imagine that | harry potter imagines

Little Miss Perfect | George Weasley x Fem!Reader

Description: George begins to feel unsure in his secret relationship after Fred gives him some well-meant advice

Warnings: insecurities, miscommunication and misunderstandings, but overall less angsty than all of my other stuff.

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"Oh no."

George doesn't initially clock that Fred is talking to him, he's much too preoccupied to notice until his brother's elbow is nestled sharply in his ribs and causing him to jump, rounding on Fred with a glare.

"What?"

Fred nods to the girl across the room that, until Fred's interruption, George has been playing some sort of staring game with. George's cheeks warm instantly upon the realisation that Fred has caught him staring.

"(Y/L/N)." Fred explains, "Don't do that to yourself."

George drops his eyes to his parchment with a newfound interest in the unfinished essay they came to the library to finish, before he'd gotten lost in his own thoughts on the girl sitting a few desks in front of him.

"I don't know what you mean," George mumbles unconvincingly., "I was just... in thought."

Fred snorts, clapping his brother on the shoulder, a loud action that has Pince glaring at them from her position behind her desk.

"I'm sure you were," Fred's chest vibrates with a silent chuckle, "But trust me, she's not worth it."

"What?" George frowns, something rather defensive curling in his stomach, "What are you on about?"

"Everyone knows she's one of those girls."

"What the hell does that mean?"

It's blurted out rather loudly, certainly not the calm and uninterested George was trying to sell. His outburst draws several sets of eyes from around the room to the pair of them and Pince fixes them with a scathing glare which George shrinks under sheepishly while Fred blinks at him in surprise.

"Merlin," Fred frowns, "I just mean she's one of the popular girls, Little Miss Perfect."

George swallows thickly, lifting his eyes one again to find her, Little Miss Perfect herself. She's smiling at him already, that honey sweet smile that has become her well known trademark. She waves at him as if no one's looking then returns to her own work, leaving his throat suddenly dry and his heart pounding.

"She's too perfect, Georgie," Fred sighs, "Perfect grades, perfect friends... perfect boyfriends."

George isn't sure whether he can afford to get defensive again without it alerting Fred even more to his strange behaviour, and so he holds back the argument on the tip of his tongue and instead offers only an uncommitted hum.

"I just don't want you to hurt yourself is all," Fred informs, "You're just not her type."

George's resolve to appear indifferent to his brother's claims breaks here.

"You don't know that."

"Everyone knows that." Fred says, an apologetic glint to his brown eyes, "I mean look at her old relationships... she goes for pretty boys like Diggory, not troublemakers like us."

George has never felt such an urge to finish an essay before, anything to end this conversation. In a conscious attempt to do so, he makes a determined move to dip his quill in the inkwell, hoping Fred will take it as a hint.

Beside him, Fred lets out an understanding sigh, slapping his back in an affectionate display of brotherhood. George tries not to think about the whole thing to avoid the way it makes his stomach churn nervously.