I Must Not Tell Lies
by WhatWldMrsWeasleyDo
Rated: R
All things relating to Harry Potter remain the intellectual and legal property of JK Rowling.
Summary: The tale of George Weasley's love for Harry Potter over many years. GeW/HP, GiW/HP, FW/AJ, RW/HG, GeW/AJ. Canon compliant including the epilogue – it's just that some things were kept secret even from JKR!
Chapter Six: THE COMMON ROOM AT NIGHT
Harry hadn't even gone to bed. The proximity to George in the Quidditch stands had left him so charged that he had spent hours just staring into the fire. He had barely noticed the Common Room emptying. When Ron and Hermione had returned from Prefect Patrol to find him in exactly the same spot with the same intense expression as when they had left him, they had been worried. So pre-occupied was he, however, that he hardly noticed their attempts to jolly him along.
He sat by the fire because he wanted to see Sirius. He needed to talk things through with someone. Sirius was often the best person for that. He vacillated all night between the desire for that conversation and the fear of it. Was this something he could share with his Godfather? Could he possibly understand? He didn't expect disgust or rejection, but maybe Sirius would rather not know. He saw Harry as being just like James. Harry didn't know enough about his father or his Godfather to predict the reaction to a confession about this.
About what? What was it exactly? This feeling? He thought he knew, but couldn't be sure, and wished George would stop running away so they could work this out together. If George felt anything. Perhaps this was some silly one-sided schoolboy crush. Perhaps he would grow out of it.
He didn't think so.
He had started to doze when he heard the footsteps behind him. He knew who it was. He had the sort of electrical headache he got before a storm. His scalp tingled.
George strode over to him. It seemed to Harry that he was full of controlled power and his face was frozen in an angelic, determined vision. Then he wavered. Harry was beyond thought. He was terrified of doing the wrong thing, of scaring George off again. He was also numbed by desire without being sure of what it was he wanted.
George kissed him; his body melted. Now this was what he'd thought a kiss should be like! It was nothing like the hollow coldness of his kiss with Cho. It took him a moment to gather himself enough to kiss back. George's hands were gripping his head, holding him in place. He didn't need to, Harry never wanted to be anywhere else.
His hands reached forward. He touched George's pyjama shirt. His fingertips tingled and his chest ached. One hand bunched fabric into a fist. His other rested on George's naked waist. Then, just when Harry thought he was the luckiest boy alive, George broke away from him.
"No!" the redhead gasped – his face flushed crimson.
He looked behind him at the stairs from the boys' bedrooms, then sharply over Harry's shoulder to the girls' stairs and then swiftly checked the portrait hole.
Harry took hold of the hands were gliding away from him. George was just scared of getting caught. Murmuring reassurances, Harry lead George into the far corner, onto the infamous settee. It was high-backed and the students kept it in a dark corner, facing the wall, so that couples could have some privacy when the Common Room was full.
George had been here before. With Katie. Fred and Lee had cat-called and pelted them with wet spiders. George tried not to compare Harry with Katie. Even without the audience, he didn't think Katie would have excited him this much.
Harry hadn't been there. He'd watched couples disappear, though. Only last month, Lavender had dragged Dean over and he'd wondered what they were up to. Only Seamus had had the nerve to actually spy on them. He had then tormented Dean in the dorm by describing how the two of them had been wrapped round each other, their faces welded together.
Dean had hexed rabbit ears onto him in retaliation, but hadn't been able to hide his smug grin.
Harry wanted to wrap himself round George, to weld their mouths together. Shyly, he let go of one of George's hands and touched his face. He ran a finger across one ginger eyebrow, down a freckled cheekbone, dipped into the soft hollow of a cheek, then, feeling very daring, he touched George's lower lip.
George closed his eyes and moaned lightly. What was wrong with him? This was his last chance to break away, to stop something from happening. The tingle of Harry's touch was irresistible, though.
He forced his eyes open. Harry was staring at him intensely. It was all so familiar. It was all too much like the dreams he kept having. George gently removed Harry's glasses so he could see those intense green eyes better. Harry blinked hard. His lower lids crinkled, smoothing out as George got closer. Then George couldn't focus any more. He was too close. Their mouths were touching again.
Harry held onto George's jaw tight. He wasn't going to let him break away again. This was a kiss which could not be undone. George made a light, keening sound as he pushed closer and closer. Harry found himself falling slowly backwards against the hard, high back of the settee. They were chest-to-chest.
George started to stroke his palms down Harry's arms. He met the harsh texture of School Robes. He wanted the softness of skin. He wanted to take off the robes. Not naked, not yet, just some contact.
Not naked yet? What was he thinking? Had he abandoned all attempts at virtue? Was this him giving in?
Well, in for a penny ...
Very slightly, he parted his lips. Harry's panting stilled for a moment. Then he took another breath and his mouth followed George's lead. He had every intention of going slowly, of giving his young partner time to adjust to each stage, the opportunity to object. His body took over, though. It had waited so long and so patiently, with only dreams to nag him with. Now things were going the way it wanted and it wasn't going to wait any longer.
In a blind haze of lust, George realised that his tongue was inside Harry's mouth. It was thrusting and exploring. And Harry's tongue was doing the same. Their hands were pulling and gripping everywhere. Their breath was short, loud, wet. He was as hard as he'd ever been in his life and just a bit afraid of what he might end up doing about that.
With a wrench, he separated their mouths, twisting out of Harry's grip.
"No!" Harry gasped.
George didn't let go of him, though. He didn't run away. He just said, "Need a moment."
He wrapped his arm round Harry's shoulders and they snuggled back together. Harry was wondering whether they should talk now, make plans maybe. George kissed him lightly on the cheek before pointing towards the window. It was just a little less bright than it had been.
"Back to bed?" Harry's voice was heavy with disappointment.
"Not yet. Soon." George's eyes flickered over Harry's face. "Tomorrow night. Here again?"
Harry nodded. George pulled him close for one more long, lingering passionate kiss before they both snuck back to bed.