M A R S H. // Bill Weasley ♡

☾ spring of 1994 ☾

Compared to the opening of the chamber of secrets last school year, this Sirius Black business felt like a walk through the park. Although probably for not poor Harry. Frankie felt bad for him, she just wanted to wrap him in blankets and tell him everything was going to be okay. Frankie knew this wasn't true, from the moment he made his name as the Boy Who Lived he was never going to lead a normal life. He had been practicing his Patronus charm more frequently with Professor Lupin, which he kept mostly to himself.

Frankie wouldn't mind a few private lessons from Lupin she thought to herself as she read a book, gifted to her by Bill, spread across the couch of the Gryffindor common room. She smiled to herself at the thought, she really needed to work on this thing for older men. But at least it kept her mind off of Bill for a few moments. George sat on the floor, his face lit by the fireplace, he was attempting to write a late potions essay that Frankie had refused to write for him. He could do it, he just didn't want to. No one else was in the common room, a radio played quiet music, but did nothing to drown out the sound of rain tapping on the windows. He noticed her smile.

"What?" He asked, stopping his writing.

"Nothing," she almost whispered, still smiling.

"Yeah right," he rolled his eyes, he looked back at his barely written paper and sighed. "What's that book about anyway?"

"It's romance, you wouldn't like it," she replied, not bothering to look up.

"You don't know that," George sounded genuinely offended. "So Bill sent you a romance novel for Valentine's Day and you two haven't even kissed, once. Shame."

"George, it's just a gift, honestly," she sighed, turning the page. And now she was thinking about Bill again, great.

"Oh Frankie, it's much more than a gift," he placed his quill and parchment down. He sat up, on his knees, leaning into the soft couch. "That there," he tapped the book. "Is a secret message of love. No one just sends someone a romantic novel on Valentine's Day of all holidays without some sort of intention."

"He was just being nice," she glared at him.

"Mmhm, and what did you send him?" He asked, smiling, placing his chin on her thigh.

"Not that it is any of your business, but I didn't send him anything. Because we are not anything, there is nothing happening there," she snapped the book shut, sat up briefly.

"You should at least send him a thank you letter," he mumbled, to which earned him another glare.

"By the way George I had been successfully not thinking about him," she opened her book.

"That's gonna be hard, you're head over heels in love with him," he moved his head, now his whole cheek rested on her denim-clad thigh.

"Thanks for the reminder, George."

"Ha! You've never actually admitted that before." he laughed and exclaimed.

"You better keep it to yourself, Weasley," she threatened. He stared at her for a moment. "It doesn't matter anyway, it would literally be illegal," she quietly laughed.

"True, I would have to call the police if he lays a finger on you," he smiled back. "But, who knows once you're older. Maybe he'll see you the way Fred and I do," his smile faded as he realized what he said.

"What?" She asked, looking up from the book, grinning.

"Huh? Nothing. Ignore that," he lifted his head and avoided her eyes. "Don't look at me like that. Fred and I just care about you, as a friend. I mean you're gorgeous, but that's just a bonus compared to your prank skills," George didn't know if he was lying or not. He liked her as a friend but was always curious.

"Right," she smiled. "I can't believe Fred, that arse. Get's a Valentine's date with some random Hufflepuff and ditches us for the rest of the night."

"Shame really, we're the two best looking people here. I guess everyone was too intimidated to ask us on dates," his head went back to her leg.

"Right, that's what it was. Not our obnoxious personalities," she laughed.

"Frankie, can I ask you something?" His tone softened. She hummed a response.

"Have you really never kissed anyone?" He asked innocently.

She lowered her book, "I have never kissed anyone," she responded. There was a long pause of silence, Frankie could hear her heart beat in her ears.

"Would you like to?" His question made Frankie's stomach drop. "With me, I mean," he hadn't moved, scared to do anything.

"Sure," she whispered so quietly only George could hear. He lifted himself off her and moved closer. She sat up a bit on the couch, still on her back. George took note of the light from the fire hitting her face. He leaned in slightly, tucking her hair behind her ear. His other hand held her shoulder gently. He leaned in once, their noses grazing, but didn't close the gap. He came closer slightly, this time Frankie closed the gap. Her lips were on his. Her hands hugged his shoulders. He smelled of vanilla and clean laundry.

His lips were soft and tasted sweet, much sweeter than expected. He must have been sneaking candies all day. She felt his hand cup her cheek, both of which were burning. One of her own hands rested on top of his as George deepened the kiss. Frankie honestly couldn't tell if she liked the kiss, which probably wasn't a good sign. It was nice though, he was very gentle, but Frankie was too busy thinking about how she didn't know what she was doing. She tried her best to follow along with whatever George was doing. After a moment Frankie realized her eyes were closed tight, giving her a headache. And for a split second when she peaked her eyes open and saw George's orange hair, pooling at her cheeks, her hands were suddenly on his chest pushing him away.

Frankie sat up, George was holding himself up on the couch. When he noticed her face he sunk into the couch taking a deep sigh with him. Frankie pulled her knees into her chest.
"Sorry George," she whispered.

"It's okay," he looked at her and watched her bury her face into her knees. "Was I that bad?" He laughed, knowing that's not why she pushed him away. Her eyes peeked out, he could see her holding back a smile.

She laughed quietly, "Oh George my boy! I don't know what I'm gonna do! This is getting ridiculous," she leaned her head back in frustration.

"You could, I don't know, tell him how you feel?" He replied.

"I can't."

"Why not? It's Bill he's the only nice one of us bunch. He'd be cool about it," George waved his hands around when he said "cool".

"He'd probably pat my head and call me kiddo," she thought for a moment. "God he'd probably be so understanding and nice about the situation, I probably wouldn't even realize he is telling me to catch myself on. That dick," she mumbled.

"That's the spirit!" George exclaimed happily. "Bully him till your feelings go away, totally won't backfire," he laughed.

"I wish I didn't like him," pause, "I kinda hate him for it. I just hate that he's got such a hold on me, that I can't stop thinking about him," she groaned into her knees. Her eyes began to swell. "I just want this feeling to go away, it hurts too much George," she cried. George didn't say anything, he scooted closer to Frankie and wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

"I know Frankie. I know," he held her as more tears began to stream down her face.