❝Guilt and regret can eat a person alive. The words that died at your throat affected you far more than you would have wanted them to. How does that, in turn, impact your mission?❞
PART 05 OF ARRANGED
PAIRING: George Weasley x fem!Reader
AUTHOR'S NOTE: So I spent the last two days rewriting/perfect-ing this chapter. At one point I actually decided to add a more bitter ending but lucky for, I think, I deleted it. I really hope you enjoy, do tell me how you liked it- my asks are always open, anonymously or not.
WARNING(S): mentions of food and drink, anxiety, blood, injuries, talk of death, mention of nausea
WORD COUNT: 2,215
Sebastian picked you up by the shoulder making you hiss. He was trying, you knew that— but the pain was too much. Your head was swirling, guilt was eating your lungs. Whispering 'I'm sorry' over and over again, you worked on concentrating to move where he was heading.
"Stop apologising ah. Fuck—" he grunted, moving his arm to grab you by the waist helping you walk. "We'll be there in a moment. Don't worry, we're safe. Ready yourself for apparating, yeah?"
You could only coerce a tight nod. Sebastian grabbed you tighter by the waist as the world zoomed. It felt nauseating. A familiar lodge soon appeared, you sensed Sebastian sag seeing Stace was already waiting by the door. She rushed up to the two of you, helping you in. Assisting you to a room, they laid you down on the bed, removing your shirt drenched in sweat and blood. Your world was spinning, you could hardly make out much except hisses and whispers from the people in the room.
Stace swore audibly and started to work on your wounds. Slowly and steadily the sting on your chest became less apparent and the one in your brain started to ring faster.
"For godric's sake (Y/n)— I fucking care about you! I like you. I thought it was obvious. Hell— everyone knows. Fred knows, mum and dad do too and so does my rest of my family probably. So no, I do not want to get rid of you. Do you?"
You gasped loudly at a rather severe cut, the healer uttered a string of apologies. Hot tears fell down your cheeks; your mind reminded you of the events of the mission. Your last conversation with George had left you unsure— distracted. The words that died in your throat were stabbing you, all you had wanted to do was go back and make things right between the two of you. Mind not being in the mission, you let lose something you hadn't in a while. Control. One careless mistake rolled into a bigger one and you inevitably greeted creatures you hadn't met in a long time. Dementors.
You had well known all your faults, especially the ones that others could exploit. Always living by caring and loving a few people you could count on your hands, you thought you had minimised the pain that came with it. It was true after all, the lesser the people you cherish, the lesser weaknesses you have. But the black hooded creatures had the ability to bring out the worst of memories as well as the holes one desperately tries to hide. Perhaps even from oneself.
When you saw George as one of them, it threw you off, stumped you. And the dementors didn't waste a second to use that against you. You had screamed defenseless, suspended mid air horrified; watching Weasley being tortured by Muliciber all over again. Only this time, it took a more awful turn. If it weren't for Sebastian casting a powerful patronus at the very moment... Opening your eyes, you watched Stace tend to him now— face red, body with countless injuries.
"I'm sorry," you started frantically. "It's my fault, I shouldn't have—"
"No," he said, his voice firm; leaving no room for argument. "It was an accident, a common one. Don't blame yourself for it— in fact we got what we wanted and everyone was safe, alive. You took the worst of it"
"But—"
"No buts. I thought we had already discussed this."
He got up, drinking a glass of water Stace brought. You suddenly felt a rush of gratitude for the man, vision teary, he had always been there for you. Closing your eyes, you filtered out the conversation between the two people. Your energy levels were low, you couldn't help but recount every single thing the dementors showed you. How your mum died... how you never had a choice over how you grew up... how Voldermort threatened your dad, a sinister smile on his face... your friends, all helpless... how George hated you once... how he would again if...
"Hey," Sebastian shook you, looking over you gently. "Come on, we need to get you back to your apartment, as dire as it sounds right now. You'll be safer there."
Bobbing your head, you got up— Stace helped you, whispering, "careful!". She walked you out, telling you to take care and handing you extra salve to administer to yourself later. Holding your hand for a second, she gazed at you softly and took a step back. You knew she hated it, seeing you bloody and damaged after each mission— you had heard her chiding you all too often.
The surroundings before you whirled again as Sebastian apparted. Steading yourself, you reached an all too familiar door, your heart drumming against your chest. You were dreading George's concerned eyes when he saw you... you felt like you had failed him yet again. And there were things you wanted to make right, you knew your words stung him worse than he let on.
Knocking twice, the two of you waited. George opened up rather swiftly— you reckoned he had been waiting for you. His expression changed from confusion, to a certain panic. You avoided his eyes. He said nothing, helping you inside sharply, settling you on the couch as smoothly as he could.
Sebastian briefly explained to him your condition, sharing all the details he was allowed to. You clenched your eyes shut, not having the strength to face Weasley anymore. How were you even to tell him everything you felt? The top of your head was heavy, it was like something spread through your body viciously, drowning you.
Hearing Sebastian take his leave and the pop indicated he left, you let out a noiseless sigh. It took a while before you heard George move again. You could feel him watching you, assessing the injuries. Flinching a little as you felt the weight near you shift, you dug your nails into the palm of your hand— finally facing your husband.
"Hey," he whispered.
"Hey..."
The two of you fell silent, you supposed George had something to say but bit back his words waiting for you instead. Your throat was knit tight. Looking down at your hands, you gathered your thoughts, riding out the hollow from what had transpired. All your instincts told you to run away, hide yourself away from all this mess you were in; but you had to— wanted to, do what you always did. Face the situation.
"Should I get you something to eat?" George hesitated. You shook your head, food was the last thing on your mind.
"No," you said slowly. "We need to talk."
Something crossed George's eyes as he sat back straighter against the cushion, glancing at you, concerned.
"You've just come back, we can—"
"No, let me get this out, please," you nipped at your lips as he gave in. "I don't wanna get rid of you."
You uttered it out in a hurry, there were a lot of things you wanted to tell him, but the answer to his question stuck out more than the rest. The pause hung in the air, George held back patiently.
"I don't wanna get rid of you, it's— it's quite the opposite actually. I have started caring about you, perhaps far more than I had expected and it scares me. It scares me because I have taken up on responsibilities that might not end up well for me at all," you sniffed, tears itching your eyes as you took him in. "Everyday proves a greater risk to me and my life, and I don't want you to suffer at my expense."
"No wait—"
"—no let me finish," you said, putting a finger to his lips, tears freely running down your face. "I do care about my life, I really do. But I have to face the reality even if it is horrendous. I like you, George. In fact it's more than just likeness. There, I said it. And it kills me more than all of these," you pointed towards the injuries on your body. "To see you in pain. That's what happened today, George. I saw you and it just shook me up, as much as I want to be with you—"
"What's stopping you?"
"Everything. Everything George, you need to stay strong— and with me you won't be."
"Well it's too late for that." George moved to cup your face. You found yourself leaning in despite what your head told you. You needed it. You needed his comfort. Taking a deep breath, you began again.
"It's not George, time away might—"
"I don't want to! Why... why is that so hard for you to understand?" he pleaded, taking a hand into his. You rocked your head.
"Because it is going to be tough, George. I'll constantly go on dangerous missions I can't promise my safety on. And I know you're already at risk because of our marriage, the least I could do is keep you safe from other things. I—"
"How is it any different from now?" he prompted. You started to speak but he continued. "I care about you, and you saying all of this won't change that now. I know you're worried about me, but can't you see? I feel the same about you."
He exhaled deeply, looking at you.
"I know it's going to be tough but I can handle it. I promise," he said before winking at you, giving you a wide smirk. "Besides, I already deal with you. And boy, there's a lot going on."
You couldn't help the snort that broke out. Holding his hand tighter, you fixed your gaze on his face, his brown eyes shining from the orange-red flames. He looked beautiful like that, despite all that he had gone through— his face didn't have bitterness. Not anymore.
"Okay," you whispered, giving in after a while. You couldn't resist, not when you wanted the same, not when George looked at you like that. "What do you want to do then?"
"Well, it's time to make your mum's magic recipe of course!" he said with a grin, getting up, helping you as you did the same. You raised an eyebrow. "Think we both need it."
The two of you walked into the kitchen as he searched for the pan. You found yourself smiling at his antics. Dramatically pouring out milk, you knew what he was doing. He was trying to cheer you up. And it made your heart race.
"Are you sure you know what you're doing? I mean, I'm still young and wouldn't like to die from something so trivial," you said pointedly, crossing your arms, deciding to play his game. George narrowed his eyes on you, feigning hurt.
"I once saw my wife make it. She knew I didn't like sleeping potions and made this for me randomly one day," he said mimicking your voice. You let out an 'ah' in response. "What did she say now? Oh— some honey to match your sweetness and vanilla to make your taste buds click. She looked absolutely adorable while saying that, but I couldn't tell her that though."
"Why didn't you?"
"Because that would have fed her ego, that's not the best way to go about it now, is it?"
You couldn't help it. Seeing his relaxed expression, the joy, after everything that just happened... Moving closer to him, you pressed your lips against his. George was surprised at first, but soon grabbed you by your waist pulling you towards him, a hand tracing your back, reaching your neck holding you in place. You tugged at his hair, they were surprisingly soft against your fingers, making him release a soft groan. Drawing back for a moment, you stared at his blown eyes knowing yours must look the same. He kissed you again, even harder this time, moving his mouth against yours sucking at your bottom lip. You melted against him, hardly having time to breathe.
The sound of milk fizzing made the two of you break apart, George rushed to close the stove off, you put a hand to the wall to steady yourself. The world around you felt fuzzy, in a good way for the first time that day, you observed George as he made quick work of the mess the spill created. When he turned to you, he was smiling.
"I knew the potion worked magic, but damn I wasn't expecting such great results and so quick!" he joked, making you let out a giggle. "Well Mrs. Weasley—"
"Mrs. Weasley, huh?" you teased, making a faint blush rise on his face, enjoying how he struggled with words.
"If you prefer your name—"
"Nope," you clicked your tongue, watching him squint at your smug expression. "Just wanted to see your face."
"You, ma'am, are a pain in the ass."
"Oh I love it when you call me ma'am!"
"Okay. Now you're gonna get it," he said, making you widen your eyes and sprint out of the kitchen. George chased after you, laughing loudly. You fell on the couch as he hovered over you, a light expression on his face.
You knew you were in for a long ride.
THE END!! SO WHAT DO YOU ALL THINK?