Waldosia/// George Weasley

Chapter 28

"Fuck you, Clover," he spoke softly, yet the message echoed throughout the entire flat.

Clover felt like her 14 year old self, putting up a shiny pair of new armor to keep her emotions in check. Her 14 year old self who was mean, cunning, and willing to do anything to protect both herself and her sister. Her 14 year old self who became used to the cruciatus curse being the only thing she knew how to feel. And George was love. The love that mocked her, slipped through her fingers, never dared to get close to her, took everything away from her. Right now, she would've done anything to bring it to its knees. To have power over it before it could do the same to her. Because that's all Clover ever knew of love, and that, she felt, was all she would ever know of it.

She stood on her toes and reached up so her mouth was next to his ear, her free hand brushing over the non-existent one, "Too late, Georgie. Charlie already did."

George's body tensed under her grasp and his jaw clenched in place. His nostrils flared angrily and Clover could see his thoughts running wild in his eyes, but he stayed completely still.

"Fuck you," he said again. This time it was quiet and shaky and so unsure. A whisper, a stutter, a lie.

"I don't think you mean that," she breathed along his jawline, her words ghosting over his skin, "You know why, George?"

Nothing but silent thoughts and shaking fingers.

Then her mouth was in his ear again, "Because you need me, George Weasley."

His entire body shuttered at her words, at her touch. His eyes snapped shut and his breath hitched in his throat.

"And that terrifies you," she pulled his face down to hers and placed her forehead against his, "Isn't that right?"

"I don't need you," his voice cracked and his eyes stayed shut. Another lie, a realization.

She laughed again, and it curled through his body, "You've always been such a pretty liar."

When he stayed quiet, she continued talking, "You say I mean nothing to you, yet the second I leave your side you go absolutely mental."

Her mouth was so close to him that he could feel her words brush against his own lips, "I think that it bothers you that I'm not yours."

She slid her hands down his chest and then over his arms so she could place them around her waist, pulling their bodies directly up against each other, "That Charlie holds me just like this when you're not around."

His body tensed and his grip on her waist tightened. George's eyes snapped open at her words, his expression full of regret, anger, pure and utter need.

"Clover," he growled her name out lowly, desperately.

She brought her lips up to his and delicately spoke against them, "That just before Charlie and I came downstairs, my mouth was wrapped around his cock."

He bit down on her lip as he stepped away from her abruptly, pulling his wand out from his pocket and holding it up against her neck.

Seething and threatening, he growled out again, his wand digging into her skin, "Say it again. I dare you."

Clover laughed again. And it felt good, because this time it was her laughing at love. Not the other way around.

She noticed the trembling of his hand, the weakness of it. Slowly and gently, she brought her own hand up against his and took the wand from his grasp. And when she looked up at him again, his eyes were angry and glazed-over. It took everything in her not to kiss his tears away.