Waldosia/// George Weasley

Chapter 11

She was on the floor now, her head squeezed in between her hands that were resting on her knees. Her body was shaking uncontrollably, trembling at the thought of reliving the worst day of her life. The war...the wall...Linny...

A sob, or possibly a scream, left her lips as she rocked back in forth. Images of spells and blood and death and a small, blonde girl who was too young to be fighting ranged through her brain. It was the war all over again, Linny was dead. I couldn't save you, I'm sorry...

But suddenly, arms were thrown around her body. Through all the chaos there was warmth and a muffled voice calling out to her. She couldn't breathe and needed space. Clover tried shaking the arms off of her, but they only held on tighter. Her eyes were still squeezed shut as the voice became more clear in her head.

"Fuck, Clover. Breathe, breathe, shit. Lee, get everyone bloody out of here."

She shook her head, desperately trying to get the voice to go away. There was a war going on, there was no time for talking. But then, her face was held so tightly and a warmth spread over her forehead. Someone was there. There...here...work...the shop...

"Alright, it's alright. Listen to my voice, just try to listen. I'm here-shit. I-It's George, yeah? I'm right here and so are you. We're in the joke shop. You're okay, I promise. I've got you."

Clover felt like she was no longer holding in her breath and her hands shakily slid off of her ears. Immediately, a set of fingers intertwined with both of hers. The joke shop...George...

"Breathe, breathe, breathe. It's okay. S'alright. The shop is empty now. It's just me and you."

Without letting go of her hands, a matching set of arms wrapped around her body and held her close. There was a thumping noise that she immediately focused on, her breath matching the steady pace of the sound. Slowly, everything began coming back to her. But when reality set in, it made her body shake even more. Her eyes opened and stared off into space as he held her trembling body in his arms, having absolutely no intention of letting her go.

It was minutes later when she peeled her body off of his and stood up from the ground. With no words being said, she quickly began making her way towards the front door. It was bad enough he saw her like this, Clover couldn't deal with the aftermath. She wanted to slip out quickly and quietly, not to embarrass herself anymore. But then she heard her name.

"Clover."

It was soft and delicate the way he said it. She couldn't just leave without acknowledging it. And so, she stopped just as she reached the door and slowly turned around to face the boy who was still sitting on the floor.

Soft and worried brown eyes locked onto numb blue ones, and George finally saw something in Clover he had never seen before. George saw himself. A broken and shattered shell of someone who has been beaten down and depleted. Another example of what or, in this case, who the war left behind.

And suddenly, George knew more about Clover than he ever had. She was him, he was her. One last thought popped into his head as she watched her run out of the shop: He hasn't even figured out the outline of the puzzle that is Clover.

Clover ran, she ran as fast as she could until she was seated at the Riot bar top. Hours and a few too many shots of firewhiskey later, Babs, who just so happened to be on shift at the moment, was slapping a large cup of water in front of Clover.

"I'm cutting you off," he pointed at her knowingly, wiping her chin with a towelette and pushing the cups towards her, "Just because today has been bollocks doesn't mean you can drown yourself in bloody alcohol."

Naturally, Clover had told him everything as soon as she walked in and saw him behind the bar.

"You can't stop me," she stuck her tongue out and grabbed a pint of amber lager from the person sitting next to her. Clover raised the cup to her lips, ignoring the protest from the person it had originally belonged to. But before the liquid stung down her throat, the pint had been taken directly from her hands.

"Two against one, blondie," his familiar voice was accompanied by an apologetic smile, "You're done for the night."

If she didn't have a few rounds of liquid courage swimming through her body, Clover would have looked away in shame. But instead, she found herself answering him with more confidence she would have had on a good day.

"You can't tell me what to do," she crossed her arms and defiantly stared at him, "I'm going to drink my problems away, go home with a handsome bloke, and pretend like today never happened."

He chuckled out slowly and leaned into her, "You're coming home with me tonight."

Clover ignored the flushing of her cheeks and furrowed her brows, "Why would I do that?"

"I want to talk to you," he face returned to a serious, genuine expression as he continued from next to her, "About today, about the kiss..."

Clover's drunken mind flashed back to both events, and ultimately decided that avoiding them would be her best option for the night, "I don't want to talk."

"Fine, but you're not going home with a-another bloke like this. You're bloody wasted," he concluded, taking a sip of the drink that was previously in her hand, "Let me take you home."

She immediately shook her head in denial, not wanting to admit that she has been staying with his family for the past week or two. As Molly told her when she moved in, what George doesn't know won't hurt him.

"I don't want to go home. I already told you, you can't tell me what to do," she glared at him, hoping he didn't ask her to elaborate on where exactly home is for her. She wouldn't have an answer.

"He can't, but as your best friend, I can," Babs interrupted and playfully whipped Clover with his towel. He looked over at George sternly and pointed, "Let her crash with you tonight, make sure she's safe and drinks water. No funny business."

The last thing Clover saw before being apparated out of the pub was a small, warm smile playing on George's lips. And the next thing she knew, she was standing in the middle of George's flat being forced to down a sobering potion.

A groan escaped her lips as she thought, this is going to be a long night...

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AUTHORS NOTE:

Hehehe I wonder what's gonna happen next;););) STAY TUNED TO FIND OUT✨✨✨

Also just saying, the characters in this story are not just going to quickly fall in love. Just like I said in Losing Game, people don't just realistically fall in love and stay in love that quickly. It's going to take a lot of time and overcoming obstacles, especially when dealing with the aftermath of death. So this will be a slow burn, but I promise it'll have a happier ending;)