the boys of harry potter imagines.

george weasley.

george weasley once believed that if you do good things in life,
good things will come to you.
it was the way of the world;
the balance that kept the universe from tilting and shredding itself to pieces.
rewards are given for the goodness one puts into the world,
sins are punished.
he doesn't remember how old he was when he lost faith in this notion.
what he does know is that no one,
especially the universe,
will wait hands and knees to praise you for your service.
the simple truth?
life is cruel.
he sits here now,
thinking of all the vile things he's seen, heard, and endured,
and can't help but to wonder...
when will it be my turn?
he can't stop himself from thinking such juvenile thoughts of kindness triumphing in the end.
it's all he has left,
his only motivation to keep going.
keep going forward, george, and it will be your turn soon.
george has really ever known a life of mediocracy.
he was one of two children born,
being the first twins in his immediate family,
and things seemed to die down from there.
what was once an amazing blessing quickly became tiring for his already stretched thin mother.
george sometimes wishes he could go back in time and be a better son,
maybe he wouldn't be as desolate as he is now.
maybe this unfulfilled life he's leading is karma for being such a handful as a young child.
the last time he remembers being prided on,
being cheered on and celebrated,
was just the year prior.
in a game of quidditch where his team and the rival slytherin were neck and neck,
george scored the winning goal and sent the crowd in an uproar.
the greatness of his shot had been captured on film and posted in the school newspaper.
the following week had been spent in his honor.
until that, too, went away.
now he's back to having mediocre grades,
mediocre friends,
and a mother who eyes him as if she wishes he were more.
george hates it when she looks at him that way,
because he wishes he were more too.
"what are you doing? get up! harry's almost here."
fred interrupts george's thoughts with this.
"i don't quite see the major deal."
"where have you been keeping your nose?"
fred throws the daily prophet paper onto george's desk,
where harry's picture is plastered on the front beneath the words:
"the boy who lied?!"
he snorts at this.
"i've seen it."
"i'll bet money that someone picks a fight with him."
george turns to face his identical brother completely.
"harry? the boy who lived, harry? yeah,"
he scoffs,
"nobody is going to start with him."
"wanna bet?"
fred extends his hand out for george to take.
george sticks his tongue into his cheek before he reaches out and says,
"yeah. bet."

george had been wrong.
it was another thing he wishes he were good at:
placing bets.
it of course had to be seamus who spoke harshly to harry about the events detailed in the paper.
fred had taken half of george's money in his win.
so now here he lays,
drained of money he just earned,
feeling futile in this life of his,
and wishing he could close his eyes to rid himself of this depression.
unfortunately,
things do not work that way.
fate,
however,
does work in the favor of those less appreciated.
which is why when george weasley finds himself roaming the halls of the darkened, isolated school,
he stumbles upon a girl doing just the very same.
though this is no new sight,
he often sees people doing the same at this hour.
but this girl...
george can't explain it.
maybe its the lack of sleep that makes him to desperate to get to know her.
"wonderful weather we're having,"
he says as he takes a seat beside her.
as soon as the words leave his lips,
he wishes more than anything he could take them back.
stupid, stupid, stupid.
he is not his twin brother.
aside from their obvious share in DNA,
fred got lucky with the smooth tongue, honeyed words, and the charm girls swoon for.
george was stuck with the awkwardness of his lips and limbs.
"is that sarcasm?"
george embarrassingly shakes his head.
"really? you don't like the rain?"
"oh...i-i don't mind it. rather relaxing at night."
the girl nods her head.
"agreed. i love it."
"so, i suppose it really is wonderful weather we're having. in-in your opinion."
the girl lets out a giggle so light that george might've missed it had he not been so entranced into her existence.
how beautiful and harmonic it was,
and it was nothing more than a breath.
george wonders what the fullness of her laugh sounds like.
"in my opinion, yes."
the girl turns her head to face him,
and there he sees the brightness twinkling in those eyes of delicacy.
"what are you doing out here so late?"
she asks as she places her hand beneath her chin.
does she know how beautiful she is?
surely she does...
she has to!
george is in awe.
from the eyes that knocked his breath away,
to this sleepy look of a girl confined;
the same way he feels.
her lips turn into an inviting smile and george wonders if others have been blessed to see such divinity in one person.
he feels as though he should drop to his knees now and thank this goddess for whispering words in his vicinity.
he doesn't know what he's done to be so blessed with ravishing company,
but he's glad for it.
"just taking a stroll to clear my head. you?"
"same, actually. it's the best time of night for it."
"why's that?"
the girl who's name he does not know stands and reaches out for his hand.
george gives it to her without another thought.
the pair make way outside,
through the bushels and trees,
up until they're on the highest point the school grounds offer.
george gasps when he sees it.
the land in all its beauty,
showered in moonlight,
alongside a girl of brightened beauty.
"it's wonderful, isn't it?"
"i've never seen anything like it."
the girl takes a seat and motions for george to do the same.
when he does,
she goes to speak,
"it's relaxing. kind of reminds you how beautiful everything can be when you take the time to stop and stare."
how could george have overlooked this?
and why is she blessing him with this scenery?
george wonders if the girl is mistaking him for his twin.
how often it happens.
"do you know who i am, by chance?"
the temptress wears a smile of simple beauty then nods.
"i know who you are, george weasley."
could this girl of anonymity surprise him anymore?
another jaw dropping statement might just hurt.
"you're magic,"
he teases.
but the shock is clear against his face,
no matter how many jokes he uses to deflect.
"don't tell anybody,"
the girl returns jokingly,
hiding her laugh behind her hand.
"how'd you know i'm not fred?"
"your noses are different,"
she answers as if it's the simplest thing in the world.
"also...your eyes are kinder. his have a kind of..fire."
she picks her head up from the blades of grass surrounding them then let's one corner of her lip turn up.
george adores how timid she is,
because he's very well the same.
"y/n l/n, hogwarts newspaper."
she extends her hand for george to shake.
his eyebrows raise in admiration.
the picture that he's yet to stop thinking about,
the article written in his favor,
the master behind his greatest moment:
y/n l/n.
george shakes her hand and feels himself mellow out beneath her soft, gentle touch.
"you're amazing. you know that?"
he watches a little sheepishness bury itself in her cheeks.
"you're too kind."
"i'm serious! that article you wrote, you know about my goal last year, was great."
he lets out a sigh then rests back on his hands.
"kindest thing anything said about me in...years."
y/n looks to him with eyes of sympathy.
she reaches out and rests her embrace to his shoulder.
"it was all true. i hope you know that."
george gives her a smile of appreciation.
"thank you...you know, i've read every single paper since. i was hooked. you're a fantastic writer. your article on gillyweed was great."
she grins.
"yeah? you into botany?"
"oh, not in the slightest. you just made it interesting."
y/n rolls her eyes in hopes of lessening the flush in her cheeks,
but george can see the shine of her smile.
"well, i appreciate your kind words."
"as i appreciate yours, y/n."
her name on his tongue,
how thrilling.
y/n has been waiting for that moment since she first set eyes on george weasley last year.
how the perfect picture she captured brought light to his dedication to his craft,
the fire in his eyes fueled by adrenaline,
the smile of joy against his lips.
in all of y/n's career of capturing beautiful moments,
that one still reigned as her favorite.
there was something capturing about george,
he was very easy to photograph because every emotion he felt could be seen in some way.
whether it be in hanging clouds in his eyes,
or the stretching of his lips,
y/n admired him.
this admiration only grew throughout the past year.
and now here they sit,
seemingly pulled together by some odd string of luck.
the boy stripped of affection,
meeting his greatest admirer.
y/n begins to feel the need for a good nights sleep then rises to leave,
despite how much she'd love to stay in this moment with george.
he, too, feels a sense of disappointment settle within him as she signals her exit.
he doesn't want her to leave.
if he had it his way,
y/n and him would sit in this patch of grass forever,
staring at the sky and letting himself wither away beneath the shine of her smile.
"will i see you again?"
george asks.
he doesn't mean to sound desperate but knowing such a ravishing woman exists,
he doesn't want to let her slip away just yet.
george knows he's mediocre,
but he'll make himself become worthy of y/n's presence.
"so long as you keep your eyes open."
she gives him a wink and off y/n goes,
though the nerves are still in a tight bundle inside her chest.
oh, she hopes and prays george will find her again.
the same way george hopes and prays he will find this lovely girl again.
***
it hadn't taken him long.
george found that when he stopping looking down at his feet when he walked,
that traces of y/n could be found all throughout hogwarts.
how have i gone so blind to this?
she's a busy girl,
that much is obvious. 
from running the school paper,
to participating in club meetings,
y/n is there.
george was staring at a photo of her in the dueling club when he heard her voice.
"i see you've taken my advice and kept those eyes open."
he turns to meet her and finds that she's even more beautiful in the sunlight.
does her beauty ever falter?
are there days when she looks anything less than angelic?
george doubts it.
those kinds of features will never stop being ravishing.
"you're an active student,"
he says.
y/n nods in agreement.
"fills the time up."
"fills it up?"
"yeah, you know...less time to overthink, more time to work."
george raises his eyebrow at her.
"you just distract yourself, then?"
"eh. call it what you want, it works."
she lets out a laugh that she's never heard come from herself before.
it seems to have been drawn out by george's mere presence.
george hears it and feels his heart increase in tempo;
a lovely symphony to keep him steady.
"are you busy right now?"
she then asks to break the silence.
george answers with the shake of his head,
much too stunned by y/n's grace to do anything else.
"great. come with me, i have to show you something."
y/n, once again, takes george by the hand and leads him to a room that's been isolated from everyone but her.
the touch of her dutiful hands when decorating this room is obvious.
"isn't it wonderful?"
she asks with a spin.
george can tell she's proud of her work.
what can he do but smile?
"it is."
"come, come. this is what i brought you here for."
the photo room brought forth to beauty by y/n smells of ink pressing and makes him feel warm like freshly printed paper.
y/n brings george to a corner where the beginnings of her new newspaper for the week.
"quidditch: beginnings and ends."
"what is this about?"
he asks.
"quidditch, of course. i want to interview you."
george can't help but chuckle at this.
"me?"
"yes, you."
"but...why?"
she shrugs and runs a careful finger down one of her most recently developed pictures.
"because who better?"
george answers her earnestly,
"oliver wood. harry is young but brilliant...um, my brother is quite a bit better than i am."
"hmm...yes,"
she says.
george can't help but to deflate some.
why can't he just accept good things?
"but they're not you. do you see the issue?"
she asks with a finger pointed his way and a wondrous smile.
he can't help but to blush.
"okay...i'll do it."
y/n claps ecstatically in celebration.
"that's what i like to hear!"
she dances around him as though george has branded her one of life's greatest gifts.
is this how true happiness looks on her?
if so,
it's beautiful.
even more beautiful than she originally is.
she's smoother around the edges,
she's brighter in the face with a color only procured by joy,
a laugh the sound of a symphony.
if this is happiness...
george sure hopes he'll be able to stick around and see it some more.
it's the bubbly elation that feels almost tangible;
george might reach out,
thread his aching fingers through it,
and become happy too.
"tomorrow, after class, honeydukes. can we start then?"
george knows he has quidditch practice after class.
but how could he tell y/n?
deny her of a simple request?
he nods his heads.
"i'll be there."
"you won't regret it. thank you, george."
before she passes him to exit the room,
she stands on the very tips of her toes and lays a kiss to his cheek.
george feels himself fall mellow beneath this wave of perfumed ecstasy.
her lovely scent that reminds him of freshly printed books,
an evening of autumn spent over fires and cider.
he doesn't know how he knows these scents so well,
but he's glad for it.
before she leaves the room completely,
she hangs by the door and says,
"you can stay in here for as long as you'd like. just...don't touch the photos."
george nods his head in understanding,
much too taken aback with his nerves to do much else.
the skin where y/n let her heavenly lips brush is still aflame.
so he stays behind well after she leaves in hopes his cheeks will stop burning.
they don't.
he's forced to shuffle to class with crimson red blush plastered against his face because he can't stop himself from thinking of y/n or the cordial, but still so meaningful, kiss to his cheek.
y/n can't help but giggle when she sees george pass her to find his next class.
how wonderful he is,
she thinks,
i just wish he knew it.
***
the birds are especially loud this morning.
george doesn't know if it's an omen or sign of good faith.
he doesn't bother to look it up,
he's much too nervous to.
throughout the day,
all he could think of was the evening reserved for him and y/n.
with his past string of luck,
george was bound to mess it up somehow.
but maybe,
for once,
things would be different.
his hands shook all day,
making his scrawl even harder to read.
his throat continuously dried out and made him cough uncontrollably.
he was a pile of nerves forced to act calm.
then finally,
the hour struck and george was well on his way to honeydukes.
when he arrived,
comforted by the wave of warmth honeydukes provided,
his eyes instantly set on the girl.
how lovely.
"oh! george! over here."
y/n waves her hands to signal her place of seating.
as though she is hard to miss,
as though she is not the center of shine in this dimmed place.
he takes a quiet seat across from her and rubs his hands together,
creating friction in hopes of calming himself.
is this a date?
no, no.
stop.
just an interview.
just. an. interview.
"how are you?"
"fine, yeah...fine. you?"
y/n nods her head.
"great, yeah. thank you."
the two give each other a smile that tells of their innocent timidness.
"are you nervous?"
"a little,"
george admits with a laugh.
"me, too."
she nudges a drink in his direction then leans forward to whisper,
"there's a little firewhiskey in there. not a lot. just enough to, you know, settle the nerves."
he lets a burst of laughter slip from his lips so unexpectedly,
that y/n flinches in surprise.
but it's not long until she's giggling with him.
"you do not look like a drinker, y/n."
"i'm full of mysteries,"
she replies jokingly.
if only she realized how true that is to george weasley.
he takes a sip of the drink,
being able to taste the lingering alcohol within,
though it's not enough to make him wince.
the drink she's made is rather dangerous.
good enough to continuously sip on,
good enough to forget theres alcohol inside.
"here, let's try this. to make this interview a little less daunting, we'll each ask a question. sound good?"
george is becoming warm beneath the liquors influence,
so he nods,
and y/n begins.
"alright...when did your love for quidditch begin?"
george begins clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he thinks of the very first time he and his brothers played.
it had been love at first try, really.
he notices that as he tells this story,
y/n nods in pure interest while simultaneously jotting down notes.
"that's adorable,"
she says when he finishes.
then she places her pen down and gives him a smile.
"your turn."
"...when did you begin photography?"
she drums her fingers against the table before she answers.
she needs a moment to remember.
"ugh, forever ago...i'd say when i was about ten."
"wow. it's been some years."
y/n laughs.
"agreed."
then she picks her pen back up,
looks through the list of questions she's written,
finally finds one,
and asks,
"worst injury when playing?"
george isn't even sure he remembers.
the hits to his head render his ability to do so.
so many years playing,
so many injuries.
his worse?
he can't help but laugh when he tells y/n and she grimaces as though the wound is hers to shoulder.
george makes sure to describe it in vivid detail,
both for her paper and to see her reaction.
when he's finished with that story,
she brings her full attention to him.
this is his cue.
"favorite picture you've ever taken?"
"honestly?"
george nods.
"honest as you can be."
"your winning goal."
he wishes his ivory skin did a better job of hiding this blush in his cheeks.
"funny. that's my favorite picture, too."
"oh, i'm sure,"
y/n teases with a giggle to follow.
"why's that your favorite?"
george doesn't mean for it to sound like he's begging for a compliment or waiting for y/n to list off the things she likes about him,
he just simply wants to know about her love for the photo.
years of photographing,
and the picture of awkward george weasley was her favorite?
he can't wrap his mind around it.
"that kind of animation in your eyes, the wild fire of love for the sport, you don't see that often. i don't know. i think you make for a great muse."
and so george decided then:
he would be y/n's muse for as long as she would have him.