raison d'être (george weasley x reader)

7.3

It had been weeks since Y/N arrived at Grimmauld Place and only a few days since Harry's surprise arrival. The first few days of his return mostly consisted of tense and acidic conversation between him, Ron, and Hermione. He was, understandably, frustrated that he had been kept in the dark about Grimmauld Place and, considering he spent a summer feeling ignored by his closest friends, bitter that everyone he knew had spent the summer together.

Y/N was probably the only person to escape his anger, though that was largely in part because of the attack on her family. He had heard of it from Dumbledore and gotten further details from Sirius upon arriving at the home. It was also difficult to be upset with her after finding out that she hadn't been sleeping much.

George did his best to be there for her after her nightmares, but there were some nights where she would avoid him entirely. It wasn't for a lack of trust, but rather guilt about keeping him awake because of something that wasn't real. Still, that didn't stop George from seeking her out. The usually heavy sleeper had grown sensitive to noise and jolted awake the moment he heard the floor creak outside his room.

There were, of course, nights where Y/N could perfectly avoid the squeaky wooden planks and make her way down the stairs. She tried apparating one night, but the sound was much louder than she anticipated and it startled Molly awake.

It was the nights where she bypassed George's sensitive ears that she'd find Harry wandering the home. They never spoke much about their dreams, but they found comfort in knowing the other somewhat understood what they were going through. On a few occasions, Harry shared tidbits of his encounters with Voldemort over the years, during which Y/N would listen intently while also providing comfort.

Tonight was another one of those restless nights. The two Gryffindors found themselves curled on either side of the long couch, each holding a mug of piping hot cocoa in their hands. Despite the summer season, the house was eerily chilly, especially this late at night.

Y/N listened intently, nodding along to every word Harry said as he recounted his latest nightmare to her. He'd explained the other day that they'd become much more frequent after Voldemort's return and had already shared some of his anxieties about it.

"It just feels so...real," he said, causing Y/N to frown in thought. "Like, I was really there."

She took note of everything he was describing, already planning on raiding Hogwarts' library for anything that could help her deduce what he was experiencing. It was clear, to her and everyone else who knew of the dreams, that they were more than just unconscious mental images — it was more.

"Has your scar been hurting?" she asked. She didn't tend to ask about it, not like Hermione at least, but it felt appropriate.

"Yeah," he answered honestly.

She hummed in acknowledgment before looking up in thought. Her eyes flit between the marks in the ceiling, wood word down from generations of witches and wizards sending accidental — and probably intentional — curses every which way.

"I think..." she paused, already knowing what his reaction would be. "And I know you're upset with him too, but Dumbledore should know about this. He might be the only one with a definitive answer."

Harry sighed and nodded.

"I'll obviously check the library and Hermione will probably be there too, but you never know," she added quickly.

He nodded again, a grim look on his face. He took a minute to shake the thought out of his head before looking back at her to ask, "What about you? Is it the same dream?"

"Yeah," she nodded with a breath. "Same as every night."

The dream in question had been plaguing her since the night she arrived at the Black Manor. It was essentially a rerun of the night the Carrows broke into her home, except at the end, either her or her mother would be hit with a bright green spell.