Waldosia/// George Weasley

Chapter 19

Without looking back at Clover, he turned around and headed straight towards his fireplace. The blonde girl watched as he took a handful of floo powder in his hold.

"Where are you going?"

She didn't mean for it to happen, but the front she had put up slipped again. Her voice came out soft, wavering. A feeling of sadness coursed through her veins at the thought of George leaving her here, tired and vulnerable. She didn't need him, she didn't need anyone. But after a lifetime of not needing someone, she was overwhelmed with wanting him. In the simplest and purest form of the word, Clover wanted George to stay.

"Going to find Angelina."

He looked back at her even though everything inside of him was screaming not to. Her eyes met his and suddenly there weren't anymore storms; it was just raining. And god, he had never wanted to lay down in the rain and feel something so badly as he did right now.

"Fine, go then," her face hardened again, her secrets and vulnerabilities hidden back where they came from, "I told you promises never meant anything to me anyways."

She turned around and walked back over the the couch, refusing to meet his eye. Her knees came up to her chest and she let her head fall into them. A deep breath escaped her and she closed her eyes, trying to bring back the girl she was, the girl she's always been, the girl that doesn't exist around George. Shuffling sounded out behind her, and she assumed that George had left. The silence that followed consumed her; he was gone.

Clover let out shuddering breath when two warm hands softly touched her harms. She lifted her head slowly, both in shock and disbelief at the ginger boy crouching down in front of her. Her shirt, the one that was previously on the floor, was tangled in his fingers and a small, nervous smile was on his face.

"And I told you," his hand found its way up to the side of her head, comfortingly brushing her hair behind her ear, "they mean everything to me."

He slowly stood up, raising her arms as he did, "Now let's get this shirt back on, love."

She opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out. Clover was speechless, her body igniting to his gentle touched. He was so careful with her, in every form of the meaning. And, she couldn't shake the feeling of safeness that took over her as he placed the shirt over her head.

He looked down at her, pure innocence decorating her face. She looked so small, so fragile, so unlike herself, so child-like. It was mesmerizing, like nothing he's ever seen before. He felt as if he were meeting her for the first time; no pain, no trauma, no nightmares. Just Clover, striped down and baring her soul.

He was overcome with a sudden desire to be a close as possible to her, to soak up every bit of this moment before it left him like everything else did. So, he pulled himself onto the couch next to her and brought her into his arms.

"You stayed," she whispered so lightly that he was barely able to hear it.

It wasn't a question, rather a statement. A conversation with herself. A sentence of disbelief. A disbelief that for once in her life not everything good left her.

"I gave you my word," he responded, bringing his lips to her forehead and softly leaving a kiss there.

Her insides fluttered, and she absolutely hated it.

"Get some more sleep, yeah?" George spoke again, his hand tracing tiny fireworks onto her thighs.

She nodded her head before letting it fall down onto his lap. His hand made its way over to her hair and started playing with it as she let her thoughts become words.