Disheartened
It is a cold and dreary night. You are weaving your way through the secret passageways in Hogwarts as your black and gold robe trails behind you. Your legs get heavier with every step you take, getting further away where nobody can find you. Well, nobody besides the two people you would be okay seeing - Fred and George Weasley.
Typically you'd wait for an invitation, but today brought nothing but disappointment and sadness. You long to be touched and distracted from what you were feeling. The lingering memories of their hands all over your body, that damned blindfold, getting railed just a few feet away from Snape made the chilly night ever more bearable.
That soon fades when you notice there is no light under the door. You touch the metal doorknob and twist it open. Sure enough, there are no signs of the twins. The entire room is dark, the smell of smoke lingers in the air. They must have left early tonight and could be busy.
Perhaps with the Gryffindor house, or his brother or sister, or..
Your stomach clenches when the thought of them being with another girl hits you.
Sure, you aren't dating either one of them. There was never a label for whatever they were doing. It was just a hard truth you weren't ready to face after your already terrible day.
You walk to the bed and collapse on it, your back is engulfed by the mattress. You stare up at the blank stone ceiling and focus on your shortening raspy breaths.
You received an owl earlier that day while in the Great Hall. It was a fluffy gray bird with piercing yellow eyes, one that you knew too well as your mother's. The letter attached contained the same words of discouragement and disappointment that was expected, but this time it cut deeper than usual.
Potions and Herbology, normally your stronger subjects, have been going terribly wrong lately. Snape had given you detention, which was a first. It didn't help that you answered not two, but three wrong questions in Professor Sprout's class.
You've kept your confidence as steady as you could for so long, but that wall was crumbling tonight. Falling apart in the dorm just wasn't an option, not with all those curious and prying stares that would be upon you.
Your eyes are swimming with hot tears that you rapidly try to blink away. The bed frame creaks under your weight as you turn on your side to face the wall. Your stomach turns and chest pangs when you suddenly recall your mother's quickly scribbled handwriting.
A mistake. They thought sending you to Hogwarts was a mistake.
What if it was? What if everything you thought you were good at, you weren't. What if crawling back to this room was proof of being pathetic?
The thoughts wouldn't stop, and it was leading you into a spiral you were too familiar with. Soon you would be under the ocean, toppled with the agonizing fears of never being enough - where each wave would slowly crush and debilitate you.
Just before you slip into the curtain, the bed frame whines. There is a moment where you think you're imagining it. That was, until you hear someone clear their throat. You sit up immediately and begin wiping at your wet cheeks.
"Hey," a soft voice coos, which you recognize as George's at once. "What are you doing down here?"
You try to hold your tone steady as you reply with, "just needed to get away." You hope he doesn't pick up on how nasally you sound. The only saving grace right now is that it's pitch black around you.
George shifts, the familiar whining of the bed protests, and his fingers find your shoulder. "That right?" He asks, and you lean into his touch. "Fred and I got a bit carried away in Gryffindor tower tonight. Everyone is so rowdy because of the tournament, so I thought I'd do the same."
You try to hold your breaths steady and normal as his hands travel up your neck. This is what you want, to be touched, to be noticed and not asked about how you're feeling. You've let your walls down for the twins more than anyone else, but letting someone physically inside is much more different than emotionally.
"So I guess we are the same in that regard." His thumb reaches your cheeks and his breath catches in his throat, leaving his last word partially cut off.
Within seconds the fireplace was lit. George is sitting directly in front of you with his wand in his left hand. You turn away from him quickly, once you recognize the concern and confusion strewn all over his face.
You hope he doesn't ask, but before that thought even completes - it's already out of his mouth.
"Y/N, are you cryin- are you.. is everything alright?" He asks, stumbling over his words as he places his wand down before reaching for your hands.
"Yes, yes!" You say laughing and facing the wall. His fingers find yours and the lump in your throat grows. "I just, I'm overwhelmed. Lots of homework and Snape being harsh as always." Your words keep fumbling from your mouth as you rub away the excess tears from your cheeks with your palms.
"But I'm alright! Perfectly fine!" You say, finally getting the courage to look at him. He frowns and grips your hand tighter.
"You don't have to be okay, you know that right?" George whispers and scoots closer. "And you don't have to tell me if you don't want to either." The second his side touches yours, something in your chest lightens. He puts an arm around your shoulder and pulls you in close. You lean into him, taking in his familiar warmth and earthy scent.
"It's been a long day," you mutter and wrap your arms around his ribs. He nudges your forehead with his cheek and looks down at you.
"Do you want to tell me about it?" He asks gently, reaching a hand up to move a strand of hair from your face.
George watches you patiently as you debate whether to tell him or not. A tear swells in the corner of your eye and rolls down your cheek as the memory of your mother's letter floods in. He tenderly catches it with his thumb, then pulls your face against his chest.
You feel safer than you have in so long within his arms. His steady breathing and crackling of the fire soothes and calms your nerves and you tell him.
You open up about struggling with some classes and how it's been weighing on your mind. You thought telling your mother about it would help alleviate your fears, but it only considerably made it worse. Through a choked voice, you tell him everything. About the note, about how your family has no hope in you doing anything with your life.
As you start going down the spiral, George places a thumb on your lips and looks you in the eyes.
"You're an amazing witch," he says confidently. "And there's no doubt in my mind that you're going to do great things."
You stare up at him, your heart pounding in your chest.
He smiles at you and continues, "and if you ever doubt that, then you can come ask Fred or I. We'll set you straight, alright?"
You nod and choke back a sob. He was being nice to you, even when he knew you weren't going to sleep with him.
He seems to pick up on this and says, "you mean more to me than what we do in the bedroom. Or," he says with a smile, " in a classroom." He gives a quick wink and you melt against him, covering your reddening cheeks with your hands.
George tenderly pulls you back from himself and takes your hands in his. He takes a moment to stare down at your entwining fingers, licking at his lips nervously. You wait impatiently, your pulse racing from the unknown of what he is about to say.
He opens his mouth a few times, then closes it immediately after. His pupils dart back and forth several times, then he lifts his chin to make eye contact. With a quick clear of his throat he asks, "would you wanna go to the ball with me?"
You blush and take a sharp breath in. The thoughts of your family completely being pushed in the back of your mind now. You nod and laugh nervously. "Yes, of course!" You sniffle and lift a shoulder to rub your wet cheek against the soft fabric. You never expected him to ask. Of course you've dreamt one of them would - or both, but that always seemed out of their realm of interest.
"Wonderful," George says beaming. "Blimey, I can't wait to tell Fred."
"Fred." You tilt your head as you say his name. "Will he be okay with you asking me yourself?"
"Yes!" He exclaims and squeezes your fingers. "He already asked Angela, anyway."
Your heart froze for a second, but you kept the warm smile across your face. George asked you, so why be so greedy on wanting them both? Surely if you both waltzed into the dance with one on each arm it would raise some questions, and unnecessary attention.
"Okay!" You try to match his tone to not lead on to this inner battle. "Well, I can't wait."
George grins widely and embraces you, sliding down until both of your backs are against the mattress. You lay your head on his chest as he plays with your hair.
You talk with each other as the flames of the fire begin burning down. Then, in the faint glow you close your eyes and listen intently to the beating of George's heart. With the rhythmic beating and his warm body flush against yours, a deep sleep pulls you under - Where you dream of walking hand in hand with George, right into the bright silver and blue night of the Yule Ball.