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tolerate it //[g.w.]

Summary: George has always been pretty much in the dark about how you feel about him, yet that hasn’t changed your affections for the ginger-haired boy.

Warnings: Angst, possibly slow burn idk

A/N: Hiya! My blog was pretty dead and I’ve just been reading other’s works on it, but I recently have been pretty torn about starting to write again. I figured that now is as good a time as any, and I hope that anybody who decides to read this enjoys it at least a little. I decided to just write and see where it takes me, so this is probably more of a drabble than anything else. This has not been beta read, and any feedback is appreciated!

Word Count: 884

I sit and watch you reading with your head low I wake and watch you breathing with your eyes closed

George had all but stumbled into the gryffindor common room after perhaps one of the most rigorous quidditch practices as of late. The tension practically dripped off his skin as he rolled his shoulders back and let out a deep groan.

“Hey Georgie, your face looks almost as red as your hair. Did you have to outrun Filch on the way back or something?” He mockingly laughed at your sarcasm and dropped down onto the couch next to you.

“Nah, we all know Filch can’t run nearly fast enough to tire me out. It’s just Oliver has been a bloody prat since the house cup is coming up...” George wiped his hand across his forehead, gathering the beads of sweat making their way across his hairline.

You giggled, and settled into a comfortable silence as you continued to study. George’s head hung down as he settled into the couch, seemingly lulled into a sleepy state by the intermittent turning of pages. Deciding to sneak a glance at the redhead, you looked up and were greeted by the sight of George’s head bobbing up and down, his eyes fighting to stay open.

“Why don’t you go get cleaned up, and I’ll go sneak us some biscuits from the kitchen. You look too tired to go all the way to the great hall anyways.” George nodded, and heaved himself off of the plush cushions.

“Remind me to have mom send you some cinnamon twists, you deserve them for taking care of me so well.” You giggled, and the two of you parted ways. You nearly sprinted to the kitchen, hoping that you could use up some energy and force your heart to calm down now that George was gone.

*****

I wait by the door like I'm just a kid Use my best colors for your portrait

“Awww, what’cha drawing, Y/N?” Fred made a grab for the sketchbook nestled in your lap, clearly egged on by the laughter of his twin brother and Lee.

“Fred. Give it back.” The way your voice rose shocked the three boys to their cores; In all the time they had known you, you never raised your voice at them. It didn’t matter if you were being used as a means of making a joke, you usually simply giggled and brushed it off. 

Fred turned away from you, and immediately realized why you wanted to keep the book out of his hands. On the open page, you had drawn his younger brother in astonishing detail. Every line was light, yet strategically placed as if you had spent hours painstakingly sketching the boy out. Fred decided it was a better choice to close the book and pass it back to your flushed figure.

“Sorry about that, Y/N. It was only a joke.” Fred stammered, and immediately staggered to place his hands on George and Lee’s broad shoulders. “Why don’t you boys go grab some skiving snackboxes from the dorm, and I’ll give Y/N here a nice shoulder rub for causing her so much grief.”

George and Lee simply chuckled and walked away, the swish of their robes breaking the awkward silence forming between Fred and you.

“You can’t tell George.”

“How long, Y/N?” He dropped next to you on the grass, placing his large hand on your knee as a sign of comfort.

“Look... It’s just a small crush, I’ve had it since 5th year. It’ll probably be gone by the summer. Just please, don’t bring it up.” You dropped your gaze and focused on pulling strands of grass from the area around your ankles. The ferocity with which you tugged on the green blades suggested all Fred needed to know, and he dropped the subject, deciding to focus on moving to knead your tense shoulders instead.

*****

I made you my temple, my mural, my sky Now I'm begging for footnotes in the story of your life

“Y/N, you won’t believe who I just asked to the yule ball!” George practically pounced on you from behind, ripping your focus from the potions essay you were currently writing.

Your heart immediately dropped, but you forced a smile on your face. “Who’s the lucky bird, Georgie?”

“Alicia! I mean, we are just going as mates, but who knows what this could lead to... Maybe I won’t end this year without a gal to send some letters to this summer, if you catch my drift.”

You could always send me letters...

“Well, that’s great for you George! I bet you will make a great couple, even if it is just for the dance for now.” You slammed your notebook shut, and began to gather your things. “Hopefully you both have fun at the ball.”

George noticed your lack of enthusiasm for his small victory, but brushed it off as jealousy seeing as you had no date for the ball yet.

“Hey, Y/N, you know I could always set you up with Lee or one of the lads, right? It’s what best friends do, after all!” The ginger’s voice carried through the common room, but what he couldn’t see was the fat droplets of tears rolling down your cheeks.

Best friends...