If You'll Have Me | George Weasley

Chapter 33

A MOMENT TO THINK was what she needed that morning. There were far too many things circulating in her mind and far too many of them had suddenly risen concern for her. George's attitude toward his mother was unlike him, sure, but him calling her his girlfriend and losing his control at the mention of it... She was hardly sure of who she saw that night, or what to make of the unsettling image of him standing in the bathroom light, blood dotting the bandage on his knuckles.

"I just wanted one nice day," Elle tells Hermione, sipping on her coffee. "One with no drama, no thinking about all the other bullshit I've been thinking about."

Hermione listens intently, legs pulled close to her chest as she sits on the chair beside her. They were sitting on the balcony outside of the living room—Elle, Ginny, Hermione, and Angelina—And it offered a beautiful view of the lake beneath them. There was something peaceful about the stillness of the neighborhood, the morning breeze hitting her skin, and it was something she would've enjoyed had the circumstances been different, but Eleanor feels uneasy. It seemed as though both Ginny and Angelina were unsure of what to say, too.

"Things are going to be okay, Elle. He might've just been drunk." Hermione says eventually, though the uncertainty in her voice made it clear she did not know if it was true.

It wasn't.

To her knowledge, George had only had a few drinks that night, and it was not enough to make his behavior excusable. Even if he drank more than she thought, she still could not imagine defending his outburst. Eleanor does not say this, though. She simply agrees and takes another sip of her coffee, quickly becoming irritated by the thought of it.

"Are you gonna talk to him about it?" Ginny quietly asks. It was the first time she had spoken since they sat outside.

Eleanor shrugs. This was not something she could forget, truly, but the thought of arguing with him again or taking three more steps backward made her feel sick. She wonders, for a moment, if it was normal to feel this way. Out of all the times he had made her feel so careless and lightweight, not once did she feel as anxious as when she saw the bloodied bandage on his knuckles.

"We already have. I'm not sure what else there is to say." Elle tries to focus on the lake, the white sunshine reflecting off of it, but it served merely as a pinpoint to zone out on. She could hardly get her thoughts straight.

"I'm still sorry for what Marianne said." Angelina finally speaks, although she had already apologized a great amount earlier that morning. "I mean, I heard you tell her about your situation. Maybe she got confused because I said I loved you guys together—"

"I promise, none of it was your fault." Eleanor interrupts, and Angelina's face falls slightly like she did not believe her.

She did not feel blindsided by anyone. Whatever feelings Marianne had for George happened years ago, long before Eleanor came around. She knew that the situation hardly held any significance to them, and she could not think of any other way she would have wanted them to handle it. There was no way to handle it. It did not matter anymore.

She tells them this, searching for some kind of understanding in their faces, but they only hold eye contact with her for so long before looking at one another. The guilt was still visible on Angelina's face.

"C'mon, let's lay out on the dock. It's starting to get warmer outside." Eleanor stands from her seat and downs the last of her coffee. She needed it after last night and the pounding headache it had caused.

"Do you want me to go wake the boys?" Angelina reluctantly asks, but Elle quickly shakes her head.

She would be leaving after the weekend, and more than anything, she wanted to spend time with George, but things between them had gotten so muddy, so messy, that she fears they would leave things like this; Somehow more unclear than before, and with no more chances left to fix it.