His Hands
part 1
pairing: george weasley x fem!reader
summary: you're staring admiring george's hands
content: fluff, 2nd pov, slightly (?) longer fic, hands 😋, inspired by this tiktok (not george but same vibes 😌)
a/n: all i could say is thank you so much for the insane support. i honestly didn't anticipate that 'His Smile' would get any attention at all . anyways, if you want to be added to the taglist, please let me know!
p.s. i'm sorry this took so long. work and med school are not in my favor this month 🤧 i also may or may not have procrastinated as well. so, for future parts, please expect it will take long — mostly because i work well without deadline or expectations XD
p.p.s sorry for any spelling or grammar errors. my dyslexia is not bloody cooperating. and apologies if it's not as good as the first one, i'm running a bit on fumes when writing this 🤧
Being a prefect has its advantages. For one, you get to scold annoying gits with no repurcussions — to an extent, of course! Two, you have access to the greatest bathroom there is in the castle. Three, you get the earliest gossip of anything happening in Hogwarts — student and faculty alike!
Then, there's the unfortunate disadvantages.
Not only have you been covering people's shift in night patrols — because you are too kind for your own good — now, your presence is demanded for a whole week to decorate the Great Hall and certain corridors of the castle for freaking Valentine's Day.
All because Professor Dumbledore seemed to have liked the ex-DADA Professor Lockhart's idea of puking pinks, reds, and whites 'to illuminate the gloomy halls of this school'. Headmaster's words, not yours.
But, alas, with how humongous this school is, the student manpower is at odds. The week is almost over and the Great Hall and corridors looked like they were being torn apart instead of being decorated. It seems magic can't do everything.
"We called for volunteers from each house," your Head Girl grins widely as she returned from her ultimate expedition of gathering 'reinforcements'.
You tilt your head to look at the 'volunteers' that thudded behind her.
None of them looked happy to be there.
Is what you wanted to say to her if your eyes hadn't locked in on one volunteer.
George Weasley.
Your friend, who seemed to have materialized beside you out of nowhere, elbows you. "Prince charming is here," your friend states with a knowing grin.
"Shut it," you sent her a warning glare as you rubbed the spot she hit.
Then, Hermione Granger, one of the Gryffindor prefects, grins at you as she pulls Harry and Ron from behind her which pulled a chain of tugging from the begrudging Gryffindor 'volunteers'.
You could even hear her scold Ron, saying things like 'Ron, you're a bloody prefect too. Stop being so difficult!'
From what you can deduce, Hermione had forced Ron — another Gryffindor prefect — to force Harry, his brothers, and their friends to aid the decorating team.
"I've gathered us most of Gryffindor's Quidditch players, they can do a lot of heavy-lifting tasks," Hermione turns to you. And for a moment, you forgot that you were the one leading the labor force of the decorating team as you stared at her, still slightly dumbfounded that George Weasley is here.
"Y-Yeah, sure," you cleared your throat as you nodded.
"Wait, aren't you the smile girl?" Fred's voice suddenly cuts through your dreamy haze that soon became embarrassment.
George elbows his grinning twin before turning to you. "Sorry 'bout him, love. He's a bit of a loony," he smiles softly as Fred huffs out an offended 'Hey!' beside him.
Love. That word nearly took you out.
"I-It's okay— Um, I need you to divide your group into three," you cleared your throat again, trying your best to gather your bearings and not embarrass yourself further in front of him.
"One will stay here in the Great Hall with me. The others will go to the corridors with Ernie and Padma, separately," you gestured at the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw prefect beside you.
You watched as the group moves like an adorable, chaotic version of the boat is sinking. Some were even fighting to be in certain groups.
While you were too busy being amused at the chaos of red and gold, you failed to notice that a certain ginger boy had settled himself beside you.
"So, what are we going to do?" George asks with that troll-killing smile of his.
"Um— We're, uh—"
"Y/N's finishing up the paper garlands. But, there's still a lot to do — might need some help in there," your friend answers for you with that infuriating grin of theirs.
You don't know if you should thank her or strangle her.
"Alright. Lead the way, love," George — bless him — smiles softly at you as he extends his arm in gesture for you to, in fact, lead the way.
Your friend mouths 'Good luck' from behind you. You haphazardly mouthed a curse at her, and she just laughs at you.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
"Then, you fold it this way," you state as you looked over to your side, watching if George was doing it correctly. You nod in approval as he does.
"That was... complicated and easy at the same time. Weird," George grins, "and you improvised this because you find the one in the book to be too time consuming?" George watches you nod like it wasn't a big deal. It was.
"How brainy," George adds.
You playfully scrunched your nose at the awful attempt of a compliment. "You need to work your on your vocabulary," you chuckled.
"What? Like resplendent? I don't think my brains cut out for that level of braininess, love," George grins.
"I—" you flushed and turned to George, huffed through your nose with your lips pressed in a thin line and a look that says 'really? you just gotta go there, didn't you?'
"Sorry, sorry," George laughs, hands raised in appeasement, before returning to his paper garlands to finish up.
For a moment, the two of you sit comfortably together, folding paper garlands and exchanging light conversation. But, of course, in the midst of it, your eyes couldn't help but flicker towards him ever so often.
How could anyone blame you, really? For someone his age, his got hands for days.
Then, you watched him rolled his sleeves up, face frowned in concentration as he moves onto his next batch of garlands — and, Merlin help you — you think you might actually combust at how hot that was.
That's not all, see those long, prominent veins that wraps around his forearms? Ugh, absolute heart palpitations. Those long, slender, and calloused fingers of his from Quidditch practice and prototyping pranks — an absolute product of his hardwork? Yup, oxygen just left your lungs.
Oh, and if anybody asks how you know he practices more times than his teammates or how he tests his prank gadgets often? Well, let's just say a girl never reveals her secrets.
He's got the biggest hands you've seen in Hogwarts. You just know that anything he holds in them will be engulfed with warmth, and utterly protected. You'd be a total puddle if he ever wraps his hands on you.
Your eyes continued to follow his every move. Every time his finger slids on the paper to fold a crease, you wonder how it would feel to intertwined your hands together. Would his dwarf yours? Would it feel warm like a cozy fire or hot like a blazing furnace? Would yours and his fit like a puzzle piece waiting to meet? How would it feel to trace his veins up his arm? How—
"Ow!" you winced as the paper you had been absentmindly folding pricks you.
"You okay?" George frowns, eyebrows scrunching in worry as he takes your hand in his before you could blink.
"Y-Yeah, I'm okay, really...!" you chuckled nervously as his hands engulfed yours completely. Seriously, is that hand size normal??
George ignores you as he inspects the bit of blood the paper cut has drawn out of you, still having that frown on his face as if how dare the paper hurt you.
You hoped he doesn't hear how much your heart is hammering through your chest right now.
Then, he grabs something from his pocket and wraps a tiny bandaid around your finger with the utmost of care.
"I don't quite have the knack for healing spells. So, you'd have to settle for this one," George grins as he gently runs his thumb across the surface of the bandaid.
"Thank you, George," you smiled softly at him before returning to your garlands.
If you would have stared a little longer at him, you would have seen the blush that crept up on his cheeks. But, unfortunately, you only heard him clear his throat as he returns to his own garlands. You also don't notice how George himself had a paper cut a few minutes later, and had healed himself easily with a wordless spell.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
"Why not just use magic to hang these up?" George asked as he raised the finished garlands.
"My magic is in need of some practice when it comes to precise placement. And, I hate having these look crooked up there," you gestured at the walls where the garlands were supposed to go.
"Can you grab that for me?" you pointed at the ladder by the side, trapped and surrounded by boxes of decorating supplies and tools.
George nodded, already moving to grab it.
It was a simple request. A simple favor. So, why were you frozen in place, eyes tracing along his arms as you watched him criminally fold his sleeves for the second time today before bending down to carefully move the objects aside around the ladder so he could grab the very ladder you asked him to get?
It didn't help that you saw the way the muscles of his arm tense and contract so beautifully, so deliciously. It might be your imagination, but you feel like the veins on his forearm are going to pop if he moves more.
Honestly, could this man get anymore detrimental to your health?
"Here you go," George grins as he sets the ladder in front of you like it was the easiest thing in the world.
"Thanks," you squeaked out and hurried to climb on it before he gets the chance to see how flustered you were by him simply moving a bloody ladder.
But in your hurry, the ladder wobbled and you felt yourself start to slip.
"Ah—"
But, then, a firm set of hands clasps on your waist to steady you.
"You okay, love?"
You felt yourself shiver when you felt his breath on your back through your shirt.
"Y-Yes. Thank you, George. You— uh, you can let go now." You squeaked out body stiffer than an effect from a Petrificous Totalus spell.
George only chuckles at you, "I'm not taking any chances, love."
Your hands tremble as you try to hang the bloody garlands while his hands remained on your waist. The warmth from them seeps into your skin through your top and makes you light in the head.
You did try to focus on your task at hand, but all you could think about is how big his hands felt on your waist. Your mind latches on how firm and grounded he feels, and you know for a fact that there is no chance of you slipping with him protecting you from behind.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Hours later, you finally got a breath out as you waved at the leaving crowd of volunteers while some of them waved back at you. And, yes, George was one of them.
"Saw you earlier — that was some strategical flirting. Color me impressed," Your friend grins as they emerged from beside you.
"I nearly cracked my skull open and the first thing you say to me is that? What a friend you are.'" I turned to her with an unimpressed look.
"That's what friends are for!"
Oh, you so wanna smack that grin off their face.
taglist: @yaintpaint @djlance-rock @lilians17 @svnn132
