Good Girl || George Weasley

6

I wake up the next morning with only a slight headache, thankfully. I lay in bed, reveling in the quiet, hearing nothing but the soft sounds of Penelope and Ginny breathing from across the room, both of them still fast asleep.

I let my mind drift to the events of last night as I roll on to my side, staring at the poster of the Holyhead Harpies that Ginny has up on one of her walls. I think of George - his somewhat hostile attitude for the majority of the night, followed by his apology once the two of us were alone. I'm thankful that he apologized, but his words from earlier in the night are still stuck in my mind, my heart aching slightly at the memory:

Why would I care who you kiss?

My mind then jumps to the kiss itself, with Fred. I haven't really thought about it since it happened, considering I've been more worried about George, but Fred and I haven't talked about it since it happened. Or talked at all, really, now that I think about it.

Is that weird?

Do people kiss their best friends and not talk about it afterwards? Especially when they're head-over-heels for their best friend's twin brother who also happens to be their other best friend?

Whatever. I decide that I'm overthinking it as I pull aside my blanket and sit up, getting ready to head downstairs and get some coffee. It was a dare, so obviously we don't need to talk about it. It wouldn't have happened otherwise.

I don't bother changing out of my pajamas quite yet, so when I start walking down the creaking stairs to the kitchen, I'm dressed in an old, oversized Chudley Cannons shirt that belonged to my dad once, and shorts. When I turn the corner into the kitchen, I'm surprised to see that I'm not going to be alone.

"Hey."

"Hi. What are you doing up already?" I ask Fred, who's sitting at the table, biting into a piece of toast that looks to be just a shade lighter than burnt.

"I wanted to talk to you alone, and I knew that wasn't going to happen unless I got up at the ass-crack of dawn like you do," he replies, grinning at me.

"Fair enough," I say, sitting down across from him and reaching across the table to steal his other piece of toast. "What's up?"

Fred's smile fades, and my stomach turns. Oh Merlin, did I speak too soon? Are we about to talk about the kiss? He doesn't know that I'm into George - am I going to have to tell him? I suppose it won't be the end of the world if I do, because he won't tell George, right?

"Has George talked to you?" he asks, lowering his voice, as if George is going to walk into the room at any minute. "He's been off lately, and he hasn't told me anything, which is weird because he usually always does. So I figured if he's not talking to me, he must be talking to you, and I just wanted to know if he's okay."

I can't help but smile a little at Fred's obvious concern. While George is definitely overall the more empathetic of the two, Fred's soft spot is - and always has been - his twin.

"No, he hasn't talked to me, either. I'm glad it's not just me who's noticed that he's been acting different, though," I admit. I bite into a corner of the piece of toast and then toss it back across the table on to Fred's plate. I consider telling him what I admitted to George last night, about thinking we had upset him after we kissed.

"What?" Fred says suddenly, his eyes searching my face carefully.

"What do you mean, what?"

"You look like you want to say something."

I blush. "No, I just... I was just thinking, last night, George seemed to be in a bad mood, so I thought maybe it was because we kissed, but he said he doesn't care, so never mind," I say, hurriedly.