George Weasley x Reader ~ Jaffa Cake

28 - Yet again

CW// Emetophobia/Throwing up. Moments will be marked with an asterisk* for when they start and end, I know how triggering this stuff can be <3

(Also don't worry you're definitely not pregnant lol that would be weird)

It's a warm, summery day. The air feels humid and warm around your ankles and neck as you inhale deeply, feeling it fill your lungs. You'd longed for summers like this - calm, peaceful, relaxing - and finally, you're experiencing it.

Walking on your own is a little boring, but the free flow of your thoughts is like chatting to another person who understands you completely. There's no nagging, no poking, no yelling. Just a soft, familiar voice. A gentle, familiar voice. A comforting, familiar voice.

You round a corner hidden by a thick wad of green leaves, which are hanging steadily off the branch of a silvery tree. They look fresh and ripe, like they've been put through a washing machine cycle and hung back on the tree to dry. You're inclined to pick one off and run your fingers along its waxy surface, but you restrain and continue along the gravelly path, soon noticing that there's a stone in your shoe. The strong light of the sun through the patchy shade of leaves is practically blinding. You stop under the tree and remove your shoe, tipping it and shaking it, watching as the small stone falls out onto the floor. Heat from the sun has dried out the dirty track, so it's a soft, pale colour, and makes a scuffing noise as you put your shoe back on and continue walking.

All too suddenly, the heat from the sun becomes unbearable. The change of your body temperature is almost terrifying. When was the last time you had something to drink or eat? Is this a homeostatic imbalance? You're struggling to keep your view of the pebble scattered path, when your tongue becomes numb and your mouth dry. It tastes very strange. You need water, but there's definitely none around. Is this it? The end of the line? Your vision becomes reasonably hazy, and a distorted figure appears in front of you.

'Y/n?' they say in a hoarse voice. 'My sister?'

You feel your lungs tightening, and every gasp of air is a one sided battle. It's like the oxygen you're breathing is causing your downfall, whittling away at your lungs, squeezing them together. My sister?

'MY sister?' you splutter, clutching your chest. It feels like your lungs have been turned inside out and shaken, then put in a toaster and heated until they were burnt. 'Is that you?'

Blinking is hard. You shut your eyes tightly, then wrench them open, wider than they should be, before clenching them shut again. 

'It is me', they reply, almost dreamily. 'How I miss you...'

Breathing is not on the table anymore. It feels like you are a fish, flopping on the sidewalk, just metres away from reviving your lungs. What is this? You're suffocating, slowly but surely, in front of your long-lost sister, on a hot, pale, gravelly path. The thick green grass around you buzzes with wildlife, and crickets begin to sing. It is nightfall.

But how? Just seconds ago, you were experiencing the scorching temperatures of a midsummer's day. But now, it is night? Your lungs are functioning as they should. Your sister is gone. Again.

'I always knew you were trouble.'

'We should have listened to you, Cho.'

'This is why your sister left.'

'This is why George left too.'

You pant heavily, craning your neck to look around at the owners of the voices. Hogwarts students? Hold on, you know these guys... but how did they get here? So many questions. Your head feels like lead. You go to rub the back of your neck, but notice a mark on your arm. It's a violent black shade, and it's now searing, burning, scalding. You yelp in pain and grasp it, praying it would stop throbbing so. It feels like someone has set your forearm on fire like a match in a gas tank. Lifting your hand, the mark sits, an irritated pink outline cast around it as if it were a freshly done tattoo. A skull, and a serpent.