Felix Felicis- A George Weasley and Adrian Pucey Love Triangle

117. Bloody Knuckles

"It's always 'What have you done, Fred?' Never a 'Are you alright Freddie?'" He scowls. When I don't respond, he explains anyway. "I had an accident in Potions. I'm alright." Fred tells me, throwing his bag onto his bed.

He walks into his bathroom, leaving the door open. He begins to wash his hands, wincing audibly. I walk to the door frame, watching as he applies soap and winces even louder than before. "If that were true you'd be with Madam Pomfrey." I tell him.

It's the truth; we both know it. Snape would have sent someone with him and asked for a note from the nurse at the end of the day. He shakes his head, smirking at me through the reflection of the mirror.

"It's none of your concern." He tells me, moving to dry his hands. "Now why don't you fix me up?" He smiles, pushing past me and back into his room. He sits on his bed, waiting for me to come back into the room.

"I'll help you if you tell me why you're hurt in the first place." I say, crossing my arms around my chest. Knowing Fred, it could be a variety of things.

Part of me worries he went after Adrian, but I quickly toss the thought away. I shouldn't be worried about him unless I know something happened for sure.

"Just fix me up. I won't tell anyone about what I saw if you help me." He says, laughing lightly.

"What you saw? What do you mean?" I ask, moving to sit on George's bed.

Fred lifts his hands, shaking them lightly. I cave, moving to look under George's bed for the first aid kit the boys kept for emergencies.

"I mean the reason you've got those Godric-awful bruises all over your neck. Do you seriously not remember?" Fred asks me.

"Yeah right, like you saw anything." I say with a laugh, dragging the first aid kit to Fred's bed and opening it slowly.

I take out a few things; I had my fair share of fixing the boys up after some kind of experiment or prank gone wrong. Half of the scars the twins had were from my poor abilities in healing.

I do not know any spells to help them, they were way too advanced. I only know of the muggle way with gauze and alcohol to tend to them.

"Go on, the one on my right hand's the worst one." He says. He looks to the ceiling in anticipation of pain.

I drop some alcohol on a damp rag, bringing it to a cut on his right hand. He howls in pain, and I have to stop myself from laughing at him.

"That's what you deserve, prick. Tell me why you've got these." I press, trying to move with the flailing of his arms.

"Well... erm. You see, I was-" Fred is saved by the door swinging open.

My head turns towards the door, finding George at doorway. He holds several plates; they are balanced on his arms and hands. He looks from my face to Fred's silently.

"What's going on?" He asks, not moving from the entryway. His jaw is set, but he acts calm. I can see he takes a deep breath, yet when he exhales it is shaky.

"I'm helping Freddie- Fred. He got cut up; he was just telling me what had happened to him." I answer, my voice rising just above a whisper.

He nods. He moves into the room, not saying another word. He sets the plates down on his bed, smiling at me. "Just finish up and we can eat together." George tells me.

I look back to Fred, washing his hand with the alcohol. He winces and shouts, spasming and being as dramatic as Fred could be. He doesn't speak; he doesn't explain.

"Stop moving!" I tell him, slapping the top of his arm. I laugh a bit, but then stop myself and look to George.

He sits on his bed, eating quietly. He doesn't look to Fred or I; he looks only directly to his food. I wrap a bandage around each of Fred's hands and put the things back into the first aid kit.

"Thanks for fixing me up." He tells me.

"You've still got to tell me why." I say, not moving from his bed.

He shrugs. "I'll tell you later. Go ahead and eat with Georgie, just remember to lock the door if you're going to do anything else." Fred chuckles, standing to leave. He blows us both a kiss and walks out of the door.

Anger fills me; Fred was such a prat. Did he seriously think a prank like this was funny? He is so immature. I take a deep breath, looking back to George. He looks at me sheepishly, trying to not react.

I walk over to him, making him sit a bit more upright than he had before. I sit sideways on his lap, gently playing with the curls that flop over his forehead. He almost instantly brings one hand to my back; his other hand rests on my thigh.

I nestle my face in his neck, breathing lightly against his skin. "You have nothing to worry about." I whisper. "I was only trying to heal his hands."

He rubs my back lightly, nodding slowly. "You should eat, love. You must be starving." He whispers back.

I kiss him faintly along his jaw before I pull away. I lean back and grab a strip of chicken, taking a large bite. A pit of hunger opens in my stomach; I hadn't realized just how hungry I was.

I reflect on George's actions. I haven't forgotten how he had reacted when we were dating- when I spent time with Fred. He had exploded. He was angry, he was reactionary. Now, he sits and timidly rubs my back.

He slides a hand under my shirt- his shirt, which is much too big for me. He rubs against the bare skin of my back, leaving a trail of fire in it's place.

He kisses my cheek; I stop chewing for a moment. "George? Did Fred walk in on us last night? I remember almost everything, but I don't think I remember that." I tell him. He freezes, his fingertips pause right between my shoulders.

"Of course not. Did he say that to you?" George whispers. He doesn't look at me, though, only looking at the food in front of me.

"I knew he was taking the piss. He probably thinks of it as some stupid little prank on me." I say, smiling at him.

George smiles back, resuming the trail of fire against my bare skin. "I spoke to Hermione. She told me the spell, are you ready?" He asks, removing his hands from me and grabbing his wand. He clears his throat and waves his wand, muttering some spell I don't recognize. I take another bite of chicken.

"Well? I can't tell." I say, giggling at him.

"Perfect. Another blank canvas for me." He says, rubbing my thigh carelessly.

"Shut it." I smile at him. As I take another bite, his hand begins to wander from my thighs to my stomach, slowly inching higher and higher until he reaches my breast.

He plays with me gently, but I raise my hand and place it over his. I shake my head, and his motion stops. He keeps his hand there, looking at me. "Do you not want me to?" He asks in a whisper.

I shake my head once more. "Not now. I don't want this to just be... I don't know. I don't want this to be just about sex, I guess." I whisper, my cheeks red.

His hand slowly moves from my breast, exiting the large shirt and landing softly in my lap. "I'm sorry, dear. I don't want you just for... that. You know that, right?" He whispers.

I kiss his cheek, reaching up to feed him a piece of chicken. He takes a large bite, making me laugh. We sit together quietly for a moment, just enjoying each other's company.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you." He mumbles, his mouth full of chicken. "I spoke with Adrian." He says, almost absentmindedly.