Sinners and Serpents {g.w.}

Chapter 31

a/n: my god talk about writers block for this chapter but its a long one so i hope yall enjoy!

Really, you should've known that something bad was going to happen that day. Something in the air, something about the way the nastiest members of your House carried each other should've alerted you that something very terrible, very awful was going to occur. Maybe if you hadn't been so caught up in watching the way George threw his head back and laughed loudly at breakfast, distracted by the way his large hands threaded through the grass as he reclined on the ground by the lake, you would've been able to notice it.

Not doing so seemed so wildly unfathomable when the golden sunlight pulled out warm mahogany highlights in George's ginger hair, when the soft breeze twirled through the small curled pieces that hung over his ears and curled at the nape of his neck. Hair that you'd been craving the feel of as you slide your fingers through it, because that hadn't happened in far too long for your taste. Any contact with George the past week had been few and far between if it happened at all, and it felt like your skin was itching for it. So insufferable was that sensation that keeping your hands to yourself had been a feat of incredible will.

It wasn't as though you couldn't touch him; you supposed you could, now more than ever, but you still felt nervous around George, as if you hadn't quite figured out what you could and couldn't do with him.

As strange as the past week had been, the weird limbo that had come along with finally finding a common ground between you, it was much better than not being in that limbo at all. At least you knew that George was yours, a fact that made you feel as though you could walk on air without magic or change the very weather if you willed it. It had seemed such a far-fetched dream, a wish more than a dream, that there had never been a moment in time where you actually considered it possible.

The past week...the past week had been so many things you could hardly define just one singular emotion you'd experienced the past seven days. Every time seeing George brought a mix of elation, confusion, and apprehension that made you constantly feel as though you were slowly going mad, and George hadn't made it much easier. He never made anything easier, not with the way you wanted to hoard all his attention, be the only subject of his gaze, the only cause of his laugh. It wasn't as if you were jealous of the people he spent time with- at least not anymore- but you felt so starved still of him that you begrudged anyone who took up his attention.

You couldn't be entirely sure what you had been expecting when George had confessed to you he wanted to be with you, wanted to show you kindness, but it was almost certainly not this. Granted, you'd never truly been in an established relationship before so perhaps your ideas were skewed. But you were rather sure it was supposed to be more than this.

You wanted more with George.

There had been brushes of fingertips, long gazes across the Great Hall, secret smiles you knew were only for you that you tucked away in the most secret recesses of your mind, but nothing more than that. You were starting to suspect it was going to drive you well and truly mad if something didn't happen soon.

It was the warmest Saturday Hogwarts had seen thus far, with clear blue skies and a gentle breeze drifting through the grounds and yellow sunshine that seemed to leach all the stress and worry out of your bones. George, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred, and you were all out by the Black Lake, soaking up the wonderful heat of the spring sunshine before the D.A. meeting began. It was nice to sit out, hear the soft laps of water on the sandy shore, and not think about anything except how much you wanted George's hands, the ones picking at blades of emerald grass, on your body instead.