Troublemakers • Weasley & Jordan

The Distraction

"Stay clean." – Stay Clean by Mötorhead

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The door swung shut with a conclusive ka–CHUNK, a loud sound that echoed through George's head far quieter than the spinning thoughts already up there. 

At least, George was lucky if it was conclusive. If he could have left that room and knew, conclusively, that what had just transpired inside of it would never happen, or bother his head, again. 

The uncertainty of that outcome was what had him dizzy. 

Dizzy as he stumbled towards the stairs, raking a hand through his fiery red hair and trying incredibly hard to maintain a steady rate of breathing. 

He gripped the railing, pulse thumping in his ears. What the fuck have I done? 

It was both of their doing. That was made clear. 

It was made crystal clear by the way they grasped at each other, the way their labored breathing got entangled between slack jaws, the way Lee pushed his hips back and begged for–

No. 

He had to stop thinking about it. He had to. 

The only problem was, he couldn't. It just happened moments before, and he didn't have Quidditch training that night– his usual tactic for a distraction from anything. Harry had given them the week off, and of course, this was the week he had to screw his best friend. 

He forced himself down the stairs, needing a breath of fresh air more than he needed his own oxygen. Everything was a blur around him as he tugged at his tie, desperately needing some air around his neck.

That was supposed to be proof. "Testing" things with Lee that night was supposed to prove that he was drunk the night before, and then he could reason it. He could push it aside as some dumb, impulsive mistake, and he could move on with his life.

Now, it was like everything was at a standstill, and upside down, and backward, somehow.

He found himself in the Gryffindor common room, letting out a huff of a breath before heading straight for the portrait hole. Air, air, I need air–

"Oi, Georgie! What's got you in a hurry?" 

George startled, twisting to find his twin brother leaning on the back of the couch and eyeing him. Beside him was his girlfriend, and Padma was looking at him with the same expression. 

Shit. Am I that obvious? 

"Nothing," he blurted, pushing his hands into his pockets in an attempt to appear calm and casual. "Just... nothing. I was gonna go for a walk." 

Fred blinked, crossing his arms. "Ah. You just looked a bit wound up, there." 

"Not at all," George replied a bit too quickly for his own comfort. "I'm gonna go. Just– a walk. I'm going for a walk." 

"You mentioned that," Padma said. 

Fuck. "Right." 

He continued forward, trying not to wince at his own stumbling words. He was never this thrown off. Never. 

Wonder why.

Lee, meanwhile, was left to clean up alone. 

With his chest in knots, his limbs wobbly and his head on a merry-go-round, he barely processed the movements of getting into the shower and standing under the warm water. He stood there for a while.