Warnings: nothing but a very cheesy ending
George's Muggle Studies class has him thinking about the girl who stole his heart long ago.
Word Count: 2 k
• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– •
The sun beamed down on you all as you soaked up the last of the summer weather. The start of a new school year meant that snow and rain would soon consume the grounds. You were grateful to still experience warm days like this in September. With fall just around the corner, it was considered quite the treat.
"How has everyone's first week been?" Angelina smiled, leaning against a tree beside you and Alicia. It was nice reuniting with your classmates after a summer apart.
Although classes had only just resumed, you were all loaded with school work. With three-foot essays in each subject, the professors were keen on preparing you for your OWLs.
Yet, as you all partook in a heated conversation about your resentment for the greasy professor Snape, George thought back to his Muggle Studies class.
He wasn't typically the type to truly think about his assignments. He often did them last minute — if he even did them at all. But, despite only taking the class to entertain his father, he found himself quite intrigued with the details of his latest project.
"To start off the year, I have a rather exciting task for you all today," Professor Burbage chimed — her long, wavy hair bouncing on her shoulders as she placed an unfamiliar black device on each desk. She refused to do so using magic.
George's hand shot up into the air, "What are these, professor?"
"Those, Mr. Weasley, are muggle cameras! They allow one to capture the most beautiful moments in time."
George thought on this, turning the device in hand while inspecting it. It looked very much like the cameras used in the wizarding world. Only, a lot more compact.
"Your task, my lovely students, is to take this camera with you everywhere you go until you have captured what you love most in this world."
George mulled over the idea the last few days, trying to decide what exactly it was he would capture. Many students took to photographing their pets — all having shared their adorable photos by the second day of classes. But George didn't care much for the idea. After all, there wasn't much to love about old Scabbers.
At the sound of your laughter, his head shot up to take you in.
Your head fell back as you told a story George had heard a thousand times before — your arms flailing around as you did so. George realized that he rather adored the sound of your laugh. The leaves of the tree protected you from the heat, but the sun still shone down on your features. It brought out the freckles that danced across your nose, making your eyes a lighter shade than usual.
He felt as though he was having an out-of-body experience, merely watching from the sidelines as though no one would feel his stare. He came to see that he quite loved the group before him. Though, there was something special about you.
She is the embodiment of the sun, George thought, admiring the golden colouring of your dress. Its floral design suit you perfectly.
He suddenly realized that he didn't want the moment to end. And without thinking, he pulled out his camera, waited for the green light to appear, and pressed the button.
With a quiet snap, the moment was taken, slowly digitizing on the screen.
And as he admired the photo — adoring the way your eyes wrinkled in the corners as your dimples shone through — he hadn't bothered to wonder if there was a reason you were in his first picture. He only knew that he quite liked how your smile gleamed like that of the sun.
• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– •
The castle was now dark as the twins carefully padded through the common room. Fred shrugged a heavy bag over his shoulder, biting his lip with each step he took. The floors could be quite squeaky. But after several successful attempts, they knew where it was safe to step.
George, too, carried a bag of dungbombs, along with his muggle camera in case inspiration hit. He hadn't taken a photo since that day beneath the sun, having avoided the task out of embarrassment. He still had a month, anyway — he could surely find something by then.
Skipping out the portrait hole, the twins set off to put their prank into motion.
"Filch shouldn't be in his office at this time," Fred whispered, leading his twin down the hall. A very small light beamed from his wand so as not to alert the portraits.
It brought back memories from their third year.
"Sorry!" you whispered, reaching for George's hand as he helped you through the corridor. It was your first time joining in on their pranks. But of course, you weren't as stealthy as you hoped you would be.
"You better not blow our cover," Fred smirked, painting a mustache onto Sir Cadogan's portrait. Luckily, he was a very deep sleeper.
"Thanks for bringing me along," you smiled at George, whose eyes were already on you.
George tried to stay focussed — tried not to let his mind lead him astray. But with one glance out the window, his thoughts officially drew blank.
There, seated beneath the stars in a secluded corner, sat the girl who invaded his dreams. It bewildered George that even while engulfed in darkness, you were still just as mesmerizing.
The rays from the moon seemed to cast shadows over your skin. He noticed the book your eyes skimmed over, as well as the plaid print of your nightwear. They were the same ones you had worn the night of your first prank.
"You alright, Georgie?" Fred whispered, peering over his shoulder while pausing in his step.
George searched his head for a reason to stall. "Yeah. Just my shoelace," he mumbled, dropping to his knee while toying with his old, faded sneaker. He let out a breath when Fred continued on his way.
Whipping out his camera, he pointed its lens out the window before snapping a shot — the moment just too beautiful to ignore.
"Come on, George. We don't have all day," Fred scolded, now ducked behind a statue.
"Sorry," George muttered, taking one last look out the glass before the moment was gone for good; now only a flicker of time on George's camera.
• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– •
Laughter surrounded the room as glasses were clinked against one another. The three broomsticks served as the perfect spot to celebrate the first quidditch win of the season. The team was still living off the high of their victory, sporting smiles as they dug into their warm, sugary drinks.
It had been about three weeks since the first day of term, but George hadn't noticed — too busy with the events of the new year. His attention was often elsewhere. And, as usual, it was focused on you.
He watched as your cheeks flushed from the alcohol, despite the very little amount it contained. He was glad that the weather had begun to grow chilly, as you pulled on the sleeves of your knit jumper. He recognized it as the one you had made him for Christmas in your fourth year. Fred was very jealous not to have received one.
"You said you didn't like knit sweaters!" you protested, shamefully sporting your own as it matched with George's.
"I said that I didn't like my mum's!" Fred pouted. "Now I feel left out."
Giggles filled the air as Fred pretended to cry, but your eyes immediately sought out George.
Just as he did the previous Christmas, George felt a strong pull at his heartstrings. He rather enjoyed matching with you.
"Say, Georgie! Don't you have that camera?" Fred chimed, pulling George out from his trance. His face immediately burned red.
If Fred knew — and George prayed that he didn't — would he expose him in front of everyone? Surely, his twin wasn't that heartless.
George's heart began to pound, but he shrugged it off, "Yeah. What for?"
"We should take a picture!" Katie exclaimed, pulling everybody close.
George released a breath he didn't know he held in, instantly reaching for his camera.
"George, get in the photo," you giggled; beckoning over Madame Rosmerta who was happy to help. He felt his cheeks burn when you patted the seat next to yours.
"Say, Gryffindor!" Rosmerta chimed, as everyone did the same.
And as he looked back on the photo, smiling down at it like a bloody fool, he realized that his eyes were glued to you — finding something rather adorable about the hat that sat snug on your head.
• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– •
George huffed, pacing around the room as though he was stressed about an upcoming match.
George had never been this worried about school. But as he looked back on his work over the last month, preparing to hand in his Muggle Studies assignment for that same afternoon, he panicked at the realization;
He only had pictures of you.
"I'm a bloody creep!" George shrieked, running a hand through his hair. He was rather grateful that no one was in the room. His twin and best-mate had already gone down to breakfast, leaving him to wallow in self-pity.
He still had a few hours before fourth period. Surely he could make something work.
There was suddenly a knock at the door. At the sound, George jolted forward, causing each sheet to fly out of his hands.
"George, are you in there?"
It was you — of course it was you. It was like the universe wanted him dead.
George jumped up in a panic, attempting to gather each photo in hands. He made the mistake of responding too early, as you walked in to find him scrambling around the room.
"Oh, Merlin! Did I scare you?" you chuckled, dropping down to your knees. "Here, let me help."
George's mind was spinning. He had sworn to never let you see these pictures. You were guaranteed to never speak with him again. And he didn't think he could handle any part of that.
"No!" he cried, lunging forward onto the floor. In any other circumstance, he would have laughed at himself. But this was no laughing matter. "It's no problem! Really! I can get it myself!" but he missed one that slid beneath the bed.
He sighed, stuffing each sheet of film between the pages of a notebook.
"Almost forgot one," you chuckled.
George gasped, attempting to rip the photo out of your hands. But he watched your eyes widen as his sweat drew cold.
He was too late.
"Is this ... me?"
You studied the photo, smiling back on the memory. You had been so happy that day — having taken the opportunity to show off your favourite dress and bask in the last of the sunlight. But you were most excited to see George.
Spending a whole summer apart allowed you to truly realize just how much you missed him. You laughed less when he wasn't around to put a smile on your face. And it didn't help that he was so effortlessly handsome.
George swallowed thickly, attempting to read your expression. He began to shift from foot to foot, breathing heavier with each moment of silence. Seconds felt like minutes, and minutes felt like hours as he stood practically gasping for air.
"Y/n, please let me explain —"
"Can I see the others?" you pondered. It was a risky move, but you couldn't help yourself. You just felt so beautiful.
He took a breath, reaching for the rest of the film. His fingers shook while sifting through each sheet — his mouth dry and his ears a bright red. He felt as though he was overheating.
With a shaky breath, he carefully turned to face you.
George watched as you admired each photo, feeling his heart swell at the smile that he found. Your cheeks dusted pink rather than red, as you were not angry or shrill like George expected. Instead, you presented that toothy grin that he adored so much.
He suddenly realized that there was nothing to worry about — you were what he loved most in this world.
"You're a really good photographer," you blushed, taking his hand in yours. "I only wished you had told me. I could have fixed my hair," you chuckled.
George shook his head, biting back a smile, "You're perfect without even trying, love."
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A/N: Please, don't be shy to vote/comment on your favourite ones! I love hearing from you all :)