HARRY POTTER SMUTS & IMAGINES 18+

George Weasley Imagine *Sad Imagine*

He used to laugh. I loved his laugh. He didn't laugh so much anymore. Not since Fred died.
I found him one night sitting on Fred's bed above the shop, shuffling his hands around an old shoebox.
"What are you doing, love?"
He didn't look up. I leaned against the doorframe.
"George?"
"Hmm?"
"What are you doing?"
"Nothing."
"What's in the box?"
"Nothing."
I took a step closer. He still hadn't looked at me, but he pulled the box closer with his finger.
"Georgie, come on."
"Dinner?"
"Oh. Well... Well, it's only two, but your mother owled. She wants to know if you'll come for dinner around six."
"Fine." He pushed the lid onto the box and set it on his pillow. "I'll get ready."
"For four hours in advance? You're a wizard, George."
"I'll get ready." He walked into the bathroom. I heard the shower go on and I sat on his bed, head in my hands.
I knew he was taking Fred's death horribly. Of course he would. His other half – I didn't even come that close. I ran the pad of my thumb over the diamond he gave me two Christmases ago.
My eyes fell on the shoebox. My fingertips slid across the edge of the lid and played with the cardboard on the corner. I pushed the lid up with my fingernail until it fell away to the side. There were photographs inside, all old and folded and curling around the edges. Most were from their childhood, featuring the twins with an occasional appearance from another redheaded Weasley; a few had me in the frame; and one was mine. I picked the top one up and flipped it over. My father always wrote on the back of photographs when I was a child, and whoever's neat pen this was had done the same.

25 December 1978: Fred & George's First Christmas
Two infants with a mass of red hair lie on a red and green knit blanket. Both smile; one sucks his thumb and the other reaches for the camera. I smiled at the babies and thumbed the torn upper corner. To be honest, I hoped it wasn't long until there was another picture like this one.
The bathroom door opened.
"Helen?"
I looked away from the babies. "Yes, love? I thought you were going in for a shower."
"I... I need to shave for Mum and I..."
"I'll help you."
He hadn't looked in a mirror since Fred. He'd only shaved once and nearly cut his other ear off. I returned the photo to the box and shut it as he had.
He took my hand when I was within reach. Our eyes met and I raised a hand to stroke his beard.
"I like this, you know."
He sighed. "Mum'll think I'm not doing well."
"Are you?"
"What?"
"Are you doing well?"
"Do you think I am?"
"Do you want me to answer that?" I picked up his shaving cream.
He sighed and his eyes closed slowly as I shaved his face. When I'd finished all but his upper lip, I wiped off the excess cream.
"Are you done already?" he asked.
"Depends. Can we keep the mustache?"
He ran a hand through his hair and over his face. "I can finish if you don't want to."
"No. No, I'll do it. I understand."
He closed his eyes again, squeezing them tight and releasing. He didn't have to hold back his tears for me and I know he knew that. I think he was just so tired of crying.
"All done," I whispered.
"Thank you."
"Of course, love."
He turned and pulled off his shirt and undid his belt. "I won't be long, promise."
"Sure. Okay." I closed the door behind me.

y'all probably wanted something smutty but this just popped up in my head. a smutty will be out later PLEASE GIVE ME A CHARACTER.