Us ; George Weasley

Forty

"It's weird." George said, breaking a moment of silence while I was braiding his hair along the side of his head. He was sitting on the floor, leaned back against my bed while I sat on top of it so I had a better view of his hair. His eyes were closed – he was enjoying my fingers playing with his hair.

"What's weird?"

"That you say you have no idea what direction you want to go in with your life." he told me. "I sit next to you in transfiguration. You always write your opinions on a piece of parchment while you pretend to listen to McGonagall."

"So?"

"So... you obviously like writing.. and to state your opinions." he said, opening his eyes to look up at me. "Why don't you choose to do that for a living? Either work for a paper or start your own where you can freely state your opinions and views on the world."

I stopped my actions, biting down on my lip as I watched his eyes. He had noticed the way I wrote opinions freely on my parchment during class. No one besides Marco had noticed that before.

"The part about me saying I don't know what to do with my life – it was kinda a lie but still kinda true. My dad has planned the life of all his children. He wants the four of us to become either aurors or something above it. William's the only one who's stood up to him about it. He wants to be a bartender."

"Can't you just tell him you don't want to work as an auror?" George asked. "I mean, he's your dad. He should be able to accept that and accept that it won't make you happy."

I chuckled softly, shaking my head as I continued to braid his hair.

"It's not that simple." I said. "In my family, you are expected to take on careers that'll basically make you rich and loved by everyone. Stating my opinions will attract both friends and enemies. It's simply just out of the question."

George placed a hand over mine, making me stop my actions again. He tilted his head back to look at me, his eyes full of love.

"The most important thing is your happiness." He said before nodding towards the floor. "Get down here."

"I haven't finished your brai—"

"Go on." He cut me off. "You can finish them from down here."

I got off the bed. George held my hand and guided me to sit between his spread legs. He watched me as I resumed the braid that was halfway done.

"You shouldn't let anyone decide your future." He said, studying my face closely. "You're the one who has to live that life until you grow old and retire."

"Yeah, well they gave me life." I said. "And apparently that means I owe them anything — according to my dad at least. My mum's different. I'm close with her and she'd never try and decide my life for me."

George turned his head a little while I was braiding his hair, and I looked at him when he pressed a kiss to my wrist.

"You always keep up this tough act, don't you?" He asked. "You act as if nothing can touch you."

I sighed.

"It's not always an act." I said. "I'm genuinely happy. I look at the little things in my life. The things that matter. I've got some amazing friends, a fantastic mum, fantastic siblings... and now I've got you too. I choose to be happy about the things that I have, instead of being unhappy about the things I don't."

I finished the braid before I looked at his face with a smile. The way his head was leaned back against the poster, his eyes soft and studying my facial features — it made me go weak. It made my stomach flutter and my heart swell.