Soft Spoken

And the thing about the Weasley twins having everything be their business was the fact they were everyone's business. Everyone in their ecosystem seemed to have something to say about them, having fallen victim to their mischief directly or otherwise. Though it was never malicious, or rather hardly ever, yes, all who know of Fred and George Weasley has some sort of experience with their troublemaking.

You were about to experience it first hand.

"What's got your knickers in a twist, love?"

You lift your head from the table you just thumped it on and frown at his grin. You huff, shielding your face in your arms, and mumble, "bugger off, George."

He drags the chair beside you, careful not to make too much noise, lest he get kicked out of the library again. He hums and whispers back, "I would, if I was George."

You slowly straighten up with a raised brow, eyeing him up and down, only to flick his forehead.

"AW!" he whisper-yells.

"Nice try."

George laughs.

"Bugger off!"

George watches your hair scatter as you lean back onto the desk, and shakes his head. He grins and pokes your side; you to yelp.

You straighten up and glare at him.

He tilts his head, "you know I can't not when I know whatever's making you bang your head on the desk is obviously going to be really funny."

You hiss at him and punch his shoulder.

He pulls back and exaggeratedly winces.

"Can't you just go bother your brother or something?"

"I already have," George props an elbow on the table, resting his chin on his hand, "it gets a bit old."

You sigh and roll your eyes.

"Come on, now," he nudges you with his elbow, "I can help."

You raise a brow, "G-"

"Whatever it is, it's clearly not academic, or else you would have Granger or someone else in your class breathing down your neck."

You tense and begin to fidget.

George notices and narrows his eyes, "that's it, isn't it? Someone's breathing down your neck?"

You glare at him, jaw tense.

"Oh, my days," he gives a lopsided smile, "you fancy someone in your class."

"I do not!"

"Shhh!" George tugs you by the arm after your rather loud remark, "you're going to get me banned."

He only chuckles as you swat him away and stand from your spot.

"Oi, hang on a minute."

It's not hard for Weasley to catch up with you, no matter how quickly you paced out of the library. He was, in fact, uselessly tall. The moment you're both outside the library, he sprints in front of you and you both painfully collide with each other. You nearly shoot off and he has to grab you by the shoulder to prop you up.

You grunt, "GEORGE!"

"I JUST BLOODY SAVED YOUR LIFE!"

You wrangle out of his grasp, "right after nearly shooting me through the window!"

"Bit dramatic, arn'cha?" he dusts you off with a chuckle.

You swat him off with finality, "is it quite hard for you to simply mind your own bloody business?!"

He sighs and puts a hand on his heart, "yes. I'm glad you know. People don't know the struggles of my condition."

Your lips curl.

"Busybody-osis."

You roll your eyes and walk off.

"I'm glad to have you though!" he drapes an arm over your shoulders, walking along with you, "out with it then. Don't be cheeky."

"Sure thing, Fred."

He clicks his tongue, "cheeky."

You shake out of his grasp, groaning at him, "you're being pestiferous!"

"That's a big word," George tilts his head, "I'd've just said git."

You groan and walk off again. Unfortunately, he simply gets in your way.

"You're awfully ambitious in thinking you can just walk off when you take such short strides," he crosses his arms, "you should at least try to run," he raises a finger, "then, if I catch you, you'll have no choice but t-"

"WILL YOU-" you snap, grabbing his arms, "just..." you shake him, though it barely does anything. The moron was too fit with all this Quiditching. It doesn't take much for him to repel you. Bah. "- leave me alone if I tell you?"

Without a word, the overgrown ginger raises his pinkie. You stare at it and blink slowly. The corner of George's lips quirk. You were cute when you were all murderous.

A groan spills from your lips and you wrap your pinkie around his. Before he can say 'I pinkie promise', you yank him by the arm and whisper in his ear. When he pulls away, his eyes blow wide. Heat burns across your face like wild fire. The next thing you know, you're running down the hall.

With a slacked jaw, George turns, watching you flee from the situation. "OI!" he cups the sides of his mouth, " 'r'you joking me?"

You don't reply and take a turn to the next hall you reach.

Against his will, his jaw is closed. He turns, finding it was Fred who pushed it closed. His brother raises a brow, "what's wrong with your face?"

"Malfoy," George blurts.

His twin's expression sours, "what'd he do this time?"

"Pfft," he shakes his head, "he may have victimized some poor girl with Amortentia."

"Wha— really?" Fred shakes his head, "who?"

George shrugs and walks off.

"Now, hang on," he follows, "you can't just say something like that then leave."

After squeaking to George, you're left paranoid the sequential days after. You find yourself constantly looking over your shoulder, waiting for someone to point and laugh at you. Merlin, the mini-heart attacks you'd have whenever someone from Slytherin ended up beside you. Out of all the people who could know, why did it have to be George Weasley?

You tried not to dwell the fact your secret might be tomorrow's hottest gossip, but it was rather hard, considering you were sitting next to mess himself in potions.

"Wrong."

Your hand twitches, freezing midair as it reaches for one of the vials on your table. You slowly turn to your seatmate, hearing the scrape of ceramic on wood.

"Seriously?" his brow quirks.

Your throat tightens and you gulp, watching his blonde hair brush his forehead as he looks down on you.

"Never mind failing the class," says Draco, "I'm amazed you have all your fingers."

You look down at the ingredient he's offer you. Mugwort. You look back at him, "I've already put this."

"No, you haven't," he snaps, shifting to face you, "I've been watching."

You look back at the Mugwort, tracing the rim as butterflies make an attempt to flutter out your belly.

"I'd really rather not get sighed again," he turns back to his own potion, mixing his own cauldron with precision you don't think you'll ever quite acquire.

You watch him, watch how his hands move and his veins flex. You gulp and look back at your notebook, going through the ingredients and steps you've already ticked off. You flinch when a hand slaps the page. You watch the slender fingers taps one by one.

"What?"

You lift your gaze, heart thumping impossibly fast upon finding Draco was much closer now.

"Don't trust me, plum?" he furrows his brows, "or have you deluded yourself into thinking you're suddenly smarter than me?"

You shake your head, "no, I-"

Without a word, Draco grabs the mugwort and chucks it in your cauldron. You involuntarily flinch, raising your arms up to shield your face, but nothing happens.

"Do NOT-" Draco moves the vial you meant to use, "use this."

You gasp under your breath when he yanks your notebook towards him, correcting your notes. You watch him scribble, watch his hair fall over his ears as he hunches over. He slides it back to you haphazardly, and you thankfully catch it before it falls off the table.

Draco moves back to his cauldron, combing his hair back as he shakes his head, "what ever would you do without me, princess?"

His never-ending pet names for you do nothing but stoke the tingling in your belly, even though you knew he meant them mockingly. You sigh as your eyes examine his handwriting. You mutter half-heartedly, "thanks, Draco."

He watches you tap your pen on your notebook. He watches your nose scrunch as you nibble on your lip. His nostrils flare ever so slightly in amusement.

Yeah... it's not really your fault you can't help but think about how mortifying it will be if George doesn't keep his bloody mouth shut.

"MUGGLE!"

You shriek, clutching your chest.

George laughs, pulling his spread hands under his armpits as you assault his shoulder. You snap, "YOU IMBECILE!"

He curls into himself, turning his back as you continue to punch him. He chuckles, "it's not my fault you find muggles terrifyi— AW!"

You scowl at him, curling your hands into fists, "I hope you trip on your way to your next class."

"Wow," he turns to you, raising his hands, "when did you resort to such extreme violence?

"When did you become such a stick up the bum?!" you hiss, walking off.

George makes a face, pacing after you, "the day my hair turned red, love."

You grunt when he grabs your arm. You stop in your tracks and pull away from him.

He chuckles, "why are you in such a rush?"

You raise a brow, "maybe it's because some of us actually don't want to be late for class!"

George chuckles yet again as he circles in front of you, "I want to help you!"

"Piss off!" you whine, side-stepping away.

"No, I'm serious."

"As am I!"

He takes your shoulders, "I want to help you with your you-know-what problem."

Your eyes widen and you lean into him to poke a finger to his chest, "I knew I should have NEVER told you!"

"What?" he chuckles, pulling his chin back.

"You have absolutely NO-" you swat his hands off, "-idea how paranoid I've become because of you! Everyday I'm wary you'll just jump out of thin air and tell the whole school!"

George laughs again, clutching his chest, "wooow," he shakes his head, "you think so little of me, my dear."

You roll your eyes, "I bet you've already blabbed to your twin."

"Hmm," he raises a break, "how much we talkin'?"

"I swear to Godric, I will hex you."

"There you are again with the extreme violence."

"George-"

"I swear to Merlin I didn't tell Fred."

"Well, now you have to."

Both you and George turn. Fred crosses his arms as he comes to your side. He wiggles his brows, "what's cookin', good lookin'?"

Your lips tighten, "what's cooking is that I'm about to hex your ugly twin!"

"Woah, woah, woah!" the Weasleys say in unison as you pull your wand out. George clutches your wrist and Fred grabs your shoulders.

The latter speaks, "easy there."

"Extreme violence!" the other chimes in, lowering your wand.

You glare at him, pulling away from his grasp.

Fred offers you a look, "I know he's ugly—

"You literally stole my face in the womb!"

"—but I need him in one piece if I want Gryffindor to win the next Quidditch match."

"Yeah? Well, I hope you lo-"

"WOAH, WOAH, WOAH!" two separate hands slap on your mouth.

"Now, that's low, even for you." says George, pulling his hand away.

"Take it back!" Fred exclaims, pulling his hand away.

"I didn't even say it!"

"But the sentiment remains," George crosses his arms, "take it back."

You glare at him, turning to Fred, "that depends on whether or not he told you my secret."

"He didn't!" "I didn't!" they blurt at once.

You look between them for a good second. They look desperate. You knew they were far too serious with Quidditch for their own good, and yet, you decided to torture them, "swear on it."

"We swear!"

You purse your lips and sigh, "fine. I take it back."

They dramatically clutch their chest and sigh in relief. The bell rings. Fred swats George's chest, "come on, you imbecile. We can't afford another tardy."

"Right," he dashes off with his twin.

You huff as they run off, finally free from torment. You, yourself, rush to your next class, that is, until you see George running back towards you, "WAIT!"

You make a face at him, rolling your eyes, running even faster. You squeal when you get yanked back. You whip your head around, astonished to see George has held you hostage, "WHAT THE F-"

"Here!" he says, releasing your arm.

You are handed a clear vial and you look up at him in confusion, "wh-"

"It's an antidote to Amortentia."

You pull you head back, "w-wh—"

"It cost me a pretty penny, so you owe me," he jogs off, shouting as he did, "better hear you screaming my name later at Quidditch, yeah!"

You hear a bunch of students cackle at Weasley's flippant words. Your body burns and you tightly grip the antidote in your hand before running off to your next class.

The truth of it all was George didn't need you screaming his name, neither did Fred nor anyone in Gryffindor for that matter; they were absolutely mopping the floor with their Slytherin opponent, much to the dismay of one Draco Malfoy, who was in the bleachers just in front of you and your friends.

You shouldn't be amused by his frustration and anger, really, you shouldn't, and yet here you were, holding yourself back from giggling by biting your lips, finding more entertainment from his and his rat pack's reactions to the game than the game itself.

Okay, that was a lie, Quidditch was extremely entertaining, and like previously mentioned, George was really good; you couldn't help yourself from cheering for him.

You start when you hear your name called. You look down, seeing Draco glaring up at you. You were clapping, but now your hands were merely clasped in front of your chest.

"You're gloating, aren't you?!" he asks over the noise. Vincent and Gregory on either side of him boo into the air.

Your eyes widen and you shake your head, "w-wh-"

"I'll have you know—" he's cut off when his body is shaken.

You lift your eyes as the three in front of you cheer when Slytherin scores. You press your lips and politely clap your hands.

Draco shouts and sneers. He looks back at you, "that's what I'm talking about!"

You don't respond. You wouldn't know what to respond with anyway. Thankfully, he looks forward, attention back on the game.

You nearly convinced yourself Draco would take it out on you when Slytherin lost. You watch as he grumbles and walks away and quickly look off when he catches you staring. He scoffs, mumbling something to his friends as they take their leave.

You wait for them to go, deciding to stay back as your friends leave, not wanting to have any more encounters with Malfoy. By the time you head off, you find yourself walking back with a few of the players.

You aren't surprised George finds you, "hey!"

"Hey!" you smile, "congratulations!"

"Thanks!" he cheers, "they had us in the second half, but Harry did an incredible s— hang on, did you take it?"

"Take what?"

"The antidote!"

"W-" you shake your head and mumble, "for Amortentia?"

"Yes, for Amortentia!" he shakes his head, "I saw you and you-know-who talking during the game a-"

"How could you possibly—"

"Did you take the bloody potion?!"

"Yes!" you procure the empty vial in your hand, slapping it in his.

George examines the glass, looking at it then you.

"I'm not gonna lie to you... I was kinda hoping it would work."

"So it didn't!?" he chucks the glass to the ground, "that cheat!"

You shake your hands, "I wasn't given Amortentia!"

"You don't know that."

"I do!" you whimper, "I just-" you wipe your face and keep it covered, so to muffle out, "-I just like Draco, okay?"

George cringes and shudders, "no, you don't. Listen, I can go find someone else to-"

"He's kind, okay!"

"..."

When you don't get a response, you drag your hands down your face, seeing George's mortified expression.

His cheeks are pulled and his mouth is open, "you've gone mad, you 'ave!"

"No, I— let me explain."

"Great, 'cause I'd love to hear it."

You huff and wrap your arms around yourself, "he's not kind-"

He scoffs, "that's better."

"-but he is, considering the fact he helps me during our potions."

His lips purse and his head sticks out.

"He pays attention to what I say and what I do, and he notices small details— and I know, I know, he really could just be paying attention 'cause we're seatmates and he doesn't want to get caught in the splash zone, but I-"

George watches you fidget and sigh as you ramble. Merlin, you were really worked up about him. He kind of feels bad for you. He shakes his head and raises a hand, ultimately ceasing your babbling.

You brush your hair back as you look at him.

His heart hurts when he catches the glint in your eyes. Bloody hell, please don't cry.

"Fine."

You sniffle.

"I'll help you."

You groan and wipe your face, "please. Pleeeeeeaaaasssssse don't—"

"I'll help you get him to like you back."

"..."

"I mean... if that's what you want," he cringes again, lips curling in disgust.

You stare at him for a moment. As he runs his hands through his fiery hair, you find yourself wondering if it was, in fact, something you want. As you think, George procures a chocolate bar from his pocket and takes a bite of it like the maniac he was.

You make a face at it, "you know, there are indents on chocolate for a reason."

He shrugs, "yeah, if you plan to share."

You huff and roll your eyes at him, yet you catch yourself chuckling.

George licks his lips, finding himself smiling softly at you. He offers the bar, " 'd'ya want some?"

You shake your head, "nope."

His eyes widen, "and I'm the odd one. Who turns down chocolate?"

You ignore him in lieu of huffing and wiping your face, "fine."

George peels off some of the aluminium on the side.

"I'll let you help me."

He freezes, "what?"

"But you better still not tell anyone!" you point at him, before ultimately walking away.

George stands there, chocolate in hand, confusion on his face. He sighs and takes another bite, "I'm far too helpful for my own good, aren't I?" He clicks his tongue.