Disclaimer: This chapter contains sexual content for mature audiences
He freezes, and panic fills me as I start to pull away, because maybe I did something wrong, maybe I interpreted everything wrong, maybe I-
But I've just barely pulled away when one of his hands comes to rest on the back of my head, pulling me to him, and his lips find mine again, and I'm kissing him like I've never kissed anyone in my life, all of the frustration and anger and desire and love coming out of me all at once, into this one kiss. His lips are warm and soft and everything I'd imagined, plus more, and the way he wraps his arms around me to hold me as close as possible in the freezing winter air sends the butterflies in my stomach crazy.
It's even better than I ever daydreamed about.
We finally pull back from each other, his hands on my arms, and mine sliding out of his hair to cup his neck as I rest my forehead against his, the words spilling out of my mouth before I can stop them:
"I love you."
He lets out what sounds to be a relieved laugh, sliding his hands up my arms, to cup my face, his fingers just as cold as my cheeks.
"Say it again," he almost whispers, and I pull back to look up at him, into his eyes, which hold a brightness I haven't seen in quite a while.
My lips curve up into a smile.
"I love you," I repeat, and George grins widely, just before leaning down to kiss me again, wrapping his arms around my body and pulling me close to him again, so that I can feel his thundering heart beat, just as fast as my own.
"I love you," he replies, against my lips, brushing his nose against mine before he pulls away, his cheeks flushed from the cold. He steps back, leaning over to pick up his jacket, which he brushes off before wrapping it around me. "Now come on, let's get you inside before we both get hypothermia."
I let him guide me back into the castle, and I stop once we're just inside the doors to slip my heels off of my feet, which are bright red and numb. George takes the heels out of my hand without a word, taking my hand with his other. I press my teeth into my lower lip as I smile up at him. My cheeks are going to hurt from smiling so much by the time I go to bed tonight, that's for sure.
"If we go back to my room," George says, "we can use Incendio on my textbooks to keep warm."
"George," I say, slightly horrified, and he laughs, taking his hand away from mine, but only to wrap his arm around me and pull me close to his side as we walk. I lean against him, still feeling like I'm in a dream, but also feeling something new: a jittery excitement at the thought that we're headed to an empty dorm room.
"Can I ask what happened between you and Bell before you ditched?" I ask, because while the last person I want to think about right now is Bell, my curiosity is getting the best of me. That, plus the fact that I know now that the whole thing with her was just a diversion tactic so Fred wouldn't think George fancied me. And a bloody good one, too, considering he fooled me. Not that I'm going to tell him that.
George makes a noise of annoyance as we start up the stairs to the Gryffindor common room, my feet still freezing on the cold, hard steps, but it's better than the heels. I lift the skirt of my dress up as I ascend the stairs, watching George as he runs a hand through his hair.
"I wasn't paying enough attention to her," he admits, "because I was so damn fixated on you and how beautiful you looked and how jealous I was that it was Fred you were with - which I know is my own fault," he adds, when I shoot him a look, "But anyway, she got upset, and I told her I wasn't feeling good, and I left."
I tsk at him as we reach the landing of the staircase, where George tells the Fat Lady the password to the common room. "Not a very good date you are, Georgie," I tease him.
"I would've been," he says, "to you. Had I not been a dumbarse."
I feel myself blush as we enter the common room, and immediately George takes me by the shoulders and steers me towards the fire, rubbing his hands up and down my arms to try and help warm me up. I kneel by the fire, my skirt spreading out around me, and George tosses my heels to the floor before kneeling besides me, rubbing his hands together in front of the fire. The heat seeps into me, making me shiver as I warm up.
"You were just being a good brother," I murmur, and add quietly, mostly to myself, "A little too good."
I look at him, his face illuminated by the fire, and I desperately want to kiss him. And then I realize that I can, and it's not like all of the other times. I know his feelings now. I can kiss him whenever the hell I want, and I know it'll be reciprocated. Despite the fact that it still doesn't feel quite real.
He turns to look at me, smiling slightly, and a question pops into my mind.
"What?" he asks, and I smile back, shaking my head.
"When did you realize?"
I don't have to elaborate, because he seems to know exactly what I'm asking. He smiles wider, turning back to look at the fire as he rests his hands on his thighs, rubbing his hands up and down them absentmindedly. I watch his movements carefully, craving the feeling of his arms around me, his hands on me, and his lips on mine.
"I mean, I always had a crush on you. Even back when you had a crush on Charlie." He looks at me to see my reaction, and I can't hold back a smile as I roll my eyes at him.
"But," he continues, "I remember the day that I realized that I was in love with you. It was the day we borrowed Dad's car and went to pick up Harry last year, remember?"
"How could I forget?" I reply, "The most memorable part was getting screamed at by your mum afterwards."
George laughs, but I add, more seriously, "But why?"
He looks back towards the fire, and I swear that I see the hint of a blush beginning to spread over his cheeks. But maybe it's just the warmth of the fire.
"It was just... I dunno, really. I suppose it was just the first time you really went out of your way to break the rules, and you just seemed so fearless and I remember how much you were smiling and laughing once you'd gotten the car in the air, and you looked so beautiful, and I just..." He shakes his head. "You were so carefree in that moment, and so proud of yourself, and I remember sitting there and kinda thinking, oh, shit. I have it bad."
I giggle and scoot closer to him, and he doesn't hesitate to wrap his arm around me and pull me closer. I rest my head on his shoulder as we watch the flames, sitting in comfortable silence, until George asks:
"What about you?"
"I had a crush on you for the longest time, but it was the day we skipped class to go spy on Moody," I admit, recalling that afternoon, "I fucked up by telling you that kissing your best friend makes things awkward."
George snorts. "I thought you were talking about me."
"I figured you did," I reply, straightening back up to look at him as I reach back to itch just below my shoulder blade. As pretty as I've felt in this dress all evening, I'm definitely ready to take it off.
Or, to have someone take it off of me.
"But considering I said what I did, you still thought I fancied Fred? And not you?"
George reaches out, pushing my fingers away to scratch my back for me, and I can't hold back my shudder at the feeling of his nails against my skin.
"I've never claimed to be the smart one, K," he teases, "That's always been your thing."
"I've never claimed to, either," I retort, "That's just what everyone seems to have labeled me as."
"Like you don't feed into it," George scoffs, grinning at me, "Sure, Miss Golden Girl."
"Shut up," I say, nearly pouncing on him as I twist my body towards his and crash my lips against his. He makes a pleased-sounding noise of surprise, his hand sliding down my back, the other resting on the back of my head and grabbing my hair. I'm just about ready to do something to take things a step forward, when I realize that we're seated in the middle of the common room, and that anyone could walk in and see us at any time.
"George," I murmur, pulling back slightly, "We shouldn't do this here."
"Says you," he replies, kissing my lips once more, softly, before standing up and offering a hand out to me, "You started it."
I suck in a breath as my eyes drop to his pants, where I notice his very obvious erection, straining against his pants. I raise my eyes back to his as I take his hand, letting him pull me up, and I swear that I notice him blushing again.
"I know," I admit, deciding to play into it by stopping him before he can start walking towards the stairs. I press my body against his, pushing myself up on my tiptoes to whisper in his ear, "I just can't help myself."
I drop down from my tiptoes and smile at the flustered expression on his face. But it's gone in an instant, replaced by a mischievous smile, and next thing I know, he's picking me up and throwing me over his shoulder, carrying me up the stairs to his room.
"George!" I exclaim, laughing, "Put me down!"
But his arms only tighten around me, and he doesn't set me down until we're in his room and the door is shut behind us. I smooth down my hair as he grins at me, throwing my shoes and his jacket - which I guess he picked up at some point - on the floor by his bed.
"You know you love me," he teases, "You said it yourself. Can't take it back now, K."
I grin at him, and as he turns away, I eye the bed, my heart pounding. Will we do anything tonight? I most certainly want to, but does he? And even though I've thought about it, now that the time is here, am I ready to go all the way? I'm nearly completely unexperienced, and as far as I know, so is he.
The thoughts make me jittery, but in a nervously excited way. I'm fine with anything, to be honest, even if we just decide to cuddle the rest of the night, but I can't ignore that familiar ache between my legs, and I also can't help but hope that George is willing to help me out with it.
But George doesn't make any move towards me. Instead, he goes to his trunk, which he leans over and opens as he begins to ramble a bit.
"I've got a few jumpers here," George says, already rifling through his trunk, "And some sweats, which'll be big on you of course, but if you want 'em, you can wear 'em. And your dress, you can hang it up in the bathroom once you're done changing, if-"
"Why don't you help me take it off?" I interrupt, not thinking too much before I say it, because I might not have said it otherwise.
George freezes in his actions, turning to look over his shoulder at me, clearly trying to figure out if I'm joking.
But I'm not. At all.
I feel a flush creeping over my entire face as George straightens up, his eyes traveling up and down my body, slowly taking in every inch of me.
"Are you sure?" he asks.
If he can make me feel like this by just looking at me, I'll probably combust the minute he touches me. Like, really touches me.
"Positive," I reply.
He crosses the room, and I tilt my chin up to look at him as he stops in front of me.
"Turn around," he says, softly, and I don't hesitate to do so, pulling my hair over my shoulder so that he has clear access to my back. I shudder as soon as his fingers brush the bare skin of my back just above the zipper, and he chuckles under his breath.
"Shut up," I murmur, "Your fingers are cold."
"I'm sure," he says, beginning to drag the zipper down. I clutch the front of my dress to my chest as the back splays open, all the way to where the zipper ends at the small of my back.
"There," he says, and I turn around to face him, still holding the front of the dress up. His cheeks are flushed, too, and I look into his eyes, sensing the tension between us, but also the uncertainty of where each of us want to go next.
But I can't help the pulsing desire that rings throughout my entire body, and I wonder if he feels it, too. I mean, I suppose that it's a bit obvious that he feels it, too, all things considered.
After another moment, George reaches out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear, letting his finger follow my jawline, before he holds my chin between his thumb and other fingers, tilting my chin further up to look at him.
I'm sure that he can hear the pounding of my heart, because I can sure as hell hear his.
"Kiss me," I say, and that seems to be what he was waiting for, because a smile plays on his lips just before he dips his head to brush his lips against mine, just lightly enough for me to make a noise of impatience as I push further against him.
He laughs against my mouth, his hands sliding down my shoulders and arms. He pulls away slightly, much to my annoyance, and grins down at me.
"A little needy now, are we?" he teases, and I scrunch my nose up at him.
"Shut up and kiss me already, Weasley," I retort. The corner of George's mouth lifts in a mischievous smirk.
And bloody hell, does he kiss me.
Next thing I know, my back is against the wall, George's body keeping mine pinned against it, and I accidentally let out a surprised gasp that sounds a bit more like a moan.
"You're so beautiful," he murmurs, dipping his head so that his hot breath hits my neck, just before he presses light kisses to it that send a shiver down my spine. "So fucking beautiful."
"George," I breathe, mostly because I can't really think of anything other than the way his lips feel on my burning skin and the way his hands grip my waist as he holds me against the wall. This George is different from the flustered George or hesitant George I saw earlier, or even the flirty George that I've gotten many times before. This George is sure of what he wants, and there's no doubt in my mind that what he wants is me.
And bloody hell, does it turn me on.
My fingers find the buttons on his shirt, and I linger by them as he kisses me, unsure of whether or not to unbutton them myself. But he seems to know what I'm thinking, because he pulls back and looks at me, the corner of his mouth lifting.
"You want it off?" he says, "Be my guest."
I smile before kissing him again, immediately getting to work at unbuttoning his shirt, and when I'm done, I run my fingers over his bare chest, his collarbones, his shoulders, wanting to feel every inch of him that I possibly can.
But with my hands not holding up the front of my dress anymore, the moment that George steps back to shrug his shirt off his shoulders and to the floor, my dress slides down. I flush as I step out of it, keeping my eyes on George as I'm left in front of him in just my strapless bra and panties. I giggle nervously as his eyes just about bug out of his head as he stares at me.
"Holy shit," he breathes.
"That bad, huh?" I tease, partially wishing he'd stop staring and touch me, instead, but I do enjoy watching the look on his face as he looks at me.
He finally raises his eyes to mine, starting to grin.
"Come here," he says instead, and I step towards him, but instead of kissing me again like I'd expected, he picks me up again, carrying me over to the bed and setting me down on it, kissing me deeply as he joins me, getting on top of me.
I hook my leg around his waist, pulling him closer, and he lets out a low groan as he bucks his hips against my thigh, letting me feel just how hard he is.
"George," I say, but it comes out as more of a moan as he dips his head to kiss my neck again, only this time, he continues lower, over my collarbones, until he stops just above my breasts.
"Why'd you stop?" I groan, as he lifts his head to look at me. I reach up, brushing his hair back from his face, and he smiles.
"Because," he says, "I don't wanna do anything you aren't comfortable with."
I pull him back into a kiss, and while every part of me feels more alive than I've ever felt, I'm still partially convinced that this is just a really, really good dream.
"I want you," I murmur against his lips, as I push my hips up off the bed to meet his, the friction only making me crave more, "I do. I just-"
He pulls back to look at me, and I feel myself blush.
"I don't know if I'm totally ready to go all the way," I admit, quietly, slightly embarrassed now that I realize that here we are, on his bed, both of us half naked, and I'm telling him that I'm not ready for sex. I hope I'm not disappointing him.
But he's George, and he's the one of the sweetest, most respectful boys I've ever met in my life, and so he smiles a soft, crooked smile at me and says, "That's okay, love. I don't think I am, either. But we have plenty of time ahead of us."
The pet name and the gentle way he says it makes my heart skip a beat, along with his complete lack of hesitation to accept my hesitation. I figure I ought to clarify though, because just because I'm not ready for sex quite yet, doesn't mean I don't want to continue in other ways.
I tell him as much, and his expression changes slightly, and I can tell that he's excitedly nervous, just as I am, to share these firsts together.
After some more kissing, I decide to take the initiative to guide his hand down, pulling back to make steady eye contact as I stop his hand between my legs, pressing his fingers against myself over my panties, and I stifle a whimper at the sensation.
George pulls his hand away, lifting it so that his fingers tease my waistband.
"Can I?" he asks, and I nod, not sure that I'm capable of forming any coherent words at the moment, not with how badly I want him to touch me. He shifts on the bed, kneeling next to me. I lift my hips up to help him, and he swallows hard as he tugs my panties down, leaving my lower half completely exposed to him.
After getting them off, he slides his fingers back up my leg, starting by my ankle, up my calf, and lightly across my thighs, which makes me squirm slightly. I spread my legs apart for him, and his fingers tease my inner thighs.
He looks unsure, though, so I take his hand again, guiding it to where I want it.
"Right here," I say, sucking in a sharp breath as his fingers brush my clit. He lifts his eyes to watch my face as he starts to rub in circles, putting just enough pressure to drive me absolutely mad, lifting my hips off the bed, desperate for more.
"Tell me what feels good," he says, his voice barely a whisper, "I wanna make you feel good, baby."
Desperate for more, I reach down for his hand again, but this time, I guide one of his long fingers inside of me - something I've done to myself countless times, but the sensation is a thousand times better feeling George's.
He starts to pump it slowly, watching me once again to gauge my reactions. I look back at him, watching the way his chest rises and falls swiftly, the way his cheeks are flushed and his lips are slightly parted, the way his other hand rests on one of my thighs, holding my legs apart, and the way his erection strains against his pants.
"George," I whine, the pleasure building in the pit of my stomach as he pumps and curls his finger at the perfect pace. I grab his other hand, pressing his fingers back against my clit, and I let out a moan. He shifts closer, still kneeling, draping one of my legs over his, spreading me further for him.
"Keep going," I say, my voice breathy, and George obeys, following my every command to go faster or slower or to shift his hand here or there or to add a finger, until finally, after plenty of patience and whispered praises on George's end, I'm unraveling, tilting my head back and lifting my hips up off the bed as I climax with a choked moan.
He smiles at me as I lay there, regaining my bearings.
"Good girl," he says, and those two words alone are enough to make me soaked all over again. Who knew that I liked validation so much outside and inside of the bedroom?
He pulls his hands away from me after a moment, and I sit up, my legs shaky from my orgasm, to kiss him. As I do, I rub him through his pants, and he groans. While I don't know much, I have an idea of what to do to make him feel good.
"Fuck," he says, gripping my thighs tightly, his fingers digging into my soft skin, "Katie."
After some shifting around and removal of clothing between kisses, George is laying back on the bed, lifting his hips to pull down his boxers, letting his cock spring free, and I hope that my eyes don't widen too obviously as I look at him, because holy shit, is he huge.
Will that even fit inside of me?
I hesitantly wrap my hand around him, trying not to appear as nervous as I am, and he sucks in a sharp breath, leaning his head back against the pillow. He tilts his head to look at me, his chest rising and falling quickly as I slowly begin to stroke him, moving my hand up and down his shaft.
"You can go faster, baby," he says, breathily, so I move my hand faster, gripping him tighter, and he lets out a choked moan.
"That's it," he gasps, "Fuck, you're so pretty."
My wrist starts to ache, but I continue, enjoying watching him squirm because of the pleasure that I'm giving him too much. I want to make him feel as good as he made me.
It takes a little while longer - not as long as it took for me - but he finishes, making more of a mess than I was ready for.
And of course, he's George, so he says:
"Fred got it in his eye once," after he recovers and tells me what a good job I did, just before heading for the bathroom, "Did he ever tell you?"
"Uh, no," I reply, and George laughs loudly from the bathroom. I hear the sink running, and as he cleans up, I pull my panties back on before pulling a jumper of his out of his trunk and pulling it over my head. "Believe it or not, that isn't a usual conversational topic for us, Georgie."
I look across the room, at the clothes strewn across the floor, and smile to myself, listening to George hum from the bathroom. This almost feels too good to be true. But then again, it's not all perfect - after all, we still have something - or someone, rather - to talk about.
When he comes back out of the bathroom, now wearing a pair of plaid pajama pants, he smiles ridiculously wide at the sight of me. I smile back, my heart fluttering.
"Y'know," he says, joining me on the bed and immediately pulling me into his arms. We snuggle together, my head on his chest, our legs intertwined, and I already begin to dread the moment when I have to leave this spot. Which is soon, considering I need to leave before Lee or Fred get back - unless George wants to have this conversation tonight, with them finding us in bed together and our clothes strewn all over.
"If you would've told fourteen-year-old me that in two years, I'd have Katie Clearwater wearing my jumper in my bed, I would've thought you were mad."
I giggle. "Why did you never think I'd pick you?" I ask, absentmindedly tracing a line of freckles on his chest.
"I always thought you'd want someone more.. similar to you, I guess. Like Roger. Or Cedric." He pauses, catching my hand with his and placing it over his heart. "Or if you wanted someone more fun, you'd go for Fred. I just always felt like I was the middle ground that you were never going to want in that way. Not that I would've let it ruin our friendship if you didn't feel the same way," he adds, quickly, as if that might still be the case.
"Georgie." I flip around, propping myself up to look at him, so that our faces are inches apart. I feel his hand slide up under the jumper and over my back, his touches gentle and almost hesitant, not like they were earlier. "I'm half naked in the bed of the boy who I'm in love with. I'm not going anywhere, okay?"
He smiles, softly, but I can still see the hesitation - despite our love confessions to each other and having our first sexual experiences with each other - after his months of thinking that I wanted Fred. And speaking of which...
His eyes search my face, and he removes his hand from under the jumper to brush a curl out of my face.
"Katie," he says, slowly, and my heart lurches, because I start to suddenly doubt that maybe he doesn't want to be with me, because of the inevitable conflict with Fred. I wouldn't blame him for choosing Fred over me; they're family. Brothers. Twins. An irreplaceable bond that I would never want to get in the way of. But I think I already have, by ditching Fred at the Ball tonight and nearly sleeping with George.
"As much as I want to show you off and scream from the Astronomy Tower that the most beautiful, talented, smartest girl in the bloody world loves me, I think..."
My heart already begins to ache. Did I get my hopes up too soon? Even though he's still holding me close, touching me so tenderly as if I'm going to break under his fingertips? Even though he's looking at me so lovingly like that?
"I think we should keep this under wraps for a while. Until I have the chance to talk to Fred."
It takes me a minute to realize that he's not ending things before they even started. Thank Merlin.
"You mean, like, date in secret?" I ask, and George nods hesitantly.
I crack a smile, and his eyebrows furrow ever so slightly, clearly confused at my sudden change in attitude.
"How are we supposed to do that if you haven't asked me to be your girlfriend yet?"
George starts to grin back.
"Patience, grasshopper. That's next on my to-do list. Right after get her naked."
I tsk at him, and he laughs, just before putting his hand on the back of my head to lower it so he can kiss my forehead.
"I'm kidding, love. Will you? Be my girlfriend?" After a second, he adds, "Please?"
I giggle and bury my face in the crook of his neck, taking in the warmth and smell and feel of him, because with everything, I don't know when the next time we'll be able to just lay in bed and enjoy each other's company will be.
And while I know I'm going to feel guilty about being secretly with George, I will admit that the idea is kind of exciting. Sneaking around, and all that, even if it's right under our best friends' noses.
But then again, we're talking about Fred, Lee, and Roger. How long can we really keep it from them? When they know us better than anyone?
How can I keep it from Charlie?
I can't. I have to tell him. I have to tell someone, or I might combust.
"Of course I will," I say, snuggling even closer towards George, even though at this point, it's kind of physically impossible to get closer to him.
"Isn't that cute?" I add, remembering what day it is, "That means our anniversary will be on Christmas."
Even though I'm not looking at him, I can practically hear the smile in George's voice.
"You mean you're planning on staying with me for at least a year? Wicked."
I laugh, and he continues, starting to sit up and scoot away from me. "But speaking of which, I, uh, I have something for you. I meant to give it to you yesterday, but..."
He trails off, and I understand, remembering just how vastly different last night was from tonight, sitting up to look at him. He leans over, reaching into the nightstand that sits next to the bed and pulling open the top drawer. I watch as he pulls out something wrapped in brown paper, but I can't tell what it is based off the shape, which seems to be irregular.
He hands it to me, telling me to be careful. I tear my eyes away from his to open the small package, and as soon as I have the paper torn away, I know what it is. My jaw drops, because how-?
"How did you find one?" I ask, holding up the shard of mirror.
George smiles proudly and shakes his head, reaching back into the nightstand to pull out his half of the two-way mirror.
"I have resources, believe it or not," he says, running his finger along one of the edges of the mirror, "But after we talked about it, it was all that was on my mind. I knew I had to find us these. Especially if we're going to get our map back."
I had completely forgotten about the map in the last week, but he's right. If we have that, and once we meet with Remus (which I had given up hope on George coming with me after our lack of communication lately, but it looks like that's going to change), maybe we can finally get to the bottom of that whole mystery once and for all.
Plus, this means that I can talk to - and see - George whenever I want, even when we're apart. What more could I ask for?
"You're the best," I tell him, setting down the mirror and throwing my arms around his neck, with so much force that I practically almost knock him back on the bed. He laughs, hugging me back.
"I love you," he murmurs, holding me tightly, and my heart flutters at the words. "I'm sorry again for everything."
"You were being an arse," I admit, and George chuckles, just before peppering a few kisses to my neck, "But I forgive you. I love you."
George squeezes me tighter. "I'm never going to get tired of hearing you say that."
We hold each other, just like that, so tightly, as if both of us are worried that the other is going to try and leave. But I know that I do have to leave, because the Ball will be ending soon, meaning Fred and Lee should be coming back at any time now. If they don't have other plans, that is.
When I pull back from George, he immediately pulls me into a kiss. I kiss him back, feeling more alive than I've ever felt in my life.
Even if it was infuriating and heartbreaking at times, I suppose the wait for this was worth it - for him. My George.
After a little while longer, when we finally go to part ways that night, I change back into my dress and heels to avoid any suspicion, but George stops me before I can leave.
"What?" I ask.
He smiles at me, holding up a finger for me to wait before crossing the room to Lee's side, fiddling with something on the nightstand. After a moment, slow, soft music begins to fill the room, and George spins around, holding his hand out to me.
I grin at him, shaking my head slightly. Oh, this boy. This sweet, lovely boy.
"One last thing, since I fucked up what could have been tonight." He clears his throat dramatically.
"Katie Clearwater," he says, mockingly formal, "may I have this dance?"
"Yes, George Weasley," I reply, taking his hand and letting him pull me in, his other hand finding my waist and setting mine on his shoulder,
"You may."