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thestorycomesalive · 1 year ago

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Nothing's Gonna Hurt You, Baby

George Weasley x Reader

Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

Summary: You had been suffering from nightmares for a while now. This was nothing new to you. But when you have a nightmare that wakes you up in tears, you find yourself instinctively in front of George's dorm, seeking his comfort.

AKA: George is a softie. Two idiots in love, oblivious pining. Fred and Lee will not stop teasing the two dummies.

Lyrics included from the song: Nothing's Gonna Hurt You, Baby by Cigarettes After Sex

.....

You were not a stranger to nightmares. These terrifying dreams had haunted you since you were very little. But you mostly suffered through them alone. You never wanted to wake anyone else or concern them with your deepest fears and troubles. You guessed a part of you didn’t want to accept that you had these fears at all. So, one cold, autumn night, you found yourself sneaking up to the Astronomy Tower, hoping not to be seen, but daring to do so anyways. For another haunting dream had plagued your sleep just moments ago. These days, they seemed to be getting worse, and your first instinct tonight was to escape and get some fresh air.

As you walked through the entrance of the tower, you felt the breeze flow in through the open walls, chilling your skin and, ever so slightly, whipping your hair. You wrapped your arms around yourself as you approached the opening of the tower. The frigid wind woke you from your sleepiness and seemed to remind your body that you were here. That you were okay. You overlooked the black skyline and closed your eyes, breathing in the burning atmosphere. You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that. It wasn’t until you heard the sound of the railing creak next to you that you awoke from your hypnotic state. Your eyes opened and you turned to look to where you had just heard the weight of the metal bar on your right, moments before. There stood a tall and sleepy George, adorned in a knitted sweater and sweatpants, arms crossed, as he leaned against the railing next to you. He looked out at the skyline. His expression mirrored the one you had sported before, but his eyes were open as he saw you turn to him in his peripheral vision.

“I honestly thought you might’ve been sleepwalking,” he chuckled as he stared at the darkness ahead of him.

“What are you doing here, Georgie?” you asked, puzzled.

“I could ask you the same thing, love,” he said with a small smile on his face. He turned his head to bring his eyes to meet yours.

You smiled back at him lightly. “I meant, more so, how did you know I’d be here?”

He dramatically placed his hand on his chest and faked shock and offense, his mouth wide. “Who said I knew? Maybe I just needed some fresh air too,” he tested, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Well then it seems great minds think alike,” you laughed at your best friend.

George quickly dropped his act, a mischievous grin on his face. “I’m only kidding. Fred and I borrowed the Marauder’s Map from Harry last night. I couldn’t sleep and gave it a look. I saw you wandering,” he said with a shy grin on his face.

“Bad dream?” you asked him, softly, your eyes slightly become distant at the memory of your own nightmare.

“Nah,” he said. “I had the coffee cake at dinner tonight. I ate so much of it, I could’ve run the entire quidditch field twenty times over,” he chuckled. He took in your slightly distant eyes as you laughed slightly at his response. “You?” he asked, concerned.

“Yeah. It was stupid. I just needed a change of scenery,” you sighed.

“I’m sorry,” he said gently as he wrapped his arm around your shivering form, pulling you into him. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“It’s okay. It was nothing,” you lied. You leaned your head into George’s shoulder, your heart doing cartwheels at the unexpected contact from him. You, the twins, and Lee had been best friends since your first year, but it didn’t take long for your friendship with George to quickly blossom into more, in your heart. You had fallen for him completely, but you knew you would never utter a word about it out of fear of losing your best friend in the whole entire world.

Oblivious to you, George felt the same exact way. He loved everything about you. The way your hair bounced when you walked, the glisten in your eyes when you looked at him, the way you tilted your head slightly when you laughed, the sound of your voice. Everything. He had entirely fallen for you over the years. What started as a simple crush in his first year, never subsided. Rather it took his body and soul by storm. He felt warm whenever you were near. His heart skipped in his chest and his knees weakened. But how could he ever tell his best friend that he was completely and entirely in love with her? He thought that you would likely feel obligated to awkwardly thank him, never to talk to him again. And to him, a world in pining and longing with you in it, was better than one in relief without you there.

He felt his heart rate patter as you reciprocated his touch and rested your head on his shoulder.

“Aren’t you cold out here?” he asked quietly.

“A little bit,” you smiled up at him. “But I don’t mind it.”

George hesitated. He wanted to just take you completely into his arms and hold you through the cold, sharp wind. But he didn’t want to scare you away. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable. He settled upon simply draping his other arm over you gently rubbing up and down your arm to generate some heat to you.

Your legs nearly gave out from the feeling of his touch. You and George had hugged many times before, but this time, he was so close to actually holding you. You wanted nothing more. You loved the feeling of George’s strong arms around you and his large hand running along your arm. You decided to be a little bit brave as you tucked into him a little bit more, wrapping your arms around his waist, your cheek in his sweater.

George’s arms froze in surprise as you curled yourself into him. He felt his cheeks flush red with warmth as he tried his best to bring himself back to reality. He moved his frigid arms to gently wrap around you, squeezing you to him. “Is… is that a little bit warmer?” he asked, hesitantly.

“Much. Thank you,” you smiled up at him as your own face flushed red with longing and bashfulness.

The two of you stayed that way for another half an hour or so, neither wanting to let go of the other. But when you let out a yawn, George looked down at you, a gentle smile on his face.

“We should probably get you to bed,” he rubbed your arm gently, in his embrace.

“You too,” you said, looking up at him with a sleepy smile.

The two of you walked back to the Common Room where George walked you up to the door of your dorm. George stood there awkwardly, his arms at his side as he bid you goodnight. Everything in him wanted to pull you into him again, to hug you. His arms felt so empty without you. Hell, he wanted so badly to kiss you. To feel your lips against his gently as you parted ways for the night, but his mind convinced him against it. What he didn’t expect was for you to take a step closer to him and to move up on your tiptoes. He didn’t expect you to wrap your arms around his neck and whisper in his ear. But you did.

“Goodnight, Georgie. Thank you for everything,” you said sweetly as you hugged the boy you loved so dearly. You wished you could ask him to stay. You wanted him to hold you all night, but you convinced yourself that you had to let him go. He wrapped his arms around you in return, his eyes wide in surprise as he spoke, “N…No problem, goodnight.”

And you parted ways.

******

In the coming days, neither George nor you brought up that night to anyone. Not to your friends, not to each other. To you, it was a beautiful memory that you would cherish forever. You didn’t want to share it with anyone else. You didn’t want it to belong to anyone but you. You wanted it all to yourself… and to him. You survived on small, happy moments like that with George. Moments where you allowed yourself to feel all of the love you had for the boy fully and completely. You knew you would never be able to confess your feelings to him, so this is how you would live. Off of every happy and soft moment you could possibly get with the gentle, ginger boy. And although you two never spoke of that wonderful, simple night, you always found your place next to him, and he always found his next to you.

Fred and Lee had constantly teased the two of you on the subject. Anytime you had to choose partners for a project in Potions, Fred would utter an “Oi, ten galleons I can tell you where George is headed as soon as Snape lets us up." This would earn him a glare and an eye roll from George and a snort from Lee. Another time, at the end of a long, random day, you were writing in the Common Room with your friends, and your legs found themselves draped over George’s. You sat horizontally on one side of the sofa, and he sat facing forward, his hand mindlessly holding your ankle in place, in his lap.

This wasn’t something unnormal for the two of you. George and you had a sort of magnetic force and you always seemed to be engaged in the smallest motions of physical touch in some way. You were never as close as you had been that night in the astronomy tower, but you were nearly always touching, none the less. The domestic picture of you and George instinctively sitting together on the couch, had Fred rolling on the floor laughing. Lee was trying to shush him, not wanting to embarrass either of you, however this seemed to be a fruitless prospect. The two boys couldn’t understand how oblivious you and George both were. It was obvious to your best friends that you liked each other, but no matter how many times they tried to convince each one of you, you never seemed to believe that it could be remotely possible. They could’ve given both of you Veritaserum and forced you to confess your love plain and simple, and both of you would probably still be too blind to see it.

“A little bit comfortable, are we there, Y/N?” Fred asked you, eyebrows wiggling in a teasing manner.

Your face flushed completely red, giving away your thoughts on the matter right away, to everyone but George.

“Don’t worry, I think our Georgie likes it,” Fred said, shooting a wink to George.

It was George’s turn to flush red with embarrassment. He took a pillow from next to him on the sofa and launched it at Fred’s face, causing him to roll back, holding his stomach as he laughed uncontrollably. Lee joined in on the chuckle and playfully slapped Fred’s arm.

“I think it’s sweet,” Lee said, laughing still.

George and you said nothing as you both found your hands to suddenly become increasingly interesting, trying to diffuse the situation in your minds.

*****

The next day, you had dropped your books all over the stairs as you were walking with Fred, Lee, and George from Transfiguration. A first year Hufflepuff had accidentally bumped into you as it was clear she was running late to her next class, and she wasn’t looking where she was going. As your books tumbled down the stairs, she apologetically called out to you.

“I’m so sorry!” She automatically turned down the stairs to head back down to help you retrieve the books she had thrown from your hand, disregarding her rush. But you gently smiled at her and stopped her in her tracks.

“It’s okay, darling. Go on, I’ve got it,” you said as gave her a reassuring wave onwards and a bright smile.

She thanked you quickly and nodded, as she returned to rushing up the stairs. As you turned back to look down at the books you had dropped, you saw that George was already bent down collecting them. He had a smile on his face as he had just watched the interaction you had had with the little Hufflepuff girl. You bent down too, collecting the last two books, as George placed the remainder of them into your hands.

“Here you go,” he said.

“Thanks, Georgie,” you smiled at him. His hand brushed against yours as he placed the books into your possession. He let them linger there, as you both stared at each other for a fraction of a moment.

“Good grief!” You were pulled out of your trance by Fred who had his arms crossed and eyebrow raised. Lee was next to him as they had turned to see what had kept you two from following them down the stairs. “Get a room, you two!” he shouted up at you as other students passed by.

You both immediately shot up from the ground, your faces heated, and your vision slightly blurred from embarrassment.

As the two of you headed down the stairs to catch up with Fred and Lee, Lee elbowed you playfully and whispered, “Your hero to the rescue.”

You lightly, and playfully slapped him on the shoulder with one of the smaller books in your arms as you exclaimed, “At least he helped me! You lot just stood there and watched.”

Lee laughed as he tried to dodge your whacks to his shoulder. “It’s more fun that way! Besides, it looked like George was eager to help. You didn’t need us.”

*****

The teasing never did stop and your feelings for George only grew and grew. You weren’t sure how it was possible to be so enamored with anyone. But here you were, living proof that it was not only possible, but real.

After a particularly stressful day, you curled up in your bed and tried to think of pleasant thoughts to lull you to sleep. Most of the thoughts consisted of George. You eventually found yourself counting each individual thing you loved most about him, which could honestly take you forever. You figured it was like counting sheep. You weren’t intent on ever finishing your count, but rather falling asleep in the middle of it. Today had been a day of rarity. Everything seemed to go wrong. You failed your Potions exam, and you had gotten scolded by Professor McGonagall because you had slept in too late, missed breakfast and nearly missed the first half of her class. You were usually a pretty decent student, but your nightmares had been keeping you up at night, making it hard for you to focus and stay awake in class. Which, of course, now that you actually wanted to go to sleep, your body had to make it as difficult as possible for you to do.

You had drifted off into a deep sleep at some point, somewhere between recounting the sound of George’s laugh and the deep color of his eyes. But your sleep didn’t last long as you began tossing and turning, shooting up in a cold sweat. You were shaking and… crying? You reached up to touch your cheeks. You were definitely crying. Quiet sobs wracked from your body, as you covered your mouth, trying your best not to wake your dorm mates. You had to leave. You had to escape. But there was only one place you wanted to go. The Astronomy Tower hadn’t even crossed your mind this time.

In a daze, your feet subconsciously carried you down the stairs, up another set, and stopped in front of a large, brown, wooden door. Normally, your brain would’ve told you that it was wrong to enter people’s rooms uninvited. Your brain would’ve reminded you that you were crossing a boundary and that you were completely disregarding other peoples’ privacy. But tonight, there was only one thought playing over and over in your mind. You creaked the door open and quietly shut it behind you. It was like you were on autopilot as you made your way to the side of a bed, George’s beautiful, sleeping frame facing you.

Tears were still flowing down your face, but your sobs had stopped now that you could see him here. You gently, nervously brought your hand to his shoulder and shook it softly. “Georgie…” you squeaked out.

George’s eyes fluttered open in a confused daze. He took in his surroundings for a moment and when he saw you standing there, his heart pounded in his chest, adrenaline coursing through him. He thought for sure, he must be dreaming. There was no way that you were actually here, right in front of his bed, in the quiet of the night.

“Y/N/N…” he called out, brows furrowed in confusion. As the moonlight shone in from the window, he finally caught a glimpse of the tears that stained your face and the sadness in your eyes. He sat up immediately, his hand reaching for your cheek as he wiped your tears away.

“Oh, love. What’s wrong?” he murmured to you. “Another bad dream?” he asked, softly.

Concern filled his eyes. It split his heart into two seeing you this sad and frightened. You simply nodded your head in response, like a petrified doe in headlights.

“Do you wanna take a walk? We can go to the Astronomy Tower.” he offered gently, pushing his blankets off of him.

You didn’t want to be anywhere but right here, with him. You mustered up the courage, or rather cowardly gave in to the urge that was telling you to ask George a question that could quite possibly put your friendship on the line. You shook your head.

“Can…” you took a deep, unhelpful breath, “can I stay with you?” you looked up at him with defeated eyes, searching his for any sign that you had just crossed a line.

His eyes went wide. He couldn’t believe this was happening. He couldn’t believe that you were here, and he really couldn’t believe what you were asking him. He nodded his head quickly.

“Of course,” he whispered hurriedly. Without hesitation, he moved over to make room in his bed for you, lifting the covers as an invitation for you.

You sighed out in relief and disbelief. He had actually said yes. You hadn’t ruined anything. You gently laid yourself down as George sat there awkwardly next to you, afraid to touch you as if the act would send you running. He didn’t want to do anything to scare you off or make you feel like you had to leave him. But he wanted to move. He wanted to hold you, to run his hands through your hair and tell you that everything would be okay. That he would keep you safe.

But you couldn’t hold back. You had no sense of logic tonight. You only knew that you need to see George, to feel him. You needed to hear his heartbeat and know that he was there. You moved your head to rest on his chest, curling your legs closer to your stomach. You could feel him tense up and you hoped that you didn’t make him uncomfortable. Your own body tensed when you felt his apprehension.

George was feeling an immense number of emotions. He was in complete shock at the close proximity you had placed yourself into him, but he also felt his entire body melt at the sensation. Now was his chance. He could finally give into all of the urges he had felt pile up inside him just moments ago. Well, at least a select few of them. He allowed his arm to curl underneath you, pushing you closer to him, bringing his other arm around you, over your side, completely enveloping you in his embrace.

“It’s okay, I’m right here,” he whispered as he held you in his strong arms.

You had been holding your breath, waiting to see George’s reaction to your embrace. When he didn’t respond right away, you felt your heart drop and your eyes begin to water once more, but when he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into him, you breathed out and snuggled in closer to him, as he whispered to you. You listened carefully to the pattern of his heartbeat, as if it was your lifeline keeping you tied to reality. He felt you sigh into him and whispered to you once more.

“Nothing’s going to hurt you. As long as you’re with me you’ll be just fine.”

And you truly believed that. As long as George was here, you would always be okay. Which is why losing him felt like the most frightening thing in the world to you.

“Thank you, Georgie,” you whispered, as you felt yourself creeping into a deep sleep, listening to his heartbeat, feeling your lifeline in the arms of the man that you loved so dearly.

He tossed the idea of kissing the top of your head around in his mind. It was a big risk and normally he would turn the thought away, but tonight was a night full of new progressions and big chances. So, he did it. He gently kissed the top of your head and waited with bated breath to see how you would react.

Your mouth turned up into a gentle smile that you pressed into his chest. You took one of your legs and curled it around his, entangling the two of you together. He couldn’t hide the huge smile that grew on his face and the rapid increase of his heartbeat that you had been listening intently to. He didn’t sleep much that night, going in and out, in the awe of having you curled into him. He wanted to soak up every minute that you were entangled with him, in his arms.

******

When the morning arrived, George had finally fallen asleep, arms still wrapped around your body. He awoke quickly to a loud shout from Fred.

“BLOODY HELL!” Fred shouted as his face was mere inches away from George’s own.

George startled awake, nearly jolting from the image of his brother’s shocked face so close to his.

“George, I think you have a visitor!” Lee said from across the room, grinning widely at the scene before him.

“Your ‘best friend’ is sleeping in your bed, ole’ Georgie!” Fred shouted at him, rolling his eyes sarcastically at his own use of the term best friend, taunting George who had always insisted your relationship was platonic. “Better yet! She’s laying on top of you! Do you treat all of your friends like that? Because I assure you, Lee and I want no part of that!” Fred teased George loudly, still in shock from the scene in front of him. He was nearly bouncing up and down with excitement at the prospect of his brother and his best friend finally owning up to their feelings for each other. George quickly looked down at you, hoping Fred hadn’t awoken you. But you had been so tired from your nights of missed sleep, that you were still as a rock, breathing shallow as you continued into your unconsciousness.

“Will. You. Quit. It?!” George whispered furiously as he launched the pillow next to him straight into Fred’s face.

Fred rolled back off of his bed as the pillow met his face, laughing maniacally as he did so.

“It’s not what it looks like,” he whispered stubbornly. “She had a bad dream.”

“And so she had to come find her sweet, heroic Georgie to comfort her?” Fred taunted as he crossed his arms in front of himself.

“Come on, George. Why won’t you accept that she likes you too?” Lee asked George, supportively.

“Aren’t you two late for breakfast?” George shot back.

“Oooo, I see. Georgie wants alone time with his lady,” Fred teased as he gave George a big wink.

“Come on, Fred. Let her sleep. We’ll meet you two down there,” laughed Lee playfully.

George nodded and Lee and Fred began to exit the dorm room. However, Fred purposefully slammed the door shut on the way out trying to wake you , making George glare sharply at the other side of the door. George could hear Fred’s evil laugh fade as he raced down the stairs. Fred’s plot had worked. The jolt of the door jostled you awake. Your eyes shot open as you took in your surroundings for a moment. You lifted your head, your face flushing red as the memories of the night before came rushing back to you. You sat up and turned to George. He smiled at you.

“George…I’m so sorry,” you started. “I shouldn’t have let myself in last night.”

George felt his heart drop. Did you regret coming to see him? Staying with him?

“Oh,” George said. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for. I really don’t mind,” he tested.

You smiled, a bit relieved. “Thank you for everything. You don’t know how much I needed that.” You weighed your words carefully.

George felt his heart lift back up, at your words. Hope filled his chest. “Of course, love. I will always be here for you. Anytime you need me.”

Your smile burned brighter. Did he really mean that? Anytime? If you could have it your way, you would always be curled into the tall boy. And although you didn’t know it, he wished for exactly the same thing.

“Thank you, Georgie. You know, I’m always here for you too,” you said softly as you placed your hand gently on top of his.

He smiled at you in pure adoration. “Do you wanna talk about it?” he asked, his brows furrowing as his eyes searched yours.

You realized he was referring to your nightmare that you had encountered the night before. You had previously turned down the opportunity to talk about your nightmares to him before, so he was surprised when you released a sigh and spoke up. You felt he deserved an explanation.

“It was the worst dream I think I’ve ever had. It felt so real… so terrifying.” Your eyes became distant as you recalled your dream that had frightened you to your deepest core.

“What was it?” he whispered, as he brushed his hand against your cheek in an attempt to comfort you.

You leaned into his touch. “It was you, Georgie. I dreamt I lost you. It was like my whole world fell apart. That’s why…” you started and sighed, “I had to know you were okay. That you were here.”

He felt his chest twist and his brows furrow as his he began to open his mouth to speak, but stopped, speechless. You had dreamt about him. Your most terrifying dream was losing him. He knew just how much you mattered to him, but was it possible he meant just as much to you? “I’m here,” he said. “I will always be here for you. Nothing could ever keep me from you, Y/N.”

You wrapped your arms around his waist and pressed your cheek into his chest as you hugged him. You then pulled away and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

“Thank you, Georgie,” you simply murmured.

His face turned bright red in shock and love. Your own face flushed at the realization of what you had just done. It had come so naturally, in the moment, that you hadn’t even thought twice about it. You cleared your throat gently, as a smile creeped up onto George’s face.

“I should apologize to Fred and Lee for crashing their room without asking,” you laughed, embarrassed.

“It’s my room too,” he said. “And in my opinion, you are perfectly welcome whenever you want.”

The two of you decided that even though you were significantly late to breakfast, you would still make your way to the Great Hall. You had run off to your dorm to change into your clothes for the day and planned to meet up with George near the Portrait of the Common Room. Eventually, when you came down the stairs and found George waiting for you, you gave him a small smile as you skipped to his side. He watched you walk to his side with a look of awe on his face. You looked so beautiful, as always.

You made your way to the Great Hall, the two of you mentally preparing for Fred’s teasing. But, Merlin, was it worth it. You had planned to apologize to Fred and Lee for crashing in their dorm, but as you and George walked side by side into the Great Hall, the wide, goofy grins on their faces when they made eye contact with you, told you they would take your apology just fine. It also told you that you were in for a rough day of pestering and flustered faces. Hell, the way they were looking at you two this time, this one would probably last weeks.

#george weasley #george weasly x reader #harry potter #george and fred #weasley twins #angst #hurt/comfort

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tisayemate · 1 month ago

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Christmas at The Burrow

Harry, Hermione, the Weasleys, Sirius, Remus (and all the other good characters) X Reader

Fluff

Summary: A bad day melts into laughter, love, and chaos at the Weasley’s on Christmas.

AN: Merry Christmas and a happy new year ya filthy animals!

story under the cut

The Burrow, as usual, was glowing with warm light and the sound of clattering dishes, laughter, and chatter spilling out even before you reached the door. You hesitated, your earlier frustrations from the day clinging to you like a stubborn shadow. But before you could even raise a hand to knock, the door burst open, and Fred’s grinning face appeared.

“There she is!” he crowed, pulling you inside as George popped up behind him.

“Late as always,” George said, shaking his head dramatically. “It’s a wonder you ever make it anywhere at all.”

“Oh, leave her alone,” Ginny said, sidling up to you and taking your coat. “Come on, sit down, get comfy. Mum’s been waiting to stuff you full of food all day.”

“I have not! I’ve just made a bit of stew and treacle tart, that’s all,” Molly called from the kitchen, where she was stirring something that smelled divine.

“Stew? Treacle tart?!” Ron perked up from the table, where he was already halfway through a biscuit.

“Save some for the rest of us, Ron,” Hermione scolded, though her soft smile was already directed at you. “Come on, sit with us. You look like you need a good laugh.”

Harry leaned forward from his seat, glasses slightly askew. “We’ve been plotting how to cheer you up all day,” he said, grinning. “And we’re excellent at it, if I do say so myself.”

“We are excellent,” Fred corrected. “Harry’s role in the operation is just sitting there looking tragic.”

“Oi!” Harry protested, though he was laughing too.

“Enough of this nonsense,” Sirius’s deep voice boomed from the armchair near the fire. He stood, a cheeky grin plastered across his face, and made his way to you. “Come here, kid.”

Before you could say anything, Sirius pulled you into a firm, fatherly hug, holding you close like he’d known you needed it. “You’re with us now,” he murmured into your hair. “No bad moods allowed. Got it?”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

“That’s better.” He pulled back but kept an arm slung over your shoulder. “Now, sit. Eat. We’ve got plans, and you’re going to enjoy it.”

The plans turned out to be a mix of dinner, chaos, and ultimately, a movie night. After Molly served up her famous stew (with Neville nervously asking for seconds, clearly trying not to look greedy) and Fred managed to accidentally charm a bread roll to scream when bitten into, Ginny declared, “Alright, enough. It’s movie time.”

“Movie?” Luna’s dreamy voice piped up. “Oh, I do love Muggle contraptions.”

“Tonight’s feature: Home Alone 2: Lost in New York,” Hermione announced, holding up the DVD case like it was a sacred text.

“What’s it about?” Fleur asked, her lilting accent drawing curious looks from Cedric and Neville, who were already settling on the couch.

“Traps, chaos, and Christmas,” Harry explained simply, grabbing a bowl of popcorn and flopping onto the sofa next to Ron.

Soon, everyone was crammed into the Weasleys’ cozy living room. Sirius, with his arm draped around your shoulders like a comforting anchor, pulled you close.

The movie started, and it didn’t take long for the chaos to spread.

“Oh, that’s brilliant!” Fred said, pointing as Kevin tricked the hotel staff with his recorded messages.

“Can you imagine using that on Filch?” George added, cackling.

“Forget Filch,” Ron said, mouth full of popcorn. “I’d use it on Snape.”

“That’s awful!” Hermione scolded, though she was laughing along with everyone else.

“Well I know I’d pay to see it,” Remus mused, chuckling at the thought.

When Kevin’s elaborate traps started, Ginny groaned. “Imagine the cleanup after that. No thanks.”

“Cleanup?!” Sirius roared with laughter. “Ginny, it’s art! Pure, chaotic genius!”

“Poor burglars,” Luna mused, tilting her head thoughtfully. “They really should’ve worn helmets.”

As the Wet Bandits stumbled through the traps, Cedric winced every time something crashed or cracked. “That’s gotta hurt,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“You’d think they’d give up after the first house,” Neville added.

“But where’s the fun in that?” Harry said, grinning.

By the time the credits rolled, the room was filled with laughter and leftover popcorn scattered across every available surface. Sirius ruffled your hair affectionately. “Feeling better, kid?”

You nodded, smiling for what felt like the first time all day. “Yeah, I am.”

“Good,” Remus said from his spot by the fire, where he’d been quietly sipping tea and chuckling at the madness. “Because around here, happiness is non-negotiable.”

As you were pulled into a group hug orchestrated by Fred and George (complete with Ginny trying to shove Ron’s popcorn bowl out of the way), you realized that no matter how tough the day had been, you had a family here—a wonderfully loud, chaotic, loving family who could make you laugh until your sides hurt.

“Merry Christmas and a happy new year ya filthy animals!”

And as Fred squeezed your shoulder one last time before heading to the kitchen for a second helping of treacle tart, you couldn’t help but feel like everything was going to be alright.

#Harry Potter x reader #post azkaban sirus black #Remus lupin #harry potter #hermione granger #ron weasley #fred weasley #george weasley #molly weasley #Cedric diggory #neville longbottom #christmas #holiday season #fluff #comfort #fleur delacour

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star-dust-stuf · 1 month ago

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Fred & George Weasley x period!reader ★

title: sweetheart, little gumdrop

warnings: descriptions and expressions of pain

a/n: I love them so much, I want to do a period comfort because I already know I'm getting mine soon. sorry for typos, enjoy babes.

It was snowing when every student went down to Diagon Alley, and apparently Fred and George had their own store. A lot of students went there and it was such a chaotic shop but looked like so much fun.

There were so many glowing colors and bright greens and reds, different smells. I walked past the love positions, and towards the candy. The normal kind...

I look around to see if there was anything I like, a lot of people laughing... And then two familiar voices behind me, looking at me from the steps.

"Looking for anything particular?" Fred asked.

George spoke, "or something out of the ordinary?"

I look at them, and smile slightly. I wasn't feeling well and I hope it wasn't obvious, then they'd want to know. "Just chocolate."

They glanced at each other, Fred smiled and stepped towards me, George behind him. "And why that specifically?"

"Why do you need to know?" I say, it wasn't really a question, more one of attitude.

George smirked, "well, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed, didn't she."

Fred smiled, "come on. Were only messing with you. You can get anything you like."

I look to my shoes, there was a look on my face I couldn't hide. One of discomfort, a wrack of pain washed over me and it couldn't be helped. Fred and George glanced at each other and back to me.

"You're alright, love?" George spoke, he got a little closer.

"I'm just..." I couldn't finish, the pain was so much my eyes were watering and I just wanted to fall on the floor right there.

Both Fred and George got to my side and led me up the steps and past the other people, even some of them stared but it wasn't a big deal to them. They got me in a broom cupboard and closed the door, leaving it a jar.

Fred whispered to George, and then Fred left. George kept his hand on my arm gently. "It's-."

George cut me off gently, "we know."

I just looked at my shoes, embarrassed by the situation. I was cramping up so bad I couldn't stop crying. George gently rubbed my back and waited for Fred to come back, and when he did he had a package.

"Don't worry, It's just chocolate. And I suppose you don't want to walk all the way back to Hogwarts?" Fred spoke softly.

"I can manage." I say, holding the bag of chocolates close. Almost scared they'd melt.

Fred scoffed and George smirked, "come on, sweetheart. You're not walking in your condition, you're already crying." George said, as he poked my cheek softly.

I looked to my shoes, Fred put his hand on my lower back, right where the pain was. "You'll have to go sooner or later."

"Let one of us walk you. Okay? Then tonight we'll meet you in the common room." George says.

I just agreed, my mind wasn't up for decisions now. Fred walked me back to Hogwarts, it was cold but it felt good on my skin, on top of that, I was tired, not in the mood for much, so when I was in the common room I sat by the fire. Calming myself.

And finally when it got late enough, the common room was empty as all the students went up to sleep. Fred and George snuck into the common room, not expecting me.

"How do you two even do that, get away with this all the time." I smile a little.

They smiled, "well, not including that map, you're not telling a soul so we can keep doing it." George said with a smirk.

They both sat beside me on the red couch near the fire. "You haven't touched the chocolate...?" Fred asks.

"No, sorry." I say, looking into the fire.

Fred and George exchanged glances before scooting closer. "Look, you don't need to be embarrassed about anything." Fred says softly.

"We have a sister, we know how this works. Getting cranky, crampy, and snappy." George smiles.

Out of the blue, I started to cry from the exact same pain I felt not too long ago, Fred and George looked concerned but calm. Fred stood up, "I can get something from the medical wing."

"You'll get caught, you aren't supposed to be out of the common room so late." I say, tears running down my pink cheeks.

Fred smiled proudly, "sweetheart, I can do a lot of things you don't know."

As Fred left, George got me to lie down on the couch, getting me a blanket. He knew the pain was bad, I was crying and that already broke his heart. "Just take a deep breath, it might not help the pain but it'll keep you at ease."

I couldn't help it, I brought my knees up and cried out in pain. He got closer and took a hold of my hand and stroked it gently with his thumb. "Hey.. hey, You're doing beautifully. It might not feel like it, but bloody hell, you are."

I smile a little as he says that, even if I was in pain. The common room portrait opened, and Fred came back with a hot water bottle. "Took you long enough." George says.

Fred rolled his eyes slightly, "you try getting past Snape. Can you imagine if he found out..."

Fred smiled a little as he thought, "how embarrassing." He placed the hot water bottle on my stomach, making sure it wasn't too hot.

George stood back up and looked down at me, my eyes closed as I tried to relax. "It's a bad period..."

Fred nods a little, "we can only wait it out, I guess."

I look up at them, "don't you two have something useful in that shop of yours?"

George looked to Fred and back to me. "Nothing for pain, you know- any pain caused by your period." George sighs.

I winced and put my hand on my rib, Fred watched for a second. "Is your chest hurting?"

George elbowed his side. "I'm sure shes- yes I'm sure it hurts."

"We'll stay with you. You don't have to be alone." George spoke gently.

"You're not going to spend all night awake." I look up at them.

"Of course not. You'll fall asleep and so will we." Fred said, crossing his arms.

"Where will you sleep if you won't go to your dormitory?"

"The floor." They say in sync.

I had to sigh, "you cant be serious."

They both smiled to each other. "Never." They say again in sync.

They both got comfortable on the floor, pulling a blanket or two off the couch and the chair near the portrait, I was in disbelief... But it was them, so what more do I expect. They weren't light sleepers at all. If is stir or make any hints I was in pain theyd be up.

They didn't want me to be alone at all, they'd just talk and tell jokes to help me. And it did, I loved their empathy, it made me feel safe and that I was okay.

When the pain got too bad George started rubbing my stomach to see if it would cause relief. And when it did he didn't stop doing it, taking turns with his brother before I fell asleep... And them after me. Fred's hand rested in mine as he drifted to sleep, as George's hand rests on my leg.

#harry potter #x reader #fanfiction #fluff #x fem!reader #period comfort #x period!reader #fred and goerge weasley #fred and george weasley x period reader #fred and george x reader

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miryum · 3 months ago

Text

Trust (Mattheo Riddle x Reader) Southern Regency AU

Warnings: Reader is a bit of a brat/empty-minded at first but it gets so much better, 10-ish age difference, Reader is in love with Harry Potter at first (or thinks she is), set in the South (of the US), inspired by Gone With the Wind

Y/n L/n was the belle of the South. She had the Weasley twins running after her every weekend and at the weekly balls, their older brother, Charlie, had to have the first dance with her. Her father had rejected numerous suitors, but that didn’t mean they stopped trying. The Diggory family had made a large offer, but their estate was too small for the L/n family.

The L/n’s consisted of the patriarch, William, and the matriarch, Peggy. While William ran the fields, Peggy ran his heart and household. Their oldest was their pride and joy, Y/n, followed by Odessa. Odessa hated being in her sister’s shadow. It meant her infatuation for George Weasley was seen as childish and unwanted. The L/n’s had one last daughter, Della, who was ten years younger than Y/n. Della was a sweetheart who trailed after her mother, following every step religiously.

The family had many acres of fields stretching around their mansion, as did everyone else in the county. Their fields were rich with grains that shipped out to the rest of the state. William had built up an empire that was now run smoothly by his wife. So, no, not a Weasley or Diggory was good enough for their daughter. She was much too young and had years ahead of her before she was considered an old spinster.

Many boys trailed after Y/n, begging for a chance to court her, and she was happy to flirt with them. The boys, after years of growing up around the same children their entire lives, soon learned how to gain Y/n’s attention. They had to catch her when her father was busy, otherwise she would turn into his perfect, sweet little girl who could do no wrong. If her sisters were around, the younger girls would try to steal the attention and Y/n would revert to her cool, unimpressed self that none of the boys could crack. However, if the girl was at a ball or they rode over to her house to catch her reading on the porch, that’s when she would flirt and touch their arm lightly with her coy smile.

But it was not the Weasley twins or the Diggory boy that Y/n wanted. It was Harry Potter. The boy was so oblivious, it was tantalising. He had a mature air around him that no other boy did. He would ride up to her house every Sunday on his majestic white horse, Hedwig, and speak to her like no one else did. He read her poems and took her riding and was just so pretty. He talked a lot about politics and the different families of the South, and that Y/n didn’t like, but he made it up with the little gifts he brought her. There was that lace fan he brought her after his Grand Tour and even some pressed flowers in a thick book. She tried to read the book to show Harry that she cared, but it had such tiny print and was about boring law that she gave up after the first couple of paragraphs.

It was a cool June evening and the windows were open at the L/n villa. The soft breeze ruffled the curtains when the neighbour’s gossip finally reached the ladies in the house. A new engagement in the state! The four females sat at the dining table, William at the head, seemingly bored. Odessa asked excitedly who would be going to the engagement party, thinking of her dear George Weasley.

“It seems like everyone in the county,” Peggy commented, regurgitating what she had learned from the women in her cross-stitch group. “The Weasleys, the Longbottoms, the Malfoys.”

William scoffed and rattled off, “the Weasleys? Their entire brood? And the Longbottoms? They’re hardly in high society. Why invite them? And must we engage with the Malfoys? You know how they get, dear Peggy.”

“William,” Peggy reprimanded, clicking her tongue. “It’s Ginerva’s engagement. Do be kind.”

Y/n raised her head from her plate and asked, “Ginny’s getting married? The little one? To whom? Wasn’t that boy Dean Thomas pursuing her?”

“No, no,” Peggy waved her daughter off. “He was a nice young lad, but they never got along.” She took a bite of food as if she wasn’t about to deliver earth-shattering news to her unsuspecting daughter. “She’s getting married to Harry Potter.”

Y/n didn’t think she heard the rest of the conversation. Small Ginny Weasley, the girl with the choppy red hair and ugly dresses, was marrying her Harry? The Harry that had the most beautiful eyes and lovely lilting words and understanding conversations? Yes, their families were close and Harry was best friends with Ginny’s older brother, but he loved Y/n. She knew it. The way he lit up when he saw her and the way his smile slowly stretched over his lips until he was laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe. All of that was her Harry.

“Y/n?” Della asked from the other side of the table, always aware of her elder sister. “Are you alright?” But the girl couldn’t say anything. For if she did, then her whole family would know her secret. And then her mother would be embarrassed and aghast. Her father would think of her as yet still a child, brushing away her affection. Lousy Odessa would gossip to George Weasley and his twin, wanting to win over their favour, and the twins would surely tell their engaged sister. Della wouldn’t understand, the poor girl just an infant in Y/n’s eyes.

“Yes, yes, I’m alright,” Y/n muttered. “Father, I’m feeling a bit faint. I think something with the salad didn’t sit right with me. I’m to lie down.”

William muttered permission, waving his daughter away. Y/n tried not to run to her room, for fear it would give her emotions away. But the moment her door was locked safely behind her, she fell onto her bed, sobbing. How could Harry do this to her?

Oh, what was her life coming to?

Y/n had a plan. If only she could get Harry alone at his engagement party and confess her true feelings, he would see they were meant to be together. The problem was that Ginny stuck to his side like annoying glue. It seemed as if the two were off in their own little world, gazing into each other's eyes. Well, Y/n huffed to herself, two can play that game. That’s how she found herself surrounded by beaus from all over the county.

Cedric Diggory sat on the bench next to her and the Weasley twins sat at her feet on the grass. Fred Weasley went even farther and laid his head on her skirts dramatically whenever he wanted her attention. Neville Longbottom stood beside them all, looking nervously back at his Gran, who was determined to get her grandson connected to the L/n’s. Even Dean Thomas, still getting over his loss of Ginny Weasley, was there, trying to talk to an anxious Neville.

Batting her eyes and fanning herself playfully under the pretence of the hot sun, Y/n walked the line of flirtatious and bashful perfectly. She could feel the glares of all the other girls at the party, but she ignored them. She was talking to George Weasley when she spotted another boy to catch in her web. “Oh, Georgie, the Malfoy’s are here,” she commented smoothly.

This caught the rest of the suitor’s attention. “Oh, joy,” Fred said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “Come, Y/n, let me whisk you heroically away before that greased boy tries to woo you.”

“You mean Draco?” Y/n laughed melodically, which made Neville blush deeply. “Oh, he’s no harm. A bit rude and uppity, but just a boy when it all comes down to it.”

“Yes, but a boy,” Fred confirmed. “You, love, need a man.” At that, he took her hand and kissed her knuckles.

Y/n opened her fan and hid her face behind it teasingly. “Oh, Mr. Fred, you charmer,” she chastised.

“Oh, my,” Cedric breathed out, which made Y/n’s attention turn from Fred, who pouted, to the Diggory boy. Did the Malfoy’s bring a girl that captured Cedric’s eye? Oh, that would be horrid for her plan. But, no. Following Cedric’s stare, Y/n saw another man emerge with Mr. Lucious Malfoy.

“Who is that?” she asked without thinking, placing a hand on Cedric’s arm.

“What on earth is he doing here?” Dean Thomas demanded, back stiffening and hands clasping behind his back. His voice was just loud enough for Y/n and her suitors to hear. But he didn’t answer her question.

Y/n huffed slightly and turned to Neville. He would always be at her beck and call. “Neville, who is that man?” she asked again, tone firm.

Neville tore his eyes away from the mysterious man and stuttered, “uh, well, Miss Y/n, that’s Mattheo Riddle.” He slowly sat down next to her, as if testing the waters.

“Mattheo Riddle?” Y/n repeated, the name feeling heavy on her tongue. “Why, I’ve never heard of him.”

“Then your father did a good job,” Fred glowered. It seemed as if he wasn’t the only one shooting dirty looks at the new man.

Dean Thomas agreed, “yes, no respectable lady should have heard of him. An absolute abomination of a gentleman.”

Y/n’s eyes widen in the presence of new gossip and scandal, something all ladies of the county grasped for. None were above whispering to their friends behind their hands whenever they heard something enticing. “Whatever did he do?” she asked desperately.

Cedric was the one to inform her that Mr. Mattheo Riddle was the infamous bastard child of Tom Riddle and Bellatrix Lestrange. That made him the nephew of Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy. Allegedly, Mr. Riddle’s father had left him and his mother at a young age, only making visits when he felt it necessary to shape Mr. Riddle into a harsh young man. Mr. Riddle had left to join the military, but was dishonourably discharged when he shot and killed another man for speaking ill of his family and upbringing. He then followed in his father’s footsteps of backalley trading and illicit affairs. With his father and mother’s separate fortunes, along with the one he earned, he had amassed large wealth.

Y/n couldn’t help but watch Mattheo Riddle. Neville tried to hold a conversation with the girl, and she tried to entertain him, she really did, but the way Mr. Riddle held himself on the outskirts of the party captivated her. With a drink swirling in one hand and the other tucked smartly behind his back, he looked… perfunctorily debonair.

For a man a decade older than her, he was incredibly handsome. He was easily the best dressed man at the party, even better than Lucius Malfoy himself. And his hair was most unusual. Rather than the slicked back style that most young boys wore, his had more volume, showing his curls. Y/n could see his striking and calculative eyes from across the yard. They took one sweep around the party, yet glazed over her.

It took everything within Y/n not to march over to the newcomer and demand his attention. Why were his eyes not on her? But then Neville placed a concerned hand on her back and asked if she was okay. He really is a sweet boy, Y/n thought to herself. “Yes, I’m alright,” she assured him. “I just may go lie down with the rest of the ladies.”

“Oh! Of course!” Neville scrambled to his feet and helped her up. Fred Weasley let out a whine when his headrest disappeared, but understood how a delicate lady needed her rest.

“Thank you, Neville,” Y/n said sincerely. She patted his hand and whispered theatrically, “you know… you didn’t hear this from me, but I think Miss Luna Lovegood fancies you.” Neville turned a dark shade of red as Y/n made her way to the house.

But she wasn’t going to nap. With the rest of the girls also laying down, including Ginny, this was her chance to speak to Harry. She would confess her love and he would tell her he always reciprocated and then he would break off his engagement and perhaps Ginny would be sad, but Y/n’s parents couldn’t get mad once they saw how happy their daughter was.

Once inside, Y/n saw Harry bid a loving goodbye to Ginny, the latter who went upstairs to nap. Her future fiancé then turned around and noticed her. “Y/n,” he greeted with a grin. He leaned down to press a chaste kiss to her cheek. “How are you? You’ve been so busy all party, I didn’t have the chance to talk to you!” Ah, so he had seen her with her suitors. Pride filled her. This was going perfectly.

“Harry, could we talk in the library?” Y/n asked, smiling up at him, an intoxication of love filling her veins. Harry raised a curious brow, but agreed. He followed her into the library where he asked if everything was alright. “Yes, I’m fine,” she told him. “I only need to tell you something, Harry.”

“And what is that?” Harry replied with a grin, thinking it was all some lighthearted joke.

Y/n pressed a hand to her chest and looked up at him, eyes wide and pleading. “Oh, Harry,” she began. “I must say something now before you go on with this whole affair! I mean, it is truly noble of you to sacrifice yourself for the poor girl, but I couldn’t let you go on with it! Especially when I know your feelings, Harry,” she said. The boy’s expression slowly changed to one of merriment to one of guarded concern. “I’m in love with you, Harry!” Y/n exclaimed, reaching forward to clasp his hands. “I have been all my life and I know you feel the same! So why marry Ginerva when you could marry me?”

Harry didn’t say anything for a moment before he slowly retracted his hands from her gloved grip. “Y/n,” he said slowly. “I’m utterly flattered. But I’m marrying Ginny. I can’t… I can’t love you, you know that, yes?”

Confusion showed on Y/n’s face, but a small smile still managed to quirk up on her lips. “But you do, don’t you?” she asked. “Love me, I mean. I know you do, Harry.” After a moment of hesitance, she added, “right?”

“Dear,” Harry said, taking her hands in his and patting them reassuringly. “I’ve always been fond of you. You’re very witty and brave. But that’s not… that’s not who I need. I need Ginny,” he stated, looking uncomfortable. “You’re a lovely girl. Any man would be lucky to have you. But… I’m not that man for you.”

Y/n didn’t remember the rest of the conversation. She was sure Harry said some more nice things, all very awkwardly, and she remembered that he kissed her lightly on the cheek, but then she was left alone. She let herself fall onto a nearby settee, face flushed and hand on her stomach. She felt sick. But she also felt mad. Terribly mad. And yet, depressed. Too many emotions were swirling around her that she wasn’t herself when, with a yell, she picked up a vase and hurled it across the room. With a satisfying smash, it crackled and split onto the floor, just like her poor heart.

A low, amused chuckle filled the room and Y/n whirled around to see Mattheo Riddle sitting up on a couch. “What- who- what are you doing here?!” Y/n cried.

“Why, I was just taking a nap when I got disturbed by an unrequited declaration of love and a splintered vase. Whose is that anyways?” Mr. Riddle asked smoothly, shoulders still shaking from his laughter. “Whom will your father have to pay off?”

“Don’t you dare tell my father!” Y/n said, somewhere between desperate and demanding. “Oh, you sordid man! You have no right to listen in on a private conversation.”

“A rather amusing conversation,” Mr. Riddle chuckled, a wry smile stretching his lips. “I never thought you the type to lust after Mr. Potter.”

Y/n’s skirts swirled around her as she turned away from him in anger but then rounded on him again. “You don’t know a thing about me, sir! Why, I’ve never seen you before in my life.”

“And yet by the way you court all those other men, them begging after you like dogs, gives me a glimpse into your character.” It was then that Mr. Riddle took her hand in the most gentle way possible and laid a kiss upon her knuckles. The girl stilled. “Mattheo Riddle, at your service only, dear.”

“My service only?” is what Y/n could think to reply, not even giving her name like a proper lady would.

Mattheo inclined his head in a coy manner. “Yes.”

After a beat, Y/n grumped, “is that all you’re going to say?”

“I have nothing else to say.” Mattheo shrugged. One of his brows raised innocently. But Y/n got the feeling he was anything but. “Other than to ask for your name,” he added.

“Miss Y/n L/n and you will address me as such,” Y/n declared. “None of that ‘dear’ sobriquet.”

“Well, Miss Y/n L/n,” Mattheo began. “You best be hurrying along. The other women will wake from their rest soon and you wouldn’t want to be caught in the library with me, a sordid man.” He repeated her words back, but mockery laced his tone.

Y/n’s face grew hot and she spluttered a bit, looking very flustered and angered. Mr. Riddle watched on in amusement. “And how do I know you’ll keep your mouth shut about what you heard?” she asked finally.

At that, Mattheo Riddle smirked. “You don’t. You’ll just have to trust me.”

A week later was Harry and Ginny’s wedding. Y/n wore a deep blue dress, bordering on black. Yet she smiled and cheered along with the rest of the guests, even as her joy slipped away. She had half a mind to propose to Neville just to pull some attention onto her.

Mr. Mattheo Riddle was not there. Not that Y/n noticed.

She was sitting on the porch about three days later, pitying herself as she worked on her embroidery. She was trying to stitch a lovely sunrise, but she just couldn’t get a cloud right. She hardly heard the sounds of horse hooves clopping down the drive. “Miss Y/n L/n,” a gratingly familiar voice called out.

She sighed and her hands fell to her lap in exasperation. “I’m doing my embroidery!” she called back. “I don’t have time for eavesdropping men who dub me frustrating monikers.”

“You sure know plenty of synonyms for nicknames,” Mattheo commented, swinging his leg over his horse to dismount.

“Father keeps me well read.”

Mattheo bounded up the porch steps to reach her, but then realised that looked too childish, no matter how much he wanted to see her. He quickly composed himself. “And what is the lovely lady sewing?” he asked, settling into the rocking chair near her.

“I don’t recall inviting you up for a chat,” she said snarkily. After a moment where he just smirked at her, she replied, “and it’s a sunset. Or a sunrise. I’m not entirely sure yet. Whatever it is, it’s mightily frustrating.” She pricked her finger with the needle and exclaimed out.

Mr. Riddle’s brows furrowed and he took the cross-stitch away, not wanting her to get any more hurt. “Don’t you have a maid to stitch this for you?”

“Mother thinks every proper lady should know how to wield a needle and thread,” Y/n said, her back straightening. She then scowled. “Of course, Odessa has already perfected hers.”

It was then that the girl noticed Mr. Mattheo Riddle carefully stitching her embroidery, his nimble fingers tugging and looping the needle perfectly. Noticing her shocked face, Mattheo explained, “my grandmother taught me how. It was one of her favourite pastimes. I pricked myself many times — just like you. Of course, my father found it too feminine, but I just liked spending time with my grandmother. Perhaps that’s why my grandmother taught me her craft: so I could spare you some trouble and pain. I will gladly do so, darling.”

The air settled around them. Her father’s hounds were barking in the field and she could hear the servants singing from behind the house, doing laundry. She shifted in her seat. “What was her name?” Y/n asked cautiously, still not trusting this man.

“Merope,” Mattheo answered softly. “The poor thing had memory loss, you know. She couldn’t remember my name, much less what we had stitched last time I had visited. But she loved me. And so she taught me how to embroider over and over again.”

Y/n swallowed thickly. She could almost envision Mattheo as a child, climbing onto his grandma's lap to watch her sew out a work of art. Maybe they had sat on a rocking chair on a porch, just like she and Mattheo did now. She watched him finish the cloud she had been working on before handing her back the hoop. “Why are you here?” she wondered, staring down at the cloud, which was done much better than her own.

“To convince you that you can trust me.” And with that, he stood and kissed her forehead before straightening his suit and walking back to his horse. As he gripped the reins in his hands, he yelled back, “oh, and to inform you that I’ll be competing for your hand!”

She saw him next about two months later, at another county party. But this party was special. It was all for Y/n.

William L/n had gone all out for his eldest daughter. This was the day when all the formal suitors presented themselves. Yes, Fred and George Weasley had been courting her for years, but it would now be official. Not only were two of the Weasleys there, but Cedric Diggory, Oliver Wood, Ernie Macmillan, and Dean Thomas and his close friend, Seamus Finnigan. Neville Longbottom was now happily engaged to Luna Lovegood.

As much as Y/n put on a front, being surrounded by men, some of which were years older, was intimidating. She flirted and blushed and acted like a lady, but when Seamus Finnigan talked to Cedric Diggory about the growth of their family’s crops, talking around Y/n as Oliver Wood tried to entertain her with polo facts, she felt useless. Bored. Like a prop to be placed on someone’s arm.

That’s when Mattheo Riddle walked in. He stayed on the outskirts of the party for a long while, observing. He didn’t hide the fact that he was watching Y/n’s attention be snapped up by suitor after suitor. His eyes were already on hers whenever she glanced up to him. It was a dangerous game he was playing, but one he didn’t want to quit. Maybe this was what had drawn him to this little county in the countryside. Maybe Draco’s letter of invitation wasn’t all for naught. It couldn’t be, not when her eyes made him feel more alive than ever before. Mattheo Riddle made a promise to himself, then and there, as he watched the seven suitors surrounding Y/n. He would marry that girl.

Only a few minutes later did Ernie Macmillan chuckle in disbelief. “Is that Mattheo Riddle?” he asked. Y/n let the other men answer, for fear of sounding as if she had been gazing at the forbidden man. Which, if her father asked, she had not.

“Sir!” Seamus Finnigan called out from where he was lounging on the couch. His arm hung over the back of Y/n’s chair, something he found courage to do with the whiskey flowing through his veins. “Come join us, I beg you.”

Mattheo quirked a brow but strode over from where he was leaning against the wall. “Gentlemen,” he greeted smoothly. “How are you all this fine day?” He shook hands with each man. It was only then he allowed his eyes to settle on Y/n. “Ah, my dear Miss Y/n.” Her eyes watched the way his lip curved into a smile. “It’s lovely to see you here.” He took her hand in his and brushed her knuckles to his lips. It took all of Y/n’s restraint not to take in a shaky breath.

“Why, this is her party, after all,” Fred Weasley said, smirking. “Why wouldn’t she be here?”

“Mr. Weasley.” Mattheo turned to the man. “Perhaps if you had paid attention to my words, I never said I was surprised to see her, only delighted. And I can assure you, I am very delighted.” George Weasley snickered and clapped his twin on the shoulder. Fred just glared at the Riddle heir.

Mattheo sat down on the ottoman by Y/n’s feet, posture straight and perfect. An electrifying shiver ran down his spine as Y/n asked how he was. “Splendid,” he told her. “After all, I am in your presence. Darling, if any of these men told you they were less than splendid, I’ll offer to kick them to the street at your command.” The suitors chuckled at the joke, but Mattheo just held his future wife’s gaze. They both knew he meant every word.

Oliver Wood shook his head. “I still can’t believe I have the honour to meet the Mattheo Riddle. From all the rumours, I thought you were surely a ghost story.”

“I hate to disappoint,” came the easy reply.

“No, no disappointment here.” Oliver held up his hands. “Just surprise. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Mattheo stared down the man. “Why wouldn’t I be here?”

Oliver stammered out, “well, because people see you as- as well, good sir, I needn’t offend, but-”

“Cruel?” Mattheo supplied. After the awkward glances were exchanged between the suitors, he continued, “Unwanted? Cynical, unfeeling, only out for himself and his riches? Well, I can’t say you’re wrong,” he said simply. “I’ve done unhonourable things and I’ve lived my life for my own gain. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have feelings. Or that I can’t love,” he finished, eyes on Y/n.

She shifted under his stare and opened her fan to hide her blush. “I may go lay down,” she whispered out. The seven men around her began to protest, but Mr. Riddle simply held his hand out for her to take. He helped her stand and then bid her farewell. He settled back onto the ottoman to which the other men glared at him.

“Why can’t you corrupt some other girl?” Ernie Macmillan grumbled into his whiskey glass that he took a long swallow of. The other suitors seemed to deflate as well, now calling for more alcohol, slouching in their seats, and using more vulgar language. It was only Mattheo Riddle that kept his posture, his little cup of whiskey, and preserved tone. But even he felt a flare of anger at Mr. Macmillan’s words. “Take another girl for your wife. But leave this one for the rest of us. Why do you suddenly have a claim over her?”

“Another girl, you say?” Mattheo repeated, voice low and protective. “Take another one for my wife and leave her for the rest of you? Is that what you think I want? To just take any girl as my wife? No,” he stated, plain and simple, “I want her and only her. And why do I have a sudden claim over her? I don’t. And do not mistake her for a girl, Macmillan. She is a fierce woman, one none of you boys could handle. But perhaps… Perhaps I have fallen in love with her. Against all reason and sanity,” he added in a mutter, taking a swig of whiskey.

“But it’s foolish!” Fred Weasley exclaimed as all other men were stunned to silence. “You- you’ve only met the girl – pardon, woman – once. More than two months ago. And serving my memory, you never even talked to the Miss.” Fred’s memory didn’t have all the facts, as Mr. Riddle had met Y/n twice and had talked to her on both occasions.

Mattheo shot back, “love often makes us do foolish things, does it not? And I’m willing to be a fool for her, if that’s what it takes.”

Cedric Diggory studied Mattheo for a moment before musing, “you’re an admirable man, Mr. Riddle. But you must know I, along with the rest of these men, will still fight for her hand. And we have an advantage: her father’s approval.”

“What does her father’s approval mean if you don’t have her heart?” Mattheo asked. “If she doesn’t love you, what good does it do?”

“Well, does she love you?” Seamus Finnigan implored, trying to turn the tables on the man.

At that, Mr. Riddle rested his weight on the palm of his hand, leaning back. Even though his face was collected, a brush of pain swept over his heart, knowing the answer was uncertain. “Does she love me?” he echoed, tone soft. “I hope so.” He knew when it was best to shut up, so he didn’t say what he really wanted to; she hasn’t said the words, but I see it in her eyes. I see the fire in her, the same fire that burns within me. “You may think it hopeless,” he observed, looking at the other men. “That it’s foolish, believing she could return my love. Call me a fool, then. But I know what I feel, and I won’t give up on her, no matter how hopeless it may seem.”

Y/n had made it a habit of sitting outside, in case Mattheo Riddle came riding by again. Her efforts weren’t in vain, for a couple days later, his horse trotted up.

The coy look on his face showed he was feeling sly and quick-witted that day. He would make Y/n vie for his affections, no doubt in her mind. He dismounted with a flourish and a smirk, his coattails flipping out behind him. “Ah, my dear Miss L/n,” he called out, his voice carrying mischief. “I hope I find you well today!”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you call me by my last name,” Y/n replied, setting her book down. “‘Miss Y/n’, or perchance ‘dear’ or ‘darling’, but never Miss L/n.”

“Hmm, my apologies, my dear,” he said as he strode up towards her, mock formality in his voice. “I suppose I’ve become accustomed to calling you by your given name. But I do like the sound of ‘Miss L/n’ as well. It has a certain… ring to it.” He took a seat on the rocking chair next to her and studied her book. “Never thought you the type to read Hunchback of Notre Dame.”

“It’s a love story,” Y/n defended.

“It most certainly is not,” Mattheo chuckled. “You’ve read it before, I assume?”

Y/n huffed. Why she continued to entertain Mr. Riddle was beyond her. “His devotion is clear. And yes, I have. Anyway, before you so very rudely interrupted me, I was going to say I thought you would detest my last name.”

Mattheo clicked his tongue and leaned back in his chair. “There isn’t much I could detest when it comes to you,” he admitted, glancing over slyly at her.

“How sweet.” Y/n rolled her eyes sardonically, but couldn’t help but smile. She added after a moment, “though I still thought you would dislike it.”

He shot her a lazy smile. He hadn’t felt this relaxed in a long time, looking out over her family’s lands. “And why would I dislike it, my darling?”

Y/n let out a soft, mischievous laugh. “Well, I thought surely you’d want to change it.”

“Change it, darling?” Mattheo raised a brow. “Pray tell, what would I change it to?”

Her eyes travelled to the sky, for if Y/n was to look at Mr. Riddle, her gaze would be transfixed on his lips. She swallowed and said slowly, “something that sounds like yours?”

Mattheo’s stare snapped towards her. “Are you suggesting what I think you are?” he murmured in a soft tone.

Ever playing coquettish, the woman responded, “what do you think I’m suggesting?”

Mattheo leaned in a bit closer, his heart beating faster at the notion he was about to say. “I think you’re suggesting you’d like to carry the Riddle surname, my darling,” he replied. “Is that what you’re implying?”

“Perhaps,” Y/n forced out after a short silence.

“And here I thought you thought me brutish and sordid.” When Y/n didn’t answer, an embarrassed flush on her cheek, he said in a quiet voice, “you know, if you enjoy Hunchback, you should see Notre Dame in person. Paris is lovely. We should go sometime.” He crossed one leg over the other and turned his attention back towards the horizon.

Y/n’s lips curved into a small smile. “I would like that.”

“Of course,” Mattheo added, clearing his throat, “if you’re still hung up on Mr. Potter, then you should probably go with him.”

Why, Y/n hadn’t thought about Harry once in the past weeks. How peculiar. And based on the little smirk on Mattheo’s face, he knew it. “I don’t think Harry and I were the right fit,” she said eventually.

“Oh?”

“No,” she mused. “It’s frustrating, yes? You think you have your whole life planned ahead and then… it gets ripped away from you.”

“Or maybe it’s just getting started,” Mattheo muttered. “Your life, I mean. You’re young, Y/n. And Harry Potter shouldn’t dictate whether or not your life has started or ended.”

“I’m not getting any younger,” Y/n complained. “Father wants to marry me off to a good, wealthy man before I turn twenty-five. I thought with Harry, I could get some love out of it as well.”

Mattheo asked honestly, “would it matter if you loved your husband if your husband loved you with everything in him?”

Y/n’s fingers fiddled with the pages of her book. “I think if someone loved me that much,” she whispered, “it would be impossible not to love him back.”

Mattheo felt his hand twitch as he looked down at her fingers. Slowly, he reached out to encircle her palm in his. His warm hand held hers loosely, so that Y/n could pull away if she wished, but just firmly enough that she could sense his devotion.

“Why… why are you doing this?” Y/n asked.

“The truth?” Once Y/n nodded, he continued, “I see the fire in you… The same fire that burns in me. Well, that used to burn in me.” Mattheo paused. “I’m sure you know of my father. I hated the man, and am ashamed to call him a father. But, even so, after he died, I’ve felt… stuck, Y/n. If we’re to keep with the fire analogy, I fizzled out. Yet with you…” he chuckled and shook his head. “Well, I’m sure you know where I’m going with this.”

“So what do you want me to do?” Y/n whispered. “Is this you proposing marriage, Mr. Riddle?” She smirked, even though her heart began beating a bit more quickly.

When Mattheo shook his head, she couldn't help but feel just a little bit disappointed. “No, that’s much too soon for you. Maybe in two or three years. But…” he threw her a wry grin, squeezing her hand lightly. “This is me proposing I begin courting you.”

“What?” Her hand flexed around his. “Really?”

“You can trust me.”

Four years later, because Y/n was notoriously stubborn when it came to her beau, Mattheo Riddle got down on one knee. “My darling dear,” he teased, using the nicknames he knew she hated. Y/n rolled her eyes in response. “You have made me wait what seems like millennia to finally officially call you mine. Of course, I’d wait aeons more, but I’m hoping that today, you’ll put me out of my misery and give me the honour of being your husband.”

“You’ll take me to Paris for the honeymoon?” Y/n asked, despite the tears shining in her eyes.

Mattheo let out a loud, joyful laugh. “Yes, yes I will.” And as he slid the ring on her finger, he murmured, “you can trust me.”

“I always have.”

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itstopplingdomino · 1 year ago

Text

confident | weasley twins x reader

A/N: i made a promise to write something after my test based on how i feel afterwards. so here we are...

pairing: fred weasley x reader (if you squint), george weasley x reader summary: Fred carries the essence of confidence like it weighs nothing; academic, friendship, quidditch and even love life - he is sure he's set for life. So when he finds out about your little crush on him and how it had been like that for years, he does absolutely nothing. And that teaches him a lesson that he'll remember for the rest of his life. tags: hurt/no comfort, idiots in love, no usage of y/n, gn!reader (usage of 'you' instead of specific pronouns), usage of pet/nicknames, mild cursing, false hope, leading on, jealousy, no war alternative universe ───────── "I don't understand," Lee states. He is sitting on the armrest of the sofa, the afternoon light shines briefly across his eyes as he tries to block it with a book. "If you like Daisy too then why.." Fred shrugs. "Well if Daisy maintains a secret crush on me for five years, then waiting for another two- you know until after graduation- won't hurt."

Lee looks at Angelina, hoping that she'll have a better explanation for this. Unfortunately she returned his confused look with her own.

"How are you sure Daisy won't give up? What if tomorrow your little admirer wakes up and decides to like someone else?" Angelina probes.

"Please, I have a plan." Fred says, with his usual air of mock-arrogance. "Trust me, it'll work."

Lee and Angeline exchanges a resign look. "Well, it's gonna be your lost anyway.." Lee says in which Angelina nods to.

Fred shrugs, again, then leaves to find you.

He knows where you are. Five years in Hogwarts together, causing ruckus in all forms with the promise of detention almost every time, he can understand you in ways you sometimes don't.

Which is why your crush on him is not a surprise to him at all. In fact it was almost hilarious that everyone else think of it as such a big deal. You two are attached to the hips most of the times; if he's not there to bring trouble, you'll find him - and it's been like this ever since you set foot in Hogwarts.

George, of course, joins in the fun. Though Fred notices that he's slowly been opting out over the years, preferring to prank with just the older twin. Fred considers this an act of jealousy yet he never brings it up as George's blatant avoidance never seems to bother you. He's seen his twin interacts with you alone just yesterday, the day before, and Merlin even before that. He thinks that George simply want a little separation as michievenous activities are always a two-person activity until you came.

That is exactly why, right now, Fred waits for you just outside Arithmancy classroom for a planned pranking session; target for the day is Filch.

Not too long after he arrived, students emerge from the classroom, all looking like the boredom has threatened their life. You, in all your glory, comes out looking like you defeated boredom. Laughing beside your classmate who Fred sure he was introduced to before yet he can't remember her name. It didn't matter though, he's only here for you.

"My Daisy," Fred greets you with a playful smile on his face, bowing like a gentleman from the victorian era, lowering a pretend-tophat.

You rolled your eyes. "Please stop calling me by something I'm deathly allergic to. Even Lee and Angie started using it too."

"If you say so, Peanuts."

You playfully smack him across his back. He knows you're not deathly allergic to Peanuts, only mildly.

"Ready?" He asks, offering you his hand.

The brief shy look that passes your face did not escape him as you joins hands. "Ready!"

Fred smirks knowingly. With usual flirtatious remarks in his repertoire, physical touch is a newly added part in his friendship with you. He loves it when you look away nervously whenever your faces are a little too close, or when you jolts and become a stuttering mess every time he whispers right next to your ears, or moments like this - hand holding, plus short hugs and arm across your shoulder that's he's planning to include in the future.

With what he knows about your feelings, he revels in this reactions without ever needing to confess. - - -

You doubled over the grass just outside Hogwarts grounds, laughing at the wrath Fred and you invoke in Filch from the prank. This time you calculated for sure that the caretaker of Hogwarts will not find out who the pranksters are. A red herring steering towards obnoxious Slytherins is placed perfectly for him to think it's not the two of you.

"That was brilliant!" Fred shouted, he dips to lift you up and spins you around. "Bloody smart, you are!"

You cackles loudly, just enjoying his grip on your body. You're not thinking of anything inappropriate but Good Godric if you could just kiss that lips, you'll be content eternally.

He must've realise that you're staring at his lips as an unreadable expression crosses his face, he sets you down as his eyes flicks between your eyes and your lips.

It can't be.. can't it?

You think again.

I mean.. he's been sweet these days.. more so than usual.

If that's not a sign, then you don't know what is. So you fight your doubts and tiptoe to reach his lips. Your eyes closes as it nears his face yet what stops you is not the innocent peck you've been dreaming of, it is his hands on your shoulder.

Confusion evident on your face as you open your eyes and lower yourself. You search for answer in his face but all you could find is a torn look. The kind of look you've seen him give to other students who had asked him out. The kind of look that you desperately wish against yourself every single night.

And now you're at the receiving end of it.

A thick lump forms in your throat and all you say is, "Why..?"

Fred clears his throat as he looks away, clearly uncomfortable in this situation, his hand still on your shoulder now caressing in consolation.

You don't need consolation. You need explanation.

"Freddie, why?" Tone firmer than before as you shake off his hands.

"Well, its just.. I mean.." He took a deep breath before he continue. "Let's just have fun, you know. We only have two years left. Surely you don't want to spend the majority of it with- with this." He gestured between you and him.

If nature is a little quieter, you're sure the sound of your heartbreak can be heard.

"Is that what this- all this has been about..? You having fun?" You hissed, taking a few steps back which he closes just easily in a single move.

"I mean, you like me for five years, certainly you can wait a few more.."

The icing on the cake. He knew.

He knew and he still did that.

Play with your heart, push and pull it like a tug of war.

"You are the absolute worst."

Without sparing a single glance, you turn on your heels and apparated away. - - - The rest of the year passes in a blink of an eye.

To everyone else, it seems. Lee had been whining non-stop at Fred and George's decision to leave Hogwarts early. NEWTs is irrelevant to the path the Weasley twins has set for themselves, after all.

To Fred, the year drags on painfully slow as if he's aware of every single second that ticks by. He's just glad the day for them to leave is finally nearing.

After what happens between Fred and you, he notices that he almost never see you anymore. The one time he did was when you came looking for Angelina to pass her notes you had borrowed. You greeted him with your usual cheeriness but the smile didn't quite reach your eyes. He thought you'll warm back to him, forgive him, but how can you forgive when he can't even find you to apologise.

He realises that you know him better than he does himself. Otherwise how else can you avoid for so long.

At one point, he even asks Angelina if you had ever mention anything about your little crush on him anymore.

"Hm, no actually. I mean, it's pretty clear that Daisy's focusing on NEWTs, we all are anyway, so boys talk never really come up. It just adds to the stress."

Her answer disappointed him but he has an image to uphold so he act nonchalant about it.

"What? Are you finally going to pursue Daisy?" Angelina teased.

"Why are you asking? Afraid of the competition?" Fred in his usual manner put on a smirk, albeit a fake one. And the way Angelina rolled her eyes and smacked him meant that he successfully fooled her.

How he wished it was you who's rolling her eyes and smacking then, instead of her.

He made a fool out of you.

- - - Fred enters the apartment after a long negotiation with the accountant at the bank. He just couldn't figure out why the numbers are not adding up and the son of a bitch he hired is as unhelpful as a broken wand. Three years they've been doing business and this accountant is the first one to be so incompetent. Fred regretted making a rushed hiring decision as the last one had to resigned immediately from chronic health issues. A breach in one year contract would cost them quite a lot so he just puts up him. Two more months and he'll fire that bastard.

He searches for the bottle of wine in the cupboard, typically reserved for celebratory occasions and not punching the accountant in a very public space counts as a win, but the wine is not there. He looks at other cupboards too, but the bottle is still nowhere to be found.

George must've taken it.

No one else lives here, and unless the bottle of wine grew a pair of legs, it simply do not move from it's designated place.

The older twin drags his feet to his brother's room when George's door opens.

And there you are.

You, in all your glory, comes out looking like you defeated boredom. Laughing hysterically at what George says as your hands wrapped delicately around his twin's arm.

He had seen this sight before. Often when you went out from your favourite classes like Arithmancy or Ancient Runes.

But never with George. Never to George.

He whispers your name in a hopeless attempt to make you direct that smile to him, but your light dims as soon as you heard him.

George and you stop, taken aback by Fred's early arrival. The younger twin isn't expecting his brother to return until an hour from now.

"I know you two know each other." George chuckles, which you smiled at. The sweet smile that once had been directed to Fred. "But I'd like to introduce Daisy again.."

His eyes practically sparkling at this point. "as my Fiance."

George didn't falter and your smitten look unwavering. There isn't a single mischief or malice in his demeanour, nor yours. This isn't some sick, twist prank the two of you are pulling. Fred had never told anyone about what happens between the two of you, but he had assume you had ignored George all the same. What, being identical twins and all. Just looking at George should've brought pain to you.

Apparently looking at George seems to make you smile even brighter.

"Uh.. S-since when..?" Fred force out a cough. "I mean, I didn't know you two kept in contact, let alone are seeing each other.."

"We didn't." You answer, though your eyes chose to look at his general direction and not his eyes. "We met around two years ago by coincidence."

"Merlin, a lucky guy I am." George chimes in. "It started with a simple catch up over tea. Then it became a monthly thing. Before we know it, we were meeting almost every other day for half a year."

How did he missed it. "Daisy here is still a tough one. Took me a year and half to convince her to date me. Another half year to convince marrying me!"

Seriously, how did he missed it? Fred remembers when George comes home late, snickering to himself, sometime last year. Then the next day he was so high spirited that he gave out discount to everyone the first opening hour. He was so high on cloud nine that whenever Fred tried to pry out details of joyous mood, George simply kept evading the question. Saying he doesn't want to jinx it. "Oh, while we're on the subject.. Will you be my bestman?"

Fred looks between you and his brother. Your eyes refusing to meet his. Hesitantly he replies, "Y-yeah! Of course Georgie! I'll be honoured!"

He hope his emotions didn't betray his tone. His younger twin is engaged, no foul play is coming from you as far as he could tell. Well, of course he could tell. However you're behaving with George right now was how you acted when you had a crush on Fred. He knew that love-adorn smile, that twinkle in your eyes, the pitched giggles in between. He knew that all too well, though you're definitely less shy and hesitant about it with George.

You lean against his brother wearing a specific form of confidence Fred had only seen once in you.

The same air of confidence that he had shattered when he pushed you away as you tried to kiss him. Fucking Fantastic. It is his lost.

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cherry-pop-elf · 1 year ago

Text

Pretty Rain Cloud

Fred Weasley x Reader x George Weasley

Can he read as Platonic As Well, because Platonic love is valid AF!

You were in a horribly sour mood. You swore you would never smile again, and never be happy. No way. Of course, you make this vow to the likes of Fred and George. What were you thinking?

Warnings: Umbridge. She’s a warning in general/Set during Order Of The Phoniex: Slight blood, tending to wounds, intense stress, I mean it’s about Umbridge. You know what’s up

Writing Commissions Open

“Never ever ever again-!” You sniffled, as Fred was currently being your support. Letting you lean his head on his shoulder, as you two sat in The Room Of Requirement’s. Everyone busy with their Defense Practices, while George was busy cleaning the newly made scar on your hand. How it ached, and still burned. He tried to be as gentle as he could, but that toad knew how to make it hurt.

“Oh don’t go saying something like that-“ George would pipe up, as he wade sure your wound was clean. Having had plenty from Umbridge, let alone from the crazy life he lived in general. “We love your smile-“ Fred was quick to echo, as you would squeeze his hand. Since the pain of the fresh scar was so sharp.

“But you heard her. She said I was ‘Smiling To Much, And Distracting The Class’ and all that-!” You hiccuped, as George was finished with wrapping your hand. Being extra cheesy with kissing it. In the hopes you could smile again. To think, she would find a way to punish anyone wand everyone. You were wondering if she was just doing this to hurt Fred and George. Yet, it seemed like no one would escape her wrath. Not even Draco.

“Oh she hates that you actually have a pretty smile, and she doesn’t.” Fred tried to reason, as he rubbed your shoulder. Letting his older brother instincts take over. Doing whatever he could to help you. All the same with George, who remained at your feet. Holding that wounded hand, and feeling the pain throbbing into his own. How the white fabric was already growing a red tint.

“When that’s all healed up, gonna slather it in our latest invention. It’s a bruise removal puddy we got working on-“ George tried to cheer you up with, as Fred would pull out the tin. Inside was a shiny goop. Was rather similar to a glittery dark grey puddy. It did have you curious, but you refused to smile. As if those twins would quit that easy.

“How about this new candy we just made-“ George offered, as he pulled out another tin. Rattling it around. You were not budging. They loved a challenge anyway. They were older siblings, to Ron and Ginny. Harry as well, if anyone got technical with it. That boy was horribly traumatized, yet they could still get him to grin ear to ear. They won’t give up on you just like that. No sir.

“What about….” Fred hummed, as he looked around. They were inventors. Men that thought outside the box. They could figure this out. Those for eyes would scan the room, and watch as everyone would practice. Mastering the spells that she refused to teach. Seeing the dummy’s go flying had sparked an idea. The duo looked to each other, and just grinned.

“Up ya go-!” They said, before suddenly having their arms under each one of yours. Lifting you up, and making your legs kick and dangle. You were basically being kidnapped now. Those darn twins, and being stupidly tall. Along with strong. Even though Umbridge basically banned Quidditch, that didn’t stop the twins from practicing their beater skills.

“Where are we going-?” You asked, just accepting your fate. Better that way. You’ve seen what happened when people tried to escape. You knew you weren’t in actual danger. If you asked them to put you down, they would. They were pranksters, not monsters. Like how they made sure not to do pranks that involved books around Ginny, ever since the Snake Incident. Moral code, that just likes to bend a little bit.

“And here-!” Plopped down you went, with a brow raised. Just in front of one of the many test dummies the room held. Where was this going? Seemed everyone was now looking, fascinated at what the twins were planning. Ron was already grabbing your arm, and pulling you a solid five steps back. Ginny having mimicked the same action with Luna. Given she was spaced out a bit.

“Just five seconds-“ “-We know what we are doing-!” They spoke, which made everyone back up an extra large step. A mixture of curiosity, yet total anxiety at the same time. Just left to wondering what the ever living hell those two were doing, with the dummies right now. Casting quick spells, and working fast. In a blink, it was made clear.

“TA DA-!” They sung, as their ingenuity was unmatched. With some color changing spells, and some quick shifting of fabric, the dummies were turned into mock up dolls of the pink toad herself. “Not as ugly as her, but it gets the job done-!” They echoed, as they knocked on the dummies head. Having poorly done lipstick on. Given they had a little sister, and were basically the dorms collective older sibling, it was on purpose.

“HAVE AT IT-!” They chanted, before quickly ducking away. As if everyone was on edge to fire. They were, but you were able to have the first swing. A proud Flipendo Maxima was called by you, and that pink dummy went flying. Right into the wall, with a loud crumple, before being a crumpled up mess on the ground. You were just giggling in glee, as you did something you wish you could have to the real one.

“To easy-“ The twins snickered to each other, with such pride. Elbows to each other, before they were returning to your side. Watching as the other students would take advantage of this as well. All needing some serious stress relief from that hag. Everyone was able to gain some smiles, and you were included.

You could hardly recall you even dared made a promise like that around them. To never smile again. Maybe, deep inside, you knew what you were doing. That deep down you did deserve to smile. To spite that woman. No matter what your head said, you knew this. Never challenge a Weasley. Let alone the twins. They’ll make you smile, one way or another.

@george-weasleys-girl

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rose24207 · 27 days ago

Note

Could I request a George Weasley X reader where reader goes to George for advice on having feelings for Fred?

Lucky git

Summary: George hides his heartbreak as he gives Y/N advice on pursuing Fred, knowing he’ll never be the one she chooses.

Genre: angst

TW: hurt no comfort, reader is a little oblivious, written in George’s pov

A/N: two in a row! English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist

The Gryffindor common room was quiet, save for the crackling of the fireplace and the occasional rustle of parchment as George scribbled down plans for a new invention. He sat on the plush rug, leaning against the sofa, his legs stretched out in front of him. Most of the castle was either asleep or preoccupied elsewhere, leaving him to the kind of peace he rarely experienced.

It didn’t last.

“Hey, George.”

Her voice cut through the quiet like a melody he didn’t realize he’d been waiting for. He glanced up, smiling instinctively when he saw her. Y/N.

“Y/N! To what do I owe the honor? Don’t tell me you’re volunteering for product testing.”

She gave a soft laugh, but it didn’t carry the usual warmth he adored. Instead, she looked nervous, almost hesitant. That was unlike her. George straightened, his grin faltering.

“Not exactly,” she said, shifting on her feet. “Can we talk?”

“Of course,” he said, gesturing for her to sit beside him. “What’s on your mind?”

As she sat down, George noticed the way her hands fidgeted with the hem of her robe. That was his first clue that whatever she had to say wasn’t going to be easy—for her or, as he’d soon learn, for him.

“I need advice,” she began, her voice barely above a whisper.

George tilted his head, intrigued. “Advice? From me? Blimey, you must be desperate.”

She gave him a small smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. His chest tightened. “Hey,” he said, his tone softer. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s about Fred.”

The name hit him like a Bludger to the chest. He kept his face neutral, though his mind raced. Fred? What about Fred? Did he hurt her? Say something stupid?

“What’s my twin done this time?” he asked lightly, masking the unease creeping into his chest.

“It’s not what he’s done,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “It’s… it’s me. I think I have feelings for him.”

George felt the world tilt beneath him. His stomach dropped, and his heart clenched so tightly it almost stole his breath. He hoped he’d misheard, but the look on her face told him otherwise.

Fred. Of course it was Fred.

“I… I don’t know what to do,” she continued, oblivious to the storm raging inside him. “I’m scared he doesn’t feel the same, and I thought… maybe you’d know what to say. You know him better than anyone.”

George swallowed the lump in his throat, forcing himself to nod. “Fred, huh?” His voice was steady, though he barely recognized it. “Well, he’s not exactly the sharpest wand in the cupboard, but he’s not blind either. If he hasn’t noticed you yet, he’s a bigger prat than I thought.”

Her eyes lit up, and George felt his heart break a little more. “You think so?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice quieter now. “I think so. You make him laugh in that ridiculous way only you can, and… well, anyone would be lucky to have you.”

He meant every word, though it felt like carving them out of his own soul. He wanted to tell her that he noticed her laugh first, that she lit up the room for him before Fred even had a chance. But he couldn’t do that to her.

Or to Fred.

“George,” she said softly, leaning closer. “Are you okay?”

Her concern only made it worse. She was so kind, so thoughtful, even now, and he hated himself for the lie he was about to tell.

“Me? Of course,” he said, forcing a smile that felt like it might crack his face. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You just seem… off,” she said, her brows furrowing.

George hesitated, his fingers clenching into fists against his knees. For a moment, he wanted to tell her the truth—to let her know how much she meant to him. But what good would it do? Her heart wasn’t his to claim.

“Don’t worry about me,” he said finally, leaning back and flashing her his best grin. “This is about you and Fred, yeah? You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

She didn’t look convinced, but she nodded, standing up slowly. “Thanks, George. You always know what to say.”

As she walked away, George’s gaze followed her, a hollow ache settling in his chest. When the door to the common room closed behind her, he leaned forward, resting his head in his hands.

The fire crackled softly, the only witness to the tears that slipped down his cheeks.

“Fred, you lucky git,” he whispered to himself, his voice breaking. “You better not mess this up.”

The room felt colder now, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on him. But he’d made his choice. He loved her too much to let his feelings get in the way of her happiness—even if it meant watching her fall for the wrong twin.

Thank you for reading!

#george weasley x reader #george weasley #fred weasly x reader #fred x reader #fred weasley #harry potter #hogwarts houses #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #sad #angst no comfort #hurt/comfort #gryffindor #hufflepuff #ravenclaw #slytherin

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naurimastaur · 1 year ago

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Lovesick

TW: Aesthetic photo

Pairing: Fred Weasley x fem!reader

Summary: Fred comforts you while you’re sick, well at least he tries to.

Me? Writing fluff??? (I had a head cold & was delirious writing half of this)

———————————————————————

The morning birds hovering over diagon alley chirped in a harmonious melody of optimism and grace. Their song unfortunately becoming intwined in the sound of Y/N’s unwarranted retching.

“Good morning, darling,” Fred stretched, briefly regarding his partner’s state.

Her extremely curved spine and bent neck created a naturally alluring sight (to the blind).

Fred cringed at the mess she’d amassed on the floorboards below, patting her back rather discouragingly before prioritising his own comfort.

“Are you not going to work?” Y/n prodded, grabbing her wand and whispering a quick ‘scourgify’.

“No, I’m perfectly content watching you create your own moat around our bed,” he retorted, nestling against the outline of his dense head on his pillow.

“And I suppose, you’re incapable of looking after yourself,” he quickly added, after feeling her burning forehead, faking a ‘sizzle’ sound as he pressed his fingertips onto the mattress below.

“What if you get sick?” She muttered in return, eyes half closed. The tempting comfort of sleep soothing her ill state.

“What if you get sick?” He mocked, holding his nose shut in an impression of her ill voice. Being a lab rat to his own products, he had unintentionally built a form of immunity to illness.

Her weary eyes regarded him with faint amusement.

“Besides, cant get sick with all this muscle,” he bragged, flexing his arms in an embarrassing display of a masculine ego.

“Merlin, you’re worse than my headache,” she groaned, swatting his face away from hers.

“Hypochondriac,” he replied, brushing stray strands of hair away from her face.

“Ginger,” she said simply, burrowing her head into the crook of his neck.

He held her feverish body close to his, tucking her worries into the safety of his embrace. Admirably, he swallowed his horror each time her red, irritated nose scrunched with a sniffle. Usually it was partnered with a leaking fluid, grazing his woollen jumper.

Sometime later Fred awoke with a sneeze, eyes swollen and inflamed.

“Fuck,” he said.

“Indeed.”

———————————————————————

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #george weasley x reader #weasley twins #fred weasley imagine #george weasley #harry potter #fred weasley x fem!reader #fem!reader #hp fluff #comfort #sick comfort #autumn #james phelps #crush imagines #oneshot

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artytaeh · 7 months ago

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Hello! Could you please write about weasley twins (separately if it's possible) x muggle! reader who had to take exams on her birthday, but she received poor results because of the rating scale (there is no retake). Recently I took my final exams and it so happened that I took one of them on my birthday. The grading scale for this subject this year is very cruel: one mistake is equal to minus six points. I scored 68 out of 100 (~85%). This is a passing score for the university to which I am applying, but the most offensive thing is that my friends from the neighboring (central) region received 89 or more points (some of them did not prepare at all, when I found out about this, I cried hours). I hope my request is not too much. Please don't bother yourself writing it if you don't like it. Have a good day🌺

fred weasley x muggle!reader && george weasley x muggle!reader : where the twins, separately, comfort you.

hey anon! tysm for requesting to my blog 🌷 ; about what happened, i'm so sorry :( i hope that you're aware that that grade doesn't define how capable / smart you are— sometimes we're very lucky or terribly unlucky with exams; cut yourself some slack, okay? and make sure that you celebrate your birthday! 🗯️

FRED WEASLEY:

⋆ vaguely remembering that you had the misfortune of having such a fun day like your birthday to happen on the same day as a stressing exam, fred weasley dedicated most of his thoughts to you: what he could do to guarantee that this birthday, this year, this day that celebrates your birth, is the most fun for you.

⋆ with picked out wildflowers nearby the burrow, fred had his mother, molly weasley, baking a cake to your taste; convincing ginny to be a dear and helping him decorate, since truthfully, fred doesn't trust george to help him, much less himself to ruin the cake he's giving you. the twins, however, participated by joining efforts, creating a special magic candle for you— a harmless joke product, he swears! it's meant to produce little fireworks, nothing more!

⋆ fred weasley had everything ready: he awaited you to come home, sat on your bedroom with a few decorations, the cake, wildflowers at hand and a prepared treasure hunt (one that is meant to take only half a hour, really, a little thing to give you a fun challenge to find the gift he made for you).

⋆ his wide grin, spreading on fred's lips as soon as he heard your bedroom's door opening— too excited and proud of his surprise too soon, fades almost comically at the sight of you: sad, frowning, crying. and all of this on your birthday, which feels like a crime!

'hey hey hey,' fred starts, almost panicking a little bit; surely, it's not something he's done, right?

'what got you so upset, sunshine? why are you crying?' he asks, hands hovering over your form, unsure whether to hug, caress your arms, or squeeze your shoulders gently.

fred weasley expected to make you smile and laugh today, not to see you cry with such a sad expression!

⋆ soon, you explain to fred what's wrong, after he guided you to sit with him on your bed; that's when his hands find yours, thumbs caressing the back of your hands soothingly.

⋆ you see, fred weasley is a simple man— even at hogwarts, as long as he was able to pass an exam or test, then everything's fine. it didn't matter that percy weasley was the role model of a student, or that his mother sang praises to him. fred only didn't want to receive a howler for failing another subject.

⋆ so, really, as much as he sympathizes, fred weasley fails to understand what's the problem. the big deal.

f : but isn't 85% a good grade?

🗯️ : well, yeah, but still— i've only scored 68 out of 100...

f : so?! that's more than half of it! like, bloody three-quarters! darling, i'd only be able to score that much if i copied from someone. you're a bloody genius dating a bloke!

⋆ to cheer you up, fred doesn't mind to make some jokes at his own expense; fred had always been confident about it, anyways: what he lacks of academic achievements, he overcompensates for being a good clown, fun company and bloody creative. being careless and dumber at studying is, well, a bless of a flaw to compensate his good traits.

⋆ that's how he makes you laugh. fred suddenly gasps, hands on your cheeks: 'oh no, darling! i think that my stupidity is contagious— i got inside your brain and failed those questions for you. bloody hell, now i have to take you on a few dates to make up for it...'

⋆ you realize that he's joking, taking only a few seconds to notice his plan; fred knows that you know that he's doing these theatrics to put a smile on your face. and you see, years of experience as the classes' clown (self-proclaiming himself to be the funniest weasley) paid off to make you laugh with ease.

⋆ that's his plan, mostly: making you laugh at the same time that he reassures you how smart you are. telling you with a mock seriousness how he has to take a few classes, or do this and that, to make sure that he can keep up with his capable, hard-working, incredible girlfriend whose tears become little laughs.

⋆ and if you mention how it feels so, so unfair that some friends of yours got a better score, without preparing as hard as you did— fred weasley calls it bullshit immediately. hermione granger is a bloody genius; fred knows that much, since the girl had been a close friend of his younger brother, and now his sister-in-law. even hermione granger herself wouldn't be able to score so high without studying, and oh boy, was she a good student. so, you see! nobody would be able to get such a grade out of luck! they must have cheated, for sure!

⋆ as soon as fred gets you to stop crying, he comes to comfort you with physical affection; the words of reassurance and playful remarks seemed to have worked their deal, so now, fred can wipe away those tears from your damp cheeks, fingers brushing them away adamantly. then, he kisses each cheek with such a gentle kiss, that seemed to be a magical seal to the faucet in your eyes— no more tears! no more sorrows today! not on his watch!

⋆ for the rest of the day, fred makes sure that nothing else can distress you. he's taking you to dinner, to some fun wizarding restaurant that serves your favorite food. fred is taking you out of your house— no closed places!

⋆ sneakily, fred will take you on a stroll to diagon alley, showing you each corner: this place where he bought his wand; his favorite shop; the spot where ron fell in front of everyone; fred's preferred shop for joke stuff or sweets— and finally, where fred and george would like to open his shop.

⋆ for a muggle, diagon alley might be a little overwhelming; there's so many things to see, too much information to process, which becomes a constant distraction that doesn't leave space for distressing thoughts. exams, university, your friends? that fades into thin air, since fred keeps up conversation with you. after all, he doesn't want you to dwell on thoughts over your friends, or an unlucky exam score.

⋆ in conclusion: fred would priorize cheering you up and maintaining you in a good mood for the rest of your birthday, doing his best to make you laugh and distract your thoughts from what went wrong on that day. besides, he'd only let you return home, as soon as he's 100% sure that he swished all of your sadness away!

GEORGE WEASLEY:

⋆ beforehand, george had planned two things for your birthday: one, somehow managing to bake a cake for you with the help of his mother, molly weasley, or request the blissful advice of his girl friends from hogwarts, such as alicia and angelina, to teach his chaotic self how to bake a cake for you— the draft of a cute smiley cake (simple enough for him to decorate; george weasley can only be so talented in a few things, okay?!); and two, be there as soon as you leave your exam, to give you the biggest birthday kiss any muggle has ever seen.

⋆ opposite to his twin, george would keep in mind that today is a stressful day for you; he'd been there at your bedroom sometimes, keeping you company as you studied on your desk, while he layed on your bed, reading through some books of yours or even working on his joke-product drafts while you were busy. that being said, well, george was terribly considerate towards this supposed muggle exam that seemed so important for you.

⋆ so, arriving earlier to the muggle side of your town, george took almost twenty minutes to properly make his way there— god, george wonders why floo flames aren't a thing for muggles! cheap and simple! — to then wait patiently for you in front of the gates. cake at hand, a bit smaller than a proper birthday cake to not weight too much on his hands, george keeps looking around for you, amongst other people of your age that gradually leave the building.

⋆ as if you stand out in the crowd like a shining star amongst darkness, george smiles immediately at the sight of you; a smile that fades in less than a second, noticing how you look too gloomy for his taste.

cake in one hand, george walks to you; his height being easy to identify amongst other students, easily making his way through them. soon, george is walking by your side; the cake secure in one hand, the other sliding his arm over your shoulders.

'what got my pretty girl all lonesome and sad on her birthday, hm?' he asks, caressing your shoulder, even though george had a major idea of what went wrong.

⋆ george wouldn't take offense if you don't notice the cake he made for you; if it wasn't on his hand, george wouldn't pay it any mind either, too worried over your melancholic expression. he guides you to a nearby bench, gaze shifting between you and some people passing by, that seemed curious about a cake and a sad girl crying there.

⋆ guides your head to rest on his shoulder, being gentle as he takes turns between caressing your shoulder, and bringing his hand to clumsily wipe away the tears rolling down your cheeks. george listens silently, and if it makes you feel better, he tries to both listen to your worries and storytelling over what went wrong today, and feed you another piece of cake. hoping that the sweet taste subsides the emotional pain weighting your heart.

⋆ he concludes that whatever plans he had arranged could take a delay. your comfort is the most important thing for george, so even if it takes the whole afternoon, he'll stick by your side, making his way back to your house with you; knowing that the privacy and comfort of your home would help.

⋆ wearing more comfortable clothes, george lays with you on top of him, finding comfort on the weight of your body resting on his chest. his fingers are long, yet so careful and gentle, while he brushes your hair away from your damp face, should you cry more to him over the exam.

⋆ george believes in fairness, but believes even more that there's nothing that screams justice more than guaranteeing the happiness of a pretty girl. his impulsive thought was getting fred to, somehow, sneak in your school or whatever the hell he needed to do, and change your grade to something that benefits you. believe me, he would! george was only fourteen when he and fred stole their parents' car to get a younger harry potter from a barred window!

⋆ so really, george wpuld spend the rest of the day cuddling you, he'd massage your back too; george knows himself that sometimes, when we're feeling at our lowest, we need some silence for the pain to gradually dissipate. so george gives you this silence; paired with loving kisses on your forehead.

g : you're really smart, did you know that? you did your best— i know it sucks to not have things going the way you wanted, but that doesn't take away how responsible and hardworking you were; that has more value than a stupid grade that got you so sad, pretty girl.

🗯️ : yeah, but—

g : but you're so smart and hardworking, and i couldn't be more proud of you. even my mother keeps telling me how lovely you are, don't let a stupid exam convince you otherwise.

⋆ would also sympathize with you, more than fred, if not totally showing empathy towards your situation; george felt like a shadow of fred sometimes, and if that wasn't enough, george was surrounded by two successful older brothers, to whom their parents sing praises about, among a beloved younger sister; as much as george genuinely tried to get a good score back at hogwarts, well— he felt like he was doomed to be a bit of a failure in his mother's eyes.

⋆ and even though this is a topic that george weasley hates with a passion, having its surface only shown to his identical twin, he finds himself sharing these bottled up insecure thoughts with you. for the first time, george lets go of these feelings on something else other than forcefully throwing bludgers to each corner of the quidditch pitch.

⋆ it helps; surprisingly or not, those minutes you've spent cuddling, having a heart to heart to each other over academic pressure, hidden insecurities, even anxious thoughts about yourselves have deepened the bond between the two of you. there's something intimate about having george massaging your scalp, while you lay on his chest and he listens, with all of his attention, to how you heartbreakingly explain your tears.

⋆ now that the topic has died down to a more lighthearted conversation, exchanging little smiles and affectionate small caresses, george suggests a movie session— immediately suggesting either your favorite movies, or some romcom, even comedy, that you were interested on watching for the first time or showing it to him. truthfully, george always had some curiosity over how muggles perceive romantic situations.

⋆ stays for the night. no way in hell will george leave your side, letting you fall asleep on his arms; hands and fingers working to soothe your body into sleep, with scalp and back massages, muttering reassuring words to you. george would also make sure that you had good laughs today, even if it meant sharing some embarrassing stories of his and fred's, like the time they've drank a potion to get older, only to have overgrown white beard like dumbledore's.

⋆ if you didn't really enjoy your birthday, george would change your initial plans for the following day; he slept there anyways, he might as well help you with breakfast, take a shower with you and make sure that you celebrate being a year older— even if twenty-four hours later.

⋆ and if you're wondering about his gift, well: george swallowed his shyness and buried it deep in his stomach, handing you a handwritten letter (one that took him a few days to write), along with a crocheted sweater, matching the one his mother made for him and fred. to george, you're part of the weasley family— you ought to have a matching sweater with him!

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🍁 ’

౨ৎ darling, you're glowing— if you're ♡ ͡

lonely, come be lonely with me . . .

🪻 ; . . . fandom : harry potter.

— i'm so sorry for taking so long to write your request! i hope it suited your taste and that, somehow, managed to comfort you a little bit. ♡

the headers + gifs + icons aren't mine. credits to the respective creators ! 🌷

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unofficial-author · 9 months ago

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Once again pissed off bc my man is still fictional

#james potter #remus lupin #marauders #sirius black #din djarin #the mandalorian #Fred Weasley #george weasley #Harry Potter #hogwarts #Star Wars #comfort character #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #top gun #loki laufeyson #marvel memes #mcu

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georgeweasleyslostearhq · 4 months ago

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Hi! I am Ami, welcome to my blog.

All of my Fics are written by me and some with the help of my Friend, who finishes some of my works when I have writers block and spellchecks.

this is where you can find all of my works in one place.

I do NOT tolerate any hate on my posts, if you do not like it, don't read, that being said I appreciate any feedback you have so please don't shy away at commenting, placing a note in my owlery (inbox) or dm me. Thank you and enjoy!

DO NOT REPOSTAND STEAL MY WORK AS YOUR OWN, I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR ANY OF THEM TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER PLATFORM.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

My Owlery (requests): here! (Always open)

┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

Harry Potter (requests: open)

~ George Weasley: here!

~ Fred Weasley: here!

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Stranger Things (requests: open)

~ Eddie Munson: Here!

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Wednesday (requests: closed)

~ Xavier: Here!

~ Ajax: Here!

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Actors (requests: open)

~ Joe Mazzello: working on it

#imagines #oneshots #harry potter fanfiction #stranger things fic #netflix wednesday #actors #george wealsey imagine #fred weasley imagine #eddie munson imagine #xavier thorpe fanfic #ajax petropolus #joe mazzello #eddie munson x fem #fred and george #masterlists #fluff #smut smut smut #angst #comfort fic

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thestorycomesalive · 1 year ago

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And I Would Do it Again

George Weasley x Reader

Summary: When you stick up for George in front of your whole Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Professor Umbridge has a certain consequence in mind for you.

Angst and Fluff, Hurt/Comfort.

TW: Mentions of Blood

****

“Eh hem, Mr. Weasley,” hummed a trilling voice from behind the tall red head next to you.

“Professor?” George raised an eyebrow to the pink clad woman behind him, wondering what in the world the small, angry lady could possibly want. Afterall, he hadn’t done anything wrong. And he knew better than to test her at this point. Or at least he knew his limits. Ron had told him of the tragic events that took place in Harry’s detention. Ever since then, he and his twin brother had gotten quieter and cleverer about pulling their tricks around school. Of course, they hadn’t stopped altogether. George wouldn’t be George without his pranks. But George knew he couldn’t get detention. Not out of a kindness for himself, but rather for your sake. He knew you’d worry too much.

But this time, he hadn’t done anything to provoke Professor Umbridge. He racked his brain for a moment, but he couldn’t think of one thing that would call her attention to him.

“You have received a generous amount of our class time today to complete your writing assignment, and while even Ms. L/N next to you has come up with a few paragraphs, you seem to have nearly nothing on your page. Care to explain what you’ve been up to all of this time?” The woman teetered to the front of your table, peering down at George.

He gave her a look of disbelief. “Well, it is not for lack of trying. I just have a hard time learning on paper. And you don’t let us use our wands,” he pointed out.

She giggled a single, ugly giggle. “Mr. Weasley… I can’t say I’m surprised. Afterall, I have come to expect less than from you. You shouldn’t need your wand to learn. Perhaps it is time for you to accept the fact that your own stupidity is to blame for your shortcomings. I really do my very best, but some students are just purely unteachable.” She hummed the last part to herself, shaking her head.

Your eyes shot up to her instantly. You had been watching her for some time, but in this instance, your eyes had been on the boy next to you, offering looks of kindness and sympathy without words. But now you were angry. Practically fuming. “Excuse me,” you muttered sharply, grabbing her attention with a whip of her head. “That is not, in any way, fair or warranted. George is one of the smartest people I know.” Your eyes were shooting darts at her as a piercing, condescending smile crept up to her ears.

“Ms. L/N. Talking out of turn will not be tolerated in my classroom. Especially not when it is used to talk back to your superiors,” she huffed.

You felt the smallest sensation of George’s pinky finger entwining with yours, as he tried to simmer down some of the anger, he knew was bubbling within you. You sighed and decided to leave the subject, having said your piece.

“You shall not question my knowledge and wisdom in any sense. If I say he is stupid, he is stupid, and if I say you are a flying Niffler, well then, you must be a flying Niffler. Do you understand, young lady?” she grinned, clearly having been satisfied with what she thought was winning the argument. You feel the heat and anger rising even higher than before at the mention of the sweet boy next to you. And then you finally realized what it is she was asking of you. She was asking you to agree with her cruel assumption about your George in front of the whole class. She cocks an eyebrow in the air with a wild smirk on her face. The rage pools over as you finally let it escape your mouth.

“No. I do not. I do not understand how you can call someone so bright and creative stupid, simply because you lack the skills and empathy to teach them what you would like them to know. Or because their knowledge simply extends beyond concepts that you can understand. You might not agree with me, Professor, but not everyone is like you. Not everyone wants to sit in a dark room and just pretend to learn for the rest of their lives. You want to give me detention, Professor? Fine. But I will not stand by while you abuse really great wizards, let alone, the ones that I love.” You cock your eyebrows back at her, knowing she has you right where she wants you. You don’t have a care in the world as the steam almost rises from your ears. It is now you notice that George’s hand had moved from your pinky to your wrist, gently trying to stop you from making the decision you had just made, his eyes pleading with yours with a gentle sadness and slight shock. However, for the briefest moment, you thought you could make out the tiniest glimpse of pride pass his eyes at the same time.

“Detention, Ms. L/N. I will not have anyone tell me how to teach in my classroom or question my abilities and judgement as a witch. Let alone someone so new to magic, as yourself.” She smiled smugly as she returned to the front of the classroom continuing her lesson immediately, not giving George or you a chance to respond to her. It was this act that left George hunting her down with a glare that could kill for the rest of the class, hand still in yours.

****

George spent every moment away from you that day, skipping his classes, trying in every way to get himself detention with Umbridge as well. However, every attempt ended with a quiet humph and scolding from her filled with cruel and nasty words. It was clear that even though she dreadfully wanted to, she was not going to give in and give George the detention he so desperately desired. She knew his punishment would be far more effective if she let you suffer and put him in a position where he would not be able to do anything about it whatsoever. It was the only time that he had the freedom to do nearly anything he wanted at Hogwarts, to break almost any rule he wanted to break, and get away with it. The painful irony is, he hated every second of it.

*****

Your detention arrived quickly that night when the corridors of the castles quieted. You had spent all day since your class with Umbridge quiet by George’s side. On the moments that you would be separated, you would go find a place in the Gryffindor Common Room to sit and wait for him to return from his classes or what you thought must be prank trials with Fred. But you weren’t worried about your detention like most people probably assumed you had been. Hell, you probably should’ve been. No. You were furious. Furious at Umbridge for targeting George, furious at her for backing you into a corner until you couldn’t take it anymore, furious at her for hurting Harry, furious at her for getting away with all of the terrible things she has done… furious.

When darkness befell the Common Room, only George, Fred, Lee, and you remained. You hadn’t told Harry or anyone else about your detention. You didn’t want him to worry. However, Fred and Lee, of course, had known of your soon-to-be punishment, considering they had been in the class when you received it. When you left the classroom, George pulled you into his side protectively and Lee had given you proud pat on the shoulder. With an exaggerated wink, Fred had run up and exclaimed, “Blimey, that was amazing, L/N! Nice craftsmanship, excellent execution.” Fred had tried to wipe some of the anger from your face throughout the day with a few, “don’t mess with that one, she’s fiery” and “Oi, Lee, careful. Catch yourself even looking at ol’ Georgie too long, and you might have to answer to that one,” with a point in your direction. These usually earned a genuine, soft smile from you as you chuckled to yourself. Freddie was the one person in the world who could make any person laugh no matter the circumstances. George would blush, and if he saw you laughing, he would also laugh to himself at the mention of the last joke from Fred. Part of you wondered if he may have enjoyed feeling your protectiveness over him. And you didn’t mind. You liked that he liked it. Even now.

But as the four of you sat late in the quiet Common Room, you felt the jokes wash away as George twiddled with his fingers, your head on his chest. You could tell he was feeling worried and helpless as you waited for your time to leave for detention. When that time came, you gave them a gentle smile and said, “Alright, I’m off. I’ll see you guys in the morning. Don’t go worrying about me too much.” You gave Fred and Lee a wink and kissed the top of George’s head.

As if on instinct, George grabbed your hand, pleading with his face, as if he were trying to keep you from going. But he knew that if you did not show up tonight, it would only earn you an even bigger punishment with the nasty, pink-shoed woman later. You took his hand and held it to your cheek as you gave him a little smile and whispered, “I love you. Goodnight.” And off you went, George watching your back as you left.

*****

As you creaked through the half open door of Umbridge’s office, you heard her squeal in delight. She toned out, “Do come in, Ms. L/N.”

You walked in without a word, eyes piercing through the small woman as she continued. “I do hope tonight will serve you nicely. You will be writing lines for me, dear.” You nodded your head, eyes still shooting at the Professor. This is what you had expected to hear from her. “Take a seat. There is a quill and parchment already for you at the desk there.”

You took a seat at the desk she pointed to as she tutted. “Hmm… What lesson is to be learned tonight, do you think?” You, of course, didn’t answer. “There are many lessons I believe you could benefit from learning, Ms. L/N, but I have chosen to be generous to you, for reasons unbeknownst to me. I believe the lines, ‘I will learn my place and be respectful to my superiors’, will do just fine.”

Your mouth dropped. You were expecting to write lines, and you knew the pain that would come with that, but you had not expected the number of words she would give you to write to be so extensive. You only prayed that the number of lines she would have you complete would be less, to even out your sentence to compare to the stories you had heard from others, including Harry. You dared to ask. “How many- “

“One hundred,” she interrupted without hesitation.

You nodded, eyes still a bit wide from shock. You assumed that you had really struck a nerve with your defiance towards Umbridge. Afterall, why else would your sentence be nearly double that of any other student you have heard from so far? You figured that you also were being used as punishment towards those you loved as well. Those who have also unmeaningly struck a nerve of Umbridge’s too: Harry and George. But you wouldn’t be used as bait. No, you quite refused to be used as such.

As you dared to hover the dry quill over the paper, you prepared yourself for the pain that would inevitably begin once you touched them down to meet. And when it did, the pain was one hundred times more unbearable than you had even begun to imagine, just like the number of lines you were to complete.

By the time you had arrived halfway through your assignment, blood was dripping down your fingertips, drenching your parchment along with the tears crawling down your face. Finally, soft whimpers that you had tried to hold back for so long, began to escape.

The clock ticking echoed in your ears, taunting your brain with the idea of freedom. After what felt like an eternity, you had finished the lines, and you were a both dry and wet bloodied mess. You sat up from your seat and handed the now quiet professor your scarlet stained parchment full of scratches reading, “I will learn my place and be respectful to my superiors”, front and back.

“May I leave now?” you uttered.

She simply nodded with a conniving grin plastered on her face as she watched you walk out the door.

*****

You held your breath until you arrived back past the portrait into the Gryffindor Common Room, not wanting that evil woman to hear you cry. When you stepped into the room, you pressed your back to the cold wall next to you and grabbed your wrist, blood flow never-ending, and finally let the tears and sobs escape you, as your back fell down the wall. You were so blinded by the pain that you didn’t even notice there was someone in the room with you. They ran up from the couch, over to your place by the wall, and sat right next to you, pulling you into their lap. From the moment you discovered the figure, your brain and your heart knew it would be your George. Part of you had a feeling he wouldn’t sleep until you were back, and you didn’t want him to see you like this. You fought your brain which told you that you were allowing yourself to be the live weapon that Umbridge wanted you to be. You just hadn’t expected the pain to be so much. You hadn’t expected that you would collapse right in front of George. You so desperately wanted to be strong. To stay strong for him. For yourself. But, oh merlin, did it hurt.

His big arms wrapped around your shoulders and brought his hand to pull your bloodied one into his line of sight. His breathing hitched and he felt his blood run to his cheeks and his ears as his other hand clenched into a fist. He was seeing red at the extra bloodied hand you fostered, much worse than he had ever seen, even on Harry. But the rage he felt was nothing compared to the crunch of his heart splitting in two as your cries of pain reached his ears. He didn’t know what to do, he felt so helpless, just as he had all day, but a million times worse.

“Darling, I know. I’m so sorry. I’m- I’m so sorry. Please. Please, I have to wrap this. You have to let me wrap this,” he struggled, pleading with you.

Your head heard his words, and it told you to move, to stop crying, to say something. But your skin was on fire, and the roar of the flames outspoke the language of your brain trying to reason with your body. You were able to lean your head into his shoulder, as you tried to compose yourself as best as you could, but the best you could do was quiet your sobs ever so slightly, as any and all words fell silent in the back of your throat. Your tears soaked through his shirt and coated his upper arm that still held you. He began to take his arms and pull himself up, untangling himself from you. He moved to sit on his knees in front of you, eyes searching for yours as he tilted your chin up to look at him.

“My love. Please. I need to wrap your hand. Can I bring you to the couch?” he asked, peering through your eyes for an answer.

You slightly nodded your head, barely noticeable. But George, he saw it. He always saw it. He could read you better than anyone in the world. The moment he saw your head move, he scooped his arm under your bent legs and placed his other one across your back and under your arms. You turned your head into his shoulder as he gently move to place you on the couch, your back pressed to the arm of the chair. You pulled your knees up on the couch, moving your heels to touch your bottom. Splayed out across the table in front of you were bandages and a wrap for your hand. As the tears began finding themselves more and more scarce at the hope of relief, the smaller of the words at the back of your throat began to find their way out.

“Georgie?” you asked, coming out in a high-pitched whimper.

His deep, worrying eyes looked to you, hands finding your cheeks. He followed your eyes to the table and the equipment laying on it. An embarrassed blush came to his cheeks as his brows furrowed. Supplies. It was pathetic, he thought. He should’ve been the one being punished. But instead, it was you and there was absolutely nothing he could do except for find some simple supplies. Unable to even think about sleeping, he had snuck his way over to Madame Pomfrey in the medical wing as soon as you had exited the Common Room. He asked her for some supplies and after more than a lot of convincing that everything was okay and that he wasn’t up to anything that would get her in trouble, she suspiciously obliged. He knew you would refuse to see her anyways, not wanting to take up her time. And deep down, he too knew that there was not much she would be able to do for you, no matter how much he begged. Afterall, this was a punishment enacted by Umbridge herself, and no matter how much she wanted to, Pomfrey could not disregard the rules set in place by the self-proclaimed headmaster and inquisitor.

He turns back to you quickly trying to cover the look of shame and guilt on his face.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry,” his voice breaks, tears of his own forming.

You could see him fighting with his own mind over something that you were sure would split your heart right down the middle.

“George?” you squeaked out once more.

“I’m so sorry…It’s my fault. I was behind in class. It should’ve been me. Not you. I should’ve protected you, I-,” he finally lets it all come rushing out.

You cut him off by placing your good hand on his cheek, giving him a difficult and very broken smile. Your voice comes out raspy from the sobs you had forced down but determined now, as soon as you hear the pain in George's own voice. “No. This decision was mine, George. All mine…” you give the faintest of laughs, almost in disbelief. “And yet, I can’t find the mind to regret it… I would do it again… and again.”

He leaned into your touch, eyes wincing as you revealed to him that you would take this punishment and this pain for him once again.

“Look at me?” you whispered.

He brought his eyes up to meet yours. Your voice was a little bit clearer now, although wavering ever so slightly.

“My decision. Please do not take that away from me, Georgie. It was my decision to make, and I am so glad that I did. You are so smart. You know that, right?” You looked up at him from under your eyelashes through the now silent and mild tears that streamed down your face.

He shook his head. He couldn’t bring himself to even begin to describe himself as smart. If that were true, he thought, he would’ve found a way to be there with you. If that were true, you wouldn’t have been there at all. He couldn’t understand, how through all of the terror and pain, you were the one to comfort him. He simply began to unwrap the bandages from their place on the table and started to wrap them tightly around your hand to stop the blood from dripping any longer, a lot of it starting to dry already. When he was finished, you took your good hand and placed it on his cheek once again. You pulled him into a sweet, soft, salty kiss.

“Smart. Clever. Kind. Brave. Gentle,” you muttered these words in his ear as you rested your head on his shoulder, and he once again pulled you into his lap, this time, towards him.

“The strongest girl I know, so beautiful, so loving…,” he muttered back, caressing your hair, trailing off into magical, sweet nothings that mean quite everything to both of you.

“I love you, Georgie,” you whisper.

“I love you, darling,” he says.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” you ask the beautiful, ginger boy that you love so dearly.

“I will always stay with you, my love,” he says as he begins to lift your body from the couch to carry to your dorm. There the two of you find comfort in each other’s embrace, finally drifting off into a deep sleep.

#george weasly x reader #george weasley #harry potter #fluff #hurt/comfort #angst #angst with a happy ending

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