Harry Potter One Shots And Imagines III

George Weasley- Pink (c)

You tried your best to not spend too long in bed, but you felt very rough when you woke up, so told your boyfriend, George, to continue about his day and you would just be occupying the bed for a few more hours until you felt a bit better. It took some time, but you felt well enough to get out of bed finally and headed from your bedroom to find your boyfriend and see what he had been doing.

When you arrived in the living room, you were somehow both shocked and yet not surprised at all by what you saw before you. George was sat on the sofa with your cat on his lap. Last you had known; you cat was a grey tabby but now he was a vibrant pink colour that you were certain was far from natural for a cat.

"Did you paint the cat?" You questioned, wondering if you were seeing a pink cat or whether your fever had begun breaking and you were seeing things.

"No, he's a metamorphmagus," he stated.

You ran a hand through your sweat-clad hair, trying to make sense of the rubbish that he spewed.

"I don't think that's how it works," you frowned. "So, did you paint the cat?"

George shook his head at you. "It's just a charm, it'll be gone within the hour."

Sometimes you had no idea how the hell he came up with his plans or why he would want to do them, but he seemed set on his crazy ways.

"Why would you turn the cat pink?" You asked.

"I was bored, and you were sleeping so I thought why not," he shrugged.

You rolled your eyes at him, holding onto the arm of the sofa to stop yourself from falling over in your woozy state.

"Just because you are bored, doesn't mean that you need to harass the poor cat," you berated him, moving to pick up your cat who looked pleased to be away from its tormentor.

You snuggled the cat close to your chest, making sure to give them the attention that they desperately wanted after having been left alone with the person that just wanted to cause them trouble.

"Sorry," George sighed. "How are you feeling?"

"I've felt better, honestly, but I'll be fine."

George stood up and made his way over to you so that he could rest a gentle hand onto our shoulder.

"Come on," he smiled. "Let's get you back to bed."

~*~

Written by Charlotte.