George Weasley x Reader ~ Jaffa Cake

7 - Petrificus Totalus

WARNING: Mentions of rape. This got a little dark- if it triggers you please just skip the chapter. There won't be any more mentions afterwards. x

'You know, I wish I'd met you sooner', George mused as you both leaned back and caught your breath. He still had no idea what a Jaffa Cake was, and he decided not to question you unless you brought it up again.

Smiling, you looked down at the Slytherin crest that was embroidered into your robes. You didn't realise you were still wearing them so, absentmindedly, you slipped them off and chucked them on the arm of the scarlet sofa you were sitting on. This revealed your school sweater, which didn't have the crest, but had strips of green and silver along the bottom. George rarely wore his robes and when he did you thought it looked kind of odd - you weren't used to seeing him with them on. His school jumper had the same strips along the bottom, but the they were more of a reddish orange than green.

'Do you really though? You seemed to despise me before', you mentioned quietly as you looked back up at him. George looked a little surprised, then did a little nod and shook his head at the same time, before smirking lopsidedly and looking to the side.

'I didn't despise you, I disliked you. But that doesn't matter, I clearly don't see you like that anymore', he chuckled as he rested a hand on your thigh. This made you flinch a little bit and he immediately took his hand off and jolted his head to look at you directly in the eyes. After a short pause where you avoided making eye contact, he spoke.

'Who. Hurt you.'

You closed your eyes and inhaled deeply, and felt the same gripping, tugging feeling line your tight throat. It would hurt to speak, so you didn't open your mouth, and you could merely just sit and let the tears fall silently down your cheeks. George desperately wanted to comfort you, but he was unsure if you wanted his touch or not. He beckoned sideways and a sobbing noise that was prodding the back of your dry throat escaped before you nodded quickly and fell to the left into his grasp. George listened to your muffled intakes of breath as you gasped for air and clutched tightly onto his hand. Your whole body felt weak; numb; lifeless. 'Fuck' was the only word ricocheting off the inner walls of your head. Why why why did George always have some way of making you break? It was almost impossible to hide anything from that man.

After a couple of minutes, you noticed you never actually had a panic attack, which you were wholly grateful for. You figured it was because George was there, holding you, comforting you, telling you everything was going to be okay. Telling you that you were safe.

'Geor-' you started, but he cut you off immediately.

'You don't have to tell me anything y/n. But I want you to know that you're safe, with me. In our little room. It's really nice in here, isn't it?' he said softly, and you nodded in agreement - he was trying to ground you, and you could tell. 'George it's okay, I'm not having a panic attack', you assured him and he clutched onto you tighter. 'I'm glad', was all he said in response and you smiled into his shoulder.

-

It had been about ten minutes since you last spoke. Your face was entirely squashed into George's chest, and his warm scent was soothing your buzzing brain, which was overloaded with a mix of thoughts coming from every single direction.

'Y/n, it's ten to nine. We should get going to our common rooms before Filch catches us', George remarked slowly and, removing your face from leaning on his chest, you looked into his eyes with fear.

'I don't want to go there George', you faltered, your voice cracking heavily. Yhe same feeling that made you feel claustrophobic crept up into your throat again. 'I.. I c- can't- I can't go back- George- I can't go'. You inhaled extremely deeply in an attempt to push the tears back into your eyes. No matter how hard you tried you couldn't finish your sentence.