George Weasley - Honeymoon

Slowly peeling my eyes open, I smiled and snuggled further into the soft confines of the small villas sheets. The sun was peaking over the surrounding town houses and cast a soft orange glow over the bedroom. I turned to see George, whose messy hair was splayed across the pillow, long limbs tangled in the sheets.

I shuffled to press kisses along his back, hot skin pressing against my own as the tall man was roused from sleep. He moaned a little, arm reaching back to circle around my waist and tug me into his side.

I giggled in his ear as I gently nibbled the lobe. “Morning, Mr. Weasley.”

He peeped one eye open with a small smile. “Goodmorning, Mrs. Weasley.” His voice was gravelly with sleep. “How did you sleep?”

“Good, yourself?” I stroked my fingers through the knots in his hair.

“Beautifully next to my wife.” He sponged a kiss to my lips.

“My husband, with me, on our honeymoon.” I hummed back. “Seems too good to be true, doesn’t it?”

“I am an utter catch, you’re very lucky.” He winked back as he eased me onto my back and peered down at me. “You look wonderful in the mornings.”

I blushed and covered my eyes. “Morning breath and all?” I teased back.

“Lemme get my camera.” George quickly hopped out of bed, jumping as I quickly slapped his bare behind as he rummaged through out luggage.

Whilst he was there, he pulled on a pair of boxers and clambered onto the bed, standing over me. He angled the camera down to me where I posed: arms above, hair wild, lips pouted and eyes pinched closed. What was meant to be one photo ended up being a whole roll, George directing me into different silly poses before settling down with me and snapping a few cheesy shots of our lips pressed together.

“I’m starved.” I groaned as I slipped in my underwear and looked at the array of dresses Ginny had packed for me.

“That one,” George recommend as he pulled his trousers up his legs. The dress was a mid length, cream, tiered dress with thin straps; perfect for the hot Italian summer we found ourselves in. “There’s a coffee shop down the road, could walk there and then into town?”

“Perfect.” Hair and make up done, we set off down the street, hand in hand as we talked mindlessly about the day ahead.

George had made the joke When In Rome nearly fifty times by the time we were done with breakfast, and I had to bribe him with ice cream to get him to stop. Walking into town, we weaved up and down the many allyways lined with small shops, dipping into each one. George bought me a beautiful bracelet and I bought him a book he’d been longing for, along the way he snapped candid and posed photos of me.

We sat outside, sipping cool coffee and sharing a punnet of strawberries and George mindlessly fiddled with my wedding ring.

“Look good?” I asked.

“Looks perfect.” He replied back, pressing a kiss to the metal.

I gazed around the busy square, catching the eye of a busker who was playing the guitar. He gestured to George and I, a small smile spreading on my lips as I nodded. Tugging George from off the bench, he stared confused down at me as the guitarist began playing an upbeat tune.

“What are you doing?” He asked as I began to move to the music, his nervous eyes flitting around as more people began to stare at us.

“Dancing! Come on.” I tugged him closer to me and began childishly prancing around with him.

George soon let loose and began dancing as well, the guitarist laughing loudly. A small crowd of adoring eyes watched us and the love we displayed as we both became breathless. The song came to a close as the crowd clapped us.

“Take a bow, my lovely wife.” George teased.

I bowed next to him, George tugging me into a kiss as the crowd began to disperse. Offering the player some money, we began to aimlessly walk around the city again.

Many sights, bars, parks and shops later we found ourselves in a small restaurant near our villa. We were tucked away at the back of the restaurants garden, belly’s as full as our hearts as George continued to play with my wedding ring, a habit I wondered would last all our marriage.

“What did you think of me when you first met me?” George asked.

We’d had this conversation many times before. “I didn’t like you.” I laughed. “I thought you were loud and boisterous.”

“Still am.” He winked back.

“What did you think of me?”

He pondered for a moment. “I thought what a lovely wife you’d make.”

“You did not!” I giggled.

“I did, cross my heart!” He laughed back. “I thought you were the most beautiful creature I’d ever laid eyes on. I told Freddie I’d make you my wife one day.”

The mood dipped a little at the painful mention of Fred. “He’d be very proud you kept your word then.” I soothed, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

George sadly nodded. “He would.”

“What are we doing tomorrow?” I quickly changed the topic.

“I’m more concerned with tonight.” George winked as he pressed kisses down my neck.

“You dog,” I giggled. “You aren’t beat from last night?”

“I could never overindulge on you.” He smiled back. “Besides, we’ve got a family to build.”

George Weasley - Drabble

I can’t get this out of my head

“I’ve got this.”

“You’ve so got this.”

“I’m gonna be amazing.”

“Yeah you are baby.” I confidently said as I rubbed George’s shoulders.

He stood tall as the crowd cheered outside of the changing rooms, the rest of the Quidditch Team looking at us in a bizzare way.

“Team Weasley.” He said as he pecked my lips.

“Fuck yeah.” We high fived.

“How…how are you just as competitive as each other?” Angelina muttered.

George Weasley - Fireworks

“But it’s New Years!” Fred whined from his chair at the table, ignoring his breakfast.

“Freddie, we’ve talked about this.” I said in a motherly tone as I fixed my own breakfast.

“I know I know,” he grumbled. “But why?”

I grabbed my bowl of cereal and went to sit next to Fred, quickly pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. “Because it upsets your Daddy, when you’re older we’ll explain.”

Fred peered at me. “It’s because of him, isn’t it?”

I looked back at my small boy. “Yes, it is.”

“Morning Weasleys!” George called throughout the kitchen, suit barely on as he went to make some toast.

“Morning love.” I smiled back.

“I want fireworks for New Years.”

“Freddie!” I scolded. “What did I say?”

Fred sunk into his chair, crossing his arms and pouting his lips. I looked over to George who had frozen by the counter, face paled and form stiff.

I warily stood and stroked over his arm, back turned to Fred. “You okay, love?” I asked quietly.

His eyes weren’t seeing me, but the memories of who our son was named after. The smell of burning toast wafted through the air which snapped George out of his trace.

“Shit.” He muttered as he popped the toaster and looked at the black bread. “Well…coffee it is.”

“George-“

“I’m fine.” He snapped, pouring a mug full of energy.

“Okay…” I mumbled, leaning up to kiss his cheek before throwing a disapproving look at Fred.

The small boy had bubbled in anger for a while, and he finally burst. “All the other kids at school get to see fireworks and I never do!” Fred yelled as he slid off his chair. “And it’s all because of your stupid brother!”

“Fred Weasley you go to your room this instant and don’t come down until you’ve leant to control your tongue!” I yelled.

“Fine!” The boy yelled back, a faint sound of feet running up stairs and a slamming door in the house.

I turned to George, who was shrugging on his coat and grabbing his works bag. “Georgie…”

“See you later.” He didn’t kiss me before he left, slamming the front door.

Fred eventually came out of his room with a sorry look on his face. He cried for a while, feeling so terrible about his words, but soon set to work to make it up to his father. After much thought, he decided to make a card and a cake.

The card was a deep blue with the words “Sorry Daddy” written over it, and the contents I wasn’t allowed to read. After that, we made George’s favourite cake: chocolate. We waited patiently for George’s return at the table.

We heard the door open, but the usual “Hello Weasleys!” didn’t ring out. I nudged Fred, who nervously stood as I followed behind him. Card in hand, Fred went to the front door where George was hanging up his bag.

“Daddy?” Fred mumbled out. “I’m very sorry.” He presented the card.

George looked at Fred, then to me, before walking past his son up the stairs, ignoring his apology and card. Fred turned to me with teary eyes.

“Come here puppy.” I crouched and opened my arms, the small boy running and crying softly into my neck.

“He hates me!” He wailed.

“No he doesn’t, he’s just upset.” I soothed, taking him into the living room to comfort him more.

After Fred had calmed down, I left him reading a book as I climbed the stairs to our bedroom. Knocking the door, I didn’t hear a thing before I entered.

The room was dark, blinds drawn, as George lay on his side in bed. He was silent but his breathing told me he was awake. I carefully moved forward, sitting behind him on the edge of the bed. My hand rest against his arm as I softly squeezed.

After a moment I spoke. “He’s very sorry,” I started. “He made you a card and a cake to prove it.”

George didn’t reply.

“He thinks you hate him.” I whispered.

“I don’t hate him.” George grumbled into the pillow.

“You did ignore him.” I pointed out.

George sat up. He’d been crying. His eyes were puffy, cheeks red. “I give that boy everything, and the one thing I don’t allow, he hates me for.”

“He doesn’t hate you.” I repeated my words from the younger Weasley downstairs. “He just doesn’t understand.”

“Maybe it’s time we told him.” George confessed as he gripped my hand tightly. 

“If you’re sure.” I eased, stroking over his knuckles with my thumb.

George nodded and stood, moving to pull the blinds up before making his way to the door. “Wait.” Suddenly he turned, gripped my jaw and pressed a firm kiss to my lips. “For this morning.” He muttered before walking out and down the stairs.

I followed closely behind as he walked into the living room, the small boy too engrossed in his book to acknowledge his parents.

“Freddie.” I prompted.

The small boy jumped and looked up, shoving his book aside and standing in front of his dad. They peered up and down at each other before George sighed and knelt down to Fred’s level.

“I’m sorry Daddy.” Fred said with a tear in his eye.

“It’s okay Freddie, I forgive you.” George smiled. Fred collapsed into his Dads arms as he cried out of pure relief.

Once he’d calmed down, he reached onto the sofa and pulled the card from under his book. “Here, and Mummy and me made you a cake.”

“Thank you, my boy.” George smiled as he read over the card. “But I need to tell you something.”

The boy obediently nodded and allowed his father to pick him up and sit together on the sofa. I sat across the room on an arm chair and let George take his time.

“Freddie, you know the man your name after?” Fred nodded.

“Your brother.” Fred bashfully said.

George nodded. “Him and I were inseparable. We did everything together. We pulled pranks, made jokes…but we also created fireworks.”

“Fireworks!” The boy said excitedly.

“Yeah,” George chuckled. “But…my brother died, Freddie, when he was young. And that hurt me, very much. Some things I just can’t do because it reminds me of him.”

“Like fireworks.” The boy mumbled.

“I’m sorry puppy.” George whispered. “One day, we can.”

That was enough hope for Fred who forgave his dad and wrapped his small arms around his neck. Quickly, Fred bounced of his lap and declared we all needed to try his cake. I walked over to George, sitting down next to him.

“You okay?” I asked as I stroked his hair.

He nodded. “I love you.”

“Dearly.” I replied as I kissed his cheek.

“Mum, which knife should I use?!” Fred called from the kitchen.

“Fred Weasley don’t touch any of the knives!” George and I said at the same time, rushing to save our boy from cutting his fingers off.

The next year, we had fireworks on New Years Eve.