The Punch Line ~George Weasley~

T W E N T Y - N I N E

What to say? How do I even start? After everything that's happened, first Sirius, then Harry finds out the most important tidbits of information from Dumbledore, and top of that he doesn't know that we're related. I'll have to tell him soon, but first I have to find Fred.

Wherever Fred is, George is surely going to be there. My first thought was to try the Library, but they wouldn't be in there unless I was. Quickly, I have to check, just in case. Leave no stone unturned.

Scanning the library, my eyes landing on the familiar burning shade, of apricot orange hair. Slowly I walk up behind him. Whether it is Fred or George wouldn't hinder my search.

Hastily I place my hands over his eyes.

"Guess who?" I sing, a smiling forming on face, for the first time since leaving the Ministry.

"Uh..." He stammers for a moment "Snape?" He questions, holding my hands in his pulling them from his eyes. Playfully I hit him, he flinches and chuckles in response.

"Fred or George?" I sigh, leaning my back against the side of the table. Turning in his chair, he props up his head with his hand in a fist.

"Sadly, I'm not he" He cites criptically, the signature Weasley simle.

"Supposed I would want to find him" I say, crossing my arms over my chest. His eyes scans my face quickly, landing on the small trail of dried blood that spilt from the corner of my mouth and past my chin. Holding my hand over my chin, trying to cover it before he, Fred, from my deductions, could say anything about my questionable appearance.

"He's out where you left us last, he's only been in for dinner," Fred sighs, turning back to his book. Weird, he's never this studious "He hasn't spoken a word since you left, not even to me!" He exasperates, running a quick hand through his hair.

"Thanks Fred" I smile, quickly hugging him from behind in his chair, leaving as hastily before he starts asking questions.

"What happened in, and she's gone" He voices quieting as I leave. Quickly I map out my route in my mind to the broomshed by the Quidditch pitch.

When was the last time I played? Are the any matches that are coming up for the rest of the year?

I can't think about that, my mind wanders to George.

Walking out the main doors, the early night air fills my lungs helping my aching muscles and bones relax before I see him. The grass is wet, slightly dampening my feet through the newly made holes from the fight before-hand.

The pitch is empty, apart from the last few training Hufflepuffs lightly touching onto the ground and heading for the changing rooms. There must be a match coming up soon. Walking past through the pitch, trying to avoid on looking eyes, most likely trying to piece together how I managed to get myself in such a messy state.

Looking up to the broom shed, I see him.

My George. My George ?

Well yeah who else would he kiss? My body shudders at the thought.

That night comes to me, as he sighs turning around his eyes landing on me from a distance.

His lips against mine, his hands holding my hips in place. Why? Why didn't you have sex with him? A thought stirs.

It just, wasn't the right time. He would be my first.

His expression soft, walking towards me, hands in pockets his alluring colour of hair slightly blowing in the wind.

"Hey" He breathes, I smile but I can't contain myself. Pulling him into my arms, resting my head onto his warm chest. His steady heart beat a familiar sound, that pleases my ears.

"I missed you, more than I'd like to admit" I breathe, taking his scent into my nostrils, so earthy, like a crackling fire in a wood cabin. So George. Sweet, comforting, homely.

Looking up at him, he lowers his head so that my lips hover underneath his. We pause for a minute, our eyes locked in a dance of dominance. He leans further down, my eyes flutter closed at his, ever so alluring and soft, touch. This was only meant to be a breif kiss, but I've missed him so much, his smile, his smell, his hugs, his company, the way he looks at me when I catch him off gaurd, I've missed him.

George. My George. My hands lace with his firey hair, his hands snaking to my waist resting on the nape of my back, he's pulling me in. I can feel his the warmth of his body radiating against me. My chest is pressed against his, we have't been this close since the Yule Ball.

His tounge, lightly pushes at my bottom lip, my mouth parts welcoming him in. Our tounges dance, exploring each others mouths. He tastes just how I remember it's: hot; heavy; passionate; and filled with longing desire. I'm lost in pure ecstacy with him, whenever I'm near him.

Who needs Love potion?

My heart swells, as we embrace. His sex, presses against me. Opening my eyes, I part quickly shocked at his sudden arousal. Oh god, I didn't expect it. We were only kissing for a few minutes.

"What?" He asks, confused, his hands still resting on the nape of my back. My eyes still staring at the hardened bugle, struggling against his jeans. He follows my gaze, his ears turning a bright shade of pink.