Violet didn't know a lot of things for certain.

She didn't know why the dungeon made her feel safe, or why Ravenclaws loved their nausea-inducing tower so much.

She could never tell which potion was the most fun to make or which classroom was her favorite, although this year it was a close tie between potions and charms, And she doubted that she'd ever actually know all the positions in Quidditch especially because it reminded her of someone who surely hated her by now.

She didn't know how many people Sadie could beat up all at once but had a sinking suspicion she'd find out someday, especially in light of recent events and the heightened attention she'd received all weekend.

Presently though, the lapse of knowledge most concerning was which foot she was supposed to step with first in a waltz.

Sadie twittered excitedly in her ear as she dragged their group of four from the safety of a corner table in the blindingly decorated Great Hall to the middle of the dance floor.

Violet walked out with them, anxiously picking her freshly painted nails done by Sadie less than an hour ago when she'd finally convinced her to join the festivities.

It had been a fight Violet knew she was going to lose. Her attempt was valiant but in the end, it was no use. Once Sadie caught a glimpse of the velvet gown that her family had sent, she was an immovable object and Violet didn't have it in her to be an unstoppable force. Especially after everything that had happened a few days prior.

Entirely against her will, Sadie had done her up and ushered her upstairs to Anastas and Vasily where she'd gotten away with chatting, and drinking copious amounts of odd-tasting punch for a while until Sadie decided they had to dance at least once.

The song faded away and exuberant, chattering voices overtook the room. Her peers turned from their couples to speak to friends across the room, making a sea of bodies from the once organized clusters.

Vasily grabbed her hand as he noticed her lagging. His behemoth height forced those smaller than him, to move out of the way. She nodded apologetically to the split couples, and friends who had to stall conversations as he dragged her along.

By the time they made it to an open spot, she was no closer to remembering any of Snape's dance lessons. Vasily turned to stare down at her expectantly. He cocked an eyebrow and a rush of panic flooded her. She tipped her head in question just before noticing that his hand hovering over her waist.

"Oh," she exclaimed nervously. "Yes, that's uh…fine."

He nodded before easing his hand against her, one finger at a time, and pulling her other hand into his. There was no panic on his face as she searched it. But there was no excitement either. Not that Violet minded. His complete indifference towards her this evening had made it the easiest date she'd ever been on.

The band gave no warning before music surged through the packed crowd, bouncing off the high glittering windows covered with fake snow, mimicking the real stuff outside. Dread set in as the room moved in unison but lucky for her, Vasily immediately took the lead, forcing her right foot to go first.

Her achy feet followed his around the floor, only slipping a little on the glittery decorations that had been scattered around the room. A weaker partner would've noticed her missteps but Vasily's solid arms didn't register her weight at all.

As they turned around the room in a dizzying pattern, she added another thing to the list of uncertainties. Whether she hated dancing or if her current partner simply did not inspire the passion necessary to enjoy the pastime.

Other couples twirled in the same way around them as the room came together in one rather impressive coordinated effort at ballroom dancing. Vasily's large chest kept her protected from prying eyes, although she was certain that even Malfoy had other things on his mind tonight, besides her. It was rather freeing to glance around and people-watch without so much as a look from her peers.

That was, all except one.

Under the twinkling white lights and faux winter decorations, she suddenly knew one thing for certain.

George Weasley was staring at her.

She thought for a moment she was mistaken. That perhaps she'd accidentally looked at someone with red hair, and then hazel eyes in succession, melting the two together in false recognition.

That's what she'd hoped anyway. But when Vasily spun them again in a quick circle, the eyes and hair were indeed attached to the same man. And George was most certainly looking at her.

She stared back, over Vasily's shoulder, wide-eyed, confused, and feeling sick. She glanced at him and then to the ceiling a few times, to give him the chance to look away or pretend like it was the decor that caught his eye. But he didn't.

His unexpectedly dark eyes stayed on her, narrowing the longer she looked. They blazed with anger and bore into hers like he wanted to wring her neck in a way that would make her eyes pop and neck snap in two.

It sent a chill down her spine, and the taste of dinner suddenly returned to her tongue. The entanglement of nerves in her stomach erupted without warning, almost making her trip.

She knew he'd be there. She'd prepared a strategy to avoid him all night and was under the impression that he'd be doing the same. But apparently, that was incorrect.

She tried not to look at him, spinning a girl she didn't recognize across the floor. But every time Vasily's massive shoulders dipped or swayed, she caught a glimpse of his scowling face, towering over his date's head.

The woman in his arms was a footnote on her heartache. She didn't particularly care who it was because he wasn't even looking at her. Clearly, his hatred towards her overpowered any affection he held for the woman in his arms. It would've been easier though if she was the sole reason. His new infatuation for someone else wasn't as terrible as his dislike for her.

He locked eyes with her again but she quickly looked away, pretending to admire the decorative chain on her date's shoulder. When that went on too long to be believable, she moved to stare at the decorations over his head.

Hogwarts never half-assed anything but this level of extravagance hadn't been seen by any of their other holiday celebrations. The beauty was enjoyable until she realized that amongst the white glow, she stuck out like a sore thumb.

Rich purple clung to her torso, and billowed out at her waist, leaving no skin uncovered except for the deep square neckline that outlined the top of her chest in small jewels. The velvet and stones shifted in the light, giving the structure multiple dimensions, and casting rainbows on her date's face. It was almost comical how the sparkling light illuminated his constantly furrowed brow and scowling lips. If he was angry, his delicate touch on her back and hand were funny ways of showing it. It was a wonder that someone who looked so gruff, knew anything of gentleness at all, and for that she was grateful.

He glanced down at her and for the first time tonight, she attempted a smile. It was tight-lipped and didn't reach her eyes but it was the best she could do. Vasily nodded politely but did not return the expression.

She tried not to read his mind but she guessed that he regretted telling her all that he did that night of the party. She knew then that it was the alcohol that had made him so loose-lipped, and part of her felt guilty for taking advantage of his drunken friendliness.

"I uh...like your cape," she mumbled, instantly turning beat red from how dumb it sounded.

He nodded. "Too hot."

The fur lining did seem excessive, especially when the roaring fires hardly let a draft into the building. But the rest of his red uniform looked nice. Regal even, next to the black and white suits worn by most of the Hogwarts boys.

A million questions bounced in her head for him but tonight she had no energy or motivation to keep her investigation going. Tonight, she wanted to make it back to her room unscathed, and with her heart still in one piece.

A second song started and Vasily focused on his feet, and she did the same. It got easier with each song and by the time an hour had passed, Violet was leading. It was almost fun until a tingling sensation on the back of her neck signaled that George's eyes were still glued to her from somewhere in the room. It traveled down her spine, making it impossible to hold a dancing form in her date's arms.

She glanced up to see if perhaps Vasily was feeling equally finished with dancing.

But as soon as she lifted her head, George was there, eyes blazing with hatred across the dance floor, this time two couples closer.

Her heart rate picked up and the sickly feeling crawled down the back of her throat again, burrowing deep in her stomach. She glanced down to her feet and wondered if barf came out of fur well, or if her dates suit would be ruined.

"Um…do you need a drink?" She heard herself say in a shaky and dry voice.

Vasily stopped his movements and grumbled something that sounded like yes. Relief washed over her as he turned to lead them back through the crowd, weaving through couples so quick she had to jog to keep up.

But the victorious feeling was short-lived. She shouldn't have done it, and maybe it would've saved her a lot of grief, but before she could make it safely into the chattering crowd lining the dance floor, she turned. Maybe she hoped that he'd be gone or looking away. But she had no such luck.

He was closer than she'd thought and stood still, glaring at her retreating figure. As soon as their eyes met, he took a step towards her. She hoped it was just automatic — a lasting reflex from their time together. But then he took another, and another and then he was too close and not stopping. She snapped her neck back to the path ahead where Vasily had found his friends near the punch bowl.

The wall of broad red shoulders parted to let her reach the bowl but she would've shoved the towering men aside if they hadn't. They spoke boisterously to one another in their native language, ignoring her and the other dates who surrounded them in a larger group talking in hushed voices about whether they predicted romance tonight.

She smiled to herself as they reformed their groups behind her. That put at least twenty people in between her and George. He'd be insane to confront her now.

Violet grabbed one of the stacked crystal glasses, with shaking hands, chanting relaxing sentiments in her head. It's alright. It's okay. You've been through worse. You'll go through better.

She managed to quell her jittery fingers enough to fill the cup with a punch a quarter of the way before a voice came from behind her.

"Excuse me — can I get to that?"

The Bulgarians mumbled in agreement and a breeze against the back of her neck signaled their movement.

"Thanks," the voice said.

Violet held her breath and looked from left to right for an escape route. Unfortunately, the only option seemed to be climbing under the table, which would be impossible with the size of her dress. Vasily touched her elbow as he moved out of the way, and she wished she was invisible.

Staring at the wall now, frozen in place, she listened to the footsteps slow and finally stop next to her.

"Violet."

Her heart fluttered at the three syllables that usually only turned her head. Notably, he did not call her Vi, which made the sinking feeling in her chest deepen.

She'd never thought much of her name until George compared her to colors, or shortened it sweetly because he'd said it so often. It had only ever been him to call her that. She doubted it'd be as satisfying to hear it from someone else. But now, she'd exiled herself to full first name basis.

"George," she confirmed before closing her eyes and bracing for impact.

This was when she'd have to hear him say all the awful things he'd been thinking about her. All the reasons they could never be together, and all the reasons that they shouldn't have been in the first place.

He'd get to yell, scream, seethe at her on what was supposed to be a night of merriment and she'd be helpless to stop him.

She wouldn't stop him because she deserved it.

She'd lied to him and kept him at arm's length because it was easier to cater to her feelings than consider his pain. It was cowardly and something she'd always be ashamed of, so his anger was warranted.

She hadn't thought he'd do it here, in front of everyone, but she supposed it was better to get it over with.

"Enjoying your evening?"

He spat the words like he was trying to get something awful tasting off his tongue. It landed in the space between them and manifested in a sickly feeling in her stomach.

"Yeah. You?"

His voice sounded miles away. "Yeah."

In the pause, they shifted uncomfortably, fiddling with the cups they held. Violet tried to focus on the music or even the conversation happening behind them even though she couldn't understand a word. Vasily laughed along with his friends, too distracted to save her. At least one of them would have a pleasant night.

"So…is he the reason why?" George's voice wavered like he was unsure if he should say it. The hesitation caught her off guard and it almost felt tender, like it hurt him to accuse her of anything.

Finally, she looked up.

Something akin to anger passed over his face, disrupting the hurt expression he'd held previously.

"What?"

He craned his neck to bring his face close to hers. She watched him nod towards Vasily and then let his grimace deepen.

"Him —that Durmstrang git — he's the reason you broke things off, right?"

Reality snapped into place so fast she nearly got whiplash. There was a brief moment where she'd been under the impression that the 'he' they were speaking about, was her uncle, or perhaps Malfoy. But Vasily hadn't even crossed her mind.

"What are you talking about?"

He scoffed and then she saw the hurt pool in his eyes.

"Was it him you after the whole time? Or were you testing us both out?"

Horrified, Violet's eyes grew wide. She shook her head and searched his face over and over looking for any hint of a joke but there was none. The pit that had already formed deep in her stomach bottomed out and swallowed her whole. Heat rose from her neck and covered her whole face stamping her shock and discomfort in a bright red hue.

"No, no, of course not."

He took a step closer and didn't care to mask his emotion. Anger flared violently behind his eyes, flushing his cheeks. He was so similar to summer that she wondered how she could stand so close to his fire without being burnt. His disheveled, red hair spewed from his head like sunbeams around his freckled face, making him the blazing star that had brought her from the darkness. Barley, wheat, and golden fields shimmered in his eyes, just above his crooked frown jagged and harsh like summer storms.

"Violet, just tell me he's the reason why."

It wasn't an order or command but a plea. He was begging her to release him from some agony that she could not see; an agony she did not understand.

"He's not the reason for anything he's just some guy in my class," she tried to explain but her voice landed as harsh as his. The conversation behind them paused at the noise.

Embarrassed, hurt, and confused, she felt the urge to flee. Without sparing him another glance, she turned and pushed through the crowd, holding back the rush of emotion that threatened to release on George, no matter who was around.

She'd had days to mentally prepare for his hatred and yet when faced with it, the room spun and shrunk, making it too small and unstable for her to stay calm.

A lump lodged itself in her throat and before she could relieve it with sobs, a hand gripped her arm.

George spun her to face him. Further from their peers now, he didn't hold back.

"If he's just some guy, then why is he your date?" George's chest rose and fell sporadically. His eyes were wild and searching.

She lunged forward and met him a breath away, uncaring about the consequences.

"Why is she," she spat, sending her anger at the man fuming in front of her, before yanking her arm out of his grip and storming towards the doors.

But before she could fully escape the shrinking room, her shoulder hit something hard, nearly sending her toppling over.

"In a hurry, Wilkes?"

Professor Moody steadied her with a hand on the shoulder before tipping his head to study her disheveled state. His one somber eye held steady on her face while the other shot off towards somewhere over her head.

She'd never been this close to him before but out of all his oddities, the thing that struck her the most was the strangest scent wafting off of him. It was sour and musky but too raw to be any kind of cologne. It assaulted her senses but sobered her up just enough to get out a few normal words.

"Sorry professor," she said while walking around him and continuing on her way. "Just need some fresh air. Have a great night!"

He shot her a look. "It's the middle of winter."

Violet let out a nervous giggle and craned her neck to politely nod goodbye. Beyond Moody, George followed, still thundering towards her with murderous intent in his eyes.

Her heart leaped into her throat. Full speed now, she fled into the foyer. In order to avoid the chatting peers huddled near the front doors and the hall that could lead her home, she had no choice but to make her way up the stairs.

Her leg length, dress weight, and heels ensured that George caught up to her easily, as he skipped stairs two at a time to come upon her left.

"Was that a fucking joke, Violet?" He spat the question and matched her stride easily. She shot him a sideways glance and rolled her eyes.

After checking the landing and hall up ahead for people she shot back. "So you can ask me about my date, but I can't ask about yours?"

Anger flared again as they flew through the hall. He sped up, walking backward to face her.

"She's Angelina's best friend and Fred begged me to take her," he explained in a huff while stretching an arm out to slow her down.

She scoffed at that and tried to push him out of the way.

"Yeah right — "

He roared over her dismissal. "I could hardly stand the thought of it because I was so worried about you but now I see that you're fine — perfectly fine in fact now that you've traded me in for a northern dickhead."

She gritted her teeth at his accusation. The image of George holding his date's waist, even as friends, flooded her mind, making her cheeks heat. He shouldn't be yelling at her about this. This was the least of their worries. But if he wanted a fight, she would give him one.

"Oh, I'm sure you tossed and turned over it. Poor George had to take a pretty girl to the ball. This must be so difficult for you!"

"It is because she's not you," he said in a breathless explanation.

The worlds struck her but didn't stick. The eerie silence in the empty hall was long gone as their voices bounced around the stone arches, and echoed through the building.

She'd wanted to go with him too. Even if it was just as friends. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes again. This wasn't the fight they were supposed to be having. He shouldn't care about who her date was because he shouldn't care about her. At all.

"You don't want me, George," she cried. "Not anymore. So I don't know why it fucking matters!"

For the first time since they'd stepped outside the great hall, he stopped moving. The abruptness caused her to crash into his chest and almost bring them both to the ground. She pushed off of him and glared up at his face just in time to watch the angry lines etched into his forehead dissolve into a look of confusion.

He brushed a piece of hair from his face. "Don't want you? What the fuck are you talking about?"

She threw her head back and groaned. "Oh for fucks sake George. You don't have to pretend like you don't hate me. It would be easier if you didn't!"

"Hate you? Hate you?"

"Yes!"

"Because you're in love with someone else?"

"I'm not in love with him! I'm not even dating him. I doubt we will ever talk again after tonight," she screamed, resisting the urge to shove him to the ground and hold him there until he understood.

"So then what is it," he yelled, leaning in close again.

Violet matched his aggression and launched forward, standing on her tippy toes to make them nose to nose as she pushed her finger into his chest. It was excruciating to plead the case against herself but she had to make him understand.

"My family! You hate me because you heard what Malfoy said about my family!"

She glanced down to where her finger jabbed into his chest with an emphasizing pattern. She hadn't noticed before but the vest beneath his coat, unbuttoned and slightly hidden was made of scratchy purple fabric. It matched her dress and she scrunched her face to keep from crying.

George stumbled back. "What?"

His eyes narrowed and his jaw went slack like he didn't know what she was talking about. And then Violet couldn't take it any longer. She grabbed his arm and yanked him into the closest set of unlocked doors.

The room was pitch black but in an instant, George flourished his wand, and candles and fireplaces all around them sprung to life, illuminating the library, of all places.

"I know how you and all the other Gryffindors are George," she explained in a harsh tone through gritted teeth.

"Enlighten me," he shot back loudly.

She back away slowly at first and then marched down the main aisle, and away from nosy passerby's who could easily hear their shouts behind a closed door.

"I don't blame you for wanting nothing to do with me but at least have the courage to fucking admit it!"

"Violet, I don't hate you," he yelled after her.

She scoffed and kept her eyes forward, accidentally landing on the spot where they'd first kiss. The lump in her throat became harder to swallow. She made it as far as the opening of the alcove before gathering enough courage to face him again.

He was right on her heels as she turned. "Stop lying! I saw your face. Yours and Ginny's and Freds —"

His steps didn't stop as he lunged forward to grip both of her shoulders.

"I don't care about your family!"

His eyes watered and searched her face frantically.

"Godric's ghost, help me," he cursed to himself before shaking her shoulders. "Violet, I don't give a shit about your family, or Malfoy or any of it. You could be a bloody Death Eater, and I'd still probably want you because I can't fucking help it. I can't move on, or think, or watch you dance with some prick because that's supposed to be me. It was me until you put words in my mouth!"

She struggled against his grip for a moment and then went wide-eyed. George brushed his fingers through her hair urgently. Once. Twice. Until he stopped and cupped her face like he was trying to physically push his thoughts into her head.

She opened and closed her mouth a few times as he searched her face, being sure there was no had no fight left in her before dropping his hand back to her shoulders. She beheld his passion, less sure of herself now, and tried to form words while releasing a shuddering breath.

"Well…how…how was I supposed to know that?"

In an instant, he dropped his hands from her. His anger returned, swift and heightened, nearly making her wince.

He brought his hands up to his head for a moment, hiding his face before unleashing an almost growl.

"Because you fucking know me!"

It was true, to an extent. But fear was blinding and she'd hid this to protect him. It wasn't as simple as trusting or knowing him.

"Well, I…I was just scared that you'd know me andsee me as one of them. You must understand that."

Violet tried to shove him away but he caught her wrist with both his hands. He ripped the seam of her sleeve, peeling the material from her wrist, down to her elbow so fast she almost thought he'd done it with magic.

"What do you see?" His yell hit her square in the chest, rattling her heart. "The Dark Mark?"

She shook her head, failing at fighting off his grasp. "You don't understand, George."

He grabbed her wrist tighter and shook it in the space between them, his face bright red.

"Look, Violet!"

Her tears fell freely. "I was trying to protect you from me and him and —"

He roared over her. "What do you see?"

She used her other hand to hit him in the chest before staring at her forearm to appease him.

"Nothing! There's nothing there!"

Fire lit his eyes. "Then that's the fucking end of it!"

And it was.

There was a moment where Violet misinterpreted his words. She thought that he'd turn on his heel and be gone forever. That he'd be so disappointed in her and the man she'd mistaken him for that he couldn't bear the sight of her. She thought he'd leave, for good.

But he didn't.

He yanked her forward, crushing her into his chest, one hand tugging her face to meet his, the other wound tight around her waist.

His lips weren't nice, or sweet, or careful. They gave her no option to recoil or believe she didn't deserve him. He pulled her into his chest, devouring her unsaid words and whimpers. His hands moved from her face to her hair, dragging down her sides and back in frantic sweeps. He moved like he was starved for something and it'd taken Violet this long to realize that it was her.

He didn't regret being with her. He didn't want to hate her. He didn't want to shun her because of her last name.

He wanted her. For better or for worse.

And she wanted him too. Desperately. Incoherently. More than she'd ever wanted anything before. She wanted him in a way that scared her. In a way, she couldn't explain.

Violet gripped his shirt, yanking him closer, just as breathless as he was. He groaned in approval and let her pull him back until the backs of her knees hit the edge of the chair.

George followed her down, landing on his knees between her legs as she settled into her chair.

She let out a content and strangled sigh, overcome with regret. The worry she'd harbored the last few months had kept her from this. She was the only one to blame for all the missed moments with the man who would have her despite it all. The bitter sense of time lost almost made her cry.

His tongue urgently swept over hers, unwilling to let her form another word or apology. She tried to tell him sorry, over and over but he swallowed the attempts and groaned over her.

She'd never thought he'd kiss her again and now he was. She thought that he hated her, but he didn't. She thought he cared about all of the things she was deeply insecure about but he didn't.

His fingers found her zipper and fumbled with it for a few seconds in a silent question of permission.

"Yes," she sighed into his mouth.

George pulled it like he couldn't bear the feeling of fabric between them any longer and it fell to the floor in one strong tug. As soon as her body was free from the cover, he pressed sloppy, open mouth kisses along her jaw and neck, all the while pushing her back against the cushions until he towered over her. She arched into him, as he kissed, licked, and sucked along her chest.

"You're fucking beautiful," he grumbled. "Have I ever told you that?"

Violet shook her head and whimpered at the words, begging him for more. He continued his descent down her chest, stopping to suck at her nipples, hard and reaching for him. His tongue swirled the sensitive skin over and over, building into a pleasure akin to a summer's day. Hot and all-encompassing in the way that only the sun can be. But at the same time, soft and bright and new. She shuddered as it ran through her and he responded by rolling her hardened peak against his teeth, making her jerk and moan.

George looked up at her then with half-lidded eyes, pooling with want. A shaky breath was all she could muster as he made her twitch and writhe beneath him. But he wanted more. One hand palmed her breast while the other dipped down to pull her underwear to the side.

The first touch of his fingers along the length of her plump slit, had her gasping. She heard George groan and watched a pained expression waft over his face before he braced his forehead against her stomach, almost like it was too much to bear.

He'd touched her like this before but back then there had been only been affection between them. This time, frustration, time lost, and a hint of anger swirled in the air, making him move almost aggressively.

He slipped a finger in and all she could muster was his name, over and over again in a breathy plea.

"You're perfect." He panted against her.

She moaned low in response as another finger entered her, making a lewd sloppy noise that exposed how much she wanted him.

"Irritating within an inch of your life but, beautiful, and fucking perfect."

His fingers disappeared and she went to glare at him until the head of his cock rubbed against her slick folds. His forehead found hers as they both shared a shuddering breath laced with anticipation. He rubbed himself against her, torturing them both with the slow friction.

She hadn't thought much about losing her virginity but now that George was on the precipice of taking it, an overwhelming, otherworldly longing overtook any nerves. There was only her, and George and the inevitable.

"Irritating," she questioned softly, shifting her hips to match his slow movements.

His eyes closed and movements stalled. A low shaking breath brushed her face as he surrendered and let her do as she pleased.

"Yes," he groaned. "You are maddening and then have the audacity to be this fucking wet."

With the light thrust of her hips, she took the first few inches of him.

"Violet," he managed, in a strangled voice, eyes closing. "You can't imagine how hard it is to stay angry with you right now."

Violet smiled and watched his face contort in pleasure as she took the rest of him. A small final thrust was all it took before he bottomed out and filled her completely. George brought his hand to her face and caressed her bottom lip in a fierce pattern that said 'I missed you.'

With wells for eyes, she met his gaze, relishing in the feel of him deep inside her. She'd missed him too, more than he could imagine. Her unbelievably blissful state hit all at once, making a tear roll down her face before she could stop it.

He swept it away and furrowed his brow. "What's wrong? Are you alright?"

She meant to say 'Nothing, I'm fine.' Or perhaps 'I missed you too.' A million things came to mind about how absurd the question was because she was incandescently happy. The happiest she'd ever been. Here in this chair where he'd shown her kindness and included her without question into his world of chaos and fun, there were no words for it. Her own inability to be brave had kept them apart and to get a second chance to show him how much she wanted this; how much she wanted him, felt too good to be true.

She meant to say something to quell his fears or maybe even quickly dismiss the question but her heart answered before her mind could.

"I love you."

George stalled, still inside her, still holding her close. She felt his breath catch in his throat and her own heart drop in the silence. Snow accumulated outside the windows above them. The soft flakes created a phantom noise that could only be described as the gentle night before Christmas. They weightlessly floated down to earth, content simply with existing.

She watched them a moment more before she felt George rest his face in the crook of her neck, and smile.

The next second, he thrust into her, slow and deep, breaking the silence of the room.

"Say it again," he commanded, thrusting once more, this time a bit faster.

The velvet scratched her back as he began to slowly fuck her in a delicious, toe-curling pattern. It took every last shred of concentration to understand his words and respond.

"I love you," she chanted again.

And she did. Wholeheartedly and unabashedly. She knew at that moment that he was hers and she'd love him for as long as he'd let her. The weightless feeling in her chest was overwhelming. It compelled her to repeat the three words over and over in breathless moans even as white-hot pleasure scratched every inch of her body.

George pulled his face from her neck and watched her with dark eyes. Between his grunts and moans, she heard him mutter a contraceptive charm and then repeat her. The words were quiet, and slow at first, almost like he couldn't believe he was saying it. But then his voice grew louder and louder until he drowned her out as she turned into a mess of whimpers and pleas to fuck her harder.

"I love you," he said. "Violet, I love you so much."

She lifted a hand to brush the hair from his face and then craned her neck to kiss him. The searing connection was messy and breathless and perfect. They stayed connected through mouth and hips until the building heat made babbling messes of them both.

His thrusts became more erratic and her thoughts became less clear. The burning sensation in her lower abdomen spread like wildfire across her skin from somewhere deep in her veins. It made her legs shake so much she had to wrap them around George to stay still. She couldn't help but rip her mouth away from his and cry out as the building waves of pleasure overtook the last shred of control she'd held onto. George followed not a moment later, biting onto her collarbone to keep composure as he jerked and spasmed, chanting her name.

They held each other, gasping for air until the feeling subsided. Violet let her arched back settle into the chair and George rested on top of her, wrapping both his arms around her waist and using her chest as a pillow. His eyes opened and closed, brushing her skin with the faint feel of his eyelashes.

Violet felt her breath return to her in a rush of clarity. The snow kept coming and it'd be impossible to go anywhere outside. That was just fine. Perhaps they would stay here, or shack up in George's room but one thing she knew for certain was that she'd never avoid him again.

Laying in George's arms felt like a dream. Perhaps she'd fallen asleep at their table in the Great Hall or someone had spiked the punch with a hallucinogen.

She ran her fingers through George's hair, monitoring every breath and movement he made. He felt real. He definitely felt real.

Just to be sure, she hooked a finger beneath his chin and lifted his face towards hers. His lips spread into a goofy smile, almost like she'd just told him a joke or had something on her face.

"Hi," she said.

He kissed the palm of her hand. "Hi."

They stared at one another for a beat and then exploded into a fit of giggles. Her laughter and gulps of air shook them both until she had to push George off of her to get a deep breath. He pulled her up with him, scooping her into his arms. Ignoring her squeal of surprise, he walked them over to a couch near the fire and laid her gently on a pile of cushions.

"Take that off," she said softly, motioning to his vest and shirt that hung unbuttoned from his torso.

In one swift movement, he stood before her in just his boxers. Her cheeks burned at the realization that she'd left a large wet stain on the front of them. But George didn't seem to notice or mind as he climbed in beside her, yanking a blanket over the top of them and pulling her to lay on his chest.

A burning desire spurred from the back of her throat as she watched his Adam's apple bob a few times, almost in a nervous pattern. The freckled skin rippled with the movement and she couldn't help place a kiss just under his chin.

He groaned as her lips brushed against him. Curious about what else she could do, she licked a long stripe down to his collar bones and kissed her way back up, stopping to occasionally leave little marks that branded him as hers.

"Are you still angry," she asked finally, bracing herself up on an elbow and touching his forehead with hers.

He closed his eyes and pondered for a moment, dramatically easing a fist beneath his chin.

"Incredibly," he said with a giggle, after a few torturous seconds.

Violet smiled and swatted at his hand. He caught it in a flash, instantly pressing a kiss to her knuckles. She only winced a little as he repeated the action over and over, getting softer each time as he noticed the bruise that Malfoy left.

"To match your dress?" He asked brushing his thumb along the deep purple color.

Violet couldn't help but smile. "You did say that violet was my color."

They giggled at the memory.

"Does it hurt?"

She shook her head, rolling her forehead against his. "Not so much anymore."

"I do have to say I was surprised," George mused with a widening smile. "You sure know how to throw a punch,"

Violet laughed at that because she'd just panicked in the moment. There was nothing technical or impressive about the impact she'd imposed upon Malfoy's face. All she did was ball her fingers into a fist and swing wildly. Truthfully, she was lucky that she'd hit her mark and not pummeled poor Ginny beside her.

"I was just trying to impress you," she giggled, finding his eyes again and blushing at the intensity pooling there.

"It definitely worked," he said, before letting his smile fade. "But I should've done it for you."

Violet brushed her fingers along his face in a delicate, comforting pattern. "George, it's fine —"

He shook his head, staring off into the distance at some memory she couldn't see. "It's not, Vi," the return of her nickname made her heart flutter. "Malfoy's a git for talking to you like that."

"Yeah but that's just what he's like. Honestly, I'm fine."

"I know but no one should treat you like that…I shouldn't have let him treat you like that."

His hand moved to cup her cheek in earnest. The way his face contorted really made it seem like the memory hurt.

"If he talks to you, speaks your name or so much as fucking looks at you ever again, you tell me and I'll fucking kill him. Do you hear me?"

"Yes."

"Good girl," he said tenderly, squeezing her tight.

Violets face turned bright red but she didn't think he noticed. It felt insane to get butterflies from something as simple as his voice. Especially in this moment where only his boxers separated them but she couldn't help it. It'd been months of her begging her heart and head to go back to her peaceful existence before George but she doubted even a memory charm could banish him from her head.

"I can fight my own battles, George," she mumbled against his skin.

He nodded. "I know. But that doesn't mean you should have to. Especially when I'm around."

Violet propped her chin on her forearm and smiled up at him. "And what if you aren't around?"

He smiled back and leaned forward to brush his lips against hers.

"Not gonna happen, Vi," he said, shaking his head. "I'm never letting you out of my sight again or else you might come up with another idiotic plan to break us up."