You groan at the blank metre of parchment you’ve been assigned to, clenching your fists in anguish.
Crack.
Fuck.
You groan once again. Cradling your busted quill in your now inky black hand, you mentally curse Professor Snape for the essay he set last week which you had long since forgotten to do as soon as you left the classroom. Your life was busy and Snape had rambled on for half an hour about how important this essay was for your exam revision.
How the hell were you meant to write a metre long essay on Billywig wings?! You could barely write a sentence on what they could do; laughing potions are all they’re really used for and you couldn’t even brew one of those. The first line was all you had scribbled out and it was down right awful. You can’t bear to read it out.
Tears well up in your eyes as a tight spike of shame stabs into your being. It’s only an essay! It shouldn't be this hard, you feel like a complete failure. Pulling your knees up to your chin, you curl deeper into the armchair you’d claimed next to the window and push your papers away from you, into the crack between the pillow and the arm. Your week was already going horribly- fighting with your friends, losing sleep and nearly falling down a flight of moving stairs on your way here to name just a few things- and you couldn’t bear another day of it.
The portrait hole swings open, loud laughter bubbling up from the group that steps into the common room. You don’t look up- you already know those voices off by heart- and sob even more at the Quidditch team. Katie Bell giggles at the Weasley twins, gently placing her hand on George’s shoulder- she only just joined the team, after you had a totally minor breakdown (and smashed your broom against one of the goal posts), it makes your blood boil to see her get on so well with your friends.
You sink deeper into the plush chair, turning your face away in hopes of becoming invisible to the view of the twins. It's hopeless. It's like they sense your presence.
“Well hello, Gorgeous,” Fred struts up to you, crouching to be in your eye level, “why do you look so glum?”
George gently pushes Katie Bell’s hand off him and turns to you, crouching by his brother. You huff. Energy drains from you just by seeing the boys in their Quidditch uniforms. Katie glares at you and stalks off, you feel even more miserable, a shaky breath exiting your body.
George hates seeing you this way- upset and stuck in your own head. He only ever wants to see you smiling, laughing, racing on your broom alongside him with that beautiful grin on your face. He wants to be the one to put that beautiful grin on your face.
“What’s wrong, Love?..” George almost whispers: only loud enough that you and Fred can hear. Sweet, gentle George, sets his hand on your knee and strokes his thumb over your thigh. The dam breaks.
Fat tears roll down your cheeks and you try to rub them away but you only manage to smudge ink onto your face. Trying to force words out- any words really- you can only gasp and sputter as your throat seems to close up.
Oh god. Not now! Please, not now!
You grip your legs, sobbing hard. You sound like you're choking and the twins look alarmed. Trembling fingers dig into your thighs with a vice-like grip, but you can't find the energy to move your hands, the pain seems to be helping you stay grounded anyway. Squeezing your eyes shut, you shake your head and shove George’s hand off you; his touch feels red hot and it’s too much for your overloaded senses. You need his burning skin away from your own.
A sharp stab of panic shoots down to your stomach and you groan in pain. It feels like you’re seizing up.
It's all too bloody loud. You clasp your hands over your ears, trying to block out the awful din of the first years swooning over the Quidditch team.
In your hysteria, you don’t notice that Fred is shooing away everyone in common room that will listen, pushing them out the portrait hole or hurrying them up to their dorms while George has gathered up all the best pillows in Gryffindor tower and piled them up in the sloped window nook next to your chair. Fred shoots a warning glare at the Gryffindors who have decided to stay, his look says 'you had better keep the noise down' which seems to work for the most part.
A gut wrenching sob rips from your lips.
Fred pulls your parchment and broken quill out from next to you. You weakly reach for them, you really need to finish that essay. It's a feeble attempt to distract Fred. George quickly pushes the window open letting fresh air swirl into the room and wash over your flushed face, it’s surprisingly refreshing. You try to take a deep breath but it comes out slightly garbled. The cool air fills your spasming lungs and you feel as though your temperature has lowered, only slightly.
It’s strange seeing the twins work separately from each other, you’ve gotten so used to seeing them together, they're always so seamless. But while the two of them rush around the room, trying their hardest to calm you down, the attempts only make you panic more. The irrational part of your mind screams out to you- You’ve torn the two apart.
Trying to tell the boys how you feel, you whimper and thrash your hands about, crying harder when the words don’t form on your tongue. It's a terrifying feeling that floods you with dread and makes you clasp your hands over your chest as if trying to manually pump your heart. You open your mouth to try and speak but, again, no sound more than a mewl comes out. You feel like you’re choking on nothing, like your throat is closing up.
They seem to understand, as they come to crouch in front of you once again side by side. You try to focus on them both but your tear blurred eyes seem to merge them in your vision.
“Hush now.” Fred soothes, hovering one hand in front of you, not pressuring you to take it but showing he’s there if needed.
George mirrors the action, smiling smoothly up at you. “You’re ok.” He glances at Fred who nods. It’s an action so small that if you weren’t looking right at them, analysing their every move, you would’ve missed it.
“We’re here for you, Love.”
You sob again.
Slipping down from the fluffy pillow of the armchair you’ve been cradled in this whole time, you thrust yourself into the twins’ open arms. They shuffle you around until you’re sitting back against George with Fred supporting your legs in his lap. The older twin runs his fingers up and down your calves, aiming to soothe you but earning himself a jealous glare from his brother. Fred pretends not to notice.
You sit there for god knows how long before you inhale deeply and open your mouth once again. The entire time you had been aiming to steady your breathing while also focusing on Fred's gentle caressing of your skin. Anything to distract from George's heat beat pressed to your back.
“I miss you”
It comes out mumbled and shaky, your throat sore and your voice uncertain, like what you're saying is illegal. It feels wrong to say. It's a selfish thing to say and you regret it, immediately trying to change the subject:
"I-I need to finish my paper…" you choke out afterwards. Snape will not be pleased to find out you hadn't done it, he'd be livid. The thought alone sends a shiver down your spine.
George shoots Fred a worried glance as the youngest of the twins strokes his hands down your arms in an effort to comfort you. Fred just scoops your parchment up and shuffles away out the portrait hole, to the library, you assume. You whimper at his lost warmth on your legs.
“He’ll be back,” George breathes above you, making the hairs on the back of your neck stick up, “just one of us not enough, huh?”
You try to breathe deeply, ignoring his words and focusing on the sounds rumbling from him behind you. You didn't need to get lost in that slight growl of his otherwise smooth and reassuring voice of his, not right that second. Leaning deeper into his hold, you slip your hand into his, shocking him into silence.
“You can date Katie Bell… you’d be cute together.” you sigh, squeezing your eyes shut. George just grips your hand tighter. He's confused about your apparent blessing to date this girl. Utterly baffled.
“Where did that come from? I don’t wanna date Katie.” he chuckles, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. You don’t believe him, you see the way she acts around him, all clingy and touchy and he never once shows any sign of not enjoying it.
You huff.
“She obviously likes you and you obviously like her!” it comes out harsh and loud although your voice is so raspy from crying. Your throat may be sore but you couldn't care less as you jump to correct George "and you can date her, as long as you don't forget about me when you’re married and have loads of kids and are travelling around the world with her dumb Quidditch team!”
You grumble a bit before you notice Fred giggling to himself by the portrait hole. You glare at him.How dare he mock you as you kindly tell his brother that he's basically in love with your Quidditch replacement. He smirks. Bastard.
“What? Doesn’t our dearest Georgie get a say in his own future?” Fred comes and sits back down, pulling a blanket from the sofa and throwing it over your legs. He wiggles his eyebrows at his brother who just sighs in response.
“I don’t wanna date Katie.” George mumbles again, pressing his face into your shoulder. You flush and stare at Fred, searching silently for answers about his twin’s strange behaviour.
Fred just smirks and stands up once again. He's only been back a second and yet he's already running away again. You must be scary when you're mad "Hermione might need some help with that report after all, she's not a potion master like me" he boasted "Be back a flash, Brother mine."
He shoots his twin a wink and a shit eating grin and is then off out the portrait hole once more. You can hear him as he scurries down the moving stairs, shoes inevitably scuffing against the floor.
George's face is still resting in the crook of your neck, hot breath fanning out over your flushed skin. It feels so incredibly intimate. You stroke the top of his head, fingers running through fluffy curls of bronze-red hair, caressing his face into your skin. He sighs deeply.
"I… I don't wanna date Katie." he huffs out again, as if it's the only thing he can currently say: a broken record. George can't think of anything else to say, he's seen the not so subtle glances Katie throws his direction and he honestly couldn't care less.
You hum "Yeah, tell her that." you grumble. You don't want to talk about her anymore. She's going to take everything from you, you just know it- I mean, look! She's already stolen your Quidditch team. You feel as though you should hex her.
"I might not have to." you're puzzled by his strange answer until you feel his arms slink around your waist, fingers splayed across your soft pudge and palms warm against your skin. Your cheeks flush with colour. George is rarely this physically affectionate and you're not entirely sure how you should react.
He turns his face up until only his lips are resting on your shoulder, a false kiss resting on the muscle.
Massaging your sides with his fingers, George huffs out a breath and you giggle at the tickling feeling. He loves that noise. George has spent nights awake thinking of that noise. Maybe he could get you to make… other… noises. He likes that idea. He tries not to think of you under him, moaning his name- you've had what appears to be some kind of panic attack and he feels like maybe he shouldn't get too worked up right now. He'd feel just terrible if he freaked you out while he's so close to his goal. He wants to kiss you, not just a peck on the cheek or the forehead, a real kiss.
George Weasley, the boy you have been friends with since your third year of Hogwarts, presses a kiss to your neck, right behind your ear where your pulse beats fast. Hiccuping in surprise, your hand shoots out to hold his head against you.
His lips are soft and warm and flush your already burning skin. But he feels so good, so right, you can't let him go. A gentle chuckle sounds and you're hoisted into George's lap, spun so you were facing him.
His eyes glitter with worry and excitement, a terrified feeling settling into his stomach. He clearly needs you to show him that you're not disgusted. You pull your arms from your side to slide them around his neck. The red headed boy inhales deeply as you move even closer to him. He moved before you did.
Pink lips meeting your own in a smooth motion, eyes fluttering closed and tiny noises escaping you. You simply melt into the twin. Running your hand up his neck, you manually tilt his head sideways to deepen the kiss, emotion pouring from your mouth into his. You scratch your fingers through the short hair at the base of his neck. It tickles.
Gently smoothing his hands from your waist to your arse, George furthers the embrace by running his tongue along the seam of your lips; he pushes into your mouth as soon as you edge said lips apart.
You moan into his mouth.
A squeal to your right has you tearing yourself away from George. Hermione stands in front of Fred in front of the portrait hole. Fred wears a Cheshire cat-like grin while Hermione looks embarrassed and ashamed. Stomping forward, she thrusts the inked parchment into your hands and rushes away up to her dorm. Fred just saunters past, wiggling his fingers in a mock wave.
"Don't stay up too late snogging." he sing-songs as he climbs up the stairs to the boys' dorms.
"Yeah and we'll try to keep the noise down" you smirk, wiggling your eyebrows at a shocked looking George Weasley. He quickly recovers and a love sick smile catches on his face.
"Don't make promises you don't intend to keep." he chuckles, pressing another quick kiss to your lips.