Chapter Text
It was the week before Valentine’s Day, and everyone was abuzz with chatter about who was going into Hogsmeade with whom; what would so-and-so wear on their date with what’s-his-name; and isn’t it sad not everyone has a special someone. I had managed to avoid unwanted attention from most of the boys who were sniffing around for a date - as well as a few of the girls - and was quite content to coast through this ridiculous period of romantic festivity alone. Some of my friends who I had thought were above such things were fawning around, already talking about their upcoming excursion to Madam Puddifoot’s or the ice cream parlour. I was just looking forward to having some drinks with friends in the Three Broomsticks, and maybe playing a few daft games of Truth or Dare, or Snog, Shag, Marry, Avoid.
The last DA session of the week had everyone exhausted, having spent the entire time casting - or being hit by - the Leg-Locker jinx. I grabbed my jumper from where I had abandoned it on the floor, and began walking to the large wooden and wrought iron door that marked the exit of the Room of Requirement.
“Hey, can I have a word?”
I knew who it was before I even turned around. Ernie MacMillan had been one of the boys lingering around trying to get my attention. Surprise, surprise, when I turned I saw the thin, fifth year Hufflepuff boy was standing behind me, a cocky leer already in place on his face.
“What do you want, Ernie?” I sighed, knowing exactly what he was going to say, because he had been repeating himself all week.
“Well, you might want to change your tone when you hear what I’m about to ask.” He said it so pompously that I choked on a barely contained laugh. His face flushed red with a mix of rage and humiliation, before he tugged his robes and sniffed hard to gather himself. “You are dateless, and I am willing to resolve that.”
“Oh, you’re willing to, are you? Wow, you really know how to make a girl feel special.” I rolled my eyes.
“Then let me make you feel special. I'll pick you up outside your Common Room at five on Valentine’s Day.”
I stared at him incredulously. “Ernie, I’m not going with you.”
“There’s really no reason why not, no one else will take you. Once they see you with me, I think your chances of climbing the social ladder will increase significantly.”
“Oh, fuck off.” I turned and began to walk away from the scumbag, when I felt his clammy hand grab my own. I looked slowly between his pale fingers on my skin up to his face. His eyes widened and he snatched his hand away, seemingly realising that he had made a big mistake. “Touch me again and you'll wake up in St Mungo’s minus two working bollocks.”
He swallowed nervously, before darting out to the seventh floor.
“Are you okay?” Ginny asked as she came to stand with me. “I didn’t want to intrude, you looked like you could handle it.
“Oh, I can handle it, Ginny. Just can’t be bothered with it much longer.” I pursed my lips at the open door, sighing through my nose.
“Isn’t that the third time he’s asked you this week?”
“Yup.”
“Is it just him?”
“Nope. But he’s the only one who hasn’t backed off.”
“Why don’t you take someone as a friend? You could always pretend that you were on a date, maybe people would leave you alone, then?” Ginny suggested, raising one eyebrow slightly.
I observed the red-head, who was three years younger than me, had already been out with at least one boy from each House, and seemed to have more common sense than I could ever hope to garner. “That’s not a bad idea, Ginny.”
“I know Harry’s going with Cho; he won’t stop wittering on about it. Fred and Angelina are already boasting about getting a room at the Three Broomsticks so he’s a no-go. George isn’t taking anyone, though…”
She looked at me with a raised eyebrow. I thought for a moment. I had always got on with George; we had been in the same boat on our trip across the Lake together in our first year; vied for the same spot on the Quidditch team - which he won, and never let me forget it - showed me the secret passages and hidden rooms throughout the school; and made me laugh so hard I spent an entire term banned from the Library, and had to get Katie Bell to borrow books for me. I could imagine worse fake-boyfriends than George Weasley. I shrugged and nodded.
“Right, I’ll go and tell him, then.” Ginny made to walk over to her brother, who was chatting to his twin, and Dean Thomas over to the other side of the room, but I grabbed her arm.
“Ginny! No! I can’t ask you to ask your brother to be my fake-boyfriend, that’s weird!” I hissed, glancing over to check the subject of our conversation hadn’t noticed anything. “Look, he’s fun, but it’s not like we’re close or anything. It’ll be less weird if I just ask him myself.”
“Fine, fine.” Ginny shook her head exasperatedly. “Go on then, no point hanging about.”
“Well I’m not going to ask him here, am I? There’re people about, it rather defeats the object if the plan is overheard.” I huffed slightly, before walking semi-confidently over to the group of three boys.
“You okay? You’re looking a bit peaky.” Dean commented.
“Fine, thanks.” I smiled at the younger boy, before turning my attention to George. Don’t look directly at him, it will make things more awkward. Fixing my focus on his shirt collar, I cleared my throat. “Can you meet me in the Transfiguration Courtyard after Charms?”
“Uh, yeah.” He exchanged confused looks with Fred.
Shit, what if he brings him . “Could you come alone?” I winced as Fred cocked his eyebrow and winked theatrically at George. “I just need to talk.” I clarified.
A slight frown appeared between George’s eyebrows, and he nodded. “Yeah, of course.” He elbowed Fred, who seemed to realise that now wasn’t the time for jesting and instead smiled more genuinely at me.
“Okay, well, I’ll see you in Charms.”
“Yeah.”
I walked out the room thinking it could have gone better, but it could also have been far, far worse. Now I just had to work out how exactly I was going to explain Ginny’s plan to George. The good thing was that Charms was the subject I tended to breeze through, and so I made my mind up to spend the lesson thinking of the best way to word my proposition.
Sitting at one of the long, hard benches that lined the narrow classroom, I grabbed my notebook and quill, and made scribbled notes as Professor Flitwick began the lesson. Angelina was sitting next to me, so I made a point of keeping my arm across the page, in case she saw anything. It didn’t help that directly across the room from me Fred and George were whispering among themselves. Professor Flitwick eventually conceded, and decided to separate them for the sake of the rest of the class. We all chuckled as Fred was made to sit next to a snooty looking Slytherin boy, while George was left by himself. He caught my eye and sighed dramatically at his situation. The snort that left my nose was undignified, unintentional, and loud. I felt thirty pairs of eyes rest on me, and shrunk down in my seat.
“ That was ladylike.” Angelina whispered, looking at me with pity in her massive brown eyes. “Don’t worry, I don’t think anyone noticed.
I glared at her, though there was almost no malice in my expression. Angelina had always been nice to me, she even kept me on as a substitute Beater, on the absolutely minute chance that Fred or George would miss a game.
I became solely focussed on the parchment in front of me, only glancing up to watch wand movements being demonstrated by the tiny professor. One time that I flicked my eyes upwards, I spotted George’s own attention leaving my vicinity, a smirk on his face. Great, he thinks I’m some awkward snorting freak. He’ll never agree to my plan after this.
The ninety minutes from hell ended, and I grabbed my things in record time, tearing out of the classroom. I was contemplating not going to meet with George, when I spotted Ernie MacMillan at the end of the corridor. My heart sank, and I doubled back, clambering through one of the stone windows into the Transfiguration Courtyard. George was already there sitting on a bench looking thoroughly relaxed as he leaned back on his hands, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle. He raised his eyebrow at me as I sat down heavily next to him.
“ Some people would use the archway; but you do you.” George grinned. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this strange little rendezvous?”
My mouth felt dry and my tongue out of place as I tried to think of the notes I had scribbled down. I took a breath, and turned slightly to face him more, which he mirrored. “Right, firstly, please don’t take this personally…”
“That’s a reassuring way to start a conversation. Please, continue.”
I gave him a bit of a death stare for a second before carrying on. “So, Ernie MacMillan keeps trying to ask me out, and I really don’t want to go out with him, or anyone, right now.”
“Why not just tell him?”
“I have, three times.”
“Ah, I see. So you want advice on staying single from the most handsome student in the school? Maybe you should have asked Ron, he's the master of being single.”
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t want advice. I need you to pretend to be my date for Valentine’s Day. If Ernie sees that I’m already with someone, maybe he’ll back the fuck off. Hopefully. Then we can have a massive public breakup after next Wednesday and I’ll make it super clear that I’m never going to date again because it’s too painful for everyone involved.”
George seemed taken aback, and stared at me, frowning. “You want me to pretend to be your boyfriend to stop MacMillan trying to ask you out?”
“That just about sums it up, yeah.” I let out a steadying breath, relaxing now it was out in the open. “So what do you say? Want to go on a fake date with me?”
George opened his mouth to answer, but glanced behind me instead. I saw the cogs turning in his mind for a single second, before he looked at me. “Please don’t hit me.”
Before I could ask why I would hit him, he leaned forwards and kissed me. My eyes widened, utterly shocked at what was happening. Then I heard it. Ernie MacMillan’s loud, nasal voice carried across the courtyard as he walked through with a group of his friends. Seems like George is up for going along with the plan . He had made no attempt to push the kiss into anything more, but he did place a hand on my shoulder gently. Shit, this is my first kiss; it’s with George who I have no feelings for and it’s all a part of a ploy to stay alone, but it’s still my first kiss. Deciding I might as well make the most of things, I closed my eyes and used the hand that wasn’t propping me up on the bench to grip the front of George’s jumper. Like George, I didn’t try to develop the kiss, but it seemed that our lips had a mind of their own. The kiss slowly changed from one single press of his mouth against mine to a series of chaste pecks. I felt my cheeks heating up from the naturalness of the action. Definitely a physical response, that’s all this is. Absolutely nothing for me to read into, it’s just two people’s bodies doing what they were born to do.
“Oh!” Ernie’s voice cut through my blithering mind. “I-I d-didn’t realise you were s-someone else's.”
George pulled away, glaring convincingly at the Hufflepuff. “Someone else's? Mate it’s 1996, women aren’t property anymore.”
“S-so you’re still available?” Ernie’s eyes sparked with renewed determination.
“NO.” I said it louder than I had meant to. “No, Ernie. I’m not. I'm completely and utterly not available.”
“Is he why you rejected me?”
Fighting the urge to roll my eyes, I instead gritted my teeth. “One of the reasons.”
“Yeah, I give her lots of reasons to love me, mate.” George wrapped his arm around me, pulling me closer on the bench. “Off you trot now, back to your cellar.” The red-head stared Ernie down for a moment, before playfully burying his head in my neck.
He only nuzzled into my shoulder, but from Ernie’s perspective he may very well have been giving me a love bite. I tangled one of my hands in George’s hair, and gave what I felt was a pretty convincing ‘girlfriend in love’ performance, consisting of giggling, squirming and smiling. Ernie looked both angry and embarrassed, and stormed off with his little friends in tow. We waited a few seconds before pulling apart just a few inches, just in case someone thought it was odd that we would spring away from each other when we were apparently completely enamoured just moments before.
“Sorry,” George whispered. “I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”
“It’s fine, honestly. I’m just glad to be rid of him.” Hopefully, anyway. “Besides, I can imagine worse first kisses.” I said it as a joke, to try and alleviate some of the tension.
George pulled back from my shoulder, looking mortified. “Shit, that was your first kiss?”
I glanced around quickly to make sure no one heard him, there were only a few students left in the courtyard, and none were paying us any heed. “Yeah, but it’s okay, I promise-”
“It’s not okay.” George sighed. “ Fuck , I’m so sorry.”
I scooted closer to him, trying to keep up appearances. Grabbing his hand I interlocked our fingers and squeezed his hand. Even though it was just a way to stop our cover being blown, I think we both got some reassurance from the action. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.” I said quietly into his ear, hoping it looked like I was just whispering sweet nothings. “Seriously, I wasn’t exactly holding out for anyone in particular.”
I heard him huff out a sigh again. He leant closer so he could reply without being overheard. “If I’d known, I’d’ve at least tried to make it good.” He joked drily.
I let out a chuckle, feeling more at ease. “Oh, so you weren’t trying? Saving your moves?”
“Well it’s not like you have anything to compare it to; I suppose I have that to be thankful for.” He retorted, this time earning a full, hearty laugh from me. “Tell you what, I’ve got homework to do this weekend. What do you say instead of me wasting time doing that, I'll buy you a few rounds at the Three Broomsticks. It’s the least I can do.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“I’ll be ready for three.”
“Three o’clock on Saturday. It’s a not-date.”
George leaned back, looking more relaxed again. “Do you want me to hold your hand when we head to Potions?”
“Probably best.” I nodded.
“What are the rules?”
I stared blankly at him, completely tongue-tied. I hadn’t even thought he would agree to this idea, let alone suggest we had rules . I supposed it made sense, a solid way to respect each other's boundaries. I swallowed, trying to stop my mouth feeling so dry. “Well, we’ve already established kissing is on the table. Holding hands and hugging is fine.”
“I’m a tactile person, I won’t lie. But if I get too touchy or you feel uncomfortable just tell me.”
“Oh, you’ll know if I don’t like something.”
“Yeah I know. I thought you were going to deck Ernie after the DA meeting!”
I laughed again. “Didn’t realise you saw that.”
“Are you kidding? We all thought it was brilliant! ‘You’ll wake up in St Mungos minus two working bollocks’ ; brutal.”
“Well that’s what’s headed your way if you get too frisky.” I grinned. “But keep your hands above the belt and you’ll be fine.” A slight breeze rustled through the courtyard, passing over the two of us like a whisper. Wow, he smells good. What does he wash with? It’s spicy, like cinnamon.
“You’re the boss.”
“You probably shouldn’t see other girls while this is going on, it might make the relationship seem open and I’d be back to square one. Sorry.”
“What are you apologising for? I know I'm devilishly good-looking, but I’m not exactly a player. That’s Fred’s thing.”
“Good to know.” I felt less guilty about essentially blue-balling him until next week. “There’s…there’s one other thing.” How was I going to put this without sounding like some emotionally dependent girl. “No development of feelings. This is strictly theatrical. Hearts don’t come into it.”
“Deal. Me and Fred are probably going to get expelled before the year is out anyway, so there’d be no point in getting you all obsessed with me only to break your heart and leave you a pining shell of the woman you once were.” He said it pompously, but I knew he meant it sincerely.
“Glad we’ve got that all straightened out then.”
George grinned, and stood up, pulling me with him by our still held hands. We walked through to Potions, earning more than a few stares along the way. It was weird; I had never been particularly popular or well-liked, but neither was I feared or hated. I floated around in the middle of society and was paid no heed. But George was loved among all the Houses, so when people said hello to him in the corridor on the way to the dungeons, they also greeted me. It was disconcerting to say the least. But I smiled and said hello back, until we found ourselves outside the dank, cold Potions classroom.
Fred swaggered over, noting our joined hands with a raise of his eyebrows. “Something I should know, Georgie?”
George glanced down at you, unsure of how to answer. You nodded almost imperceptibly and squeezed his hand. He cleared his throat and grinned at his brother. “Thought I deserved a bit of what you and Angelina have, so I got myself a girlfriend.”
Fred’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he smiled at me and stepped closer. “I know George’s bullshit face, and that’s it.” He whispered to the both of us.
“He’ll tell you later.” I said it under my breath, my eyes pleading for Fred to drop it.
He nodded, and leant against the wall next to his twin. “Well, I’m happy for the pair of you.” Fred looked at George before a cheeky glint appeared in his eyes. Oh no. “So how did you ask her out?” A couple of the Slytherins and several other Gryffindor s turned their heads to hear the story.
George looked flustered, but he tried to pass it off as romantically bashful. “Uh, well, I had detention the other evening, remember, for setting off fireworks in the toilets and flooding the bathroom by Defense Against the Dark Arts.” I remembered it well, sewage had spilled over the landing and seeped under Umbridge’s door. It was brilliant. “So I was taking a detour back to the common room, minding my own business, when this one pushed me into a store cupboard, telling me to shut up and that Filch was on the lookout for students out of bed after lights out. We got stuck in there for two hours, and were chatting to pass the time. Had a blast, so we thought why not see how things progress. And here we are.”
I tried not to let my mind picture that exact scenario, but he told the story so well, and with an easily believable level of emotion that it almost had me forgetting it was fiction. Luckily, Snape chose that moment to burst the door to the classroom open and told us all to stop grinning like imbeciles and get inside. I felt myself relax, the tension that had sat on my chest for weeks was lifting. Something told me that the next few days were going to be much easier to deal with after all.
***
That Saturday I spent a bit longer getting dressed than normal, not wanting to make so much of an effort it was unbelievable for a few drinks at the pub, but enough that I looked like I wanted to impress early on in a relationship. I settled for a jumper dress and thick tights, as the snow hadn’t melted since January. Pulling on my winter boots, hat and coat, I grabbed my gloves and headed out the girls’ dormitory. George was waiting in the common room, and he sent me his best impression of a genuine smile. I returned it as I walked up to him. My stomach was in knots, knowing the best way to seem like a real couple would be to kiss him right then. George seemed to sense my hesitation, as he placed a gentle kiss on my cheek and complimented my outfit. Feeling slightly less stressed, I seized his hand and pulled us out of Gryffindor Tower and on the route to Hogsmeade.
The freezing air had us huddling up as we walked briskly to the small village, our cheeks bright pink from a mixture of the cold and the laughter that seemed to just fall out of me around George. By the time we reached the small bridge into Hogsmeade, we were ready for a nice warm butterbeer, or maybe some Ogdens. Making our way up the main street towards the Three Broomsticks, we had a nose in some of the shop windows and laughed at a few kids who were having a snowball fight.
“Remember when you and Fred pelted Professor Quirrell on the back of the head with snowballs in our third year?” I grinned at George. “Do you ever think about how you literally smacked You-Know-Who in the face at the same time?”
“It’s the last thing I think about before going to sleep.” He joked. “If I gave you a list of all the epic pranks me and Fred have pulled off, you’d be reading it for weeks.”
“I feel like that would be a list worth reading.”
“We aim to please.”
I stopped dead in my tracks as I spotted Ernie MacMillan, Hannah Abbott and Justin Finch-Fletchley wandering down the cobbled street towards us. They hadn’t spotted us yet, but it was only a matter of time. “Quick.” I hissed, and pulled George into the side street by a small tumbledown shop that looked like it hadn’t been open in a hundred years. I could hear Ernie’s high pitched squeal of a laugh that made me want to pierce my eardrums with a stick. It was getting closer.
George glanced out towards the main street. “I think they’re headi-”
I grabbed him by the coat and pushed him against the wall of the abandoned shop, not taking a second to think, or I would begin to doubt myself. I rose up on my tiptoes, pulling him down to meet my lips. George seemed to flounder in surprise for a moment, before he automatically cupped the back of my head with one warm hand, the other finding a space on my waist. The laughter was almost on us now, so I reached my hands up and held his face. Tentatively, he kissed me back, moving his lips slowly against mine so as not to scare me off. I point-blank ignored the butterflies in my stomach, instead trying to turn this into a learning opportunity. Why not make the most of this situation, at least gain a little experience ? I followed his movements, only hesitating for a split-second when he opened his mouth against mine and took the kiss further. I was always one step behind him, but it still seemed to be working well. Shit, he’s good at this . His soft, warm lips captured my own in a way that I had read about in some of the novels that myself and the other girls in my dormitory kept hidden under our beds. I heard the moment that Ernie spotted us, his sharp intake of breath at what he was beholding. You think this is all I have to give? I felt a surge of confidence, tilting my head to fit our mouths perfectly alongside each other and deepening the kiss. I knew he was being extremely restrained for my sake, and I took a second to appreciate that. But now was the time for a performance, not propriety. I subconsciously moved my hands up and into his hair. It wasn’t as long as last year, but there was still plenty to wind my fingers into. His large hands, the way he towered over me, it was all consuming. A small moan escaped my throat. It was quiet; it was completely unintentional; but it did happen. George broke away, staring at me slightly. We were both panting, the white fog curing from our mouths into the cold air. After a few seconds of disbelieving silence, we turned our attention to the street where the three Hufflepuffs had been standing moments before. It was deserted now. Well, at least it worked. I cleared my throat.
“That was…well, you certainly were holding back in the courtyard, weren’t you.” I joked, fully aware that my cheeks were so red they were almost maroon.
“Told you.” George tried to put on his usual bravado, but there was something open and vulnerable in his eyes. “Did…did you mind that?”
“What, you want a review?” I grinned, which seemed to snap him out of whatever thoughts he was delving into. He laughed and grabbed my hand, leading the pair of us back out the alleyway.
“I mean, if you’re offering. A man likes to hear positive feedback.”
“Oh, you’re so sure that it’s all praise, aren’t you?”
“Do I have any reason not to be confident?”
“...No, but still, arrogance is not attractive.” Except, in George’s case, his subtle cockiness most definitely is .
“Didn’t realise I was supposed to be attracting you.” He quipped it cheekily, his eyes not quite meeting mine.
Before I could try and force my overloaded brain to come up with a witty remark in response, George was pushing open the door to the Three Broomsticks and waving his hand to let me walk through first. The warmth of the pub was beyond welcome, and we stamped our feet on the welcome mat to get the worst of the snow off. George pointed to a table in an alcove towards the back and indicated that I should go and sit down while he got the first round. I took my hat off, and bundled my gloves inside it, placing them on the table and taking a seat in the small booth. The toastiness of being near the fireplace had me shucking off my coat too, and resting it on the spare chair. George was heading over with two steaming tankards of butterbeer, and what looked like two glasses of Ogden’s. He carefully placed the drinks on the table and sat in the booth next to me. I took a sip of my drink, the butterbeer sliding down easily like it always did, but I was eyeing up the shots on the table.
“Are those doubles?”
George grinned. “Yup, thought I’d treat us.”
“To what, a hangover?” I chuckled.
“Well, if you don’t want yours I’m more than happy to drink it for you.”
“Not a chance.” I grabbed my glass, and waited for him to pick up his own. “Your health, good sir.”
“And yours, madam.”
We downed the shots, grimacing slightly at the tangy flavour and deep burn as it scorched down our throats. Taking another gulp of butterbeer, I let the mellow liquid soothe my stomach.
“Why don’t you want to find someone?” George asked, as though the question had been burning in his mind all day.
“Find someone?”
“Dating.” He said it casually, sipping his drink, but seemed more interested in the froth on his butterbeer than making eye-contact.
“Oh, right,” I thought for a moment. “I guess I just haven’t found someone yet who makes me interested enough to want to be with them. No point stringing people along when I’ve no intention of seeing it through. Besides, there’s exams and career options right around the corner that are taking way too much of my mental energy.”
“Fair play.” George nodded thoughtfully.
“What about you? You said Fred was the player, what does that make you?”
“The sweet, innocent gentleman of the Weasleys.” He grinned, finally meeting my eyes with a wicked gleam in his expression.
I cocked my eyebrow doubtfully. “Oh, so you didn’t get caught behind the Quidditch changing rooms with Alicia Spinnett last year?” He paused, thinking of an excuse while trying to subdue a shit-eating smirk. “Or what about the rumours that you and that Ravenclaw lass were squealed up by Peeves, sneaking back from the Astronomy tower at three in the morning?”
“In my defence, I should have known not to trust Peeves as a lookout.”
“Oh really? Tell me more.” I chuckled, eager to hear his excuses.
“You’re going to need more firewhisky to get that sorry tale out of me.” George laughed.
“Well, if that’s what it will take.” I stood up, and headed to the bar. Madam Rosmerta was wiping down the countertop, but draped her towel over her shoulder and smiled.
“What can I get you, lovey?”
“You got a bottle of Ogden’s I can buy?”
She smirked and reached under the bar, pulling out an unopened bottle of firewhisky. “Four Galleons; if you need a bucket after the first six shots you get two galleons back.” She handed me the squat bottle in exchange for four gold coins.
“I think we’ll manage.” I grinned at her and headed back to George. He stared at the bottle in my hand as I sat down.
“Are you trying to get me drunk, madam?” He pulled a shocked face, his eyes glinting mischievously as he pulled out two gold coins from his pocket to pay for half the bottle.
“I am, good sir.” It felt natural, joking with him like this. It was banter. Nothing else. “I plan on getting every sordid story out of you by the end of the day.”
George’s cheeks had pinked up slightly, probably from the double he had already drank. “Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
I poured us both a generous shot and turned on the booth’s bench to face him fully. “So…?” I prompted.
Rolling his eyes, he tossed back the firewhisky and adjusted the way he was sitting so he was partially cross-legged on the bench. “Okay; the situation with Alicia - I’ll give you that one. As for the Astronomy Tower - first of all she was a Slytherin, not a Ravenclaw.”
“Fraternising with the enemy?” I jibed, sipping my butterbeer. Something told me he would be wanting some kind of fair game, and to hold off on drinking my shot.
“Oh, fraternising hard .” He said it before he thought, and the pinkness in his cheeks grew as he realised what he said. “Anyway…it was just that one time, but Peeves spouted off like we were Romeo and fucking Juliet.”
That piqued my interest. “You read Muggle books?”
“Sometimes, they can be good. Although their concept of magic is hilariously flawed.”
“Have you ever read Wuthering Heights ?” I asked, suddenly distracted by this surprising tangent.
“Of course I have, it’s a classic. How anyone could ever imagine unquiet slumbers for the sleepers in that quiet earth. ” He quoted.
I felt my chest constrict. It was my favourite quote, from my favourite book. Before I could start gushing about literature, I cleared my throat and picked up my shot. “Right, come on, ask me anything. Let’s even the playing field a bit.”
George let out a bark of laughter. “I thought you only had your first kiss a few days ago. What can there be to ask?”
I blushed with irritation. “Well, I don’t know, there must be something?”
“If you’re asking me that, there isn’t.” He quipped. I narrowed my eyes at him, until he sighed and looked around the room for inspiration. “Uhh…oh! What’s the naughtiest book you’ve ever read?”
“Hah! I can answer that!” I downed my shot. “ Tusk Love , it’s a forbidden romance that’s basically ninety percent smut, ten percent utter sweetness.”
“Much like me, then. I’ll have to give it a read.” He winked. Damn it, tipsy George was quite alluring when he wanted to be. “Come on, give me another.”
I poured more drinks, and waited until he had picked his up. “How many people have you slept with?”
“Four.”
“Who?”
“Uh uh uh, one question, one shot. Them's the rules.”
I rolled my eyes and swapped our glasses so he had my full one, while refilling the now empty one. “Who?”
He smirked at the loophole I had exploited. “Alicia and Leanne from our House; Imogen was the Slytherin; and Morag from Ravenclaw.” He emptied his glass again.
“Ah yeah, don’t blame you for Morag, she’s pretty.”
George raised his eyebrows. “Girls normally get bitchy when other girls are complimented.”
“Well, yeah, if it’s like ‘oh have you seen so-and-so, she has way better tits than you’, then yeah we can get bitchy. But if the girl has actually got better tits than me, who am I to deny facts?”
“Spend a lot of time looking at other girls' tits, do you?” He asked it as a joke, but there was an inflection in his voice that bordered on genuine interest.
I grinned and downed my shot. “I mean, probably only slightly less than you do.”
“We’ve already established that I am a perfect gentleman. I don’t ogle: I appreciate.”
“Of course you do.” A coy expression crossed my face. What am I doing? This is borderline flirty now. Stop it. “Well, in my humble and completely unqualified opinion, out of the girls you just named, Alicia has the best tits. Hands down. Perfect size, nice small nipples. Spot on.”
George shifted where he was sitting, grabbing his butterbeer and taking a long drink, before resting the tankard and his hands loosely in his lap, in a poor imitation of being unaffected by my statement. He’s probably just thinking about Alicia’s tits. A clenching in my stomach caught me by surprise. There was no way I was jealous. I poured us both more firewhisky, glancing at the half finished bottle. I passed him a glass, not particularly bothered about whose was whose anymore.
I geared myself up to ask him a question that had been burning in my mind since we had made this arrangement days ago. “What do you want to get out of this?”
George looked at me, confusion written across his face. “What do you mean? I’m helping out a mate.”
“It all feels one-sided though, right? You’re doing me a favour; helping me bat away people I’m not interested in; and I’ve given you nothing back. You’ve asked for nothing back. I’ve even delayed you getting conquest number five. If anything you should be demanding compensation.”
The ginger wizard looked into his butterbeer as though it held the answers to life’s problems. “I don’t need anything in return. I agreed to do this because even though we’ve known each other for years, we never really hang out. It’s always in groups. I guess I’ve just been enjoying your company.”
Oh. Well, fuck. That’s really fucking sweet. I felt a weird combination of guilt for asking him, and happiness that he liked spending time with me. There was something else too, something deeper inside me that I couldn’t quite grasp. Awkwardness? No . Self-consciousness? That’s not right either . Disappointment. Ah, there we go. Wait, what? Why? I brought myself back into the present as I realised he had spoken to me. I stared at him for a moment, before he grinned.
“I know I am a perfect specimen, but I didn’t mean for my rugged good looks to distract you quite so much.” George laughed, and I realised he was joking. I felt relief wash over me, taking me away from my confusing thoughts. “I said , do you want to head back now, or should we stay and finish this bottle?”
I glanced around at the pub, which was growing busier as the locals filed in. “What if we headed back and finished the bottle at the castle?”
“I like your thinking, madam.” George stood up and shrugged on his coat.
“See, I’m not just a pretty face, good sir.” I pulled my hat and gloves on, and buttoned up my coat.
We downed our leftover shots and George picked up the bottle from the table. Waving goodbye to Madam Rosmerta, we left the warmth of the Three Broomsticks and began the long walk to Hogwarts. The wind chilled me, catching my skin in the gap between my coat and my hat. Before I took another step, I felt something soft drape around my neck. Looking down, I saw George’s scarf and frowned at him.
“You’ll get cold.” I said, reaching to pull the scarf off and give it back.
“I’ve got a hood, you don’t.” He made a point of pulling said hood up, and raised his eyebrows at me in an unspoken order.
“Thanks.” I mumbled, wrapping the scarf around my neck. It was still warm from his body heat, and that scent of cinnamon clung to it. “Let’s pick up the pace, don’t want you catching hypothermia on my account.”
We walked faster, reaching the grounds in record time. George glanced at the bottle in his hands. “Where should we go to finish this, then?”
“You’re the master of secret passageways, why don’t you pick one.”
“Master of secret passageways, eh?” He winked at me, and I cursed my stomach for flipping over. “My, my; you do have a devilish streak.”
“Shut up,” I felt myself grinning despite the blush exploding across my face. “You know I didn’t mean it like that .”
“I’m just teasing.” He smiled genuinely, before thinking for a moment. “There’s the Bell Tower, nobody goes up there on the weekend unless it’s a holiday, which it is not.”
I nodded. “Sounds like a plan. Lead the way, good sir.”
He took hold of my hand - just in case anyone sees us - and we walked through the double doors and into the warmth of the castle. The Bell Tower had several flights of stairs, going from stone to wooden as we climbed further up. The top level was little more than scaffolding for mending and cleaning the bells, and as George had said, no one ever went up there. George took off his coat, and laid it on the platform as a makeshift rug, protecting us from the rough wood. We sat down and shed our hats and gloves, and I gave him his scarf back.
“Now, we don’t have glasses, so we’ll have to just drink it straight from the bottle.”
“I’ve already kissed you, George, don’t think sharing from a bottle is going to bother me.” I laughed.
“Fair enough. So, what are the drinking rules this time?”
“Well, we’ve talked about the things you’ve done. What about stuff neither of us have done?”
“That would be a very short list.” George laughed. “But I’ll humour you.”
“You’re holding the bottle, you’re going first.” I sat cross-legged, mindful to keep my dress tucked over my knees. “So, you’ve had your way up in the Astronomy Tower, but have you ever made your move in the Forbidden Forest?”
“Is that a euphemism?” George asked with faux innocence.
“NO!” I laughed.
“Well then no, because I’d rather enjoy myself than get my arse bitten by an acromantula.” He drank some of the firewhisky and handed the bottle to me. “Have you ever taken care of things?”
I could have pretended to be naive and not know what he was implying, but for some reason I felt safe enough to be as open with him as he was with me. “Yes, of course I have.”
“Where’s th-”
“Oi, you can’t have two goes.” I chastised him, before taking a big gulp and passing the bottle back.
"You made me go back to back earlier!" He complained good-naturedly, but accepted the bottle from me.
“Have you ever considered that when you see yourself naked, you’re also seeing Fred?”
“No, but I do now. Thanks for that.” George grimaced, drinking several mouthfuls to combat the thought. “Where’s the riskiest place you’ve ever had a wank?”
Merlin’s saggy nutsack. The firewhisky was giving him the balls to ask questions that no respectable wizard normally would, but it was also giving me the courage to answer them without hesitation.
“Probably the Hogwarts Express.” I shrugged as though it wasn’t a big deal, and drank. After my long swig, the last few drops were all that was left. Granted it wasn’t a large bottle, but it was still enough to get two seventeen year olds moderately sloshed.
George stared at me, mouth ajar. “What?”
“It’s not as sexy as it sounds.” I said sardonically, passing him the bottle.
“Not sure about that.” He laughed, but it was more breathless than usual.
I felt my cheeks flare up again. Is he straight up flirting now? “Yeah well, I was on my period and everyone was so much more annoying that day, so I went to the bathroom to relieve some of the stress.” Why did you tell him that? What did you have to mention your fucking period for?!
To his credit, George never once broke eye contact with you. “That’s still fucking ballsy.” He grinned, before glancing at the last of the firewhisky. “You want this?”
“That’s not much of a question. And anyway, it’s my turn to ask you.” I leaned forwards slightly, sizing him up. Am I really about to ask him this? “Would you want to show me the ropes?”
George’s face matched his hair as he put the bottle down. He seemed to be breathing faster than usual, and he swallowed hard before looking around the room. “There they are.” He pointed at the bells above our heads, their ropes hanging beneath them. When I didn’t laugh, George met my eyes. “Like you said, this is just a convenience thing, a fake thing. It’s bad enough you’ve ended up with your first kiss going the way it did. You don’t want to do that with everything else.”
“I can decide what I do or don’t want, George.” I stared him down. “I don’t place any great weight on most things in life. If anything, I’d rather try things out with someone I trust, who I actually enjoy being around, than waiting on the off chance that I fall in love with someone and then not even knowing what I’m doing.” I hesitated, but my mouth opened before my brain caught up. “Do you want to have sex with me?”
“MERLIN’S FUCKING BEARD.” George practically jumped out of his skin. “You…you can’t just go from ‘keep your hands above the belt’ to ‘want to rail me?’. I…you…no, there’s a natural progression of things.”
“So…” I felt my confidence waver, and paid close attention to a spot on the ground. “So you don’t want to-”
“Of course I want to.” George crawled forwards until he was sitting on his knees in front of me. He cupped my face, and I saw the caring expression in his eyes. “But you said it yourself; this situation - no strings attached.”
“Not a single string in sight.” I glanced up at the rafters. “Other than the ones you’ve already pointed out.”
He huffed out a laugh. “Then I only have one amendment to your rules; ask me again on Tuesday night. If you still want to, I will absolutely have sex with you. Then, as planned, on Wednesday this is done. We have a big old public fake-up and go back to being mates who hang out a bit more often, but don’t do any weird shit together.”
I nodded. The relaxed, slightly jokey but equally sincere tone in his voice seemed completely at odds with the dilation of his pupils, the warm brown of his eyes being swallowed up by the blackness in the centre.
“Well then,” I licked my lips which suddenly seemed as dry as my mouth. “How would you feel about making out with me?”
The side of George’s mouth lifted in a smirk. “Now that , I’m happy to do.” He shifted slightly so he was sitting in front of me more comfortably, and took hold of one of my hands. “At any point, you can just tell me to stop and I will.”
“Okay.” My voice came out as a whisper, my heart hammering loudly in my chest. I am about to make out with him. With George Weasley. Purely for academic purposes, obviously.
I shuffled nearer to him, so our knees were just touching. George seemed to sense I was a bit nervous, as he used his free hand to lift my chin up and smiled at me. Not a smirk or a grin, no hint of insinuations or devilish intent. Just a smile between friends. I found myself unconsciously returning it, and relaxed enough to let him guide me towards him with that single finger curled under my chin. He placed a soft kiss on my lips, lingering for just a moment before kissing me again, slightly firmer. This I’ve got; we’ve done this before. The tiny flame of confidence inside me fought against the breeze of self-doubt and began to win. I moved my lips against his, neither of us making any attempts to touch the other, apart from where my hand was still being held loosely in his. Slow and steady. As we began to open our mouths to each other, I relaxed more, and without meaning to I found my free hand stroking his cheek. I heard a slight puff of air from George’s nose as he chuckled at my wandering act of tenderness. I was beginning to doubt if he thought I could handle any more than a simple kiss, when I felt the tip of his tongue flick against my bottom lip, and my stomach somersaulted. I must have clenched his hand in mine, because he squeezed back and licked my lip again, more purposefully than the first time. I drifted my tongue out to meet his, and felt a pang of pleasure rush straight to my core as we connected. George tilted his head, running the fingers that had been under my chin along my jaw and into my hair. He deepened the kiss, alternating between licking against my tongue and plucking at my lips. It was utterly delicious, the mixture of sensations; gentleness and confidence; sensuality and control. The heat of his mouth and the taste of him, enhanced by the firewhisky, was a heady combination, and I felt myself falling into his body, grasping at his jumper to keep him close. George let go of my hand, and placed his newly freed arm around my waist, gently pulling until I realised he wanted me to lay down. Leaning back, I saw his slightly dazed, completely lust filled expression. He was breathing as hard as me, his lips pink and kiss-swollen. He laid back on his thick coat, and the mere sight of him reaching out for me was enough to have my heart double its speed. I laid next to him, feeling completely at ease as he wrapped his arms around me, and held me close to him. I moved my hands from where they had bunched in the fabric of his jumper, sliding one around his side, and the other up to the nape of his neck. When George kissed me again, it was on a new level entirely. He angled his head and ran his tongue the length of my own, curling and writhing the soft, wet muscles against each other. I let out a light moan, but unlike in Hogsmeade, George didn’t stop this time. Thank fuck for that . He kissed me harder, pouring his soul into making this a good experience for me. I tried to match him, and what I lacked in experience I made up for in determination for this to be a two-way street. His warm hands roamed my back, caressing and teasing, but never trailing lower than my hips or around to my front. I felt my body twitching with the need for more, and kissed him rougher than before. I clasped my fingers in his hair, and as he changed the angle of our kiss I braved it all and nipped his bottom lip. A number of things happened at once. George groaned loudly, he bucked his hips into mine, and I felt his rock hard erection. He panted harshly, his face flushed with embarrassment.
“Sorry-”
“Sorry-”
We chuckled breathlessly as we spoke over each other.
“I know why I’m apologising, but why are you ?” George said, his voice huskier than usual.
“I bit you,” I grinned. “Why are you sorry?”
“I…well I…you know,” His entire face was red, the blush spreading down his neck. “Look, blokes just get them all the time. Especially when there’s a girl snogging the face off them.” George couldn’t meet my eyes. “But…I am sorry I just rutted it up against you.”
“Well, it’s certainly boosted my ego.” I let myself process it for a moment, before tilting my head and making George meet my eyes. “And anyway, that was all amazing.”
“I blame the firewhisky.” He grumbled. “I normally have more control than that. Fuck, if Fred finds out he’ll never let me forget it.”
“I’m not exactly going to run off and tell him. Imagine that conversation! ‘Morning Fred; say, did you know I kissed your brother so thoroughly that he tried to dry hump me like a dog in heat?’ Yeah, that’s not going to happen.”
George let out a chuckle, seeming more himself now the initial mortification had worn off. “Well, I know that wasn’t exactly the best example, but if you still want to try again with me, all you have to do is ask.” He held his hand up as I began to answer him eagerly. “But, we have had a fair amount of booze tonight, and enough fun to go with it.”
“Okay, fine.” I grinned.
“Good.” George laid back flat on the wooden platform, his hands over his face. At first I was worried he was crying, as his body was shaking and his breathing came in ragged gasps. But when he lifted his head to glance at me I saw the tears streaking down his face were ones of mirth. “I still can’t believe this whole situation. I blame it on your hatred for the Hufflepuff.”
“Naturally.” I started to laugh with him, finding his hearty guffaw completely infectious. My own unabashed laughter morphed into the cackles that only happened when I truly let go of everything and let myself feel the humour down into my bones. I tried to catch my breath, but George glanced at me, trying to stop laughing, and we dissolved into another fit of weak, pained giggles. “Right, don’t look at me, you’ll set me off again!” I squeaked out, my chest and stomach aching from overuse.
“ You’re getting set off?! What about me?” He chortled feebly, his hands resting on his trembling stomach. “I’m just as much a victim here as you.” George pulled a sad face, sticking his bottom lip out and tried to hold a laugh inside. All he succeeded in doing was making the laugh come out as a thin whine, much like a deflating balloon.
At this childish sound effect, I practically choked on my own laugh, and tried to take a breath in, except it ended up as a full on piggish snort. George raised his eyebrows at me, seemingly startled out of his own laughing fit.
“I hate that I do that!” I buried my face in my hands.
“That was fucking adorable.” George said it with a light tone, but the genuineness in his voice was unmistakable. “Even when we go back to being regular friends, I am going to make it my mission to hear that little snort at least once a week.”
I blushed furiously, trying to look annoyed. “Why would you do that to me?”
“Because, that is the sound of your true joy.”
“I think you’re a bit drunk, George Weasley.”
“Oh, definitely.”
“Let’s go to bed then.”
“I told you, not until Tuesday."
I was about to retort when I realised he was teasing me. We stood up and made our way down the Bell Tower as quietly as possible, heading to Gryffindor Tower to sleep off the alcohol burning our veins.