More Than Heart Could Desire 《 A George Weasley Love Story 》

Chapter#24 Valentine

NARRATOR'S POV

Days slipped by in a blur of parchments, ink-stained fingers, and whispered spells as fifth-years across Hogwarts braced themselves for the looming terror of O.W.L.s. For Anna, the pressure was relentless. Revision schedules haunted her dreams, textbooks piled higher than her patience, and anxiety clung to her like a shadow she couldn't quite shake.

George and Fred noticed, of course. They always did.

They dragged her away from her books whenever they could, five minutes of laughter between chapters, stolen jokes in the corridors, Chocolate Frogs mysteriously appearing beside her notes. They understood something most didn't, that even the sharpest mind needed air to breathe.

And then, Valentine's Day arrived.

The Great Hall had been utterly transformed. Pink and gold streamers shimmered beneath the enchanted ceiling, which glowed with a soft, rosy dawn. Floating hearts drifted lazily through the air, and the smell of warm pastries and sweetness clung to every corner. Love....young, reckless and hopeful, seemed to hum through the hall itself.

George Weasley sat at the Gryffindor table, very much a victim of it.

He hadn't touched his breakfast. His eyes, however, had not left Anna once since she'd walked in.
Anna sat across from him, laughing softly with Ginny and Diana, unaware of the way George's world had narrowed to the curve of her smile, the light in her eyes, the way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she talked.

He'd rehearsed asking her out at least a dozen times since breakfast began.

And failed every single one.

For someone who usually leapt before thinking, George Weasley had never hesitated so much.

"Oi, Georgie!", Fred's voice cut through his thoughts like a Bludger.

"What?", George muttered, not even blinking.

Fred followed his line of sight and smirked. "You planning to stare at her until dinner, or are you actually going to ask her to be your Valentine?".

George nearly choked on his pumpkin juice. "Staring? Who? I'm not staring at anyone".

He dropped his gaze to his plate with exaggerated interest.

Fred leaned closer. "Mate, if you keep looking at her like that, the ceiling's going to sprout hearts just for you. Just ask her. What's the worst that could happen?".

George exhaled slowly. "I will. I've still got most of the day".

What he didn't say was how terrifying it felt, how caring this much made his chest tight, how one word from her could either lift him sky-high or knock the breath from his lungs. But his twin was already well aware of how he felt.

Later that morning, fifth year was gathered for Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall, who surveyed the room with a knowing glint in her eye.

"Today", she announced crisply, "we will be exploring a Muggle Valentine's tradition, sending love notes, adapted for magical means".

The class perked up.

"We will be transfiguring lovebirds into enchanted love notes", she continued crisply. "These notes will reflect what lies in your heart, though rest assured, they will remain appropriate. Think of them as the magical equivalent of Muggle candy hearts".

A ripple of laughter spread through the room.

"They will be delivered", McGonagall added, "in a manner similar to Howlers, though significantly less traumatising".
George turned in his seat, unable to stop himself, and caught Anna's eye.