Angels Brought Me Here (George Weasley)

Happy Anywhere

George stood at the door to the bedroom he shared with his girlfriend, a grin on his face. He certainly hadn't waited up for her, and he had no clue when she had arrived home the night before. But she looked completely perfect. 

She was tucked up under the covers, her makeup still on her face leaving black mascara rings underneath her eyes, a phantom red lipstick stain smudged across her cheek, and her hair sprawled out behind her, a complete mess compared with the perfectly straightened hairstyle she had left the flat with yesterday.

She had her right hand stretched out in front of her, leaving a newly formed tattoo visible on her wrist. It was a letter 'G'. He smirked at the sight, wondering if she would remember getting it when she eventually stirred. 

He had no idea where she had gone the night before, but he did know she must have bonded incredibly well with his sister and his sisters-in-law to have rolled into the house at stupid o'clock with a tattoo she certainly didn't have when she left. 

He didn't have to wait long, as a small groan escaped her lips, as she began to stir from her slumber. He decided to wait by the door, and enjoy every moment of watching her realise she had a raging hangover. It didn't take long. 

"Merlin," She placed her hands over her eyes, rubbing them, worsening the black stains, though he presumed she would hardly care if by some miracle she noticed. 

"Good morning," He laughed, sipping his mug of coffee. 

"Give me that," She held out her hands for the mug, and he rolled his eyes, but obliged.

"What happened last night, then?" He teased, and she likely would have smacked his arm, had she not been battling an enormous pounding sensation in her head. 

"Cocktails," She mumbled, and he frowned, moving to sit on the bed beside her. 

"What on earth is a cock tail?" He pondered. 

"No, one word, just cocktail," She corrected, and he couldn't help but smile at the way she still corrected his mistakes, even when hungover. 

"Regardless, what is one?" He asked. 

"It's like a mixture of Muggle alcoholic spirits. It's an idea fabricated by Satan," She grumbled. 

"Who was the lucky lady, then?" He questioned, gesturing to the lipstick stain on her face. 

"I think it was your sister, but I can't be absolutely certain," She explained.

"I think I need to try some of these cocktails," He stated. 

"So you can get kisses from Ginny? That's a bit weird, George," She frowned up at him, taking another sip from the coffee mug he had been so enjoying only moments ago.

"Ew! No! You just seem like you had a great time," George explained. 

"I see, why does my wrist hurt?" She wondered, looking down, and George bit his lip in anticipation, "Oh my GOD!" 

She jumped up into a sitting position, staring at her wrist in disbelief. George could barely contain his amusement. 

"What is it, dear?" He smiled, already knowing exactly what was written on her wrist, permanently. 

"I don't believe it," She whispered, looking at her wrist closer as though it might vanish. 

"Oh my, it's the letter G! Who could that be for, I wonder?" He smirked, and she looked at him with wide eyes. 

"I am never going drinking with your family, ever again. Oh my god!" She was panicking, clearly remembering what she had agreed to the night before. 

"A tattoo for me. I'm humbled, I really, really am. You know, I was telling my brothers just the other week, I'm not sure Jenny is ready for marriage yet. And some would say this is a bigger commitment than that," He kissed her cheek enthusiastically, and she groaned once again. 

"I'm just screwed, if we break up. I'll have to name our dog Gerard or something," It was nice that she was considering that, George thought.

"Well, you are called Genevieve. It's weird to get a tattoo for yourself, but not as weird as having one for your ex-boyfriend... or a dog called Gerard, for that matter," He suggested, and she nodded.

"You were talking about marriage?" She smirked at him, and he began to blush. 

"We haven't been together for a year yet, it was completely theoretical, don't panic," George shook his head vehemently, and Jenny felt her heart sink a little bit.

"My parents got married within five months," She shrugged, "I don't think I'm the one panicking, I think you are," 

"I'm not," He argued. 

"Well, I'm certainly not panicking. I just got your initial tattooed onto my body, I think I am fairly committed to you," She tilted her head, and he smiled at her. 

"I feel like a sack of shit," She lay back down again, placing the now empty mug on the bedside table. 

"What can I do to help?" George said, finally offering some sympathy. 

"Lie with me," 

And that's what they did. They lay there all day, both of them thinking about the same thing, but neither of them wanting to say it aloud. Is it too soon for marriage?