George's Cliff
Harry Potter sat on his rickety twin sized bed, trying his best not to move as the creaking always drove his older sister mad. Normally he wouldn’t give a damn, but today he took special consideration for her given her current state. He wasn’t in the best shape himself, if he was being honest. He was trying his best to think, but he found it a little difficult as (Y/n) paced around their room. Annoyance started to creep up on him at her incessant movement. She was the only thing stirring in the whole house--the Dursleys had left earlier that evening to find help for Dudley. It was quiet…too quiet.
“(Y/n), would you stop that?” Harry finally said, the irritation evident in his voice.
Disregarding what he said, (Y/n) turned to face him in exasperation. “Expelled, Harry. Expelled ! I want to believe this is some sort of cruel prank. They can’t do that! It’s not right!” He almost rolled his eyes at her. Why was she freaking out more than him? “I mean, who isn’t guilty of a little ‘underaged magic?’ Besides, you were protecting the poor bloke. The same bloke who already knows magic exists! Nothing about this makes sense. Goodness, I should’ve been there--”
“(Y/n), shhh!”
“Don’t tell me to shh , Harry. Don’t forget I’m older than y--” (Y/n) began to reply, rather offended. Having had enough, Harry jumped up and covered her mouth with his hand. She struggled against his arm, eyebrows furrowing in rising anger.
“Pay attention! Did you hear that?” he said, lowering his hand.
She shot him a glare, not impressed at his interruptions. “Hear what?” Opening her mouth to add another retort, she was stopped short when she also heard something. It was a sound the Potter siblings had grown accustomed to watching out for--footsteps and shuffling. Nothing too out of the ordinary, not huge bangs or slams, but small movements that meant that the others in the house were awake and alert. Luckily, nowadays the Dursleys were of little concern to them. Just a means to an end, a place to stay in between school years and they could more or less ignore the distant inhabitants. Although, (Y/n) had a sneaking suspicion that Dudley and his gang of numbskulls were bothering Harry more than he let on. Since Cedric’s death and the looming threats that came with the Dark Lord returning, Harry had begun to distance himself considerably. And, just like Harry, it was bothering her more than she let on.
Now on high alert, (Y/n) moved closer to the door. “ The Dursleys? ” she mouthed to Harry. The only thing he could do in return was shoot her a confused look and a sassy shake of his hands. “ The. Dursleys ,” she tried mouthing it again, this time slower and while containing her huff. Though she tried to be as understanding as possible, his curtness was really starting to get on her nerves.
“What? ” he mouthed back, impatience written on his face.
“The Dursleys!” she whisper-shouted, joining in on the theatrical movement of hands. This time, he got the message.
“What about them?”
The roll of her eyes was proof that either the stress or Harry’s attitude was getting to her. “Are they back? Is their car in the driveway?” Harry shuffled out of his position to get closer to the window. After having a good look outside, he turned back to her and shook his head. They both pulled their wands out. Hearing footsteps coming closer, (Y/n) stepped in front of Harry.
They watched with bated breath as the door lock undid itself--not too uncommon in the wizarding world, but rather alarming in the middle of their muggle suburb. Although they were expecting it, that didn’t stop them from jumping as the door swung open on its elderly hinges and multiple figures became visible from the doorway. “Lumos,” a voice in the darkness said. The room illuminated, and they came face to face with their supposed assailants. For a very small moment of time they all took a second to stare at each other; two on-edge teenagers and a bunch of strangers invading their little bubble of trepidation. Of course, this couldn’t last for long, and it was broken by the pink-haired woman lighting up the room. She sent a rather goofy-looking smile to them, and (Y/n) almost smiled back. Almost. It wasn’t common for someone who just broke into your house to smile at you, but she stayed cautious as she was keenly aware that her younger brother with a huge target on his head was standing right behind her. As (Y/n) sized up the woman standing opposite her, Harry noticed a familiar face in the hallway.
“Professor Moody?”
︵‿︵‿
Before they could really understand what was going on, the Potters found themselves mounted on brooms and tearing through the chilled night air. Flying and quidditch had never really been (Y/n)’s thing, certainly not as much as it was Harry’s, but she had learned to hold her own on a broom. She was not fond of her stomach slipping around her body as she glided, but knowing how to navigate the skies had become a skill she was glad she had. With the exception of Hermione, all of her friends played quidditch, and who was she to not join the fun sometimes? The smell of the broomstick had become a gentle reminder of all the good times she had while riding it--enough for her to forget the unpleasant feeling it gave her. There was sneaking out late in the nights to throw the quaffle around with Katie and Angelina, practicing with Harry before a big match, and of course the famous Weasley family quidditch matches that were inevitably replayed throughout the summer.
But this time was in sharp contrast to before; it was less carefree and more like the broom was taking her to her destination, rather than her taking the broom. This just made her focus more on the uneasiness of her stomach and the salty air of the water they flew over was no help. Desperate for some sort of distraction, she turned to the woman from earlier--who she learned was named Tonks--and tried to get her attention. “Oi! Er, Tonks!”
She turned to face (Y/n), and it seemed she could read the discomfort on her face because she asked, “You doing all right over there?”
“Just dandy, thank you,” she grimaced, avoiding the sight of the blurry Earth below. “Are we going to the Weasleys?”
“Yeah! Headquarters!” yelled Tonks, nodding as if (Y/n) knew exactly what she was talking about. She sensed that she wouldn’t get much else answer from her, so she decided not to prod further. “Why, do you make this trip often?”
“I only have once, about…three years ago now,” she said, recalling that night when the Weasleys had come to rescue her and Harry. It reminded her a lot of what she was doing right now, although the circumstances were a lot less dire in retrospect. “Wow, time sure flies by.”
“That’s true, but what really surprises me is that you still remember the way after so long.”
(Y/n) hummed. “Well, it involved climbing out of a window and a flying car, so it’s a bit hard to forget if you ask me!”
“It involved what and what ?” replied Tonks, smiling in disbelief. “Well if you’re any fun, you’ll consider those things a sign of a good night!” They shared gleeful laughter together, which then transitioned into Tonks recounting some of the crazy nights she had. (Y/n) was grateful for the conversation; she was more than enough company to stop her from focusing on the feeling in her stomach. Before long the group approached the Burrow. Or they approached where the Burrow was supposed to be. As they came to a stop, (Y/n) and Harry exchanged glances at the big emptiness that faced them. They both just shrugged knowing that an answer would present itselves to them when it was time. That’s two things they came to understand once they entered the wizarding world--common sense to wizards was far from common sense to muggles, and there were always new forms of magic to learn about.
Once the house revealed itself, they headed inside and (Y/n) was surprised to hear a different sound than the usual hustle and bustle flooding her ears. The charming, homey sounds were replaced by what sounded like heated arguing. Not the usual sibling back and forth, but something with a heavier tone and a hint of bleakness. Following the commotion, (Y/n) and Harry approached the dining room which was spilling with more people than usual. Peering around, they caught sight of two of their favorite people in the world.
“Remus!” (Y/n) called out, noticing his face sticking out in the crowd.
“Sirius!” Harry followed up from beside her. Delighted smiles began to climb their way up onto all four of their faces. Getting ready to rush forward, they were interrupted by Mrs. Weasley blocking the entrance.
“Harry! (Y/n)! It’s wonderful to see you!” she said, pulling them in for one of her signature motherly hugs. “Now, I’m afraid dinner and hellos will have to wait for a while. Upstairs you two go, and we’ll let you know when it’s time to set the table.” As she was ushered towards the stairs, (Y/n) glanced back reluctantly before beginning the ascent with Harry in tow. She took note of the shut and lock of doors behind them. When she reached the top, Ginny was already waiting for her. Harry split from them to find Ron, no doubt.
“(Y/n)! It feels like it’s been forever,” she said, leaning into (Y/n) while they hugged. The two chit chatted as they made their way to Ginny’s (and now (Y/n)’s) room. They both flopped down on the bed, already feeling more at home than all summer. The Gryffindor red and mossy green flannel blanket that adorned Ginny’s bed looked a bit scratchy, but (Y/n) thought it was like lying on a patch of grass. Sure, sometimes you get poked by a snippy blade of grass, but you wouldn’t want to be lounging anywhere else.
“What’s with all the secrecy going on around here?” asked (Y/n).
Ginny huffed in response. “They’re having a meeting. Mum says we’re not old enough to be allowed,” she said, rolling her eyes.
“A meeting for what exactly? No one can give me a straight answer and I’m starting to feel that I’m being left in the dark on purpose,” (Y/n) said, suddenly feeling her frustration bubbling over.
“The Order of the Phoenix, of course.”
“ The Order of the Phoenix, of course ,” she mocked, changing the tone of her voice to that of a pitchy mouse. Ginny guffawed and grabbed a nearby pillow, slamming it into her friend’s face. (Y/n) was quick to react--she slapped her arms over it, tugging it out of Ginny’s hold and delivering an equally devastating blow. Both, not ready to give up yet, secured ends of the pillow into their fists and began a rather aggressive game of tug of war. This back and forth reminded her of a certain someone who she hadn’t seen around. “Hey, where’s Fred?”
“Oh, and here I thought you were excited to see me,” Ginny replied lightheartedly.
(Y/n) groaned, unfreezing the game and pulling the pillow into her full grasp. “You know that is not what I meant. It’s just that he usually comes and finds me.”
“Dad sent him and George to town to get some things for dinner, considering all the guests.”
She hummed. “So these guests are part of this Order of the Phoenix ? What is the Order exactly?”
A mischievous grin overtook her face. “Why tell when we can listen ?”
︵‿︵‿
As they often did, Ginny and (Y/n) found themselves in a rather sticky situation. The plan was simple, really. Ginny would toss an old heavy book that she usually used to hold up her bed frame down in front of the entrance to the dining room, effectively alerting Molly Weasley to a disturbance outside of the locked door. She would then go to investigate, moving from her spot guarding the door, rendering her unable to see out of the window that she had a perfect view of from where she was standing. They would have to be quick about it, but when (Y/n)--who was standing halfway out of the front door--saw that she had indeed moved, she would signal Ginny. Then the girls would then run around to the side of the house, hiding in a bush under the window and cracking it open slightly. Very simple indeed.
They had to admit, it wasn't exactly foolproof, but they really wanted to hear what was going on and there was no time to think of a brilliant plan. Their time had come, and (Y/n) peeked her head through the main entranceway, finally seeing A Comprehensive Guide to Building a Witch’s Classical Wardrobe clang against the wooden floor. She watched with bated breath, waiting for the sound of the lock clicking, similar to how she did in her own room just hours before. Only this time, it didn’t come. Realizing that their plan to distract Mrs. Weasley was a failure, she was eager to escape the scene of the crime. She flew into the house, getting ready to run up the stairs on her arms and legs like a bear. She only got halfway up the first step, though, before she collided into another body and they tumbled to the ground.
At this exact moment, Fred and George were making their way up the hill and towards the house they had just made appear out of thin air. If you ignored the circumstances, it was actually an extra bit of fun. “Do you reckon (Y/n) and Harry are here yet?” Fred asked George.
“Let’s find out, shall we?” he replied, swinging the grocery bags around. They stepped through the entryway, cleaning their shoes on the rug with practiced sluggishness. As they ventured in further, they were met with a slightly peculiar sight. Well, peculiar for George, at least.
“Why would you run down the stairs at full speed ?! I didn’t even give the signal!” (Y/n), who was sprawled with Ginny in a pile in front of the stairs, said. They looked too enthralled by their conversation to notice the twins’ arrival.
“First of all, it wasn’t even close to full speed--”
“Not the point!”
“--and I don’t see how this is my fault!” Ginny exclaimed, trying to pat down her now disheveled appearance.
“I didn’t say it was--” (Y/n) began, huffing. Her further attempts at reasoning were stifled by, for the second time that night, a pillow being hurled in her direction. Ginny had reached behind her and found a stray from the stack of laundry on the shelf. Her aim was very calculated--it hit (Y/n) square in the face and slid down into her lap almost gracefully. Time stopped for a moment as a shocked and slightly offended look settled onto (Y/n)’s face. She wasn’t genuinely offended, of course, but George was still not used to the limits of her humor.
Recovering quickly, she let out a shriek of “Ginny Weasley! You’ll regret that!” A storm of pillows and blankets quickly brewed; they were being flung through the air by the equally guilty witches. The harmonious sounds of their giggles replaced the usual thunder of raucous laughter that rang through the Weasley household.
After a good minute of this, Fred set his bags on the floor and stepped in to block a pillow that was headed straight for the side of (Y/n)’s head. “Oi! Stop trying to pummel my friend, would you?” he said, a big smile on his face. With a grin equally as large, she dropped her fluffy arsenal and pulled him in for a hug.
“Fred!” she said, stepping back and touching the ends of his hair. “Your luscious locks are gone! So you really did it?”
“Yeah, did you think the shavings of my beautiful hair I sent in my owl were fake? I bet you could sell that for a couple of galleons to the ladies,” he laughed.
“I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if it was a chunk of Ron’s hair!” she cackled in disbelief.
Ginny huffed at the too long interruption of her epic pillow fight. “Wait, hold on, hold on. You sent her a lock of your hair? In the mail?”
“Yes indeed, dear sister,” Fred said, flicking her gently in the head. “Just a gracious present for my close friend.”
“Your close friend? She was my friend first, actually,” Ginny challenged, narrowing her eyes at him. In a great show of power, she tugged (Y/n) to her side by her arm.
Fred opened his mouth to retort, but (Y/n) spoke up first. “ Actually ,” she started, looking around the room for a name to conjure up. Her eyes landed on George and they lit up. “George is my favorite Weasley. Isn’t it obvious?” she said, moving to stand next to him. She placed her hand on his upper arm--gentler than she had intended, but she did not quite have a gauge on how she should act around him just yet. Turning her head to look at him, she rewarded his playing along with a silly smile. “Hi, George.”
George was taken aback when he felt a jolt of electricity sparking from where her hand met the skin of his arm. He was briefly reminded of a feeling he had willingly tested out on himself only a year ago. A failed product that had hit the wall only a few weeks into its development due to its unstable nature--lightning lozenges. The jolt he just felt wasn’t voluntary, though. There wasn’t an echo of rolling thunder; no sparks of energy buzzing from his fingers. Just the very intrinsic feeling stemming from the gentle touch of a hand. But as quickly as it had come, it fizzled out just the same. It was replaced with something else much more subtle. The warmth of comfort, or familiarity. It began in his arm and spread until his entire body felt like it had gone up a degree in temperature.
In the back of his brain he registered that Fred and Ginny were bickering, but it faded out as he focused almost entirely on the sudden change in his senses. What brought him back to everyone else's world was his gaze on (Y/n)’s arm shifting up to her face, looking for a sign that she was also getting this weird sensation. There was none, but there was a genuine smile on her face that George thought was dangerously contagious--she ought to be quarantined. The corners of his mouth turned up in response, and he parted his lips to speak but there were no sounds to be found in his chest. He stared at her, unmoving for what felt like an eternity but was seemingly a normal amount of time as she maneuvered her hand away from him and towards her friends in front of him. It disturbed him how much he missed the feeling.
︵‿︵‿
The next day, George slept in a little later than he usually did. This was quite peculiar, as despite him not seeming like it, he was an early riser. There was a lot you could do in the morning when most people weren’t yet stirring. First dibs on the makeshift quidditch pitch in their backyard, getting to the cereal before everyone else, and of course setting up pranks. But after last night, he felt a little bit off his kilter. He tried his best to brush it off, though, eager to make the most of his last summer before he finished school. Unsurprisingly, when he awoke he found that Fred had already disappeared from their room. He searched everywhere, brain fresh with new ideas and tweaks for their inventions ready to be shared, but had no luck. George felt like he ran into everyone but who he was looking for. Ron, his parents, Ginny, and even Hermione had stolen bits of conversations he was saving from him. Starting to feel exasperated, he headed to the last place he thought Fred would be.
George exited through the backdoor and began the tiny hike to the big old tree that was home to the treehouse that they had built all those years ago. Passing by it sometimes saddened him at the state of neglect it was in. As more and more Weasley siblings left the house, there was less and less need to have a place to escape to. It no longer was a refuge for all of the kids to find solace in each other--they all grew their separate ways. They were still a close family--they had to be--but the disuse of the treehouse was just more proof of the inevitable change that they all went through and are still going through. Ron’s juvenile admiration of Fred and George seemed to have diminished into annoyance over the years, and Ginny spent less time following them around and more with her school friends. Shaking the thought from his head, he began to climb up the rickety ladder.
As he neared the top, he heard laughter and chatter coming from inside. Mission accomplished. Peeking just his head up, he found Fred and (Y/n) lounging lazily on the floor in their own little world. As usual , George thought, laughing to himself. This certainly wasn’t the first--and probably wouldn’t be the last--time that George had intruded on Fred and (Y/n)’s moments. But this was probably the first time that he actually decided to stand back and observe them for more than a few fleeting seconds. He couldn’t quite forget that funny feeling that (Y/n) had gifted him in a pretty box with a bow the last night. Perhaps he could find the source of it if he was finally able to figure her out. Fred had seemingly done just that, afterall, why couldn’t he? Was there something special going on between the two? He highly doubted it, certain that he would’ve known by now if there was, but the idea still bothered him a bit. Or was it that (Y/n) made everyone feel that way, and Fred was no exception to that? George tried to think back on any sort of physical contact he and (Y/n) had shared, but he found nothing. The only time was when he had helped her escape her house way back when, but he reckoned he was too busy making sure she didn’t plummet to the ground to notice anything weird.
Determined to get to the bottom of this, just for his own peace of mind--or so he told himself--George tried to notice anything peculiar in their interaction. Once again coming up with nothing, he figured the only way he could learn more was by firsthand experience. He climbed all the way up onto the deck and ducked down under the too short entrance. “So this is where you two have been hiding!” Fred and (Y/n)’s heads snapped up to look at him.
“George, where has your lazy arse been? Stuck in bed?” Fred asked.
He scoffed. “No, I just got distracted for a bit.”
“Thank merlin for that, we actually got to the cereal before you did,” he said, earning a laugh from (Y/n).
“Fred, you’re just jealous that George doesn’t have to be dragged out of bed in the mornings,” (Y/n) spoke up, once again taking George by surprise in her casual defense of him.
Fred sat up, fixing a playful glare on her. “Why are you always defending him but never me? And here I thought you were my friend!”
“Well, you would know this if you paid attention, but like I said yesterday ,” she started, snickering at Fred. “I don’t pick favorites! There’s plenty of me to go around, no need to be jealous of George,” she finished, checking her nails in faux nonchalance.
Yeah, he could get used to hanging around her.
︵‿︵‿
George found himself conversing with (Y/n) more often than he supposed he had in his life. The close proximity that they now shared, rather than just random run-ins at Hogwarts, made him realize how talkative she was. Not that he minded, of course. In fact, it was the opposite--when she spoke he paid close attention and enjoyed doing so. Whether they were talking about a prank that was planned for that day or the upcoming school year, he couldn’t quite seem to get enough. Making up for lost time , he’d tell himself, after getting a weird look from Ginny as he crashed their hang out.
He took notice of other things about (Y/n) besides how loquacious she was, too. It first occurred to him one evening when everyone was in the yard, drinking pumpkin juice and whizzing around on their brooms. (Y/n) and Ginny were the exception, though, as they had lost a game of exploding snap and were consequently on dishes duty. After a particularly long match of quidditch, George had tipped his cup back with the intention of chugging it, only to find that he was all out. Sneering at the empty jug as if it was at fault, he took it inside for a refill. His intention was to just pop in, get some more pumpkin juice, and leave quickly so he could rejoin the fun outside, he swears. But as he approached the open doorway to the kitchen, he paused on the threshold and took in the scene before him.
The sun was setting, illuminating the Burrow with a warm glow of oranges and reds. The melody of a muggle song he hadn’t heard before drifted in and out of his ears. Had he been listening, he probably would’ve appreciated the raspy voice of the lead vocalist--but he wasn’t. His attention was too busy being centered on (Y/n), who was dancing and singing with Ginny. The two were sliding around the tiled floor with the help of their socks, and picking up objects lying around to be their makeshift microphones. It was the type of dancing that they only did when no one was watching. Well, no one was supposed to be watching. Their laughs floated in the air as they took turns singing the lyrics. Ginny grabbed (Y/n)’s arm, twirling her.
George was absolutely captivated. He felt like he had never seen someone look so effortlessly…well, beautiful . It was the only word he could summon to describe her at that moment. The permanent smile that adorned her pretty face, the summer clothes she didn’t have the chance to bring out while at school--it all came together to create the perfect moment he had caught her in. Leaning against the doorway, a stupid grin made its way to his face.
The song ended way too soon for his liking and the girls stopped to catch their breath. (Y/n) turned around and finally noticed him standing there. She smiled sheepishly and gave him a small wave. “What’s up, George?” she said, still sounding like she was recovering. When she said his name, a cage of butterflies was released in his body and he couldn’t help the even bigger smile that spread on his face. Ginny then stepped into his line of vision, effectively shattering his little moment and bringing him back down to reality.
What was that?, he thought. Probably nothing.
If only that were true.