Disclaimer: All canon characters, plots and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. I make no profit from this story.
A/N: Hello, lovely readers! Here you'll find a collection of drabbles I write randomly. Pairings will be random, and triggers will be placed appropriately for each Drabble. Let's start with a bit of George, Eh?
These will remain unbeta'd - any mistakes are all my own!
Pairing: George W/Hermione G
With Me
"... I don't want this moment to ever end
where everything's nothing without you …"
George pressed Hermione against the old wooden shed, hooking his hands under her thighs and lifting her up to wrap her legs around his waist.
"George, we can't…" her mouth formed the words, but her body screamed it's want for the tall, ginger man.
He pressed his mouth against hers, working her lips over and muffling her protests. His grip on her arse tightened as a moan escaped her lips. She ran her hands through his shaggy locks, pulling them tight when his mouth found her throat.
"We have. We are. I want you…" His words spread goosebumps down her body as his breath skated across her skin.
Hermione Granger had spent one long, hot summer at the Burrow, spending quality time with her makeshift family, studying for the upcoming term, and shagging George Weasley.
She hadn't planned for this to happen, of course. She was supposed to be with Ronald, or so it always seemed.
Ron, who she harbored a crush on since they'd met on the Hogwart's Express all those years ago.
Ron, who was one of her very best mates.
Ron, who never so much as gave her a passing glance when it came to romance.
Yes, everyone assumed Hermione Granger was the swotty little girl who spent her every waking moment with her nose in a book. They would never guess she preened under the touch of a handsome man.
And all man, he was...
George trailed his lips across her collarbone, along her shoulder and back up her jawline, all while Hermione ground shamelessly in his hold.
He lowered her feet back to the grass, reaching for the button on her muggle jeans. She slapped his hand away, poking her head around the shed and scanning the lawn.
"Your brothers are all home! The last thing we need is someone coming over here," she frowned, frustrated.
He grabbed her arm, swinging her around to face him and moving his hands back to her hips. "No one is coming, 'Mione," he grinned.
"Yet." She spoke in a sultry voice before breaking out in fit of laughter. She quickly clamped a hand over her mouth to stop the flow of giggles.
Hermione had never felt more alive than when she was with George Weasley. The young marauder had a way of bringing out her free spirit, and she shined in the act of letting loose. She was constantly grinning, laughing, and her heart was content when he was near.
He seemed to watch her as the thoughts drifted across her mind and reached out to cup her cheek in his palm. She leaned into the touch, closing her eyes and relishing in the intimate gesture.
"I love you, Hermione Granger," George murmured quietly. She looked up at the sound, searching his eyes and losing herself in the pools of blue.
Those eyes, so familiar, would drown her endlessly, and she was hopeless to resurface.
Truthfully, she didn't want to.
So she stood on tiptoe, pressing her mouth firmly to his and let the rushing warmth surround her entirely.