FORTYONE
"What are you drawing?"
When George's question was met with silence, the charcoal tracings on Eve's sketchbook began to darken, her sunlight stolen by a looming shadow. She let out a disgruntled sigh, looking up from her lap to meet George's face peering over her, his legs sprawled out behind him where he had been unknowingly posed for her only moments before. Eve watched as his expression connected the dark lines of an unfinished silhouette.
He grinned when he recognized the familiar stripes of his jumper.
"It's me."
"Correct. Now get back to where you were."
Eve accompanied her words with a shove to George's shoulder, sending him backward into the grass and out of her sunshine again. George let out a loud scoff at the act of violence but ultimately reasoned to his girlfriend's wishes by allowing the distance between them again.
Eve studied George's movements carefully as he did this, watching him replicate the upright pose imitated on her page. George moved to sprawl his long legs in front of him in the same careless manner as before, but this time, his arms rested in front of his chest, twisting in an unnatural form as if he were a child who had just been told to stay put by a reprimanding mother. Eve frowned, causing the boy to unfold an annoying grin.
"It was like this, wasn't it?"
When Eve did not remark on George's teasing, he held his pose only a second longer before turning on his side. He replaced his folded arms by tucking one under his arm to support his head while the other folded in the air to rest on his exposed hip, his body making an awkward attempt at a Greek sculpture, minus the artistic stoicism and nude biceps.
"Or was it like this?"
Eve rolled her eyes, feeling grateful the grassy hill the couple currently occupied was all but deserted at this time in the late afternoon, leaving no chance for disapproving eyes on George's strange antics.
"You're such a knobhead."
Dropping her sketchbook on a piece of grass beside her, Eve lifted her body to reach across the space between them. Pushed to sit back on his bottom, George silently complied to his limbs being moved by Eve's artistic vision.
"Rest on your elbows, like before."
George obeyed, his amused gaze never leaving Eve's concentrated expression.
"You should know, darling, that I never work for free. It's a sacred rule of mine, in fact."
This time, Eve allowed herself to unmask from George's teasing, a wide grin erupting from her face as she finally met his eyes. Moving a hand that had just twisted his shoulder in place, Eve trailed her fingers up the nape of George's neck, passing the sharpest point of his jaw and resting on the smooth skin of his chin. Delicately lifting his face to center with hers fully, Eve admired the radiance the afternoon sun gave the highest peak of his face, the red hues of his hair emanating a glow almost too blinding to look at and knowingly impossible to replicate with just her pencil and paper.
It was Eve who moved her face now, slow and careful, just as she had done with George's body only moments before, connecting the distance between them with her lips. The kiss did not last long, their mouths opening only a moment to invite the other inside. To inhale and then exhale with only a fleeting taste of one another. Eve let her tongue linger a second longer, though, licking the expanse of George's bottom lip, only to quickly pull away and leave his mouth wet and ajar.
"You were saying?" Eve asked, leaning back slightly to watch George's dazed expression, finally motionless in place.
"Never mind," George murmured. He cleared his throat slightly to gain oxygen back into his lungs. "Do with me as you please."
Eve smiled, reaching to move his chin away from her and towards the lush green expanse ahead of them both: the downward barrel of the grassy hill, a small meadow just below where the stems of white-flowered weeds had sprung up just the week before, and far ahead, the vast darkness of the Forbidden Forest where she and George had spent their first moments together.
Sitting back in her patch of grass, sketchbook back in hand, Eve studied the boy before her. No, the young man, now somehow taller and more defined in face than he had been when they had first walked through that forest last year. Back when George was only a strange curiosity to Eve, like when she took her first steps within the castle her first year and discovered a world she had never known existed before and yet had always been a part of her since birth, only waiting. And yet, Eve realized now that there was still more for her to discover and learn from within this magical place. That perhaps, more so, there was yet still a different kind of magic for her to behold, beyond incantations and the flying of a boom.
She saw it at that moment, looking down to sketch the curve of George's nose, only to look up again at the real thing and discover that her strokes weren't just right. Even with a double, George's face was too remarkably matchless to be properly reiterated on paper. Not now anyway, in this perfect moment, with the sunshine an unparalleled shade of golden orange Eve couldn't remember ever beholding in her seventeen years before. No, there was no amount of magic filled in all the stoned corridors behind her that could form the vision in front of her.
Eve didn't know how long she and George sat like this, her in a peaceful artist stupor and her muse posed in dutiful contentment before either of them spoke again. It could have been minutes or hours to her, but only the burning daylight above them that kept count.
"I think you're the only person in the world I could ever be silent with."
George's voice finally broke the quiet, his words defining the silence between the two with his vulnerable admission, though his face remained unbroken in pose.
Eve let out a short laugh.
"Not even your brother?"
There was a beat of silence as George considered the question. Still posed, he turned his eyes to look at her from his peripheral.
"Maybe when one of us is asleep."
"That's quite the compliment coming from a Weasley."
"And I've got more coming your way, don't you worry."
Still grinning, Eve glanced down at her sketchbook. She tried not to sound too discontented.
"I think I'm done."
At Eve's concession, George immediately animated back to himself, turning to dive across from his spot in the grass and leap towards Eve's lap. Eve let out a yelp as his heavy arms came down on her thighs.
"Such a child."
"My apologies, darling," George replied, but his eyes were already locked on the page now in his hands. Eve fidgeted uncomfortably on her bottom when he didn't immediately react.
After a long pause, George sighed, lifting the sketchbook to hold it directly next to his face—the real George beside the charcoal imagining.
"Am I really this handsome?"
Eve snorted but did not attempt to lie.
"Yes, George."
George grinned, wide and bright. A genuine smile that was both sheepishly childlike and wholly benevolent. It was Eve's favorite of his.
George lowered her sketchbook to give it another look.
"You really are talented, you know that."
"I'm alright," Eve shrugged, causing George to raise his eyes to cast her a pointed look. "But thank you."
"Eve, you are," George pushed, raising himself from where he lay on the grass to meet Eve's face. He lifted a hand to reach for her cheek, and Eve, responding in nature, closed the distance with a kiss. The kiss was brief but sweet, Eve pulling away from George's grasp to glance down at the sketchbook still in his hand.
"I drew it for you," Eve said, watching as George's face twisted into a curious smile at her words, "I suppose as something to remember me by."
"I'm supposed to remember you with a picture of myself?" George asked with an amused look. Eve let out a light laugh but only replied with a shrug.
George glanced down at the sketchbook again. Taking it in his hands, he began to delicately flip through the pages.
"Haven't got any self-portraits in here?"
"None," Eve grinned.
After a moment, he stopped at a particular page and examined it closely.
"I'll take this one."
Eve craned her neck slightly to peer over where George held the sketchbook towards him. When she recognized a sketch of the Brighton Palace Pier she had drawn over winter break, she raised her eyes to give George a puzzled look.
"I like it," he shrugged, smiling as he glanced back down at the drawing, "It's where you live, isn't it?"
"Yes," Eve nodded.
"Then it's perfect," George smiled, lifting the bottom of the page to gently pull the paper from the sketchbook's spiral binding. "It's your home when you aren't here with me. And now I'll always have a piece of it with me."
Eve remained silent at this, studying the seaside image one last time as George carefully folded the paper. He raised his hip, slipping it in one of the back pockets of his trousers.
George's gesture made Eve think of the drawing she had just made of George, now remaining in her sketchbook. It was a pose of him at his most peaceful, his most himself, and with the castle grounds sprawled behind him. It was an image she would get to keep for herself. Her other home.
Before Eve could muster up a way of saying this to George, though, a loud whizzing sound erupted from behind them, echoing off the top stone walls of the north side of the castle. Turning, Eve connected the high-pitched sounds to an eruption of bright red sparks in the sky, twisting and shooting out from what appeared to be the Owlery Tower.
Perhaps if half the school weren't at the Hogsmeade trip at this very moment, Eve would have made multiple guesses as to the reasoning for the fireworks. But since half the school was in town, and the only students she knew for certain that were still in the vicinity of the castle grounds were her, George, and the rest of the permanently punished DA members, she had an inkling as to who may have caused the commotion.
"Your brother up to something in your absence?"
When Eve turned towards George for a reply, she was surprised by his nonchalant demeanor. He watched as the last remaining ruby sparks evaporated into tiny grey clouds before finally turning to Eve, his expression giving no hint of recognition. He shrugged.
"No idea."
Eve narrowed her eyes.
"It's going to get dark soon," George remarked, glancing up at the setting sun and seemingly all at once forgetting the strange incident they had just seen, "You hungry?"
Eve grabbed her sketchbook and nodded.
The pair slowly ascended back up the castle grounds, their hands connected and fingers intertwined in a gesture of affection that had become normal to them in the last couple of months. But when the enormous walls of the castle centered into their view and their ground transformed from the earth into cobblestone, Eve let go of George's hand, the mark of another gesture that had become commonplace between them.
But to her surprise, George reached out and returned her hand into his.
"George, you know we've got to be careful," Eve sighed, her fingers beginning to loosen within his grip, but this only caused George to tighten his hold on her.
"No, I don't care anymore," George replied, his expression far more serious than it had been all afternoon. "Why can't I hold hands with my girlfriend? What right does that ministry cow have in saying I can't do that? I've waited years and now that gets taken away when we've only got a month left. How is any of this fair?"
Eve was slightly stunned for a moment; the pair having come to a stop in one of the open courtyards that would lead them back into the confines of the castle. Eve was not expecting the growing anger in George's tone nor the unexpected admission coming from his lips. She desperately wanted to ask what he had meant by "years," but she knew the urgency of his "month left."
"That's exactly why we need to be careful, George. We have a month left before school ends. You only have a month left at Hogwarts. Your N.E.W.T.s are in a few weeks. You can't risk expulsion, even if it is unfair."
George's face dropped slightly at Eve's words, softening into something far more pained. He exhaled low, dropping Eve's hand in the process. Eve could see as he scanned the courtyard around them that he was choosing his words carefully.
"Fred and I, we got that shop I was telling you about."
George's eyes finally met Eve's when he finished his reply, his expression apprehensive as hers broke into a wide grin.
"Seriously? The business deal finally went through? George, that's amazing."
Eve lifted her hands and wrapped herself around his torso in a tight embrace. After a moment, she felt George return the gesture by wrapping his arms around her, his share of the hug squeezing Eve until she felt herself let out a gulp of air.
Eve laughed, pulling her face away from George's neck to meet his eyes.
"We aren't helping the handholding debate looking like this."
George scoffed, turning his head slightly to take a glance around the empty courtyard and yet making no attempt to move his hands off Eve.
"You know, for a naturally inclined worry-wort, you surely picked the wrong boyfriend."
Eve rolled her eyes before abruptly giggling when George playfully pinched her side. She read his expression for a moment; his usual grin paired with a slightly distant look in his eyes. Like his mind was half with her, in the present, and the other half lost somewhere else.
"You know, just because you have your career set up doesn't mean you shouldn't try with your N.E.W.T.s…" Eve began, but her words were cut short by George letting out a loud exhale.
"Enough with N.E.W.T.s, Eve. I have other priorities I need to address," George replied. Pulling apart from her waist, he began to push her in the direction of the corridor ahead. Eve sighed but allowed the subject to be dropped and her body moved along.
"Any hint on these dire priorities of yours?"
"Yeah," George grinned, "dinner."
The pair walked back inside the castle's walls, through familiar corridors and stairwells, and passing the occasional younger years of students who wandered aimlessly without the privilege of Hogsmeade trips. Though George relented in their handholding debate, the two walked side by side, allowing the occasional brush of shoulders and fingertips as they went. But unlike the awkward uncertainty of when Eve and George first began their friendship, the couple now shared a quiet knowing between one another, an unspoken acknowledgment of what the other meant to them, and perhaps most of all, a promise that their hands will meet again.
"George, we should have made a left there."
Eve slowed her steps just as the two passed the corridor that would have led their path down to the Great Hall. She watched as George, now a few steps ahead, glanced back at her casually.
"We're not going to the Great Hall."
Eve scoffed but knew to comply. She caught her step back up with George and, with him in her lead, passed another stretch of corridors. It wasn't until they got to the Grand Staircase and began to ascend that Eve understood his plan.
"Bubotuber."
The woman in the portrait glanced up at George from her reflection in a handheld mirror, her face showing idle interest in him before her eyes shifted behind his shoulder to Eve. She narrowed her gaze then.
"She's not in Gryffindor," the Fat Lady remarked.
"Yes, she is. You let her in all the time," George swiftly replied, taking on his usual tone of agreeable contradiction. The Fat Lady considered this point, her eyes turning suspiciously between the pair. Eve smiled, attempting a form of innocence, and the painted woman softened her expression with a sigh.
"Do I? Yes, alright then. Off you go."
The Fat Lady shook her head and waved her hand, as if it was her mistake that she didn't recognize Eve at first glance. The portrait swung open, but it wasn't until it shut behind them that Eve's questioning began.
"George Weasley, this better not be a prank."
A laugh erupted from George at Eve's unconvincing warning. He turned, facing Eve, and blocked her from going further into the short corridor.
"Eve," he began, reaching a hand to cup one side of Eve's face and raising her gaze ever so slightly to meet his amused expression, "how long have we known each other now?"
She shrugged.
"For some time."
"And have I ever pranked you?"
"Well..." Eve thought over.
"I haven't," George finished for her, "I surprise you, never prank."
A proud grin spread on George's face, causing Eve's trepidation to subside into a curious apprehension. She returned George's grin.
"Alright, surprise me then."
At once, George stepped aside from his spot in front of Eve and gestured for her to take his hand. When Eve did, he gave her a theatrical bow of his head.
"After you, madame."
Leading the way, Eve passed the threshold of the corridor, and the expanse of the crimson Gryffindor common room came into view. By now, Eve had been inside the room many times, and at first, nothing seemed out of the ordinary when she and George stepped inside. She glanced at the same familiar banisters and tapestries that covered the walls and ceiling before checking the corners where the same antique furniture stood unmoved. But with her inspection came the resounding realization that she and George were remarkably alone.
"Close your eyes."
Before Eve could even process George's command, two large hands reached from behind her shoulders, and her eyes were sealed in the darkness of George's palms.
Pushing her forward a few steps at a time, George guided Eve as clumsily as expected through the common room, her ankles narrowly escaping the sharp edges of sofa chairs and perilously placed reading tables. She only stopped when she felt the back of her knees meet the surface of hard wood.
"Sit."
"Bit bossy," Eve teased, though she continued to play along, lowering herself onto what she assumed to be a chair. George fidgeted the fingers that still wrapped around Eve's eyes. He was nervous. Eve was sure of it.
"One… two…."
At 'three,' Eve's eyes were uncovered. She blinked a few times, her sight finding numerous colors spread in front of her, first in indistinguishable shapes but then coming into focus in the forms of perfectly missorted plates of food. To one side, a bowl of potatoes sat between a roasted chicken and a tower of lemon tarts. At the same time, on the other, Eve spied a couple of halved scotched eggs, a comically large portion of red-sauced spaghetti, and a fruit bowl that looked curiously similar to the ones that littered the tables of the Great Hall. And in the middle of the table, decorated as a centerpiece for this chaotically arranged feast, was a box of Coco Puffs.
Eve smiled, bright and wide, and looked up to George's awaiting gaze.
"So, this is what you meant by dinner."
"Oh, you know. It was just something I had scrapped together for us. Didn't want anything too elaborate," George shrugged, glancing at the absolute robbery of the castle kitchens with mild satisfaction.
"And our lack of company?" Eve asked, addressing finally the empty common room.
"We have an hour," George simply replied.
"Do I want to know how you paid off half of the Gryffindor house?"
"Trust me, it was light work for Freddie and I."
Eve grinned, satisfied now with the outcome of her suspicions. Weeks ago, George had promised her a date, and if anyone had asked Eve about it before this moment, she would have assumed that George had forgotten. Between endless weeks of detentions, the never-quite-in-reach privacy of the Easter holiday, and now the painful dread of looming end-of-year exams, Eve was sure her and George's whirlwind romance would come to an anticlimactic end by the final day of school. Where this would lead Eve and George exactly, Eve had been far too stupidly enamored and proudly naïve to have asked herself with the turn of the seasons, let alone, ask George.
Before Eve's mind could spiral any longer, her thoughts began to mingle with the familiar sound of soft patting. Blurry-eyed, she focused back on the empty plate in front of her, where she must have drifted off, before turning to the window beside where she now sat. Raindrops cascaded down the glass in a mosaic reminiscent of the Scottish springtime. She watched for a moment, and then, recognizing the silence, turned to George still sat across from her. He was eyeing her carefully but with his usual kindness. She noticed that his place remained untouched as well.
"You always do that, you know."
"Do what?"
"Go somewhere else," George began, raising his pointed finger to wave it towards an unsettled place on the ceiling above them. "You never tell me where, but don't think I don't notice when you leave."
Eve remained quiet as if deciphering whether to explain or apologize, but when George grabbed his fork and punctured a side of the roasted chicken, Eve understood George wasn't looking for an answer. Perhaps, Eve thought, he was only finding another manner to tell her that he saw her in a way she had always thought was hidden away. That he had known of this side of her all along and yet still held feelings for her, decidedly so, as if it had never occurred to him to understand her in any other way. It was this silence, Eve's silence, after all, that was the only silence George could ever enjoy.
"I was just thinking what would happen after all of this was over."
George chewed slowly, and Eve could see, with the tension between his brows, that he was mulling her words over in his mind. Eve punctured her fork through a sliced potato and relocated it to her plate. Then, a lemon tart, and after a spoonful of spaghetti, she even poured herself a glass of pumpkin juice. Yet still, George chewed, thoughtful and quiet.
At last, Eve watched him swallow and drop his fork onto his plate, emitting a soft ringing around the room.
"What? Like in the afterlife?"
Eve studied George's expression for a moment, incomprehensible to her yet paired with his familiar tone of casual jest. Eve laughed, and the sound caused George to break into a wide, instantaneous grin.
"You're such a knobhead," Eve replied, shaking her head and sending a piece of potato across the table and onto George's pumpkin juice. George flicked it carelessly off his glass, sending it flying onto an unknown surface of the Gryffindor common room. When George's gaze returned to her, he exhaled and leaned back into his chair.
"I wish I had an answer for you, Eve," George started, his expression softening into something more sincere, "I've been racking my brain on it for almost a full year now, and yet everything has only gotten more complicated."
"The deal with the shop went through," Eve began.
"Merlin, how I wish this could only be about the shop," George sighed, raising a hand to run his fingers through his hair. Eve could see the veins of stress revealing on George's face. The severity revealed to Eve what he really meant.
"If only I had plucked up the courage to ask you out sooner," George said after another pause, "All of those quidditch games we had together, all of those times we passed each other in corridors, even that time I slept across from you in the Great Hall when they thought Sirius was in the castle-"
"I don't remember that," Eve interjected, almost incredulous at the memory from her fourth year.
"Of course you don't," George sighed, though his tone was kind, almost sheepish, as if he was all at once embarrassed of what he was about to admit next.
"I know we started seeing each other this school year, but honestly, Eve, I noticed you way before that."
It was Eve's turn again to return the silence. She thought over George's admission and his earnest expression when saying it and of all the times she could muster their connection over the years. It was all blurry to her, the years of teenage drama and magical mishappenings. She thought of the countless times she shook his hand before quidditch matches or the possible times they made seconds-long eye contact between classes. She thought of that night years ago when Dumbledore made the school sleep together on the floors of the Great Hall when a prisoner had escaped Azkaban. How had George remembered that? With all the chaos and fear that night? And why had George said that man's name so casually?
So many revelations began to uncover themselves in Eve's mind, as if she had spent months burying these half-completed thoughts away to convince herself things were easier for her to understand than they ever truly were. Yet, she realized they remained, evidenced in strange occurrences, her memory stored but never nourished, only waiting until this very moment when these disordered ideas formed a singular question.
"What haven't you told me, George?"
Despite the accusation in her question, George's expression remained unmoved, as if he had been waiting all along for Eve to ask. As if it had brought him a sense of relief to hear it finally.
"There's so much I want to tell you, but I've never known how. And-" George stopped himself for a second, considering his following words.
"And it's not just because I've fancied you for a long time. There are things with my family, things they are involved in, things I know about Harry and..."
George's words trailed off again, but Eve understood enough to know the word he left out: Voldemort. Eve herself could say it, yet the sound couldn't form on her lips, as if saying it out loud would be an incantation of all of her and George's worst fears—an igniting of a reality that far outshone every bit of teenage longing and insecurity between them.
Eve understood all of it so thoroughly that the realization could almost make her angry. She didn't even know if she wanted to hear George's remaining secrets because, thinking now of dark magic and war, she couldn't decide whether any of it mattered anymore.
"Merlin, Eve. Say something, please. Even if it's just to call me a knobhead again."
Eve sighed, releasing finally the tension she had been holding in her spine. She leaned back, mirroring George's discomposed posture in his seat.
"You have a right to your secrets, George, especially if they involve your family. I know I'm muggle-born, but I always understood you had a life outside these walls. But I suppose-" Eve paused, and George nodded in return, encouraging her to continue.
"I suppose I just can't figure out whether I will ever know that life."
"You will," George replied quicker than Eve had anticipated. His eyes were strangely desperate, which caused any frustration Eve had felt in the past few minutes to dissipate into a soft sadness.
"You'll be so busy this summer."
"That doesn't mean we can see each other," George smoothly retorted, gaining confidence now as if he knew where Eve was headed in the conversation. "You can stay at the shop with me if your parents allow it. You can meet my parents too. I've already told them about you-"
"I have one year left of school, George."
"And it will go by quickly, just like this year did."
Eve sighed, reaching across the feast and their abandoned plates to grasp one of George's hands. He accepted it quickly with a squeeze.
"None of it matters though, does it? Not if Harry's right about a war coming."
George squeezed Eve's hand again.
"Can we please not talk about that tonight?"
Eve nodded, ceasing her pessimism for the sake of George's perfectly executed dinner date. Her premonitions for an ill-timed future would have to wait. She watched George begin to play with the inside of her hand, tracing his thumb over every part of her palm, slow and firm, as if trying to shape each crease into his memory. When he finished with every inch of her palm's surface, he slowly flipped it over, tracing each curve of her knuckles. He stopped only to inspect her ring, rubbing his thumb over the surface of its head a few times as if to ignite the strange magic of the stone.
"It's pink and red, isn't it? The stone, I mean."
George glanced up at Eve, not expecting her words, before turning again to the ring as if he hadn't really looked at it just a second ago. He examined it, turning her hand ever so slightly to reflect the dark stone over the candlelight. He nodded.
"It's a dark red, almost like blood, but you can see the pink reflecting in the light."
George paused before finally looking back up at Eve.
"I remember seeing it before."
Eve nodded, and she couldn't help but feel a smile grow.
"At first, I thought it didn't work right because it changed so often," Eve began, "But that was the one color that always reappeared and always when I was with you."
A slight grin grew on George's face, though it was misplaced. He didn't at all understand what she meant.
Eve couldn't help but laugh at this realization, causing George's smile to grow even more perplexed. She squeezed his hand.
"I think it means I'm in love with you, knobhead."
As if the relief of Eve's words hit both their bodies at once, Eve lifted herself from her seat while George used his grip on her hand to tug her across the space between them, pulling her onto his lap and into his embrace. George's lips were already on Eve before she could brace for contact. All she could do was let out a light laugh as she surrendered to George's kisses, firm and unrelenting, spreading from her face and onto the expanse of her neck. One of Eve's arms raised and wrapped around George's shoulders, finding support in the nape of his neck. Her fingers spread through his hair, tugging ever so slightly as if to remind George of the existence of her lips.
And ever so knowing of Eve's cues, George removed his mouth from her neck to finally look up at her, his expression blissful and breathless.
"You don't know how long I've waited to hear that."
Eve smiled wide and bright, her mind blinded from any thoughts she had held in the moments before her admission. She realized at that moment she had been right all along. None of it mattered now, but not in the way Eve had initially thought.
George returned her smile, already knowing what Eve had been slow to realize. He reached to stroke her cheek in gentle affection, memorizing the pattern of its curves and sunspots. And after a moment, he turned his head to kiss her other cheek as if to make sure it wouldn't grow lonely.
Somewhere in the distance, and to only Eve's notice, the castle's clocktower chimed once, signaling the mark of the half hour.
All at once, a wave of excitement and sheepishness washed over Eve, as if the reminder of time had brought her an awareness of her true yearnings for tonight, not necessarily new in nature but with a newfound urgency.
Eve stood up immediately, her actions so quick and smooth that George had no time to protest the absence of her weight on him. He looked up at her, blinking a few times.
"Let's go to your room."
George remained still, unable to comprehend Eve's demand. He had never been good at this part.
"Come," Eve urged, reaching a firm hand on his shoulder and tugging. He nodded and raised himself to his feet.
Eve smiled, and then, after a short consideration on his part, George smiled, too.
"It's happening, isn't it?"
"Yes, George."
Giving no final thought to their abandoned dinner, Eve and George climbed the spiral staircase of the boy's dormitory, nothing more shared between them except quiet desire. When Eve got to the top of the stairs first, George was quick to reach over her, turning the knob and pushing his door open in one quick motion.
"Don't want you to think I'm not going to be a gentleman about this," George murmured, his mouth closing in on the nape of her neck and causing a slight wash of goosebumps over Eve's skin. With a hand around her waist, he guided her slowly inside.
Eve surveyed the familiar sight of the room.
"You cleaned."
George laughed, leaving Eve's side to shut the door behind them.
"Completely unrelated circumstances, I swear. Had nothing to do with my hopes of a beautiful girl coming up here."
Eve turned to face him, smiling as he gave her an innocent shrug.
"I like that you think about things before they happen."
"Do you?" George asked in a genuine tone, his arms reaching to find a home around Eve's waist once again.
Eve nodded.
"It makes me feel like you care."
"Oh, but I do care," George urged, pulling Eve's face close as if to prove his earnestness with his eyes, "I care so much."
Eve raised her arms, wrapping herself around George's shoulders and interlocking their bodies into a single form. Still smiling, she pulled him into a kiss, slow and gentle, and finished before George could fight for more.
"I didn't plan this part," George confessed, bending to return a light kiss to Eve's lips. It seemed they both had decided to savor the anticipation of it all.
"But you thought of it?" Eve asked, dropping a hand to trace one of the stripes on his jumper. George watched her graze her finger across the long expanse of his chest, knowing she was being coy in her question, and he was to walk on a tightrope for his answer.
"I've thought of it so many times, Eve."
Eve smiled, and George returned the expression, knowing his honesty was exactly what she wanted to hear. To Eve, the confession caused her skin to erupt in a warmth that wrapped around her and tossed her stomach into a rupture of butterflies. She was sure if George touched her under her clothes, he would burn.
"What did you imagine?"
George watched Eve's lips move as she uttered this, as if entranced by the spell of her daring questioning and the movement of her mouth when she did it. He paused, and Eve thought maybe he hadn't heard her, lost in his mind of fantasies already beginning to unravel before him. But finally, he spoke with his own question.
"How about I just show you?"
Eve nodded, and almost immediately, she felt George's hands move from her hip bones and up the space of her torso. His palms grazed the curves of her breasts before stopping at the top button of her cardigan. George's eyes glanced up from his moving hands for a second to catch Eve's eyes in one last silent ask of permission. She smiled, and his fingers began moving, releasing each button with careful ease until Eve felt wool escape the touch of her skin.
Eve watched George's eyes fall to the black bra she had on, his fingers tracing the tiny pattern of lace that adorned each curve of fabric. He had seen this bra on Eve before, but his dazed expression gave no indication of familiarity. For George, every time he got to see what was hidden under Eve's clothes, it was like the first time. All he could do was try to render an expression that hid his boyish elation.
In her impatience, Eve reached for the button of her jeans, unwilling to wait for George's aid, and began shrugging them off her hips. George stood, watching, mesmerized.
Now, just in her underwear, Eve traced her fingertips at the helm of George's sweater.
"Your turn."
George grinned, his daze broken and his limbs igniting at a feverish pace. He hastily pulled his sweater over his head, taking his undershirt with him, and discarded the fabric next to Eve's on the floor. Eve grinned at George's enthusiasm, and unable to stop her own, she reached for George's belt buckle and unclipped it, the metal loosening in a sharp 'clink.'
George watched on, grinning from ear to ear, as Eve pulled George's belt from the final loop of his jeans. She began unbuttoning his trousers, and having never done this before, her fingers moved in unnatural angles between his zipper and torso, trying to manage how to pull a boy's trousers down in the least awkward way possible. George let out a breathless laugh.
"Allow me," he said finally, taking over Eve's work and pulling the rest of his clothes off.
But the sight of his trousers on the floor caught George's eye for a second, and he reached down to stuff his hand in one of the pockets, retrieving the folded paper he had slipped into it earlier. George walked around the side of his bed and opened the top drawer of his bedside table. Slipping Eve's sketch in, he carefully closed the drawer before turning back to Eve. Still standing at the edge of his bed wearing nothing but her underwear, George beckoned Eve to him with a raised hand.
"Come lay."
Eve hastened to obey, climbing onto the other side of George's bedframe and allowing her head to plop on his pillow with a soft 'thud'. For a moment, she thought to dive under the safety of the covers, still slightly shy at the idea of exposing herself fully to George, but quickly considered against it. George followed suit, climbing onto his side of the bed and on top of Eve, her legs naturally making space for him to rest his own between hers. Eve looked down at his already-hardened bulge and giggled. George looked down at her and beamed.
It was impossible to determine where the kissing began and ended between the pair. Still, George and Eve's lips moved across each other's faces and bodies in a rhythmic motion of licks and swallows, first easy and languid, and then all at once hard and feverish, as if time had again caught to the expectancy of the desires of their bodies.
Once George's lips found the space of Eve's neck, his hands were quick to reach deeper for her, one finding safety under the fabric of her bra while the other reached below to explore the flesh of one of her arse cheeks. Eve sighed, George's grip on her unrelenting and yet somehow unfulfilling. Breathless, her body still begged for more.
"Bra," Eve mumbled under her sighs, her voice lost in George's silent motions until she arched her back. George gave Eve's neck one last nip before placing his attention to unhooking her bra. He reached behind her, pulling and twisting the garment one, two, three times until it unhooked on the fourth try.
Before Eve could even attempt to shyly nudge the fabric off, George was already ripping the bra off her and tossing it onto his floor's pile of growing discarded clothing. Any thought of Eve's modesty was replaced now with comfort with his lips. Taking one of her nipples into his mouth, he sucked sweetly while he slid a hand to caress her other bud until it hardened at his touch. Eve sighed again, but this time, it was deeper, almost a groan, and instinctually, she arched her back, her spread legs reaching for George's touch. In response to Eve's desperate motions, George bit down on her nipple ever so slightly, causing a ripple of vibrations to erupt throughout her body.
Hands deep now in his auburn mess of hair, Eve guided George to her other breast patiently waiting for his lips. His mouth enveloped the other pink peak with the same warmth as before, but this time with a harsh pull. She gasped, and George was quick to work his fingers elsewhere on her body, moving from her torso to the soft plush on her stomach and finally the hard muscle of her hips. He squeezed, and Eve giggled between her sighs, and this sensitivity to his touch was almost too much for George to bear.
Taking one hand, George traced the curve of Eve's hip and into the soft flesh of her inner thigh, his fingers stopping only when he felt the unnatural texture of her panties. His hand grazed the delicate area over the fabric, his thumb rolling circles over where he knew Eve's wetness was already forming.
A groan escaped Eve's lips, a pressure building deeper in her abdomen in her hunger for his body. Her fingers tugged at his hair as if to warn George of her growing impatience. George looked up finally, his torso raising slightly to meet her gaze fully, but his hand never leaving the inside of her thighs.
"George, please," Eve sighed, almost in a whisper, as if she found his stare more unbearable than his touch.
He grinned and asked her to repeat her plea. She did, and this time, he obeyed, but unlike her bra, George was slow in removing her panties. Taking a finger from each hand, he began to peel the fabric delicately off, savoring the moment in which Eve's sacred center was revealed, pink and wet and for him.
Searing the view to memory, George's eyes traveled back to Eve's face again, and he beheld her quiet, expectant expression as if she could stop time with a single look.
"I'm so lucky," was all George could muster.
But it was enough for Eve, with all her profound adorations and fanciful teenage dreams unraveling before her in this bed. She had had George before, but never like this, and she knew things would never be the same between them, though she wasn't quite sure in what way. But none of these thoughts sprung words to her lips, only the need for more kisses on his.
She reached to him, pulling their mouths into another deep kiss that only broke apart when she felt his hand work its way back to her now naked cunt, his fingers spreading her open with the slow ease of her dripping wetness. Eve moaned encouragingly, and George took little time to slip a finger inside her, spreading her open for him at an unbearably slow pace.
Eve moaned again between their kisses, her hands grazing between his shoulder blades and hair, desperate for something to hold onto tighter. George's pace quickened, and before Eve's breathing could settle, he slipped another finger inside, surprising her with a newfound pressure for her tight entrance to endure.
The sound of Eve's moans began to be replaced with George's name as she felt his fingers build a rhythmic pace inside of her, harsh and steady and unbelievably unrelenting. But just as she felt the beginnings of her unfold, George pulled his fingers from inside of her, causing an immediate emptiness from within her and a groan of displeasure out of her. George pulled his lips away from Eve's only to ask her a breathless question.
"Can I use my mouth on you?"
If Eve gave a thought to George's request, she gave no indication, merely nodding in a desperate attempt to get him to touch her as quickly as possible again. George grinned, giving her one final open kiss on her mouth before tracing his lips down her neck and collarbone. It wasn't until he passed the skin between her breasts and down the long expanse of her torso that Eve fully grasped where George's mouth was going.
George moved his body below the bed, his hands moving to grip Eve's hips for support as his face reached the view of the glistening mess between her legs.
"I've been waiting to do this for so long," George murmured, his eyes meetings Eve's in one final longing look before his head dipped down between her thighs.
George wasted no time in trying to tease Eve, his tongue immediately plunging to lick the long strip of her cunt. Eve's reaction was compulsive, almost hysterical, her body having never felt such a sensitive sensation before. The sound that escaped her could have driven George entirely over the edge himself if he wasn't so determined in her unraveling.
George's technique was slow at first as he took his time to explore Eve with his tongue, memorizing each and every sound and shake that sprung from her body under him. For Eve, every kiss, every lick, every grip of his hands on her thighs felt new and all-consuming.
Lost in the workings of his mouth, Eve could only release another, sharper sigh when George unexpectantly returned his fingers into her.
Eve felt the building of her undoing slowly rise with her hands on his shoulders and head. She tugged, pulled, and scratched as if George could possibly keep her together with his mouth and hands in the same way he could shatter her into a million pieces.
"George."
Eve's voice came in a low, desperate groan, a pathetic plead almost, and in a tone neither she nor George had ever heard come out of her as if it had been conjured from a part of Eve that had remained hidden and untouched before this very moment.
But George knew what the sound of his name called to. And so, his efforts became merciless, fingers pumping in and out as his tongue licked her clit fast and unbelievably wet. Both sensations pulling strange, beautiful sounds out of Eve until he felt the shake of her limbs, first in her legs, and then her belly and arms, like Eve had entirely given her body over to an unknown magic within her. This unfolding led to a wave of convulsions as she came on his mouth, rushing over her, until her vision blurred into sparks of stars, and all George could do was keep his grip tight on her.
When Eve felt herself regain control over her sensations, George was still laying kisses and licks on the mess he had made of her, though far gentler and more tender.
Eve let go of the harsh grip of George's hair to brush the strands of her own that had stuck to the corners of her face in the concoction of her sweat and George's spit. She took a sharp inhale of breath and then another before realizing George's mouth was still playing tricks on her bodily functions. As her sensations returned, her gasps transformed into an eruption of giggles, as if the loss of oxygen was beginning to take away all sense of her mind.
"George, it's too much," Eve gasped between giggles. She reached down to him, choosing to tug his ear instead of his hair this time, and the boy finally relented, kissing the soft plush of Eve's inner thigh one last time before looking up at her with possibly the most shameless grin to have ever been bestowed upon his face.
Slowly, George climbed back onto Eve, trailing tiny whispers of kisses up her torso and chest as he went. Eve reached for him, her hands cupping his cheeks to greet his face with her own awaiting kisses. George let out a deep sigh, and with her body covered with his weight, Eve could feel his hardness now taking the space between her thighs.
At last, their gazes met. Eve watched George's eyes dance around every corner of her face, memorizing each curve and point, each hair, and every beauty spot. He dipped his face down for a second to kiss the soft skin of her lips, now slightly red and swollen the workings of his own on them.
"I love you," George murmured, his face lifting to meet Eve's again in a dreamy expression of contentment.
"I love you too," Eve returned, meeting his stare with a worn smile. One of her hands traced the long expanse of his spine, his body responding with a wash of goosebumps.
"I…. I haven't done this in a while," George began, his words sprawling in the air between them for a moment as his expression contorted into something Eve couldn't quite read: slightly bashful, slightly keen. "I won't last long, I mean."
Eve smiled at George's admission and lifted her head slightly to nuzzle the crook of his neck.
"Oh, just get on with it, George," she replied, planting a playful bite on the flesh just below his ear. A warning of her increasing impatience.
George let out a shaky laugh.
"You've always had such a way with words," he said, returning the gesture with a kiss on her neck.
With George's kisses continuing from small pecks into light bites, Eve filled the small space between them with her arm, reaching down until she felt the cotton of his boxers. Considering no time to tease, she slipped her hand inside where the tent had risen, George's warm flesh finding the soft of her palm. She gripped him, firm yet still gentle to the touch, and began to tug at a slow pace.
Still in the confines of her neck, George let out a low groan, answering Eve's touch with another bite.
"Should you…?"
Dazed from her hand wrapped around his length, George took a moment to comprehend Eve's question. Still, at the sound of her voice, he raised his head to meet her expectant stare. She nodded a silent consent and an urge for him to continue. He understood.
Running both his palms down the soft edges of Eve's waist and passing the curve of her hips, George's hands stopped at the tender meat of her thighs, hoisting both up so her knees bent to envelope his waist. Replacing Eve's hand with his own, he positioned himself at her entrance, the sensation causing Eve's abdomen to tighten with a sharp breath. George bent his head to quickly kiss the side of Eve's forehead.
"Just relax, okay?"
Eve nodded, wrapping her arms around George's broad frame and gently pulling him closer to her. Following Eve's motions, George pushed himself into her, his eyes studying the way her mouth gaped open with a harsh gasp. For a moment, George stayed still within her, adjusting to the tightness and wetness and the vision of Eve's lustful stare of love now burning into him.
Finally, he began moving, his thrusts deep but cautiously slow, using his pace to explore the ways in which Eve's body reacted. First came short gasps of surprise, then a string of sharp whines of encouragement, before finally a low rumble of groans as her body began to demand more. When Eve bit her lip in silence, and her nails began to dig into the flesh of his upper back in protest, George began to quicken his pace.
For Eve, what she was feeling now was startling, strangely comforting, the friction like an itch she never quite knew needed to be scratched. The waves of pleasure built tenfold, each thrust sending a more profound shock through her as though George meant to memorize the rhythm of their bodies together. Eve moaned his name, and George answered with a groan as if the sound alone could send him over the edge with her.
George kissed her as his thrusts became erratic, and Eve knew he was close. Their tongues tangled together as their limbs grew hot and wet with tension and sweat. George pulled away from Eve's lips to suck the skin of her neck, allowing her to cry out incoherent syllables into the air, masking the lewd sounds of her wetness being made by his cock.
"I-I'm close," George whispered.
"Then don't stop," Eve breathed back.
Hearing Eve's encouragement was enough for George's pleasure to unravel over him, and Eve was quick to attach her mouth back onto his. Allowing himself to let go, George gave a final thrust, and all at once, their kisses became ensnared with the resounding whimper of his release.
George collapsed onto Eve, both their bodies limp and breathless, and for a minute or two, they lay like this, quiet and motionless, him still inside her. All Eve could feel at this very moment was bliss, pure and weightless, despite George's crushing body on top of her. She stroked his hair, and he murmured something incoherent and far off, as if drunk off something stronger than can be brewed.
George broke the silence first, his body rolling off Eve and settling down beside her. When she turned to him, she was met with possibly the most enormous grin that had ever materialized on his face before, with eyes so bright she was sure the room was lit for a second.
"I hope that… met your expectations," George began, his tone nearly apprehensive yet his smile still unrelenting.
Eve laughed lightly, twisting her body to curl up beside him. She nudged her shoulder with his.
"You more than met my expectations, Weasley."
George laughed, catching Eve's hand and holding it to his chest. He squeezed her palm, brought it to his lips, and kissed the soft skin.
"Promise?"
Eve nodded.
"Promise."
George extended his arm over Eve's head, silently offering it to her, and Eve naturally found a place inside of it, resting her cheek on his shoulder. Neither of them said anything for a while, comfortable in each other's voiceless company and yet slightly timid in this newly formed boundary between them.
Now, without the cloud of sex fogging her thoughts, Eve wondered how different she would be without the looming idea of virginity on her. Would she be different? Different in a way she's not yet ready or willing to understand? Or worse, would George be?
Her fingertips danced nervously on the surface of his chest, connecting freckles and following the slowing beat of his breaths. She tapped her finger on where she thought his heart would be.
"George?"
"Hm."
Eve paused for a moment, forming a question she didn't quite know how to ask.
"Are things going to be different now?"
There was another pause, this time for George. Eve watched his face, his eyes low and his mouth slightly agape. He was either thinking deeply or trying not to fall asleep; Eve couldn't quite tell.
"Not now," George finally said, slow and considerate, "but soon, everything will be."
Eve thought over George's answer, vague, slightly ominous, and entirely out of his character. She didn't know what to make of it, and yet, there was something comforting in realizing that perhaps George also found himself plagued with looming anxieties and confusions in the same way Eve did. He was scared, too, scared of the future and the uncertainty that it held for them. For everyone. Even if he had repeatedly proven to Eve that he was willing to ignore these fears, that he was willing to fight for what was shared between them, that it was worth the difficulty that would inevitably come. But would it be enough?
Eve slowly twisted herself out of George's grasp and laid on her back. She glanced around George's room, the evening sun having run out hours ago and had now been replaced by the glow of candlesticks decorated around the room, never to burn out in their magical golden hue.
Eve turned to George's beside table and studied the objects on top of it, their existence neatly arranged for the first time since she had become acquainted with his living space. She stared first at the framed family photo: George with his siblings, the two oldest she did not recognize, and two adults she presumed to be his parents, all redheaded and all with the same bright, rounded smiles. Eve wondered for a moment what George's older brothers were like, if they were similar to him and Fred or more like Ron or their prefect brother, Percy. She considered what Ginny might think of her, if they had things in common and just didn't know it yet, or if George's parents would be kind to her, with all her muggle-born quirts and naïvetés.
Next to the frame were two textbooks, Advanced Potions and Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts, both closed and neatly stacked, as if they had been left like that all year long. And maybe they had, judging by George's ever-growing apathy towards his schooling all year. He had just told Eve he wasn't worried about his N.E.W.T.S and had other things to concern himself with.
And Eve seemed to get her answer to what these 'things' may be when she noticed the corner of a piece of parchment peeking out from under the textbooks. Sliding the note carefully from under where it had laid to be hidden, Eve looked over the neat handwriting, obviously George's, and clearly arranged as a list. Some words were completely unknown to Eve, and some sounded vaguely familiar from years of Potions classes. And some, strangely enough, were words like 'swamp water,' 'horned toads,' and 'Chinese dragon firework.' Eve furrowed her brows, unable to make sense of the nonsensical list of items. She wondered if this had something to do with the joke shop, maybe a product or two, or maybe a kind of fireworks celebration for the end of exams.
Tucking the note back where she found it, Eve glanced at George's nightstand again, at the photo of the family she hardly knew, of the textbooks marking the end of his schooling, and of the list emphasizing his plans of projects ahead. Everything laid in front of her was a signifier of what awaited George outside of these ways, a future unknown and yet busy and new, and so far beyond what Eve could offer of herself inside these castle walls.
She thought of her sketch now, tucked away inside his bottom drawer.
"George," Eve started, her eyes lingering on the bedside table for a few moments longer before turning back to where George lay. He was motionless in the candlelight.
"I can't tell whether this is the beginning or the end of us."
Eve waited for his answer, but only silence came.
Author's Note: UMMM HI? Anyone mind if I post a chapter two years late? No? Okay, cool. So here it is, 10,000 words and some long awaited smut. Hope you enjoy and sorry for the delay, I only have a whole human life to live. If you are reading this for the first time, thank you. And if you've somehow stuck around this long to come back to this story, THANK YOU, THANK YOU, and THANK YOU. This will be finished in a few chapters, and I hope to get back soon. Hope all is well and happy October.