Waldosia/// George Weasley

Chapter 32

WARNING: Proceed with caution...

"Kiss me, George," she responded, making a wish on her shooting star.

A soft, shaky sigh left his lips, and Clover couldn't tell whether it was closer to a laugh or a cry. He leaned into her achingly slow, just so that their noses were brushing up against each other. Gently, he reached down to take her hand and bring it up to his mouth.

His lips burnt a trail of kisses onto each one of her knuckles before turning her palm over and whispering against her skin, "You're shaking."

She was, Clover knew that, but there was nothing she could do. Her body was fighting with itself, her brain shouting so loud her body shook in its wake. This was everything she spent her life being terrified of: slow kisses and intimate touches. Her mind was telling her to pull away, that nothing this delicate could ever be trusted in her hands. But her heart was a different story. Her heart wasn't screaming or shouting, but instead whispering one small word over and over again: George.

And then his hands were cupping her cheeks gently, the seriousness in his eyes putting the entire night sky to shame, "Are you sure about this?"

Clover found that the nod of her head was instantaneous, as if her body was magnetized by the boy who was too blinding for his own good. The heat of his fingers on her cheeks seemed to calm her darkness, wade through the storm in her mind, melt every single guard she had ever built. Or maybe she had let them down. All she knew in that moment was that there was George, and without wanting to, she trusted him with everything in her. She let him in.

"Yes."

So soft and slow and light, George brought his lips down to her forehead. Then to her eyelids. The tops of her cheeks. Her jaw. The corner of her mouth. Kiss by kiss, he showed her exactly what it felt like to wish on a shooting star. It was hope and surrender and everything she never wanted, up until she did. Up until George's lips finally met hers in the most agonizing and delicate kiss that she physically felt her heart crack open in a way that was just for him. Right then, she had never wanted anything more.

"This is," George started to say in between the slow pull of their lips, but seemed to think over his wording and rephrased, "I just...,"

He let his sentence fade in the air in favor of kissing her again.

His voice was raspy against her lips the next time he spoke, "I just want you."

It was complete and utter surrender from there on out.

Everything was too new, too exposed, too blinding, too consuming, too star-filled.It was all too much for Clover. She tried to loop her fingers into the hem of his jeans to pull him closer desperately, to bring back the familiarly of quick and hungry touches. But he laughed against her lips snd slowed the pace once again, savoring in the sweetness of what it tasted like to break Clover open piece by piece. She let out a whimper at the vulnerability of it all.

"George," she whispered, chanted, prayed.

He worked his way from her lips to her jaw and down to her neck, his fingers tracing his trail of kisses as if they were constellations, "You're such a puzzle, you know that."

He began to undo the buttons of her shirt while whispering against her skin, "An unfinished puzzle that's hiding the rest of its pieces from me."

His fingers slid the fabric over her shoulders and they both watched as her shirt fell to the floor. George brought his lips up her ear as his hands trailed lower and lower down her back until, "Jump."