If You'll Have Me | George Weasley

Chapter 13

CONTENT WARNING: This chapter contains mature content that may not be suitable for all readers. Please see disclaimer at the beginning for more information.

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IT WAS DIFFICULT to keep her footing. To walk steadily without George supporting her weight by keeping one arm hooked with hers, hoisting her upon her feet. But despite how hard he tried to be of help, he could barely walk straight himself. Each step was just as clumsy as hers as they slowly navigated to their room, trying desperately not to laugh as George dropped the room key more than once, and as Eleanor playfully cursed at him for doing so.

After a moment of it slipping through his fingers, George manages to fit the key into the door. The lock unclicks with one twist, and the hinges on the door groan as he pushes it open, allowing Eleanor to stumble in first while he reaches aimlessly for the light switch. Only when she fell heavily on the bed did he manage to switch on the light.

"I made it." She says in some celebratory way, reaching her hands in the air, and how George laughed. More heavily than he had earlier in the night. More loudly. And she watches as he braces the wall with one hand as he struggles to kick off his shoes, remaining patient where she lay. Holding onto the sound of his laughter with each passing moment that he continued to chuckle to himself. It was funnier knowing that there was nothing to be laughing about. "Can you take mine off? I don't want to move."

He raises his eyebrows at her once he finally regains his balance, and runs his eyes over her, taking in the sight of her stretched out across the bed. Of her still wearing that black dress, and her mess of curls sprawled against the mattress, all around her head. It takes him a moment to gather his thoughts. To remember what she had asked him. But when he does, he only smiles, and teases a finger against her ankle. "Lazy."

She feels his grip curl around her. The touch of one hand just barely grazing her calf before gliding down to the clasp around her ankle, undoing the small buckle before moving onto the next one. Her shoes fall to the floor with two thuds, and he then reaches up do undo the top few buttons on his shirt.

She didn't care enough to look away. Would use her drunken state as an excuse for staring if he'd call her out, but he didn't. Instead, he locks his eyes with hers as he slips two fingers past the collar of his shirt, tugging it away from his neck to reveal the upper part of his chest. That small glimpse of his upper torso was nearly enough for her to ache for more. She doesn't care enough to deny it.

But as if he could read those desperate thoughts through her eyes, his lips stretch into a sly grin—Satisfaction is what it was—Masked across his eyes and mouth. "Need anything else?" He asks, and she was almost sure that this was him teasing her, so she silently damns him for looking so handsome and bites her tongue.

Saying something would only feed into his teasing. Would only give him another opportunity to take advantage of the lust lingering behind her eyes... And so while he stands there, waiting for a response, she stretches out her hand. She was unsure of what exactly she wanted, but he places his hand in hers as if he already knew. Allows her to pull him onto the bed to fill the empty space beside her, and falls into a fit of laughter. The brilliance of it fills the room.

"This bed is so comfortable." He mumbles against the mattress, and she turns her head, examining him beside her; Lying upon his stomach, eyes fluttering shut. The redness of his lashes swooping over his eyes like canopies of fire, the freckles on his cheeks like fallen embers of that above.