Invisible String//A George Weasley X OC Story

Tied to Me

1457 Words

Eliza's POV:
The strident noise of my alarm found its way to my ears. I roll over to turn it off, but instead it just falls to the ground, making a crashing sound as it hits the cold, wooden, floor. Still beeping.

     "You're kidding!?" I quietly whine, hiding my face back under the duvet, trying to find the willingness to get out of my amiable bed and turn it off. I swing my hand around my torso and pull the duvet off of my body. It feels cold. The chilling morning air of the Hogwarts dorms always makes it a strenuous task to get up on my feet every morning.

     My eyes still half-shut, I search for the clock with my hands. Within my futile attempts of grabbing at nothing, I feel my fingers wrap around the clock. I pick it up and slam it back in my side table, seeing that it is 7:30 A.M.

I'm now sitting up on the side of my bed. My eyes feel hot. Like they did when I'd been sitting in front of the fire at the Burrow with George. My mind wanders there a lot, back to that place. Not just the Burrow, but that state of mind, it's like some type of recent nostalgia. Soothing really. I began to let my mind wander even more; to the Burrow. The way the grass smells when you're laying down in it, the way the atmosphere feels in the last two weeks of summer. The way the stars gleam twice as bright as they do in any other part of the world I've seen. The way George looks with his shirt off. A light film of sweat over his chest, proof of hard work. George. George. Shoot. Fred and George's birthday.

Luckily, I didn't have anywhere to be this morning. I did, however, have somewhere very important to be in about ten hours. I know ten hours is a long time, but I'm terrified to divulge my feelings to George; the boy I've loved since I was a first year. I'm almost certain he feels the same, but that doesn't make it any less daunting. Once those three words leave my mouth, I can't ever get them back. I keep coming back to this one thought in the back of my head; What if it's all in my head and he doesn't feel the same and then it's just awkward?
"Uuuggghh" I grunt, running my hands through my bangs, already feeling the weight of tonight on my shoulders.

    I pull myself out of bed, the feeling of the cold floor on my feet sending chills up my spine. I stop for a moment just to breathe. 123 in.....45678 out. I do this exactly four times before walking myself to the bathroom.

     Just like every other day, I start by brushing my teeth. The faucet gurgles as I turn the lever and stick my toothbrush under the stream. The toothpaste was nearly gone; I reminded my self to get some more in Hogsmeade at the pharmacy. I toss the empty toothpaste tube into the trash can and start to brush my teeth. The rough noise of the bristles nudging my teeth over and over again echoes throughout the stone bathroom.

     The watered down, paste gets extracted by the drain, and I wipe my mouth. The brush running through my tangled hair making a belligerent sound.
I walked over to my dowry chest, being met with the end of my bed. Lifting open the latch and pushing the lid back, I searched for my loose-fitting denim shorts and a light green knitted sweater that Molly made. It still smells like him; this notion leaving me blushing, remembering how the last time I had worn this was when I'd spent the night with George in his room. It was dark that night. Darker than usual. It was really enchanting and so easy to see the stars from the kitchen window.

I slipped my clothes off and rotated the chain on my necklace so the stone was resting on my collar bone. I slid my fresh underwear up my legs along with my shorts, and I pulled my sweater over my head. I slid one of the compartments in my dowry chest to the left to reveal my deodorant, and put that on. I hastily tied my shoes, propping each foot up against the dark brown chest, so I could go meet Fred, George, and Angelina on the quittich field. They had practice at 5:30 A.M. Harry was truly a devoted captain.

The corridors were mostly occupied to my surprise, as I rushed through them, hoping to catch Angelina at the end of practice so we could hang out together; Fred and George would be putting together products for their shop. I am so proud that they are finally pursuing their dream, I feel it's what they're meant to do. I didn't bring my gift because we were going to exchange gifts tonight. Though I couldn't wait, the butterflies were certainly awake and making their presence known.

Marching through the corridors, I see plenty of couples holding hands and busy looking absolutely in love. This brings me back to when George held my hand walking through the forest behind The Burrow just last summer. We were hunting for fairies. The bark on the trees was beginning to peel off and the leaves were descending from those same trees. I remember how it was slightly foggy, cloudy, chilly, and had just rained. It was exhilarating. That was the same day he gave me his sweatshirt.

     I couldn't wait to be able to hold his hand and feel his fingers pleach with mine whenever I wanted. I couldn't wait to kiss his lightly freckled lips, I've always wondered how soft they are. Most of all, I couldn't wait to run my fingers through his red hair, sitting in silence, just listening to his heart beat. Da-Dum...Da-Dum...Da-Dum...

I am met with a stone arch and a field of green ahead of me, stealing my thoughts from my head and emptying it. I watch Angelina steal Fred's club and playfully hit him over the head with it, yelling something about 'that's not what I meant,' George, of course, was cackling at this transaction, nearly falling off his broom; setting off a new wave of laughter. I lightly giggle to myself thinking about how clumsy George is; it really is adorable.

     "Okay well, see all of you next practice..." I heard Harry say to the team before departing to the locker rooms as I got closer; my friends still laughing.
"Happy birthday!" I yelled from down on the ground, looking up at the two red-heads.
"Thanks, Eliza," they said in unison. Fred continued his conversation with Angelina, putting his hand on one of her shoulders, most likely consoling her after joking around; still hovering on their brooms above the colossal field of green.

     George flew down to my level.
"What time, do you reckon, a guy should pick up the most winsome young lady for dinner?" he said looking away, his tongue poking at the inside of his smirk. He looked so good when he was sweaty.
"Hmmm...," I hummed sarcastically in thought, looking away, "what time is dinner?" I ask smiling like a fool and looking back into his brown eyes, watching them fall to my lips.
"Fred is picking Angelina up around 5:30," George answered, looking me up and down. I love when he does that. It makes my doubt of requited love ebb away quicker and quicker.
"Then you'll see me at 6:00 young man," I retorted, "and don't be late. I expect you there on the dot," I counter sarcastically, giving him my pointer finger. George began to blush. He's so cute when he does that.

"You can count on it," he reassured.
"I expect you should be changing about now?" I asked solemnly, not wanting to stop looking at how his freckles lay peacefully on his skin in the morning sunlight.
"I guess you're right," he matched my tone, looking towards the locker room and back at my lips. No, my eyes. No, back at my lips. What is he doing?
"See you at 6:00," he continued, leaning down and laying his lips on my cheek just before flying off and leaving me bewildered.

     AN//: I know this was short, but I needed to publish again, I haven't published anything in like a week. Please comment your thoughts, I would love to see them. I am thinking of writing an OC book about Cedric, what do you guys think?