She was backed up into a corner in the house that always felt too big for the small family of 4. Family...if you could even call it that. Clover was beyond scared, beyond frightened, but she didn't show it. She refused to let him know he was having any effect on her.
His wand was digging into her neck, harshly and threateningly. She knew there would be a mark on it in the morning; a mental note popped into her head to remind her to cover it. Nobody could know.
Her little sister was safely tucked behind her, the 10 year-old girl vividly shaking with fear. Clover wanted to tell her not to worry, she would never let him touch her. But she couldn't. If she spoke out of line he would surely punish her more harshly.
"Move, you pathetic girl," he growled out, the wand prodding her neck deeper and deeper.
Clover raised her chin definitely and raised an arm out to cover her sister, "She's only 10...s-she doesn't know any better."
"That's exactly why she must learn her lesson," he replied with a sick, twisted smile, "Move."
She would never let him touch her. Her mom's last words playing over in her head. Don't let him hurt her; protect Linny at all costs.
"No," she shook her head fervidly and stood her ground, "I won't let you hurt her."
He chuckled out evilly before moving his wand away from her neck and directly in front of her face, "Then it's you who must learn."
She was scared, so scared. Her eyes fluttered around the room nervously before landing on the familiar blue ones hiding in the background. The ones that belonged to her brother. Clover sent him a pleading look, begging him to do anything to help her. But, he never moved an inch. Her younger brother stayed frozen in his spot, his eyes glued onto hers. Panic.
"Crucio."
Clover abruptly woke up with her heart in her throat, her breaths short and exasperated. She gripped the sheets surrounding her in order to ground herself as her eyes fearfully examined the room she was in. He's not here, she had to remind herself over and over again as she calmed herself down. He's not here...he won't hurt you.
She looked around frantically before remembering where she was: The Burrow, Bill's room to be more exact. Molly had told her since her eldest son moved out that the room could be hers. There were posters of the Ramones and the Romantics draping off the wall, a singular pair of torn up black combat boots next to the dresser, and old fang earrings splattered across the nightstand. Clover knew she could have redecorated a week ago, when Molly brought her here, but she couldn't bring herself to do so. She couldn't shake off the thoughts in her head that were telling her this was just temporary. Home was always temporary for her.
It was almost 5am when she was forced awake, and out of habit, she stood up from the bed. Her mind wouldn't let her go back to sleep; it was always too busy. So, she opted for a cold shower instead. And after that, her feet brought her down to the kitchen, where a singular cup of tea sat waiting on the table as usual. No one was ever around when she would find it there, but somehow she knew it was for her.
It was probably an hour later when she finally heard a voice call out from behind her, "Hey, you're up?"
Clover nodded her head at the familiar voice of Ginny and shot her a small smile once she took the seat next to her. A moment later, another pair of footsteps came gracing down the stairs.
"Good morning," Percy mumbled under his breath, his eyes shooting over towards Ginny and then towards Clover.
His red hair and freckled body may have claimed the older boy as a Weasley, but Clover noticed there was something different about him just within a week of living under the same roof. He was softer, less outspoken, and kept more to himself. It was so unlike the blatant wits of Ginny, or the sarcastic commentary of Ron, or even the sly charm of George. Instead, he walked around with his head hung low and his guard always up. Must've been from the war...
The second the two made eye contact, he quickly tore his gaze away and shifted his head anxiously. She wanted to know if it was fear or suspicion that always made him act so strange around her, but for some reason she didn't believe it was either of those.
"I'm going to the shop early today to check on George," Ginny interrupted the silence among the three, looking over at Clover curiously.
The younger redhead stood up from the table and began heading towards the fireplace when Clover called out, "I'll come with you."
Ginny momentarily stood frozen in her place. Clover noticed how the two siblings in the room shared a knowing look, the moment only being interrupted when Ginny spoke again, "A-are you sure? George isn't...erm...the best in the mornings."
Clover shook her head and laughed under her breath, knowing that she was probably the exact same way. The nightmares always made sure of that. If only they knew...
"I can handle it," she simply smiled and followed the younger girl over towards the fireplace, respectfully waving a farewell to Percy. Seconds later, they were standing in the one part of the shop that Clover had never been in. The part that just so happened to be the flat above it, where George lived.
It was a small flat; only a living room attached to a kitchen and a singular hallway with two rooms branching off of it. Although, the size wasn't the first thing she noticed about it. It was the walls. They were painted a deep red, but looked like someone had tried to paint over it with white paint. Streaks of white were messily thrown across the red, as if done in a fit of rage. And, Clover thought, she had never seen something quite so...George-like. Something that once must've been so beautiful, yet now only looked chaotic.
Ginny had disappeared from the main room, giving the blonde girl more time to examine the flat. There were no pictures hanging, only one couch in the middle of the living room, and a dusty record player sitting off to the side on the floor. It looked like someone barely lived there, or better yet, the person who lived there was barely living. And just as Clover thought about how that made sense, two mumbled voices awoken her from her thoughts.
"I don't want to eat, Ginny," George's voice grumbled as he was being dragged out of his bedroom, "Let me go back to sleep."
Ginny rolled her eyes and continuously kept pulling a shirtless George over towards his little kitchen area, plopping him down in a seat forcibly. She magically started the kettle and fixed him a stern look, "You need to eat something before work."
"I'm fine, Ginny," he snapped from his seat while crossing his arms over his chest and glaring back up at her.
Clover noticed how similar the two looked: both pale, freckled, tired. Neither of the Weasley siblings looked as if they had slept in weeks. The blonde girl had yet to been noticed, or at least acknowledged, by George, yet she didn't mind staying out of the way. It's what she was best at.
The younger Weasley broke the stare between the two and pointed back towards George's room, "Let me make something for you while you go get dressed. The shop opens soon."
George abruptly stood up from his chair and towered over the smaller ginger, "I said I'm fine Ginny."
A nostalgic looked passed over Ginny's face, one where hopefulness and sadness were battling to take control of her brown eyes. Her voice suddenly became softer and her body shrunk down from his stance of authority. Ginny finally looked like the 18 year she was.
"What if we go to the bakery down the street and pick up pastries for breakfast?" An unsure smile wavered on her face waiting to hear her brother's response, "Like we always used to do with-,"
George angrily threw a hand threw his uncombed hair and shouted, cutting his sister off, "Fuck, Ginny. I said I'm fine! I don't need you coming to check up on me and make sure I'm dressed and that I eat. I'm a bloody adult, I can fucking take care of myself."
For a second longer, Ginny remained a child. Sadness and hurt flooded her facial expression quickly and briefly, but Clover still noticed it. And a second later, she shook off her emotions. It was as if she remembered who she was, who she had to be. She stood stall, crossed her arms over her chest, and glared at George.
"Sure doesn't bloody seem like that," she snapped before turning around and running out of his flat and into the main shop area.
A sense of protectiveness flushed over Clover as she watched the younger girl leave the room. Every single second, hour, day, Clover had wished for her sister back. And here George was, pushing his away as if he didn't even care. The words left her mouth before she even thought of what she was saying.
"No need to be such a prat," she spoke out with gritted teeth while leaning against the back of the couch.
George, whose head was dipped in his hands in regret, looked up at her, "I don't recall asking, blondie."
"And I don't recall giving a fuck," she sarcastically rolled her eyes and turned her body so that it was facing his from across the room, "She's your bloody sister and you're treating her like shit."
"Yeah, well she treats me like a helpless child," he pointed towards the door while shouting in frustration, taking a step towards her.
"And that's exactly what your stubborn arse is," she copied his actions and sternly glared at him, "She just misses you, George. She misses her brother!"
The two were now standing directly in front of each other as he responded, "Well, I'm right fucking here."
"Are you, George?" She yelled out louder in frustration, her thoughts boiling over into the words that hit all too close to home for her liking, "Then tell me why your own bloody sister can't even recognize you anymore!"
The silence that followed was the loudest thing either of them could have said. And it was then that Clover realized just how similar her and George actually were.
His words got caught in the back of his throat as he tried to form a sentence, his voice breaking while doing so, "I-I'm trying. You have no fucking idea how hard it is.
"You really think I want this?! You think I want to wake up every morning to my little fucking sister forcing me to take care of myself? You think I want to go through my day feeling like a time bomb...l-like I'm going to lose control at any second? You think I want to continue living like I'm missing half of myself?" George lowered his face threateningly and gritted his teeth to hold back his emotions, "I don't know how to do this, okay?! I don't know how to live without him, but I'm trying my best. I'm fucked up and I know that. So don't you dare come into my life, my shop, my flat and remind me of everything I can't be. Because you have no idea what it feels like to keep on living after you've lost everything."
Silence again. Clover simply stared at him, noticing the subtle changes on his face. His eyes were like gray clouds and rain pouring down onto the ground. His breath was the rapid winds whipping through the air. His words were the thunder that loudly erupted through the sky. George Weasley was a pent-up, brooding, chaotic storm that had finally let go of everything it's been holding back. But, Clover was never scared of storms.
"You don't fucking know me," she snapped, her heavy and angry breaths falling in sync with his.
But while George was the thunder, Clover was lightning. Not as loud, not as obvious, not as overbearing, but just as dangerous. Neither of them looked away, leaving them both standing there with eyes locked. Brown eyes met blue, thunder met lightning. And perhaps that's why George closed the space between them; they were far more destructive that way.
Before Clover even had time to think about what to say next, George's hands were pulling her face to his. And suddenly, his lips crashed onto hers. Everything was so wrong; it was an angry, frustrated, distraction type of kiss. But Clover was addicted to distractions, it was the only way she knew how to cope. So, she let her lips melt into his and let her thoughts of frustration slip from her tongue.
Her hands moved up into his hair roughly as his remained holding her face up to his own. She parted her mouth slightly, giving George permission to collide his tongue onto hers. The two moved around fiercely, brashly, and destructively as their movements fell into a chaotic rhythm. He walked them forwards until her back was pressed against the kitchen counter, the slightest of sounds slipping from her lips at the contact.
No thoughts entered either of their heads at the moment; it was only actions of lips, tongues, and hands moving for each other. But as quickly as it started, it ended the same when the kettle whistled into the air.
The two slowly pulled away from each other, their eyes never breaking their gaze. For a moment, they stayed like that sharing both gazes and breaths. An unreadable expression passed over George's face before he ripped the moment they were sharing away. He turned his back to Clover, hesitated a moment, and then proceeded to storm out of his flat, leaving a panting Clover breathless and confused.
George Weasley what the fuck are you doing to me?
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AUTHORS NOTE:
omg I was finally able to get this chapter out!!! And instead of just randomly posting, I've decided to make a schedule for this book. I'll be posting every Monday and Friday from now on. So, next update friday!!!
THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH FOR 10K I LOVE YOU ALL<3
Also, spice is coming soon;)