Sinners and Serpents {g.w.}

Chapter 29

a/n: wow this chapter is so cheesy and sappy, but i hope you all are being kind to yourselves because you deserve it <3 (also if you havent read it yet, i have a wolfstar fic im writing currently called 'lionheart' if you're into the marauders era!)

A humorless laugh bubbled up in your chest. "I'm not a child, George. I don't need you to-to lie to me just to make me feel better."

"I'm not lying to you."

"Yes, you are," you insisted. "I get that you're trying to help me, cheer me up, whatever. But I don't need-"

"Scales," George interrupted, an edge of frustration running beneath his voice. "I'm not lying to you, and I'm not just talking out of my arse to cheer you up. Why is it so impossible for you to believe that I can see I was wrong about you?"

The letter before you was little more than dark, papery ash- the kind that would blow away the moment a breath of wind happened upon it. Good, you thought. You wanted no trace of that bloody letter left behind. The wind had died down though, making yours and George's voices the loudest noises in the tall, drafty tower. Something about his words was making something shift inside you, something unfamiliar and uncomfortable and you had no idea what to do with it.

"Because you never admit that you're wrong, and I'd bet that I'd get struck by lightning before I'd bet that you'd admit-"

"Right, shut up for a moment, yeah?" George snapped, and you made the mistake of looking back at those whiskey-color eyes of his.

It was a mistake because you found yourself nodding, so distracted by the deep reds and golds of his irises that he could've asked you to jump off the owlery tower and you would have agreed. Finally, his words hit you fully and you narrowed your eyes at him, but you said nothing. Quite honestly, you felt an urge of longing to hear him speak, to deliver those words to you that you so desperately ached for.

"Whatever was in that letter...I can't even imagine, really, what it would be like to be in your shoes. To have so many things you're being told you have to do, and there's not even an 'or else' option." George blew out a tight burst of air, shaking his head. "Seems right suffocating, if I'm being honest with you. And I am, just so you know. Every word I've been saying, that I'm going to say, I mean every bit of it.

"It seems fucking suffocating, and I don't envy you in the least for having to deal with that. But...I guess I didn't realize it until now, but I respect you, Scales. And I don't mean the friendly way, not entirely, even though...well. I mean I didn't know what kind of shit you were dealing with, that you have been dealing with, and you're still...you, you know? You still make your own choices, and I'm sure a lot of those make your life a hell of a lot more difficult than it should be, but you do it anyway. To hear from your parents that you need to be more, be better, it..."

George laughed bitterly, ruefully. "I mean, you, out of all people? It makes me bloody angry. Angrier than I can remember being in a while."

"Why?" Why should hearing what you've always heard from your parents make him angry? It wasn't as if it was him it was directed toward.

George looked at you as though you had just sprouted horns. "Why?" he repeated, semi-incredulously. "Come on, Scales. I know you're not a Ravenclaw, but surely you can still manage to sort this one out, can't you? You're a bright witch, I've seen it myself."