"Let's summarise once more."
"Iris-"
"Just one more time," she insisted, eyes wide as she looked at George momentarily before she continued to walk around, kept on pacing back and forth in the narrow space that had once been the corridor from her building's front door to the staircase and the lift. George and Iris had arrived in the building her family lived in a few minutes ago. Throughout their trip to her apartment, she hadn't stopped telling him about her family, about the things he should and shouldn't do. It was evident Iris was nervous. George had felt nervous too when he had gotten ready at home but after all this time of hearing her stressing, he had gotten over his angst.
"Sweetheart, it's going to be alright," he tried to reassure her, but she had already started to think out loud.
"No talks of magic, no exclamations of Merlin, if they ask, you work in a shop selling pranks—I hope they won't pry since they aren't all that enthusiastic about those—you have hidden your wand in your pocket so it won't be seen, right?"
"Yeah, Iris," he assured her once more, "it's in my coat pocket."
"Good, good. Priam will like you for sure if you are attentive and show interest, especially if you show interest about his boyfriend. Mum will be pleased if she sees you are polite and that you care about me. Anything you don't understand—weird mythology tales or something along those lines—you ask me, discreetly, when she's not looking or else there will be an even worse rant afterwards. You may also-"
George reached over, pressed a finger against her lips. Iris's eyes widened as she looked up at him, the interruption bewildering her enough to strike her silent. He reached down to press a kiss against her forehead.
"Stop being so agitated. I'm the one about to go through a trial, not you."
"I just want to be sure it will go well," she pouted slightly as he let his hand fall back down by his side, although before she could say another word, he was leaning in, pressing a kiss against her lips, just a small peck.
"It will go well," he insisted, "you've prepared me enough. We should go up before we are late."
For a moment, George thought she would resist, insist they got over all he should and shouldn't do once more before he met her family. He was rather relieved to see her give in with a nod, although it was clear to him she did so even though she was still hesitant. He reached for her hand as they ascended the staircase, squeezed it in an effort to reassure her. Soon, they were standing in front of the door of the apartment her family stayed at.
George let her have a moment to herself once more, just to gather her nerves. He didn't attempt to hide his smile when she finally reached to ring the bell. She turned to him with a reassuring smile—he was still convinced she meant to reassure herself more than him but he let it slide—moments before the door opened and George came face to face with a boy—a young man—that looked startlingly a lot like Iris.
It could be no other than her brother, Priam. He briefly glanced at him as he moved to pull Iris into a hug, the two of them swaying for a moment before they pulled back and finally, Priam turned to George. He extended an arm towards him at once.
"Priam," he introduced himself as George shook his head.
"George," he said in return, "you look extremely alike."
"Yeah, we get that a lot," Priam admitted, moving to the side to let them pass. "Mum, they are here!"
"Oh," her mother was heard from somewhere in the house, and Iris couldn't help but smile slightly as she heard her rapid footsteps heading to the door. Rose stopped a few ways away with a bright smile. "You must be George. Iris has told us about you."
"Only good things I hope," George smiled easily, reaching forward to offer his hand to Iris's mother to shake. She did after a moment and George's arm returned to his side, his stature the picture of ease. Iris couldn't help but wonder how she was feeling so nervous when George next to her seemed right at home. Or maybe he was that good of an actor.
"Of course, it's too early for Iris to tell us anything else," Priam replied, his words half serious, half teasing. Iris chuckled, although it was nervous and George instantly noticed, his gaze jumping to her, for a moment, his carefully constructed smile wavering as he attempted to ensure her well-being, although before he could do anything about it her mother was clearing her throat, gathering all attention to her.
"The meal is ready. Let us get to the table, we can talk throughout it."
"Definitely," Priam agreed, already making his way to the table. Rose stayed until she received a nod from her daughter and then turned back. As George and Iris headed to the table, he brushed his hand against her own. There was no response, but when they sat down around the table, Iris reached for his hand, squeezed it. Their meal started.
Iris was on edge for the duration of the meal. She kept mostly quiet, heard the questions Priam and her mother were asking George but at the same time didn't attempt to take part in the conversation. She only answered when prompted to, her nervousness having her reply shortly and pause uncharacteristically between words, her appetite long gone. Thankfully, George covered her well.
George performed wonderfully. He showed the appropriate interest in what Priam was saying, heeding Iris's advice and inquiring about his boyfriend – it was enough for Priam to like him. He sang praises to her mother about the meal, had the good sense to not say anything when her mother launched into an explanation on how he resembled God Dionysus—George only smiled and thanked her when she insisted he had a good sense of humor as part of her explanation—and whenever it was possible, he included Iris into the conversation.
Iris was far too distracted by the possibility of something going wrong to properly process what George was saying or to even remember what he was talking about, but Priam and her mother noticed. It was clear to them George cared for Iris, if not by the way he insisted on including her in the conversation then by the way he kept on glancing her way, a smile formed on his lips, a fond look in his eyes. By the time the two of them were leaving the apartment, George knew he had won Iris's family over. They exchanged their final goodbyes by the door and so the couple left.
Iris still seemed a bit out of it, even though she was no longer tense. George didn't let go of her hand as he gently tugged her towards an alley and the two of them apparated in his apartment. Iris held onto him a bit tighter when they landed, blinking rapidly to shake off her dizziness. George waited, didn't leave her side, his gaze never leaving her face until finally she looked up.
"The meal went well, didn't it?" she asked softly, her tone a far cry from its usual more energized one. George nodded.
"It did. You were so nervous throughout it, you barely managed to make yourself eat the food. Everything turned out well in the end, didn't I tell you?"
"Yeah," she sighed, "you told me. I don't know, I was just so nervous. I didn't even hear half of the things you said or if I did, I instantly forgot them."
"You didn't have to be nervous, sweetheart," he murmured, a hand reaching up to cup her cheek, and Iris leaned into his touch, as if she had been deprived of it even though he hadn't stopped touching her for most of the dinner, his hand always in hers underneath the table. "I followed what you told me, did what you said and your family liked me. Who knows, maybe next time you go over, they'll be asking about me. Maybe they'll even end up liking me more than they like you."
Iris couldn't help but laugh, let him pull her a bit closer to press a kiss against her forehead, then a peck on her lips. There was a warmth in her chest that seemed to spread the more she spent in his presence, growing and growing until it engulfed her whole, fondness and love taking over until she wondered whether she could become love herself. If she stayed a while longer in his presence, then perhaps it would be possible.
The words 'I love you' were on the tip of her tongue, stifling and suffocating as she knew she couldn't let him know. It was too soon for those words to be uttered, the weight and implication one she was afraid of in case George wasn't prepared for it and left her. So she kept them to herself, opted to show her love by the soft look in her eyes, even though her smile was teasing.
"There is no way. I am their favourite."
"I don't know, sweetheart," he pretended to think over it, "your mother compared me to Dionysus, don't you think I've gained her favor?"
"My name literally means light, how are you planning on topping that?" she mocked in return, a brow raising in a show of challenge as she waited for George's reply.
It never came, though. His gaze softened as he tilted her chin up and leaned in, pressing kiss after kiss on her lips until she was responding, a hand tangled in his hair, body pressed against his, sighs swallowed before they could even be properly uttered. When he pulled back, the soft look in his eyes was reminiscent of love, although Iris told herself she only thought so because she was drunk off of him. She knew firsthand that hope could be a dangerous feeling. This time around, she would rather she waits a bit more.
The two of them caught their breaths. Iris leaned closer to him, pressed her forehead against his shoulder and remained there while he tucked his chin on top of her head, wrapped his arms loosely around her. The silence was broken a while later when Iris spoke up.
"I'm sorry for not talking much during the meal."
"Don't apologize."
She hummed, "You did really well, though, baby. Not that I was expecting anything less from you."
George chuckled, pressed a kiss on her hair. "I'm glad you recognize my potential as a charmer."
Iris only shook her head with a small laugh. Neither of them moved away from the other. Until, a while later, Iris's phone started to ring.
George watched her curiously as she reached into her back pocket to pull out a small device with buttons and picked it up.
"Hello?" She paused for a moment as she listened, pulled her head back from where it had been resting on George's shoulder to look him in the eyes. "Yeah, I'm still with George, Hermione, don't worry about it." Then her brows rose, her lips curled into a small smirk. "Who am I to refuse an empty apartment?" She chuckled. "See you tomorrow."
When she ended the call, she was met with George's curious expression. She shrugged. "She decided she will sleep with Ron today in the Burrow. I have the apartment to myself."
"Do you want to relocate?" he suggested, already moving away from her. "We could watch a movie."
Iris sent him a look, "We have a perfectly good apartment right here, George."
"I have no screen, though."
She didn't need much more prompting. "Fine. But we need to cook, we won't eat popcorn for dinner."
"I didn't say a word, sweetheart. I only want the movie."
Iris rolled her eyes, moved away, to the kitchen. George followed after her. "So, when are we leaving?"