If You'll Have Me | George Weasley

Chapter 21

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

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IT WAS AN ART STUDIO, just like they had talked about in London, and Eleanor's breath hitches slightly the moment that George turns on the light. He had done this for her in such a short amount of time, and she is in such shock that she does not notice that she'd been smiling as she steps further into the room.

For her, and only her.

A newer, bigger easel had been pushed against a bare wall, opposite to the one with a single window; Allowing the brightness of Diagon Alley to pour through and make up for the dimness of the lightbulb that hung overhead.

The easel, which had been holding a set of plastic wrapped canvases, sat tall beside what looked to be a small side table. A double latched boxed laid flat upon it, which Eleanor assumed to be a new set of brushes, given the packaging and the empty mason jar that was next to it.

"You did not—" She stumbles over her words, searching for the right ones to show her gratitude, but she cannot find any that sound good enough. "Are you serious?"

George huffs, lips curling into a smile as he leans against the doorframe, poorly trying to maintain his coolness. "I know, I know. That lightbulb is shit. I'll get it replaced."

He looked relieved in some way, like he had been dying to get this off of his chest, and to see the look on her face the moment that he switched on the light... But still, she can only smile as she slowly circles the room, wondering how long he must have been planning this. If it had been in the back of his mind ever since he first saw her paint out in the yard, dipping her brush into the green acrylic.

That morning felt like it was years ago, like there had been so much time and so many memories between that moment and this one. She remembered how unsure she felt about him, and how their kiss in the creek confused and frustrated her... But now, there was no denying that part of her which longed for more than just his touch. She wanted these parts of him. The parts that were a firm believer in her ability to become an Auror. A painter. The parts that brought out the goodness in her. The light and the fire. The bravery and the artist... And without him, she feared that she had none of those things. That she was none of them.

So, instead of stalling and grasping at words that she cannot form, she turns; Wraps her arms around his stomach, and nestles her head against his ribs. He does not hesitate to tighten his arms around her shoulders.

There is a safeness that she feels as he pulls her in, a hand in her hair, stroking the back of her head... And for a moment, neither of them say anything. They do not need to.

This was what she needed from him; The silence and the closeness. The confirmation that this grand gesture had given her. He had done this for her, despite the fact that her presence was only temporary. Despite the fact that it would sit vacant, unused, in a month.

"Do you like it?" He asks after a minute passes, trying not to sound too eager.

Eleanor pulls back a bit to look up at him. To watch as his warm smile widens, still completely unaware of her own smile that began to stretch wider across her face. "Do I like it?"

"You hate it?" He raises his eyebrows, and twists another finger in her hair.

She shakes her head. It was all that she could do. "No. I love it. I love it so much." Something stirs in her stomach—A sadness of some sort—Just as her arms fall from his torso. "Thank you... You—You didn't have to do this."