"If it's both terrifying and amazing then you should definitely pursue it."
~Anonymous

Ginny's pyjama's didn't fit.

George cracked up laughing as Felicity shuffled into the room in pants that hid her feet and a button-up top that hung down to her thighs and wouldn't let her arms poke out the sleeves.

To make matters worse, they were pastel pink. An ugly cotton candy pink that Felicity had nightmares about.

The truth, though, was that she'd wear the pyjamas again and again if she got George to laugh like that. It was a wild, carefree laugh, one Felicity figured hadn't been heard from him in a long time.

Ginny poked her head in the door, her eyes wide with shock. Nothing from her brother in three years, and now he'd bought Zonko's, brought home a girl and was laughing.

"Sorry if he's being obnoxious." Felicity huffed. "He thinks my attire is amusing."

Ginny cracked a grin. "I really am sorry about the pyjamas, Felicity. I just don't have anything else at the moment. If it helps, they're a bit big on me too."

"I bet you're not drowning in them, Ginny." George guffawed. "I never realized you were that small until now, Fel."

Ginny gave Felicity a look that was heavy with unspoken implications, and then bid the two goodnight.

Once the younger Weasley was gone, the door shut behind her, Felicity turned to George.

"It's pink." She pouted, but she only succeeded in amusing him further.

"I've never seen you in anything other than black and dark blue. It's quite refreshing." He chuckled.

"But- pink." She whined.

"Oh, quit complaining. If anything, you look downright snuggly in that getup." George teased, walking over to his own bed and fluffing up the pillow. "You can sleep in my old bed, and I'll take Fred's."

"I'm not snuggly!" She stomped across the room towards the bed George had designated for her, but George scooped her up mid-stomp.

"You're positively cuddly!" George proclaimed, and nuzzled his face into her neck.

"I'm not! Put me down!" She wriggled in his grasp, but he just clutched her tighter. "George Weasley, this is very inappropriate for a platonic friendship."

George very suddenly plonked her on the bed, and leaned over her.

"Ah, now there's the problem, love. I'm not so sure this is platonic." He breathed, his hot breath fanning her face.

Was it platonic? Had it ever been? Felicity felt her heart hammering in her chest, and her hands shook.

George was equally as nervous, suddenly wishing he'd left this conversation for a later time, a less...intimate time.

Silence hung heavily between the two, neither one daring to speak, until Mrs. Weasley's antique grandfather clock struck midnight.

"Muggles call midnight the witching hour." Felicity whispered into the stillness, looking up at George, who was still hovering above her.

"And why's that?" George asked wearily.

"Because, at midnight, anything can happen. Because the world isn't watching, and secrets can be spilled into the darkness without ever having consequence." Felicity did not have a beautiful voice. It was too deep to be feminine and too hoarse from years of screaming to be melodic, but right now, right here, her voice was the most alluring thing George had ever heard.

"Any secrets?" George wondered aloud.

"Any secrets." Felicity confirmed.

And so, because it was dark and because it was midnight and because he was staring into the deepest, darkest eyes he had ever seen, George Weasley whispered one of his best kept secrets into the night.

"I think, Felicity Nott, and I think about this quite often, that I'm falling in love with you."

Felicity was quiet for a minute, and George panicked. "Say something." He begged.

"I can't do magic." She said quietly.

"I know. It doesn't matter."

"I'm broken." She insisted.

"So am I."

"I'm lost too. I don't know what I'm doing with my life."

"I'll help you." He whispered.

"I can't replace Fred for you, George."

"I never asked you to, Felicity."

"You could have a real witch." She pressed.

"But I want you."

"She could do magic and know how to act around your family and-"

"She won't be you." George interrupted her.

"She could fix you."

"No she couldn't. No more than you can replace Freddie." He scoffed.

"I don't know how to love, George. I want to, but I don't know how." Felicity's voice cracked.

"Yes you do." He lowered himself towards her, his elbows resting next to her head. "You just need to realize it."

"What if I hurt you? What if I become like my family?" This one took George aback.

"I know who you are, darling, and I know you." He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "No one can make you do something you don't want to do, not your family, not my family, not even I can do that."

"I'm scared, George." She whispered.

"So am I, Felicity. But you know what?"

"What?"

"Courage is not the absence of fear." And then he kissed her, not because he wanted to replace Fred, and not because she was broken like he was, but because she made him laugh and tell jokes, because she looked adorable in Ginny's pink pyjamas and because when she smiled her crooked smile, her whole face lit up.

And Felicity kissed him back, not because she wasn't scared, (she was terrified) but because she liked his red hair, and because he was good where she had only ever known bad, and because he was so very fascinating.

Their lips pressed together and molded against each other, Felicity's hands ran through his hair and his rested on the bed beside her.

His bed.

Felicity sat up, and George's hands moved to her waist, pulling her closer, closer. His lips coaxed hers open and their tongues danced. It was wild and it was passionate and it was so unlike anything Felicity could have ever imagined.

It ended far too soon, but they both knew that if they continued, things would happen that they weren't ready for.

"George-" Felicity started, but George pecked her on the lips, a small, simple kiss, nothing at all like the fire of the first one.

"We can talk in the morning, Fel." He kissed her forehead, and her eyelids and then her lips one last time before he untangled their limbs and climbed into the bed on the other side of the room.