─── ✷ ENGLISH ROSE . george weasley x fem!reader
you hated love & romance, you swore against it— it was until a secret admirer wouldn’t get out of ur head ; cw. slight frenemies to lovers, insane tension, make-outs, not proofread ; words. 1.6k
author's note ⌇ fellow george weasley girls i hope you loved this as much as i did. this is probably the most heated fic i ever wrote if you get what i mean— idk i’m just testing the waters rn 🤷♀️ also in my head the reader’s a slytherin cuz it makes the most sense.
that’s what you stood by. the type of nonsense that bloomed whenever someone felt remotely interesting was never your cup of tea. the hand holding, prolonged stares, late-night meetups, candle-lit dinners, planned tea time with flowers— the mere thought of it makes you physically gag. it’s nothing personal, you think, at least for now there were much bigger problems to worry about other than boys or girls (such as the pile of homework and letters piled up on top of your dormitory’s desk).
speaking of, there was one letter sitting annoyingly perfect above the rest of it. it was handwritten— incredibly messy, but you could tell the person tried their best, that’s pathetic, you thought. it was sent anonymously to you, with no context from whom it was from other than a short ‘xoxo, secret admirer!’ very telling. funny. you couldn’t wrap your head around it entirely— you’ve made it strikingly obvious that you didn’t believe in any of the crap about love or romance. you hated all of it, every single bit of it, which was why you hated how this letter couldn’t get out of your head.
the carefully folded paper, the words that could mean nothing or everything, and the way it was sent to you without notice, without any guesses on who it was, it drove you mad. the letter in itself shouldn’t bother you in the first place— so why has it paused all your academic progress and sat between your thoughts? the mountain of to-do work was pointless when all you thought of was who the secret admirer was. it may have blocked your thinking, but you are far too determined and ambitious to say it has stopped you from finding an answer.
hogwarts held many students, all from across the nation and beyond, sorted into different houses based on their personality and driven motives. to narrow down the secret admirer you must note down patterns from your only fixed data-base— which is a fancy way of saying letters. the person who wrote it must be humorous, based on the amount of unnecessary pickup lines written down. they seem overly confident, you could read the tone of the words. yet they’re able to make you blush, from the way they speak of you, it’s almost poetic. how awful, truly.
there was an unknown flutter that came from your stomach, and the way your heart started racing every time you thought about it. to the extent you have found a rather interesting way of putting this feeling aside— confrontation. the idea just triggered you from the comfort of your bed, sitting straight, your mind began to wander and finally you had one name in mind— the weasley twins, wait that’s two.
the letter was also witty, funnily enough it was able to jumble up a bunch of different emotions and you knew exactly who was capable of all that. you just had to figure out which twin was behind it all. you guessed it may be fred, but some lines felt too sophisticated to be him. it felt genuine, behind all the words and quips it was laced with soft interest. could it be his twin, potentially. but, really? george? oh merlin, what a situation you’ve gotten yourself in.
the same bloke who’d ruin your potions project because the class “needed laughter”. the one who hid your borrowed books because maybe he needed them too, definitely not because he wanted to prove that you could get detention as well for missing the book-return deadlines. it made sense, why wouldn’t it? he hated you enough to make your life hell, but cared enough to ensure he wasn’t stepping too far. just enough to make you notice him, to make you think of him from time to time. a sigh ran out of your mouth— you’ll think of him all the time now.
as weeks passed by you found yourself staring at him a bit too much. you called it observing, but anyone else would say otherwise. you could tell the difference between them now, you started memorizing his writing and the way he held the quill between his fingers. sometimes, you’d believe he was writing another letter by the way he moved his hand, believing that each slope was meant to call out your name. deep down— you knew that taking interest in someone wasn’t inherently bad, but if anything, please let it be otherwise.
you shook your head, making your way up the astronomy tower. as a wise man said, follow your heart— in which you did the complete opposite and followed the instructions of the most recent letter sent to you. there was no ounce of ‘heart’ within the steps you took towards the peak of the tower, or at least that’s what you’ve convinced yourself to.
you could get murdered, where was your wand? what if this secret admirer wasn’t george weasley or even one of the twins? what are the statistics of going missing at this exact moment? every single outcome crossed your mind but at the brink of insanity a voice called out—
“have you been stalking me, princess?”
you turned. thankfully you were right about the most positive side— it was george weasley. but now you had to deal with the fact, it was george weasley. you brushed off the way your cheeks felt heated. “i could say the exact same thing,” you tilted your head, getting a better look at him and that awful of a stance that made all the overconfident comments and what-nots click into sense.
there it was, the infuriating grin, full of amusement he was. it suited him far too well, you crossed your arms— “anonymous letters are what stalkers are known for, are you not aware of that, weasley?” there was a flicker in his eyes, “that’s odd way of introducing yourself,” you added. he shrugged, letting out an airy laugh, “it has gotten you thinking, has it not? besides, don’t act as if you don’t know me already. writing my name would just ruin the fun.”
his eyes never left yours, golden with a tint of amber, “you figured it out anyways, haven’t you? clever girl,”
“that’s slander!” you opposed.
the air grew thick as he stepped forward towards you, you took steps backwards before eventually meeting the hard stone wall. you scoffed, “you’re delusional,” his brows lifted, “oh? then i must’ve imagined you staring at me throughout charms, pretending to read the same page over and over when in reality, we’re discussing a completely different course—” you cut him off before he could continue on with a list maybe, “must be,”
george smiled wider, “thought you hated me,”
“i mean it, weasley, with all my heart, all of this is pure weasel shit and i truly couldn’t care less,”
you furrowed your brows, “why?”
“for someone who hates me, you certainly keep thinking about me,”
the words seem to settle in between the two of you just like the fog. you hated that he was right, you hated how he knows. george’s face was just inches away from you, close enough that you could catch the faint scent of peppermint and parchment lingering on his clothing. you ached for contact, you ached for closure, for an answer— you ached for someone after years of shutting out all sorts of feelings. it was gut-wrenching, and george knew all of it. george knew how to get into your head, he knew how to push your buttons just right, how to get your attention, how to catch your gaze. you hated how much you didn’t really hate him.
you hated how calm he looked while your thoughts unraveled one after another, each carefully built wall collapsing beneath the weight of a few stupid letters and one even stupider smile. you should’ve stepped away. merlin knew you should’ve. every sensible thought screamed at you to put distance between the two of you before this became something irreversible, but this was something neither your pride nor your stubbornness could argue. instead, you stood rooted exactly where you were, watching as george’s gaze softened. you looked at his lips before looking away just as quick, the moment was so brief you thought you imagined the way his lips curved at the corners at the sudden look.
“you don’t hate me as much as you think. same as you don’t hate the idea of love as much as you think,” george’s hand came closer to your face, wanting to brush away the lost strand out your face. you close the distance, erasing the last sliver of space between you. his hand gently cupped your face, full of longing, eagerness, and yearning. he broke the kiss, you caught your breath, he gave you an opportunity to move, to tell him no, to maybe laugh at his face then walk away. but instead you leaned in again, you could sense the smile on his face as you moved with such precision, every move made each crack within your heart heal again.
after what felt like ages, you let go.
“change of mind?” george winked.
“i think i might be sick,” you stare into him, there was a mix of denial with subtle hints of.. love. it’s a half true statement. a hard realization to swallow, but some part of you believe george will make it feel easier.
“i bet i can fix that,” he smirks, kissing you again.
