It was the last thing she needed to be stopped on the stairs with George clasping at her arm, trapping her in her spot. Clover shut her eyes and winced, refusing to look at the hand pulling at her gently. All she had wanted to do was politely eat dinner and then escape into Bill's room; she didn't want to think about why she was living at the Burrow, she didn't want to explain how exactly she had gotten to the point she was at, she didn't want anything to do with her past and the pity that came along with it. But she would have to now, it was only fair that George knew why she was living with his family. Dread filled her body and anxiety threatened what little peace was left in her brain. If I tell him that I was homeless, he'll ask why. He'll know everything...he can't know everything...he-
"You're going up so soon?"
The gods that she had never believed in were mocking her, making her all riled up for nothing. Or maybe she was doing that to herself. It didn't matter though, because a calmness passed over her. It wasn't George, it was Ginny.
Clover slowly turned around and let out a sigh of relief. Okay, this is easy. I'll just tell her I'm tired and that I want to get some rest-
Fuck.
As soon as Clover's eyes landed on Ginny's, she knew she wouldn't be going to her room. The blonde knew that look better than she knew herself, one of anxiety and overwhelming thoughts buzzing around her head.
The ginger girl shifted uncomfortably on her feet and dropped Clover's arm from her hold, looking down sheepishly, "I-I'm sorry, you look tired. I shouldn't have bothered you, it's just that you never go to sleep this early and I...well I-I...,"
She trailed off, but Clover already knew what she meant. The older girl sent Ginny a small, sad, knowing smile and grabbed her hand as Ginny looked up at her. She guided her over to the empty living room and sat them both down on the couch.
Ginny took a deep breath and sighed, knowing there was no use in beating around the bush, "Being alone with my thoughts...it's just a lot sometimes. It's like one day the war is a thing of the past, just a memory that I'm taking tiny steps forwards in moving on from. A-and I'm fine, and I truly believe that. But then the next day it's like the war had just happened yesterday. All the blood and death and fear and screams a-and loss...they replay over and over and over again in my head. Like old ghosts coming back to haunt me."
The younger girl looked down at her hands with a wide-eyed and pale look that seemed as if the latter part of what she had said was coming to life. Suddenly, Clover noticed that her tired expression looked more tired, her young face looked even younger, and her lost innocence seemed even more unfair. Ginny was barely an adult and she already had seen the worst the world had to offer. What a sin, Clover thought, a youth so utterly corrupted. And what an even bigger sin, she thought right after, that Ginny wasn't the only one.
Maybe it felt right or maybe it was just muscle memory for her, but Clover found herself acting before thinking about what she was doing. She stood up and walked behind the couch, specifically behind the spot Ginny was sitting in. Her hands gently found their way to Ginny's hair, and Clover let out a shaky breath as she spoke.
"You want to know what my sister and I used to do whenever our nightmares or thoughts got to much for us?" She whispered, smiling sadly at the quick flash of blonde in the ginger hair she was holding.
Ginny silently nodded her head as Clover's hands began to French plait the red hair, "Recovering from wounds, physically or emotionally, is like plaiting hair. You start from scratch, raw and empty with what seems like nothing ahead of you."
She swiftly intersected the three strands of hair on the left side of her head, before copying the actions onto the right, "But as time goes on, you add more layers. You become stronger and progress farther away from where you first started, and soon enough, you will feel complete again."
Clover tied a hair tie onto the end of the second braid as she ran her hand down both of the French plaits, "Some wounds may never be healed, just as if you take your hair out of the plaits you'll start right at the beginning again. But with time layering on, they become a part of us, just a distant memory of our past that makes us who we are. That help us feel complete."
She walked back around to sit next to Ginny again, who was staring at her with a small smile on her face, "I like that. My hair looks beautiful."
"Your hair is beautiful," Clover corrected, nudging Ginny playfully.
After rolling her eyes at the compliment, the younger girl slowly laid her head onto Clover's lap and looked up at her curiously, "I didn't know you have a sister."
Clover's blood ran cold in the warmest way possible. Unable to speak, she nodded her head. A moment later, the younger girl spoke again, closing her eyes as she did so, "I'd like to meet her."
Silence filled the room, but neither of them noticed. Clover was too busy trying to control the emotions threatening to come up to the seams, and Ginny's breath was already heavy with exhaustion on Clover's lap.
"One day," the blonde whispered, but by the time she did Ginny was already asleep on top of her.
Throughout the entire night, George had been curious, shocked, and utterly confused as to why Clover was in his family's house. He couldn't help but steal glances at the girl he hadn't properly talked to in over a week. It was his fault that there was silence between the two, both of them knew that. But yet again, he couldn't help it. He didn't know what would happen if he let himself that close to the blonde bombshell of a drug that Clover was.
On top of the shock and curiosity, there was also a layer of warmth that seemed to spread throughout him every time his eyes landed on hers. And that was the most confusing part of it all; he had been a cold, brewing storm since the day Fred died, so why was he suddenly warm?
He was helping his mum clean up from dinner, well trying to at least. His hands may have been picking up the dishes from the table, but his eyes were focused on the view he had in front of him. From where he was standing in the kitchen, he was able to see both Clover and Ginny in the living room. The blonde girl was plaiting Ginny's hair while mumbling something, but he was too far to hear.
A flare of emotion bubbled through him at how safe his sister looked with Clover, and he convinced himself that it was envy. He couldn't remember the last time Ginny looked like that around him; nowadays it was always uncertainty and hesitation between the two siblings. A guarded emotional front that neither of them wanted to pass.
He let out a huff of frustration and continued cleaning up the dishes. But when he looked back up at the sight, his face softened. Ginny was laying on Clover's lap, her arms tucked into her body and her eyes softly shut. A smile unknowingly found its way onto his face and before thinking he put down the plates in his hand, walking over into the living room.
Regret and anger ran through him all at once at how small and frail his sister looked. She was too young for all of this, and it was only now that George fully acknowledged that. Ginny was always fiery, headstrong, independent, and to see her like this, tired and with her fire put out, made him beyond angry with himself. Sure, he could lose himself. He could let himself fall into a deep abyss of darkness. But to let Ginny fall apart right in front of him, that was unforgivable.
He knelt down in front of the two girls and placed a kiss on Ginny's forehead before swooping her into his arms, "Let's get you to bed."
George nodded his head from Clover to the stairs, and led her up to Ginny's room. He placed Ginny in her bed and gave her hand once last squeeze, vowing in that moment to be better for her. And as soon as the door to her room shut behind Clover and George, the two were left alone in the hallway.
A moment of silence passed before Clover spoke first, "You've been ignoring me."
George wanted to laugh at how straightforward she was, he should've known better than to expect any sugarcoating from her. "So you've noticed."
"I'm not the only one," she looked up at him and held back a playful smile, "Even Lee noticed, and that's how you know you've been pretty obvious."
He chuckled and shook his head, "I'm surprised that wanker hasn't barged into my flat and demanded I tell him everything."
"You're welcome for stopping him," she couldn't hold back her smile this time and nudged George with her elbow.
As both of their chuckles died down, sober eyes met sober eyes and the question fell out of Clover's mouth before she had time to think, "Why'd you ignore me? I thought we agreed it meant nothing."
"It was nothing," he whispered, his chest unknowingly deflating while doing so. She was so close to him that all he could think about was his skin on hers and the memories of the night they had shared. It was lust and desire and need and want telling him to pull her onto him again. But when his eyes locked on hers, all he saw was an honest girl waiting for an answer. And so, he gave her his truth.
"Because I can't trust myself alone with you. You make me forget." It was two simple sentences, but he knew that's all she needed for her to understand. The slight furrowing of her eyebrows softened and her face relaxed into realization. She was his release, his escape from reality, his distraction.
It was silent after that, nothing else needing to be shared to understand the weight of his words. Their breaths lingered in the air as they stared at each other, only broken when George spoke next.
"Your turn to answer my question," he spoke, finally asking the question that had been on his mind all night, "Why are you living in my house?"
Clover's reaction to the question was so different than before. She wasn't anxious or panicked or dreading to tell her story. Maybe it was because of the honest tone set between the two or maybe it was because the look in his eyes felt so safe to her, but Clover found herself at ease.
"I was living on the streets when we met up until about a week ago," she looked down, safely speaking her mind but still ashamed of her past, "Your Mum offered me, actually more like forced me, to stay here. And after sleeping on park benches for that long, I couldn't find myself saying no. I'm sorry I didn't say anything I just didn't want you to-,"
""Y-you were homeless?" He cut off, an unreadable expression on his face, "All that time you were just coming to work and then leaving with nowhere to go home to?!"
Clover nodded, her eyes trained on the ground. Here it comes, she thought, here comes the pity. It made her bubble up with nerves and shift uncomfortably on her feet. But instead, a hand was lifting her chin up to meet his eyes and a crooked smile spread onto his cheeks.
"Is that why you stunk?" he smirked out, his eyes glowing once Clover released a laugh of relief.
"Watch it, Weasley," she teasingly growled, "Remember, I'm still a snake at heart. Revenge tastes sweetest when served green."
"Oh please, it's a good thing you're living in the Lion's den then," he narrowed his eyes and winked at Clover, "Maybe you'll learn a thing or two."
"Is that a challenge?" Her arms crossed over her chest as he responded, "Game on."
Their challenging stares both died down into laughter once again and genuine smiles took over their faces. For once in her life, Clover felt relieved, light-hearted, calm at sharing something about her past.
"Thank you, George," she spoke honestly, truthfully, soberly with a smile still on her face, "For not pitying my pathetic life."
"Nothing to pity, love," he responded, his eyes finding hers for what felt like the millionth time tonight.
"Right," Clover nodded and was about to turn around and shout a goodnight off behind her, but his hand gently reached up and held her cheek.
"Tell me next time. Don't be scared to talk to me," he abruptly let out. His brown eyes sparkled with concern and his lips curved up slightly, his face looking exactly what the burrow felt like. Like a home with food and a bed and company. It was so familiar, yet so foreign to her. And suddenly, she wanted to memorize every part of him, both familiar and unfamiliar.
That's when the panic flashed in her eyes. It was too real, it couldn't be too real. So, she shook her head and smiled, ending the night teasingly, "Yes, sir."
His smile faltered for a second and his hold on her face tightened just for a fleeting moment. And then next, he was trailing his tongue up the side of his cheek and laughing under his breath.
"Goodnight, Clover," he whispered and placed a soft kiss on her inner cheek, before letting go and walking away.
That night Clover didn't have nightmares of wars or traumatic pasts, but instead of ginger hair, a teasing smile, soft lips, and eyes of darkened honey that shone when laughing.
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AUTHORS NOTE:
I'm half asleep while posting this so I'm not quite sure what this author's note is. I just wanted to say hi. Hi.
I want to know more about everyone, leave a fun fact about yourself below!!!