Kiss the Pain Away
"Sometimes, the best way to help someone is just to be near them."
Veronica Roth.
May 7th, 1998
She can understand his pain. It was a great loss for her as well. The shop is a lot less lively now, even with all of the noisy gadgets and colorful decorations. It feels empty. She's sure he has come back to work too soon. This place is only going to remind him of what he lost, but he says he needs to keep busy, so she says nothing. She just continues with her work, occasionally stealing a glance in his direction, hoping to see a smile, even if it only lasts for a split second.
She sees nothing but sadness.
May 10th, 1998
She brings him lunch. It's his favorite and he offers a weak smile of gratitude. She's not even sure if it's a real smile, but she does not care, because it's a step forward. She's waiting for George to be George again, and that entails smiles and jokes and laughter. She's willing to wait, no matter how long it takes.
May 20th, 1998
It's breaking her heart. His eyes were always so full of life, now they are dark and swollen and dead. How she hates that word. When Fred died, George died along with him. It tears her up inside to see him, looking so lost. He tries to tell her a joke, but he cannot finish it. He says it was one of Fred's favorites. She touches his shoulder, but he pulls away. He tries to hide the tears in his eyes, but she notices them. She does not say anything, though. She does not want to embarrass him; she knows how he likes to think he's strong, invincible.
He tells her to get back to work so she busies herself cleaning the displays.
All she wants is to make him feel better. She knows she can; she just has to wait until he's ready.
May 22nd, 1998
He has been crying recently. She notices his puffy, glassy eyes as soon as he comes in that morning. He spends the morning locked away in his office. He claims he is working on invoices, but she knows he is just ashamed to let anyone see him in his current state. She wants to hold him, to comfort him. She has loved him for years and never said a word. She knows now is not the time to admit it, either. She will wait until he is ready, she decides. She will wait, until he is ready to be comforted, ready to be loved.
June 5th, 1998,
He is doing better, she notices. He smiles now, although not as often as he used to. He can talk about Fred, although, she can still see the pain in his eyes. Sometimes he gets that faraway look in his eyes and she knows he is thinking about him. He spends more time outside of the office now. Ron helps at the shop when he can and she notices the bond between the two getting stronger. Ron understands that George lost his twin, his other half, but George knows that Ron lost a brother and together they are fighting through the pain. The thought makes her smile.
He can look her way now. She should have realized that she reminded him just as much of Fred as the shop did. She keeps her distance, waiting.
June 15th, 1998
She's getting tired of waiting. She's tired of being alone. She knows they belong together and she knows she needs to bring him solace. George isn't himself, but he is better than he was. He doesn't go to his family's house for Sunday dinner, like he always used to when Fred was alive. She knows he hasn't seen his parent's since the funeral because his mother calls every day. She asks if he will come to dinner and he always says he is too busy and promises to come another time. She can hear the sadness in his mother's voice as she tells him she loves him before they say their goodbyes.
She knows it's time. She doesn't have to wait any longer. He's ready and so is she.
She knocks on the half-open office door and he tells her she can come in. She takes a deep breath before entering. It's now or never, she tells herself. "George, come to my house for dinner." She tucks a strand of her dark brown hair behind her ear.
"I don't know, Verity. I really should head home, a lot of work to do, you know." He tucks a file into his desk, and forces a smile.
"C'mon, George; It won't hurt to relax for a few hours." She insists as she approaches the desk. She sits on the edge of the desk, crossing one slender leg over the other and smiles at him. "Besides, you look like you could use a good home-cooked meal."
He chuckles. "That is true. If there is one thing I miss about home, it's my mum's cooking." She loves the way he smiles, the edginess is wearing off now. She smiles because he is starting to open up again. "Alright, I guess it won't hurt, but only for a few hours."
"Wonderful. I'll close up and you get all your things. Maybe, I can help you with some of that never-ending paperwork." She gets up and makes her way to the door. She looks back and notices the pink tint to his freckled-cheeks and ears.
"It can wait until tomorrow." He states. "We'll stop and I'll buy a nice bottle of elf–made wine."
"That sounds lovely." She closes the door once she steps back into the shop. She sighs with relief. She is one step closer; the wait is going to end.
They apparate to her small cottage on the lake. He follows her to the front door, briefcase and wine in hand. She unlocks the door and they step inside.
He drops his briefcase and sets the wine on the small wooden table in the kitchen. His blue eyes scan the room, "You know Ver, I haven't been here since Fred and I helped you renovate the place." She notices that pained, faraway look in his eyes again and she hugs him. At first, he seems surprised, but then, he relaxes and wraps his arms around her waist.
"I know this is hard for you George. I could never imagine how you must be feeling, but I'm here for you. I know the shop, and everything in it, including me, reminds you of him. I am so, so sorry, but you can't hide your feelings forever."
He inhales sharply, she doesn't hear it, but she feels his chest rise against her embrace. "I know Verity, but really, I love that everything reminds me of him. I never want to forget him." She can hear the sadness in his voice and it causes her stomach to lurch.
"You won't forget him George; he's in your heart. He's a part of you, you know that." She pulls away and looks him in the eye, her fingers clutching upper arms. "That's why it hurts you so much more, we all understand that."
George gives a half-hearted smile, "Thanks Ver, how about we make that dinner we're supposed to have."
She knows that he is avoiding the conversation, but she doesn't want to push him, so she starts dinner.
July 1st, 1998
She has become his number one source of comfort. Before, he would hide his feelings, not wanting to appear weak. Now, he talks to her, whenever he can. Maybe he has become too dependent on her. When Fred died, he promised he would never let anyone else in, afraid that they, too, would be taken away from him. He's falling in love with her and that terrifies him. All he can think is, I can't lose her too.
She insists that she will always be there for him, but that promise sounds so hollow. He had made a similar promise with Fred, that they would always be together, and he was alive and Fred was dead.
He finds himself at her house. It's humid and the sun is covered by dark gray clouds. Maybe a good dose of rain would cool the scolding summer day.
It's a Sunday and the shop is closed. She opens the door, wearing short denim cut-offs and a grey tank-top. Her feet are bare and her toenails are covered with bright pink nail lacquer. "George," she sounds surprised to see you, but smiles anyway, "come in."
He follows her inside, "would you like a cup of tea?" she asks, picking up her own tea cup. He notices that her fingers are covered with the same pink lacquer as his toes. He also notices that the color compliments her ivory skin perfectly.
"No, no thank you. I just—" he sighs heavily, his blue eyes focusing on the dark wood floors. "I just needed to see you."
"Well, you're more than welcome here anytime, you know that George." She smiles that same, sweet smile, he sees every day and a feeling of warmth seems to settle over him. Her chocolate colored hair is down and wavy. "Why don't we go out in the back garden?"
"Okay." He follows the brunette out the back door into the back garden. The stone fence is surrounded by various flowers and plants. He notices a small garden against the back wall and smiles. "It's rather lovely out here." The sun beats down against his face as he sits one of the cast iron chairs. He notices a notebook and muggle pen on the small table beside Verity. "Did I interrupt something?" He nods to the notebook.
"No, no. I was just writing. I wasn't getting much down though. My mind was elsewhere."
"And what, may I ask, were you thinking about?" He regrets the question immediately. He wants nothing more than to hear her say I was thinking about you. What were the chances of that? He wants nothing more than for her to admit she had feelings for him. He knows it's unlikely, maybe he's being irrational, maybe he is just latching on to her because he has found comfort with her these last few weeks. He wipes some sweat away from his brow as he waits for her response.
"Just what a beautiful day this is and how it would be perfect to spend it with someone."
"I couldn't agree with you more," George smiles.
"And then you should up and I got my wish," she smiles shyly, her porcelain cheeks flushing as her blue eyes focus on the stone stairs below
He chuckles. "Yes. I was tired of being alone." He's surprised by his own honesty. He hates how he lets his guard down around her, even if she makes him feel more at peace than anything else in his life.
"Me too," she admits. "You don't have to be alone George; you have me." She smiles sheepishly, her cheeks flushing as bright pink as her nails.
At first, he is unsure of how to react. He watches her, as she takes a sip of her tea. She tries to act like she's calm, waiting for his response, but he notices her knee bouncing and her nails tapping against her coffee mug. Then, he smiles. He gets up from his chair and takes the cup from her hands. He sets it on the cast iron table between their chairs and pulls her up. He doesn't think. He doesn't rationalize; he just feels. His lips overtake hers. His arms snake around her waist and he pulls her close.
Her arms wrap around his neck and her fingers run through his hair and over his neck as she kisses him.
For the first time in two months, he feels alive.
He pulls her into the house, her hand grasped in his. He pulls her against him once they are in the safety of the dimly lit cottage. His lips trace the outline of her collarbone; her skin is salty with sweat and soft against his lips. He smiles against her skin as a soft moan escapes her lips. His fingers trail up her sides, pulling her tank top up. She raises her arms so he can lift it up over her head. He tosses it aside and makes quick work of the button on her denim cut-offs.
Her lips are trailing kisses down his chest as her fingers work on the buttons of his shirt. With every touch he feels the pain melting away. She was everything he imagined and more. His mouth and fingers work their way down her stomach, causing her back to arch toward his touch. He tosses her shorts aside, placing kisses along her hip bone. She runs her fingers through his fiery hair.
She makes quick work of removing his jeans once he returns to his feet. They find their way to her bed, and fall back on it, a tangled mess of kisses, strokes and crumpled clothing. He removes her undergarments, dropping them to the hardwood floor beside the bed.
He groans as she kisses him, her slender legs wrapping around his hips. Her finger's glide across his back and shoulders as he thrusts, she moans and sighs beneath him. He loses himself in the movement, the moment. She is better than he could have imagined. The moment is heavenly, a spark of light, hope, contrasting against the darkness that has surround him since his brother's death.
Later, he finds himself with his arms wrapped tightly around her frame. Her skin gleams in the late evening light, damp with perspiration. He trails gentle kisses along her shoulders.
"I love you Verity; never leave me." He whispers into her hair.
She smiles, "I've always loved you George. I won't make promises I can't keep, but as long as I am walking this earth, I'm yours."
He smiles as he kisses her lips. He would have to thank her for reminding him that there were still reasons to be happy. He would make sure to show her his gratitude, every day, for the rest of his life.
Word Count: 2367
an. I apologize for the horribly written smut. I hope this was somewhat enjoyable, cheesy ending and all.
This is for: Camp Potter: Day One: Archery (2000+)—write about waiting.
OTP Boot Camp: "Lost"
Favorite Hogwarts House: "Lost" (HufflePuff Collection)
Minor Character Boot Camp: "Heavenly"
Hogwarts Classes Competition: Divination (write about something after the second Wizarding War)
This was (loosely) inspired by the song "Backseat Serenade" By All Time Low.
Disclaimer: I do not own George or Verity, or anything else related to Harry Potter. I proofread but I am not perfect, I'm sorry for any grammar/spelling mistakes I might have missed.