologising for?”

He felt, more than saw, your lips moving against his chest.

Thinking of rainbows, and Snape’s homework, and McGonagall teaching them to dance wasn’t enough to get his mind out of how good your lips had felt when they tentatively opened to let his tongue—

“Well, you said you didn’t want your first kisses to be in public.”

You lifted your head from his chest. “It’s okay.” You shrugged. “It would’ve been weird if we made up an excuse not to do it. It’s what normal couples do, right?”

“It shouldn’t have been in front of everybody.” His hand travelled to cup your cheek. “And it was Ginny who manipulated it, so I should apologise.”

You sighed, and the heat of it hitting against the thin material of his long sleeve made him tense.

“Don’t. Because you’re making me think you’re regretting it.”

You blinked at him, the way that made his breath catch in his throat and his stomach flutter. Probably you didn’t even realise you did something like that. Or you did and used it to your advantage every time.

“Do you?”

He cocked his head. “What do you want me to answer?”

“Whatever you want, George.” You bit your lips.

Neither knew who started it, but both knew neither wanted to finish it.

You moved up, going on your tippy toes, helping yourself by grasping his shirt to maintain equilibrium. He moved down, bringing your face forward by the cheeks.

Their lips crashed together hungrily.

More so than before.

Without any witnesses, George was unable to contain himself any longer. His hand tightened around you, not to hurt, but to keep firmly in place, preventing you from moving away. Though he didn’t need to do that, you were gripping him with a force he had never felt you use. You had shifted your hands, one on his hair and the other on his shoulder.

It was a long overdue encounter and, at the same time, one that should’ve never happened.

How could George go on with his life after finding out this is what kissing someone felt like?

Warm, asphyxiating, overpowering.

In a way, this was a first for him, too. First time feeling like his life depended on whether you wanted to continue or not.

The temperature inside the tiny room rose, and heady breaths could be heard mixed with the wet, clicking sound of lips coming together. Tongues fought, one more audacious, while the other, curious yet eager, tried to follow the rhythm imposed, learning quickly.

George didn’t realise when you had backed him against one of the shelves, but when he did, he turned you both around, pressing you hard. It only drew a quiet moan from you, and he couldn’t help but bite your lip to silence the whimper that rose and threatened to escape from his mouth.

Before he could even think of hoisting you up and pressing his hardening length against you, a knock interrupted them.

“Are you presentable?” Lee’s voice came from outside.

And just like that, the spell broke.

***

The walk of shame had been awkward; everybody had looked at you and George with knowing eyes as you stepped out of the closet. It didn’t help at all that your hair was messed up and your lipstick was all over the place.

You quickly excused yourself to go clean up, not daring to look George in the eyes.

That snog had been everything your thirteen-year-old self had dreamed of and more. So much more than that. It left you feeling all warm and giddy, as if you were again that 3rd year girl with a crush.

Embarrassment and self-assuredness battled inside you. The first one because everybody knew, and the latter because you had felt just how much he had been into you.

Good, nice. You had kissed your crush, and he felt the same.

Wait.

Crush? Not ex-crush?

You had no time to dwell on that, though, because as soon as you neared the bathroom, you heard voices. Feminine voices.

Nessa, Daphne.

Quickly, you flattened yourself against the wall and glued your ear to it. It was muffled, but you were able to catch Nessa apologising to Daphne.

What was it today with the apologies? You rolled your eyes.

“No need,” Daphne said.

From your pocket, you took a tissue and started cleaning your mouth.

“It was a stupid game, Ness.”

Oh, nicknames. It meant that they weren’t just acquaintances anymore. It only made you smirk.

“Yes, but I know you don’t like girls, so I apologise; I should’ve just kissed your cheek or something.”

“Who said I don’t?”

Your eyes widened, and your hands stilled on the fixing of your hair. Confession? Giving Nessa her trust? What was this?

“And for the kiss, you don’t need to apologise at all. Actually…”

Daphne said something in a very low tone, something you weren’t able to hear, yet what you did hear was the soft thud of bodies coming together.

Just like you and George before.

You did a small celebratory dance. Everything was going according to plan.

Rushing towards the Common Room, you started searching for George again. He needed to know the sudden development of the DaNessa situation.

People were scattered, games finished, wasted and dancing to whatever music someone was playing; you found Fred talking with Angelina in a corner.

“Do you know where George is?” You asked.

“Let me check.” His hand disappeared in the left pocket of his jacket, then in the right. “No, I don’t have him with me.”

“We haven’t seen him,” Angelina replied kindly.

“I went away for three minutes, and suddenly he’s lost?” You placed your hands on your hips.

Fred, with a tense smirk, grabbed you by the shoulders and spun you around. “He must be somewhere; let’s see.” He took a few steps forward, moving you, before whispering in your ear. “You’re interrupting.”

“I don’t care! The matchmaking worked; I need to tell you, brother!” You swatted his hands away and looked at him.

“He said he was going to get water! Look for—” Fred’s eyes wandered behind you, and his voice cut off abruptly.

You turned around and saw George.

Hands on a girl’s waist.

Kissing her.