If You'll Have Me | George Weasley

Chapter 8

AS ELEANOR WAKES, she steals a moment to herself, entangled in her blankets as she tries to piece together the events from the night before. The details were hazy, fogged over with the drunkness of the wine and exhaustion, but the one thing that was carved into her memory was the way that George looked at her. How nervous, or how anxious it made her, for some reason that she couldn't quite grasp.

His eyes met hers, then fell to her lips as he kept a steady hand on her back, his fingertips grazing against her skin... And as she thinks back to how he teased the hem of her shirt, that was where her memory fogged, where she couldn't quite remember why she pulled away, but wished that he pulled her in before she was able. Wished that he had done something, but she wasn't quite sure what.

They had only danced, but if asked, Eleanor would tell the girls something different; That they had only talked over water in the luminance of the kitchen before finding the way to their bedrooms on their own. It wasn't far from the truth. Just shy of it.

At breakfast, they were like two ships passing—Stealing glances at one another while one reached for the orange juice, or as the other stood to stack their plate in the sink. But once Ron suggested that they play quidditch, he was gone. Out the door and into the field behind their house as the girls retreated upstairs, leaving Eleanor eager for his attention. For something from him. And it worried her slightly that perhaps one of the things she couldn't remember was something that she had said, or done that crossed any boundary he had. It killed her to not know for sure.

Ginny's room was the only other bedroom that Eleanor had been in, besides her own, of course. But Percy's room wasn't hers, and it wasn't like Ginny's; What with the posters decorating the walls, and the Christmas lights outlining her bedframe, it contrasted drastically from Elle's room back in France. Her room which was lackluster and scarce of the clutter, and bland in comparison to the Burrow as a whole.

Eleanor had been lying on the floor beside Ginny, watching as she flipped restlessly through a quidditch magazine. Hermione had been sprawled out on her bed, knowingly glancing at Elle every now and then in a fit of impatience. While she was in fact the brightest witch of her age, she was also the most nosy. Stubborn, just as much as she was a devoted friend. Eleanor knew that she meant well, of course, but it was infuriating regardless.

"Late night, Eleanor?" She finally asks, and Elle nods, leaning over to catch a glimpse of Ginny's magazine, though she never really cared much for quidditch. "You slept up here, right?"

For a moment, she is torn between yes and no. Telling the truth, or saving herself from a bombardment of questions, but Hermione already knew the answer. Eleanor could see it in her eyes. In the quirked corners of her mouth. It wouldn't benefit her to lie over something so stupid, anyways.

"Yeah, I did. Couch was starting to get uncomfortable."

Ginny lifts her gaze from the pages, eyebrows furrowed, and darts her eyes between her friends who glared at each other challengingly from opposite sides of the room. "Did I miss something?"

Eleanor shakes her head, more out of irritation than to answer her question, but she smiles. "George was just bothered by some stuff. We talked for a bit."

"Our mum." Ginny says knowingly. "She's been a wreck ever since Percy moved out."

Eleanor nods, as if this was news to her, replaying their brief conversation about Percy. The details were still hazy, but she remembered the distraught look on his face, and how it softened as he danced with her. Laughed with her. Opened up to her before laughing some more, as if there was nothing bothering him to begin with.

And although nothing scandalous had happened, it felt right to keep the moment between them, because Eleanor was hardly sure what to make of the situation, anyways. She was unsure if she had misread the signals, or purely imagined them all. It wasn't something that needed to be shared.