Crash Course Part 3
Draco stood by the gate, looking at his watch every two or three seconds. He was bouncing on his feet and looking around nervously whenever he wasn’t checking his watch. Waiting was driving him mad. He’d heard nothing from George, which he suspected meant he was on coming but now he wasn’t so sure. It was 11:45 and 37 seconds. Draco had always been told he was impatient; George loved rubbing it in his face, so the ginger git should know he was getting anxious waiting for him. Just when he was about to do something, he hadn’t figured out what, he heard a crack. His head snapped up and he felt himself beaming as George lent against the huge gates looking at him expectantly.
“What’re you doing up this late? Isn’t it past your bedtime?” George asked as Draco waved his wand, opening the gates. He sauntered in, Draco staring at him like he couldn’t believe he was real. He was just about to make comment about Draco obviously checking him out when the small body launched itself at him. Draco's arms wrapped around his neck as he kissed George. When George deepened the kiss Draco made a desperate noise and willingly let George’s tongue plunder his mouth hungrily. They pulled apart for air, panting into each other’s air and Draco mumbled “Bedroom. ‘Snot safe out here.” George only grunted in reply before the warm body removed itself from his grip. He might have whimpered a little at the loss.
Malfoy Manor was huge, and George was sure it was beautifully decorated with lovely furnishings and all sorts of expensive things he couldn’t even afford to look at. But George saw nothing but the pale, platinum blonde dragging him through hallways and up stairs. He gaze landing on the pert arse in loose pajama bottoms more than once on their venture to Draco's room. When the door finally shut behind them George immediately pinned Draco to it, kissing him fiercely. He hadn’t realized just how intensely he’d missed every part of his boyfriend until he finally got to touch him again. His soft hair, his pink lips, his soft skin, his slender hips, George had missed every single last thing about him. When they finally pulled away for much needed oxygen George’s hands remained in Draco's hair and in the small of his back not letting him move too far away. Draco's hands refusing to let up their grip on his shirt.
“I missed you.” Draco whispered, nuzzling his face at the junction of George’s neck and shoulder.
“Of course you did, darling everyone misses a face like this.” George grinned; he felt a smile against his neck even though Draco gently slapped his chest. He chuckled, holding Draco closer to himself. He buried his nose in soft hair and pressed his lips to Draco's temple as he said “I missed you too.”
After thoroughly divesting each other of clothes and making good use of each other’s mouths they somehow wound up wrestling on Draco's bed. George had found what Draco had immediately exclaimed to be “Puddin.” Puddin was an extremely dog-eared stuffed fox whose once white fur had faded to an off white sort of grey from the endless love of a very young Draco Malfoy. George had laughed raucously at the beloved fox’s ridiculous name and held it out of Draco's reach. In an attempt to retrieve his favorite possession Draco tackled George and the wrestling match had begun. Even after Puddin had been tossed onto the floor the wrestling continued until Draco pinned a willing George’s wrists to the bed, straddling his waist triumphantly. “I win.” Draco sneered.
“Only because I let you.” George chided, leaning up to meet the short, sweet kiss Draco placed on his lips.
“Still counts.” Draco said haughtily. “Now what did you do to Puddin?”
George laughed “It’s on the floor somewhere.”
“She.” Draco corrected, sounding truly offended that George had called his stuffed animal it. “And how dare you throw her on the floor.”
“You didn’t leave me much of a choice, now did you?” Draco pouted, seriously pouted until George felt his heart ache, he sighed exaggeratedly in defeat “Alright, I’ll go get her.”
When George plopped back onto the bed, the fox ripped from his hands he couldn’t help but ask “Why do you love that thing so much?” Draco glared at him for calling it ‘that thing.’ He looked down at the stuff fox, fondly stroking it, before looking at George. He was blushing with a small smile on his face George loved but saw very rarely. He was almost jealous this stupid toy was able to make Draco smile like that just by existing when George only got to see that smile when he was lucky. It wasn’t fair and completely unreasonable that it bothered him as much as it did, but he didn’t let it show (he hoped.) “My father gave her to me when I was three. I…used to be afraid of the dark and he bought her for me to sleep with. He screamed at me when I tried to take her with me to Hogwarts but…still he got her for me. She just, just means a lot to me. I’ve always had her.”
George couldn’t take his eyes off of Draco, his expression was so gentle and fond it made butterflies take wing in George’s stomach (that hadn’t happened since the early days of their relationship) and his heart skip a beat or two. He couldn’t help but kiss him; Draco was surprised but returned it all the same. Draco was still blushing when they pulled apart and he wouldn’t look at George for more than a quick glance asking “Do you have anything like this?”
George laughed and nodded “Yeah, an owl. My mother made it for me when I was five. I got a bad flu and couldn’t leave the bed for two weeks. She felt bad because she had to separate me and Fred, didn’t want him getting sick. It was…it was weird. Me and Fred were always together back then. No matter what we were doing, back then it really was like we were attached. So for the first time I was without my other half. So she made me and Fred these owls, mine was gold and his was red.”
“What’s the owl’s name?” Draco asked, moving closer so they were barely an inch apart.
“I named him Sir Puff Feathers” George said proudly, Draco giggled loudly and buried his face in Puddin’s limp body. His eyes were apologetic for laughing at the name but his giggling didn’t die down for a few minutes. George just smiled “Fred’s was King Archie McDooglefagan if that’s any better.” Draco broke into hysterics at that and George joined in, never taking his eyes off of the pure joy on Draco's face. It wasn’t often he saw Draco this happy and relaxed and George found he would do anything to change that.
“I’m sorry…they’re very…creative names.” He said between small laughs.
George shrugged “They were supposed to be stupid names. We sort of made a game out of seeing who could come up with the more ridiculous names back then.”
“Fred totally won that one.” George nodded in agreement.
George left before dawn, only after sharing long, lazy, sleepy kisses with Draco for an entire hour. Puddin’ had been discarded to a more appropriate location while they rolled around on the bed, unwilling to part again so soon.
*~*~*
One thing George loved was giving Draco surprises; he’d randomly take him on sickeningly sweet dates or give him gifts for no reason at all. And while Draco loved these surprises he did not like being blind folded and lead around while George simply gushed over whatever it was he was showing him. It got a little annoying after about the sixth time. After what felt like ten minutes of being lead who knew where Draco defiantly stopped walking, crossing his arms over his chest and giving whatever the hell was in front of him an impressed, irate look. He heard George chuckle low in his throat by his left ear and felt his arms wrap around his waist, resting on his hips, his chin resting on Draco's shoulder. He could practically hear the smirk on the ginger’s face when he spoke “Alright, you can take it off now.”
Draco had to blink furiously when he could finally see again. He couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. His face immediately shifted from annoyed to excited joy at what George had surprised him with. He whirled around in George’s arms and leaped up to wrap his arms around his neck and hug him tightly. “I can’t believe you did it!” he said, pulling away just far enough to look at George’s ecstatic face. Draco kissed him swiftly before continuing “You and Fred finally” kiss “I can’t believe it” kiss “I’m so” George cut him off with a kiss of his own.
“Want to have the first look around?” George asked, coiling his arms more tightly around Draco's waist.
“Of course.” Draco said, he had the biggest grin on his face that George had ever seen. “Fred hasn’t shown Angelina around yet?”
“No.” George laughed “They’ve been busy getting reacquainted with each other.” Draco snorted. He and Angelina had never exactly gotten along. They played nice when the twins were around and they didn’t hate each other when they weren’t but Draco thought she was bitchy and she thought he was spoiled. Fred and George did their best not to bring up their significant others’ animosity for one another. It was easier on all four to let it go unspoken. “Draco, be nice. She makes him happy.” George chastised playfully.
“I’m sure she’s very good at making him very happy.” Draco drawled.
“Oi, I said be nice.” George snapped, this time with actual heat in his tone. In response, Draco just avoided eye contact and pouted in a defiant way only he seemed capable of. He didn’t stop pouting until George kissed his cheek, and began leading him around the shop by the hand.
They spent two and a half hours going around the entire shop. George would lead Draco this way and that, excitedly telling him what everything was and what it did. More than a dozen times George got overexcited, bouncing on his feet and waving his hands around in the air as he described to Draco how he and Fred had made this thing or that. Draco watched in fascinated happiness with a surprisingly strong sense of pride. He indulged George and listened intently to every word he said. He let himself be dragged around the shop, amused smile on his face the entire time, as George acted like a kid in a candy store. For two and half hours George spoke nonstop until one time he turned around to look at Draco he finally saw something other then the shelves lined with his dream and future, for once really looking at him and he just stopped. Draco gave him a look when George just starting staring at him like he’d never seen him before, gazing at him in this weird awestruck way that made Draco feel uncomfortable. “What?!” Draco asked at last, looking away from his freak of a boyfriend.
“You’ve never looked at me like that before.” George said, slowly walking toward him.
“What’re you talking about?” Draco snapped, still refusing to look at him.
“You just had this…look.” George sounded as awestruck as he looked, now directly in front of Draco and crowding him into a corner.
“So?” he said, looking anywhere but at George.
“Draco,” he lifted Draco's chin to meet his gaze “When this is all over,” both of them knew what he meant by that “come live with me.”
“George,” Draco whispered, eyes going glassy with tears “don’t.”
“Please, just say yes.”
“George it’s not…I want to. I do. You have no idea how badly I want to.” He had allowed a single tear to fall as he spoke, doing his best to keep the rest from cascading down. “George…” he sobbed, looking down to his left arm. He looked absolutely ashamed of something and George felt a wave of anger and fear hit him like a ton of bricks to the chest.
“Show me.” He hoped his voice hadn’t cracked when he spoke. A few more tears rolled down Draco's cheeks as he rolled up his sleeve. He turned away when George gasped; the once smooth, pale, unmarred skin of Draco's forearm now bore the disgusting black Dark Mark. Draco was struggling to remain somewhat composed as George slowly reached out to touch the Mark. Before his fingers could touch the inked skin Draco jerked his arm away, hastily wiping away tears. He refused to look at George until he felt his arm being uncurled from where he was cradling it against his chest. When his arm was outstretched again George leant down and kissed a trail from Draco's wrist to his elbow, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight. Brown eyes met grey and Draco saw a lot of things in those eyes. He saw anger for the bastard who had dared to do this to his Draco, he saw sadness for what this meant for Draco, he saw fear for what this meant for both of them, but he also saw the same soft, adoring affection George had always had in his eyes when he looked at him. He let out a deep, strangled breath and felt more tears fall from his eyes. “Draco Lucius Malfoy, if you think I would ever make the mistake of giving you up ever again you’re wrong. Now, promise me that when this is all over you will come and live with me and help me and Fred look after the shop.” George said seriously, looking at Draco imploringly “I want you to promise me you’re going to leave that damned Manor you used to love, but can’t stand now that You-Know-Who’s botched it up. You’re going to pack your things and move in with me, I’ll even let you bring Puddin into bed while you sleep as long as she promises to share you.” Draco gave a small laugh at that and George wiped the tears from his face, catching one with his thumb as it fell. “Do you promise?”
Draco nodded, afraid of how his voice would betray how truly wrecked he felt.
“Say it.” George pleaded, pressing his forehead to Draco's “Please, Draco, promise me.”
“I promise.” Draco whispered, sniffling “I promise, when this is all over I’ll come live with you.” George smiled, it was a worried and pained smile but it was genuine and Draco smiled back, feeble and scared but hopeful that one day he and George really would be able to live the way George had described. If Draco didn’t wind up in Azkaban and neither of them died -another tear fell at that thought- then he would easily give up everything and run to live in George’s arms forever.
*~*~*
This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. It was never supposed to end. They were supposed to be happy, together. This should have never happened.
But it had and now he, Fred, and Harry couldn’t play Quidditch anymore. They’d never play ever again (which was really only devastating to Harry since he and Fred were out this year anyway.) George couldn’t really care less about the Quidditch or anything else he was going to get stuck with as a punishment. He couldn’t get the words out of his head, he couldn’t stop hearing Draco's voice the way it had sounded so full of malice and so fucking…George didn’t know what it was but it made his stomach churn and boil. That wasn’t his Draco.
…not that Draco was his anymore. But it was better this way. It was easier. He didn’t know how because everyday he had to lock himself in a broom closet and scream himself hoarse just to feel an ounce of relief. Everyday he had to look at Draco and pretend he didn’t want to touch him, hold him, kiss him; hell even just listening to him talk would be enough. George spent everyday trying to ignore the bleeding, torn remains of his heart making his chest ache with every breath he took. He could fool everyone else easily; it was surprising how little effort it took to fake a smile or a laugh. Fred knew, he always did. Fred had called him an idiot for doing it. Told him he was making the biggest mistake of his life and that he’d never be happy again, and George agreed but he insisted that this was best. This way they wouldn’t have to choose. Draco could side with his family and George with his. They wouldn’t have to choose. And it was better this way.
Only it wasn’t better. Draco had gone back to his old ways, only this time he was being vicious. He wasn’t doing it to amuse himself, he was doing it to make people hurt. No one knew where his anger came from, no one but George. Draco was crying himself to sleep every night. George could see the puffiness of his eyes and the dark circles under them. Draco was lashing out at anyone that came into view because he couldn’t lash out at George. He wasn’t doing as well in his classes as usual. George wasn’t entirely sure how he knew this, he just did. It was because Draco didn’t care anymore, he couldn’t care. George had ripped his heart apart without even giving him a reason. And it was the careless, unexplained randomness of George’s breaking up with him that was sending Draco into this ruthless rage against the world.
But it was easier this way for both of them. Somehow this was best for both of them. This was supposed to have been easier. This was supposed to have been best. They weren’t supposed to be spiraling downward, each destroying himself in their own way. George with guilt and loneliness, ignoring the pain and putting on the cheerful façade everyone expected of him. Draco with anger, confusion, and heartbroken sadness, manipulating his own pain into anger and lashing out at others, making them feel at least a small portion of his own misery.
George was so caught up in his thoughts he hadn’t realized where his angry strides had been taking him. He was back in the empty room down in the dungeons he and Draco used to meet in. He laughed mirthlessly at how his own body was torturing him when he heard a small noise from the farthest corner of the room. He heard it again moments later, the soft sniffling eerily familiar to him. George cautiously walked to the origin of the noise, he was almost shocked when he saw Draco Malfoy curled up in a corner shoulders shaking softly with his nearly silent sobs.
“Draco.” George said knowing it sounded as broken as the sight made him feel. When Draco looked up George felt his heart plummet into the pit of his stomach, the hurt in those grey eyes turned his blood cold in his veins. Draco sniffled again, glaring icy daggers at George, slowly getting to his feet. “Draco, I”
“Don’t.” he snarled “Don’t you dare call me that!”
George stood silently gazing at Draco in confused hurt.
“You, what’re you doing here?” Draco said, wiping his face with his sleeve “Come to gloat, did you?”
“What’re you”
“Come to see how well you’ve completely ruined the arrogant, rude, evil, sniveling Draco Malfoy?”
“No, that’s not” George said taking a step closer
“Don’t…” Draco gave him a harsh glare and moved as far away as the walls would let him.
“I’ll go.” George said sympathetically. He was halfway through taking his first step backwards when Draco let out a humorless laugh that made George cringe.
“Of course you are. It’s what you’re best at, isn’t it? Running away when things get tough or complicated. Just leaving whenever you like, complete disregard for anyone else. Acting like nothing ever happened. Like we never happened. Go on, then.” Draco snarled at him, eyes cold and accusing.
“That’s not what happen.” George bit out defensively, desperate to make Draco understand that this is what they needed. This was…
“Don’t lie to yourself, Weasley.” George cringed at the name spoken with absolute hate; it made the ache in his chest increase tenfold “You just left. No reason, no…nothing. You just abandoned it and it hasn’t even phased you. It didn’t mean anything did it? It was just some big joke to you, was it?” Draco was pressed against the wall, leaning on it like it was the only thing keeping him from collapsing onto the floor.
“No.” George croaked, he didn’t know when his throat got so tight or when his sight got blurry. He blinked the tears away and shook his head to clear it, looking back at Draco pleadingly. “No, it was…Draco I didn’t want to.”
Draco glared at him at that and he pushed himself off the wall and put his face in George’s “Then why did you do it? If you didn’t want to why even do it?”
“I had to. It was…it’s better this way.” George said weakly.
“Better?! You think this is better?! You think crying myself to sleep every night is better?! My father’s screamed at me for my grades because they’re not up to his standards. I have a fucking werewolf living in my house. Everyone’s already talking about me getting the Mark. I’m in hell, George, and you’re not there. You’re just living like you never gave a shit about me. You just left me to rot because you never gave a shit about anything but yourself and getting your own damn kicks!”
George had nothing to say to this, he just stared at the love of his life with angry tears running down his face, screaming at him about how he’d been a complete ass. He felt like total shit.
“Everyone always says I’m the worst person in this school but at least I don’t make people fall completely in love with them and then leave them! I don’t build up people’s hopes and dreams with promises and…and kindness and FUCK George, why did you do this to me?! What did I ever do to deserve this?!” Draco was crying now, anger gone. His anger was just a shield, he was hurt and lost and lonely and it was all George’s fault. “Why?” he choked out before falling to his knees, looking up desperately at George for the answers.
“Draco…” George went down onto his knees, taking Draco's face in his hands and forcing him to look at him. “Do you mean it?”
“Mean what?” it almost sounded like a plea.
“What you said…” George’s heart was racing. He needed to be sure; he needed to know, to hear it again. “You’re in love with me?”
“Of course I am, you fucking idiot!” Draco cried out.
“Oh Draco, why didn’t you say it before?” George asked, inching closer. He was still cradling Draco's face in his hands, not willing to let him go. Maybe he never would be.
“You never gave me a chance. You just blurted out that we were over, I said it the moment you Disapparated. You never…you just fucking left me. I needed you, damn it!” Draco was holding onto the front of George’s shirt like it was the only thing keeping him grounded, the only reason he was still in one piece because George was there in front of him.
“You, pet…” George gazed into grey eyes beginning to fill with a desperate hope “You fell in love with the biggest ass in the entire world. I thought it would be easier, that we wouldn’t have to choose sides. I never…Merlin, Draco I’m so sorry. Draco Lucius Malfoy, darling, I love you so much,” He pressed their foreheads together “so fucking much. Every day since then I’ve been completely miserable. And I’m so sorry.” Draco stared at him, eyes gazing at him imploringly for a short moment before his head fell to George’s chest and he started sobbing.
They ended up in George’s bed; he’d drawn the curtains and put a spell to keep others from hearing them. He knew no one would disturb them. Draco had sobbed for nearly forty minutes in the dungeons, when he could finally stand George brought him to his dorm and held him for he didn’t know how long. Draco would go from crying to telling George what had happened since they’d broken up. He told him how he had tried desperately to figure out why George had done it. How he’d been so sure he’d meant nothing to George at all, and George could just kiss him, pet his hair, and pull him closer to his chest. Draco told him about the Death Eaters, how his father was beginning to initiate him. He told George how scared he was, how badly he’d wanted to run to George for comfort and safety since that night. George just listened and held Draco as close as possible. They fell asleep that way, Fred waking them up with a knowing smile before dawn so Draco could return to his own room. They promised to meet in their usual room that night and George ignored the clap on the shoulder Fred gave him once Draco left. He was too blissfully happy to listen to Fred boast about how right he’d been. How he’d known George and Draco were just meant for each other, how he’d been so sure they’d get back together, and how he had told George he’d been an idiot.
“Fred?” George said, finally looking at his brother after daydreaming about pale skin, pink lips, and platinum blonde hair while he rambled.
“Yeah.”
“Shut up.” George grinned when Fred did and they both settled back into bed for an hour or two longer.
*~*~*
Draco had been through a lot in the past two years. First, George had broken up with him. Then they got back together. But then, his father had failed at his task and been imprisoned. After that he’d received the Mark, and been given his task. The only thing that got him through it all was George. He’d never told George what his task was, and George never asked. They both knew it was better to keep it unspoken. George didn’t want to know and Draco didn’t want to see his reaction. So it was no surprise that once he’d failed at his task, dragged home, punished for his failure, and locked in his room alone for who knew how long that he’d find a way to George. He knew where he was and he knew George would be waiting. He had no evidence that George would be there, they hadn’t been able to contact each other for hours. But he knew George; he just knew that he’d be there. So he went to the hill in the middle of some forest George’s dad had gotten them lost in once. It was random and perfectly secluded. No one would ever find them.
Just as he’d suspected, George was already there pacing around waiting for him when he arrive. “George.” He said adoringly, not hearing the way his own voice cracked.
“What happened?” George asked, coming over to him and visibly looking him over.
Draco told him everything. He told him about the necklace and the poison. He told George how his letters were the only things that got him out of bed every morning. George’s letters and his parents had become the only things he cared about all year. Draco told him how desperate he’d been to save them, how badly he wanted to make them proud and keep them safe. He told him about breaking Potter’s nose and how he generally tormented them. He told him about the cupboards, how scared he’d been that his plan wouldn’t work. He told him about how he’d looked Dumbledore in the face and couldn’t do it. How his voice and hand had trembled when he realized he just couldn’t kill him. He whispered that he felt like a complete failure but at the same time felt relieve that he hadn’t taken the great wizard’s life. He told him he’d been punished; tortured was probably a better term, for failing his task. It hadn’t been long but it had been agonizing. He told him about the incident in the bathroom with Potter, showed George the scar on his chest at his insistence. George gave this the same treatment he’d given the Mark on his arm. Kissing his chest all over and then shifting Draco in his arms.
They laid in the grass for what could have been hours. Draco thought he’d cry. He did that a lot recently. But he didn’t. He was sick of crying. And with George there with him, wrapped in his strong arms Draco was anything but sad or scared. He knew the moment George let go and left he’d be worried for George’s life. He always worried about George; it was why they wrote letters back and forth almost daily. He knew when George wasn’t there he’d be tormented with his actions and inactions. But George made him feel like he’d done exactly what he should’ve done, mistake or not he’d done what he was supposed to. George always made things seem clearer. Draco thought he had the same affect on George. He seemed calmer with Draco around, like he put everything into place.
In a week things would get even more difficult for them as the war truly began. In two weeks their meetings would all but cease. They would come up with the idea of giving each other cherished memories in that time. Draco would go and get the supplies, sending George his small Pensieve. It wasn’t much, it never felt like enough but it helped. It helped remind them why they waited weeks between secret letters, worrying themselves sick with worst case scenarios. The few times they would meet during the war always felt like the last and they were never long enough. Neither of them was entirely sure how they kept it together, how they managed, but they did and that would be all that would matter.
*~*~*
George’s life wasn’t supposed to be like this. He’d just gotten his boyfriend back and now this. His father was severely injured; he could be dead for all they knew. He doubted anyone, not even Fred, knew how shaken he was. No one could know how shocked and terrified he was. Their father could die, his father could die, his quirky father whom he loved and secretly admired was in mortal peril. When he and Fred got into their dorm they looked at each other. Their bond that no one could ever understand let them communicate silently. Fred needed to talk to Angelina, to explain things to her, tell her not to worry. Somehow George knew he’d already asked Ginny to go get her for him. George, he needed to run to the dungeons. He needed Draco; needed to see him and just…he needed him. They nodded their understanding and George dashed out of the room.
He sprinted all the way down to the dungeons, barely able to whisper the Slytherin password to get into the common room. He and Draco always told each other their house’s passwords in case of emergencies. He’d never needed it before. He knew where Draco's room was, money went far in Slytherin and Draco had managed to get himself his own room. He flew up the stairs and didn’t bother to knock before bursting into Draco's room. Draco had never been a light sleeper, but the bang when the door flew open and hit the wall woke him up. He sat up, yawning and stretching, looking at George through questioning, groggy eyes. He murmured something that George was sure wasn’t actual English. Draco had never been a morning person. But he did manage a quiet “George, what’s wrong?” rubbing sleep from one eye.
George threw himself onto the bed, crawling into Draco's lap. He rested his head on his slender thigh and looked up at him, eyes prickling with tears. Draco stared down at him in concern, but didn’t say anything. He ran a hand through George’s hair, massaging his scalp, and George simply broke beneath him. He cried silently, tears falling swift and numerous to wet a spot on Draco's blanket. He gently sobbed a few times, burying his face in Draco's waist when he did. His arms wound up around Draco's slim waist, holding onto him as he cried. He didn’t cry for long. The tears stopped and he took a deep, shuddering breath. Above him Draco looked at him with soft, caring eyes that reminded George of his mother’s. “What happened?” Draco asked quietly, hand still running through George’s hair, his other rubbing up and down his arm gently.
“My,” he sniffed “My father was…he was attacked. By a snake. By You-Know-Who’s snake. He…” his voice cracked “he could die.” A small sob escaped him and he returned his face to Draco's waist.
“Shh…It’ll be okay. Your father’s a fighter, and there’s no way he’d ever let your family down. He’ll get better.” Draco soothed, pulling George up to his chest before lying back down on his bed.
“He…we’ve always been close. I can’t loose him, I can’t Draco. He’s”
“It’s okay.” Draco kissed the top of his head and held him against his chest, stroking his hair. “I’m here. They’ll get to him in time. He’ll be okay.”
George cried for a few minutes, still quiet but this time the sobs escaped him in huge shaking breaths. Draco just held him and did his best to comfort him. It was strangely calming the way Draco gently stroked his hair, the way his heart beat gently in his chest against George’s ear. He looked up at Draco, head still resting on his chest, surprised that he believe everything Draco was saying. If anyone else had told him not to worry, that his father would be okay George wouldn’t have given it any thought. But Draco said it like he meant it, like he knew Arthur Weasley was going to be perfectly alright and it gave George hope.
He stayed there, letting himself be held by Draco, for the first time he could ever remember, for a few more minutes. He knew he should leave, should go get ready to leave with his siblings but it took him a while to bring himself to leave those soothing arms. He gave Draco a swift, adoring kiss before leaving. Draco told him to write when he knew anything. They told each other they loved one another, sharing a few more chaste, quick kisses before George left.
They immerged from the final dream in varying states of shock. Ginny and Hermione both had tear streaked faces. Ron's jaw saw set, his lips a thin tight line, staring blankly ahead in thought. Harry was just trying to wrap his head around it all. None of them said anything for the longest time. They sat silently all taking in what they’d seen. It was a lot to digest, especially the last two. No one had ever thought of either George or Draco the way they were in the memories. Draco had always been a cowardly prat with a shitty sense of humor and George was always the one cracking jokes and making everyone smile. To think they’d had to go through so much during the war and even before it was unnerving. They’d never thought about how hard it must’ve been for them, for anyone else really. When someone finally did speak it was Ginny.
“We should take this back.” The all nodded and silently got up to leave for George’s place.
George opened the door, glancing down at the box in Ginny’s hand and smiled knowingly. He let them in and they all settled into the living room. George in his usual armchair, Draco leaving the couch and the book he’d been reading to sit on the arm of George’s chair. The four stared silently at the couple for a moment, Hermione the one to break the silence. “We watched all the memories.” She announced nervously.
George nodded and Draco seemed pleased but a little wary.
“They were…interesting.” Ron said lamely, knowing himself how lame it had sounded.
“I can’t imagine what it must’ve been like.” Ginny admitted quietly, only glancing at her brother briefly before looking down at her lap.
“What what must’ve been like?” Draco asked curiously.
“You two…during the war. It must’ve been horrible. Worrying all the time, not seeing each other, families fighting. I don’t know what I would’ve done.” She said, looking up.
George chuckled and Draco nodded with a small smile on his face. “It was hard, but worth it.” George said, glancing up at Draco fondly for a moment.
After that they fell into light, cheerful conversation. George told Draco what each of the trio was planning to do now. Ron and Draco got along well. Harry and Draco only glared at each other once because of a badly placed joke about the Gryffindor Quidditch team. But everyone seemed to be letting the past stay where it belonged. They all made a genuine effort to get over their previous hatred for each other. They even went so far to begin asking Draco was he was doing now that he’d left Hogwarts. He was making potions for Weasley Wizard Wheezes, which surprised all of them. Draco told them George was shit at potions and it was how he paid the rent. He’d elbowed George in the chest before he could say something stupid about paying the rent through other means. It was refreshing, seeing them all get along. George was astronomically happy by the time it came about that the four had to leave.
Just before he left Ron turned around and looked at both of them. He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants absently, ears turning a little red, and looking like he might puke. Looking from George to Draco he said “Come over sometime. Maybe you me and Hermione could uh…have dinner together or something.” After that he rushed out of their flat.
With their guests gone George made use of the privacy to pin Draco onto the couch, lying between his legs and smiling down at him like the cat that caught the canary. “What?” Draco asked, struggling against his hold.
“They like you.” George smirked, leaning down to place a kiss on Draco's lips.
When he pulled away he nodded thoughtfully “They’re beginning to, yes.”
George grinned from ear to ear. He couldn’t think of anything that would make him happier than his family learning to love the man beneath him and accepting him into their family…Well he could think of one thing. “When’re you going to introduce me to your parents?” he teased. He expected Draco's horrified expression, the wide eyes and cheeks going red. What he didn’t expect was for Draco to throw him off -he’d always been secretly surprisingly strong when he wanted to be- and lock himself in their room for an hour before George could coax him out. Or rather coax Draco to let him in so he could pin Draco to the mattress.
After a moderate amount of love making Draco looked over to George and said “You know my father isn’t above killing people.”
“I am aware.” George rolled on top of Draco again “Especially when it comes to his precious son.”
“I’ll think about it.” Draco whispered so quietly that George almost didn’t hear him.
George grinned “I’m sure they’ll love me.”
Draco just rolled his eyes. George would be the death of him, he knew it. “I love you.”
“I know you do.” George joked before pressing their lips together “I love you too.”
Draco supposed maybe George, if anyone, could win his parents over…if he lived past the introductions.
~FIN~
“What’re you doing up this late? Isn’t it past your bedtime?” George asked as Draco waved his wand, opening the gates. He sauntered in, Draco staring at him like he couldn’t believe he was real. He was just about to make comment about Draco obviously checking him out when the small body launched itself at him. Draco's arms wrapped around his neck as he kissed George. When George deepened the kiss Draco made a desperate noise and willingly let George’s tongue plunder his mouth hungrily. They pulled apart for air, panting into each other’s air and Draco mumbled “Bedroom. ‘Snot safe out here.” George only grunted in reply before the warm body removed itself from his grip. He might have whimpered a little at the loss.
Malfoy Manor was huge, and George was sure it was beautifully decorated with lovely furnishings and all sorts of expensive things he couldn’t even afford to look at. But George saw nothing but the pale, platinum blonde dragging him through hallways and up stairs. He gaze landing on the pert arse in loose pajama bottoms more than once on their venture to Draco's room. When the door finally shut behind them George immediately pinned Draco to it, kissing him fiercely. He hadn’t realized just how intensely he’d missed every part of his boyfriend until he finally got to touch him again. His soft hair, his pink lips, his soft skin, his slender hips, George had missed every single last thing about him. When they finally pulled away for much needed oxygen George’s hands remained in Draco's hair and in the small of his back not letting him move too far away. Draco's hands refusing to let up their grip on his shirt.
“I missed you.” Draco whispered, nuzzling his face at the junction of George’s neck and shoulder.
“Of course you did, darling everyone misses a face like this.” George grinned; he felt a smile against his neck even though Draco gently slapped his chest. He chuckled, holding Draco closer to himself. He buried his nose in soft hair and pressed his lips to Draco's temple as he said “I missed you too.”
After thoroughly divesting each other of clothes and making good use of each other’s mouths they somehow wound up wrestling on Draco's bed. George had found what Draco had immediately exclaimed to be “Puddin.” Puddin was an extremely dog-eared stuffed fox whose once white fur had faded to an off white sort of grey from the endless love of a very young Draco Malfoy. George had laughed raucously at the beloved fox’s ridiculous name and held it out of Draco's reach. In an attempt to retrieve his favorite possession Draco tackled George and the wrestling match had begun. Even after Puddin had been tossed onto the floor the wrestling continued until Draco pinned a willing George’s wrists to the bed, straddling his waist triumphantly. “I win.” Draco sneered.
“Only because I let you.” George chided, leaning up to meet the short, sweet kiss Draco placed on his lips.
“Still counts.” Draco said haughtily. “Now what did you do to Puddin?”
George laughed “It’s on the floor somewhere.”
“She.” Draco corrected, sounding truly offended that George had called his stuffed animal it. “And how dare you throw her on the floor.”
“You didn’t leave me much of a choice, now did you?” Draco pouted, seriously pouted until George felt his heart ache, he sighed exaggeratedly in defeat “Alright, I’ll go get her.”
When George plopped back onto the bed, the fox ripped from his hands he couldn’t help but ask “Why do you love that thing so much?” Draco glared at him for calling it ‘that thing.’ He looked down at the stuff fox, fondly stroking it, before looking at George. He was blushing with a small smile on his face George loved but saw very rarely. He was almost jealous this stupid toy was able to make Draco smile like that just by existing when George only got to see that smile when he was lucky. It wasn’t fair and completely unreasonable that it bothered him as much as it did, but he didn’t let it show (he hoped.) “My father gave her to me when I was three. I…used to be afraid of the dark and he bought her for me to sleep with. He screamed at me when I tried to take her with me to Hogwarts but…still he got her for me. She just, just means a lot to me. I’ve always had her.”
George couldn’t take his eyes off of Draco, his expression was so gentle and fond it made butterflies take wing in George’s stomach (that hadn’t happened since the early days of their relationship) and his heart skip a beat or two. He couldn’t help but kiss him; Draco was surprised but returned it all the same. Draco was still blushing when they pulled apart and he wouldn’t look at George for more than a quick glance asking “Do you have anything like this?”
George laughed and nodded “Yeah, an owl. My mother made it for me when I was five. I got a bad flu and couldn’t leave the bed for two weeks. She felt bad because she had to separate me and Fred, didn’t want him getting sick. It was…it was weird. Me and Fred were always together back then. No matter what we were doing, back then it really was like we were attached. So for the first time I was without my other half. So she made me and Fred these owls, mine was gold and his was red.”
“What’s the owl’s name?” Draco asked, moving closer so they were barely an inch apart.
“I named him Sir Puff Feathers” George said proudly, Draco giggled loudly and buried his face in Puddin’s limp body. His eyes were apologetic for laughing at the name but his giggling didn’t die down for a few minutes. George just smiled “Fred’s was King Archie McDooglefagan if that’s any better.” Draco broke into hysterics at that and George joined in, never taking his eyes off of the pure joy on Draco's face. It wasn’t often he saw Draco this happy and relaxed and George found he would do anything to change that.
“I’m sorry…they’re very…creative names.” He said between small laughs.
George shrugged “They were supposed to be stupid names. We sort of made a game out of seeing who could come up with the more ridiculous names back then.”
“Fred totally won that one.” George nodded in agreement.
George left before dawn, only after sharing long, lazy, sleepy kisses with Draco for an entire hour. Puddin’ had been discarded to a more appropriate location while they rolled around on the bed, unwilling to part again so soon.
*~*~*
One thing George loved was giving Draco surprises; he’d randomly take him on sickeningly sweet dates or give him gifts for no reason at all. And while Draco loved these surprises he did not like being blind folded and lead around while George simply gushed over whatever it was he was showing him. It got a little annoying after about the sixth time. After what felt like ten minutes of being lead who knew where Draco defiantly stopped walking, crossing his arms over his chest and giving whatever the hell was in front of him an impressed, irate look. He heard George chuckle low in his throat by his left ear and felt his arms wrap around his waist, resting on his hips, his chin resting on Draco's shoulder. He could practically hear the smirk on the ginger’s face when he spoke “Alright, you can take it off now.”
Draco had to blink furiously when he could finally see again. He couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. His face immediately shifted from annoyed to excited joy at what George had surprised him with. He whirled around in George’s arms and leaped up to wrap his arms around his neck and hug him tightly. “I can’t believe you did it!” he said, pulling away just far enough to look at George’s ecstatic face. Draco kissed him swiftly before continuing “You and Fred finally” kiss “I can’t believe it” kiss “I’m so” George cut him off with a kiss of his own.
“Want to have the first look around?” George asked, coiling his arms more tightly around Draco's waist.
“Of course.” Draco said, he had the biggest grin on his face that George had ever seen. “Fred hasn’t shown Angelina around yet?”
“No.” George laughed “They’ve been busy getting reacquainted with each other.” Draco snorted. He and Angelina had never exactly gotten along. They played nice when the twins were around and they didn’t hate each other when they weren’t but Draco thought she was bitchy and she thought he was spoiled. Fred and George did their best not to bring up their significant others’ animosity for one another. It was easier on all four to let it go unspoken. “Draco, be nice. She makes him happy.” George chastised playfully.
“I’m sure she’s very good at making him very happy.” Draco drawled.
“Oi, I said be nice.” George snapped, this time with actual heat in his tone. In response, Draco just avoided eye contact and pouted in a defiant way only he seemed capable of. He didn’t stop pouting until George kissed his cheek, and began leading him around the shop by the hand.
They spent two and a half hours going around the entire shop. George would lead Draco this way and that, excitedly telling him what everything was and what it did. More than a dozen times George got overexcited, bouncing on his feet and waving his hands around in the air as he described to Draco how he and Fred had made this thing or that. Draco watched in fascinated happiness with a surprisingly strong sense of pride. He indulged George and listened intently to every word he said. He let himself be dragged around the shop, amused smile on his face the entire time, as George acted like a kid in a candy store. For two and half hours George spoke nonstop until one time he turned around to look at Draco he finally saw something other then the shelves lined with his dream and future, for once really looking at him and he just stopped. Draco gave him a look when George just starting staring at him like he’d never seen him before, gazing at him in this weird awestruck way that made Draco feel uncomfortable. “What?!” Draco asked at last, looking away from his freak of a boyfriend.
“You’ve never looked at me like that before.” George said, slowly walking toward him.
“What’re you talking about?” Draco snapped, still refusing to look at him.
“You just had this…look.” George sounded as awestruck as he looked, now directly in front of Draco and crowding him into a corner.
“So?” he said, looking anywhere but at George.
“Draco,” he lifted Draco's chin to meet his gaze “When this is all over,” both of them knew what he meant by that “come live with me.”
“George,” Draco whispered, eyes going glassy with tears “don’t.”
“Please, just say yes.”
“George it’s not…I want to. I do. You have no idea how badly I want to.” He had allowed a single tear to fall as he spoke, doing his best to keep the rest from cascading down. “George…” he sobbed, looking down to his left arm. He looked absolutely ashamed of something and George felt a wave of anger and fear hit him like a ton of bricks to the chest.
“Show me.” He hoped his voice hadn’t cracked when he spoke. A few more tears rolled down Draco's cheeks as he rolled up his sleeve. He turned away when George gasped; the once smooth, pale, unmarred skin of Draco's forearm now bore the disgusting black Dark Mark. Draco was struggling to remain somewhat composed as George slowly reached out to touch the Mark. Before his fingers could touch the inked skin Draco jerked his arm away, hastily wiping away tears. He refused to look at George until he felt his arm being uncurled from where he was cradling it against his chest. When his arm was outstretched again George leant down and kissed a trail from Draco's wrist to his elbow, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight. Brown eyes met grey and Draco saw a lot of things in those eyes. He saw anger for the bastard who had dared to do this to his Draco, he saw sadness for what this meant for Draco, he saw fear for what this meant for both of them, but he also saw the same soft, adoring affection George had always had in his eyes when he looked at him. He let out a deep, strangled breath and felt more tears fall from his eyes. “Draco Lucius Malfoy, if you think I would ever make the mistake of giving you up ever again you’re wrong. Now, promise me that when this is all over you will come and live with me and help me and Fred look after the shop.” George said seriously, looking at Draco imploringly “I want you to promise me you’re going to leave that damned Manor you used to love, but can’t stand now that You-Know-Who’s botched it up. You’re going to pack your things and move in with me, I’ll even let you bring Puddin into bed while you sleep as long as she promises to share you.” Draco gave a small laugh at that and George wiped the tears from his face, catching one with his thumb as it fell. “Do you promise?”
Draco nodded, afraid of how his voice would betray how truly wrecked he felt.
“Say it.” George pleaded, pressing his forehead to Draco's “Please, Draco, promise me.”
“I promise.” Draco whispered, sniffling “I promise, when this is all over I’ll come live with you.” George smiled, it was a worried and pained smile but it was genuine and Draco smiled back, feeble and scared but hopeful that one day he and George really would be able to live the way George had described. If Draco didn’t wind up in Azkaban and neither of them died -another tear fell at that thought- then he would easily give up everything and run to live in George’s arms forever.
*~*~*
This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. It was never supposed to end. They were supposed to be happy, together. This should have never happened.
But it had and now he, Fred, and Harry couldn’t play Quidditch anymore. They’d never play ever again (which was really only devastating to Harry since he and Fred were out this year anyway.) George couldn’t really care less about the Quidditch or anything else he was going to get stuck with as a punishment. He couldn’t get the words out of his head, he couldn’t stop hearing Draco's voice the way it had sounded so full of malice and so fucking…George didn’t know what it was but it made his stomach churn and boil. That wasn’t his Draco.
…not that Draco was his anymore. But it was better this way. It was easier. He didn’t know how because everyday he had to lock himself in a broom closet and scream himself hoarse just to feel an ounce of relief. Everyday he had to look at Draco and pretend he didn’t want to touch him, hold him, kiss him; hell even just listening to him talk would be enough. George spent everyday trying to ignore the bleeding, torn remains of his heart making his chest ache with every breath he took. He could fool everyone else easily; it was surprising how little effort it took to fake a smile or a laugh. Fred knew, he always did. Fred had called him an idiot for doing it. Told him he was making the biggest mistake of his life and that he’d never be happy again, and George agreed but he insisted that this was best. This way they wouldn’t have to choose. Draco could side with his family and George with his. They wouldn’t have to choose. And it was better this way.
Only it wasn’t better. Draco had gone back to his old ways, only this time he was being vicious. He wasn’t doing it to amuse himself, he was doing it to make people hurt. No one knew where his anger came from, no one but George. Draco was crying himself to sleep every night. George could see the puffiness of his eyes and the dark circles under them. Draco was lashing out at anyone that came into view because he couldn’t lash out at George. He wasn’t doing as well in his classes as usual. George wasn’t entirely sure how he knew this, he just did. It was because Draco didn’t care anymore, he couldn’t care. George had ripped his heart apart without even giving him a reason. And it was the careless, unexplained randomness of George’s breaking up with him that was sending Draco into this ruthless rage against the world.
But it was easier this way for both of them. Somehow this was best for both of them. This was supposed to have been easier. This was supposed to have been best. They weren’t supposed to be spiraling downward, each destroying himself in their own way. George with guilt and loneliness, ignoring the pain and putting on the cheerful façade everyone expected of him. Draco with anger, confusion, and heartbroken sadness, manipulating his own pain into anger and lashing out at others, making them feel at least a small portion of his own misery.
George was so caught up in his thoughts he hadn’t realized where his angry strides had been taking him. He was back in the empty room down in the dungeons he and Draco used to meet in. He laughed mirthlessly at how his own body was torturing him when he heard a small noise from the farthest corner of the room. He heard it again moments later, the soft sniffling eerily familiar to him. George cautiously walked to the origin of the noise, he was almost shocked when he saw Draco Malfoy curled up in a corner shoulders shaking softly with his nearly silent sobs.
“Draco.” George said knowing it sounded as broken as the sight made him feel. When Draco looked up George felt his heart plummet into the pit of his stomach, the hurt in those grey eyes turned his blood cold in his veins. Draco sniffled again, glaring icy daggers at George, slowly getting to his feet. “Draco, I”
“Don’t.” he snarled “Don’t you dare call me that!”
George stood silently gazing at Draco in confused hurt.
“You, what’re you doing here?” Draco said, wiping his face with his sleeve “Come to gloat, did you?”
“What’re you”
“Come to see how well you’ve completely ruined the arrogant, rude, evil, sniveling Draco Malfoy?”
“No, that’s not” George said taking a step closer
“Don’t…” Draco gave him a harsh glare and moved as far away as the walls would let him.
“I’ll go.” George said sympathetically. He was halfway through taking his first step backwards when Draco let out a humorless laugh that made George cringe.
“Of course you are. It’s what you’re best at, isn’t it? Running away when things get tough or complicated. Just leaving whenever you like, complete disregard for anyone else. Acting like nothing ever happened. Like we never happened. Go on, then.” Draco snarled at him, eyes cold and accusing.
“That’s not what happen.” George bit out defensively, desperate to make Draco understand that this is what they needed. This was…
“Don’t lie to yourself, Weasley.” George cringed at the name spoken with absolute hate; it made the ache in his chest increase tenfold “You just left. No reason, no…nothing. You just abandoned it and it hasn’t even phased you. It didn’t mean anything did it? It was just some big joke to you, was it?” Draco was pressed against the wall, leaning on it like it was the only thing keeping him from collapsing onto the floor.
“No.” George croaked, he didn’t know when his throat got so tight or when his sight got blurry. He blinked the tears away and shook his head to clear it, looking back at Draco pleadingly. “No, it was…Draco I didn’t want to.”
Draco glared at him at that and he pushed himself off the wall and put his face in George’s “Then why did you do it? If you didn’t want to why even do it?”
“I had to. It was…it’s better this way.” George said weakly.
“Better?! You think this is better?! You think crying myself to sleep every night is better?! My father’s screamed at me for my grades because they’re not up to his standards. I have a fucking werewolf living in my house. Everyone’s already talking about me getting the Mark. I’m in hell, George, and you’re not there. You’re just living like you never gave a shit about me. You just left me to rot because you never gave a shit about anything but yourself and getting your own damn kicks!”
George had nothing to say to this, he just stared at the love of his life with angry tears running down his face, screaming at him about how he’d been a complete ass. He felt like total shit.
“Everyone always says I’m the worst person in this school but at least I don’t make people fall completely in love with them and then leave them! I don’t build up people’s hopes and dreams with promises and…and kindness and FUCK George, why did you do this to me?! What did I ever do to deserve this?!” Draco was crying now, anger gone. His anger was just a shield, he was hurt and lost and lonely and it was all George’s fault. “Why?” he choked out before falling to his knees, looking up desperately at George for the answers.
“Draco…” George went down onto his knees, taking Draco's face in his hands and forcing him to look at him. “Do you mean it?”
“Mean what?” it almost sounded like a plea.
“What you said…” George’s heart was racing. He needed to be sure; he needed to know, to hear it again. “You’re in love with me?”
“Of course I am, you fucking idiot!” Draco cried out.
“Oh Draco, why didn’t you say it before?” George asked, inching closer. He was still cradling Draco's face in his hands, not willing to let him go. Maybe he never would be.
“You never gave me a chance. You just blurted out that we were over, I said it the moment you Disapparated. You never…you just fucking left me. I needed you, damn it!” Draco was holding onto the front of George’s shirt like it was the only thing keeping him grounded, the only reason he was still in one piece because George was there in front of him.
“You, pet…” George gazed into grey eyes beginning to fill with a desperate hope “You fell in love with the biggest ass in the entire world. I thought it would be easier, that we wouldn’t have to choose sides. I never…Merlin, Draco I’m so sorry. Draco Lucius Malfoy, darling, I love you so much,” He pressed their foreheads together “so fucking much. Every day since then I’ve been completely miserable. And I’m so sorry.” Draco stared at him, eyes gazing at him imploringly for a short moment before his head fell to George’s chest and he started sobbing.
They ended up in George’s bed; he’d drawn the curtains and put a spell to keep others from hearing them. He knew no one would disturb them. Draco had sobbed for nearly forty minutes in the dungeons, when he could finally stand George brought him to his dorm and held him for he didn’t know how long. Draco would go from crying to telling George what had happened since they’d broken up. He told him how he had tried desperately to figure out why George had done it. How he’d been so sure he’d meant nothing to George at all, and George could just kiss him, pet his hair, and pull him closer to his chest. Draco told him about the Death Eaters, how his father was beginning to initiate him. He told George how scared he was, how badly he’d wanted to run to George for comfort and safety since that night. George just listened and held Draco as close as possible. They fell asleep that way, Fred waking them up with a knowing smile before dawn so Draco could return to his own room. They promised to meet in their usual room that night and George ignored the clap on the shoulder Fred gave him once Draco left. He was too blissfully happy to listen to Fred boast about how right he’d been. How he’d known George and Draco were just meant for each other, how he’d been so sure they’d get back together, and how he had told George he’d been an idiot.
“Fred?” George said, finally looking at his brother after daydreaming about pale skin, pink lips, and platinum blonde hair while he rambled.
“Yeah.”
“Shut up.” George grinned when Fred did and they both settled back into bed for an hour or two longer.
*~*~*
Draco had been through a lot in the past two years. First, George had broken up with him. Then they got back together. But then, his father had failed at his task and been imprisoned. After that he’d received the Mark, and been given his task. The only thing that got him through it all was George. He’d never told George what his task was, and George never asked. They both knew it was better to keep it unspoken. George didn’t want to know and Draco didn’t want to see his reaction. So it was no surprise that once he’d failed at his task, dragged home, punished for his failure, and locked in his room alone for who knew how long that he’d find a way to George. He knew where he was and he knew George would be waiting. He had no evidence that George would be there, they hadn’t been able to contact each other for hours. But he knew George; he just knew that he’d be there. So he went to the hill in the middle of some forest George’s dad had gotten them lost in once. It was random and perfectly secluded. No one would ever find them.
Just as he’d suspected, George was already there pacing around waiting for him when he arrive. “George.” He said adoringly, not hearing the way his own voice cracked.
“What happened?” George asked, coming over to him and visibly looking him over.
Draco told him everything. He told him about the necklace and the poison. He told George how his letters were the only things that got him out of bed every morning. George’s letters and his parents had become the only things he cared about all year. Draco told him how desperate he’d been to save them, how badly he wanted to make them proud and keep them safe. He told him about breaking Potter’s nose and how he generally tormented them. He told him about the cupboards, how scared he’d been that his plan wouldn’t work. He told him about how he’d looked Dumbledore in the face and couldn’t do it. How his voice and hand had trembled when he realized he just couldn’t kill him. He whispered that he felt like a complete failure but at the same time felt relieve that he hadn’t taken the great wizard’s life. He told him he’d been punished; tortured was probably a better term, for failing his task. It hadn’t been long but it had been agonizing. He told him about the incident in the bathroom with Potter, showed George the scar on his chest at his insistence. George gave this the same treatment he’d given the Mark on his arm. Kissing his chest all over and then shifting Draco in his arms.
They laid in the grass for what could have been hours. Draco thought he’d cry. He did that a lot recently. But he didn’t. He was sick of crying. And with George there with him, wrapped in his strong arms Draco was anything but sad or scared. He knew the moment George let go and left he’d be worried for George’s life. He always worried about George; it was why they wrote letters back and forth almost daily. He knew when George wasn’t there he’d be tormented with his actions and inactions. But George made him feel like he’d done exactly what he should’ve done, mistake or not he’d done what he was supposed to. George always made things seem clearer. Draco thought he had the same affect on George. He seemed calmer with Draco around, like he put everything into place.
In a week things would get even more difficult for them as the war truly began. In two weeks their meetings would all but cease. They would come up with the idea of giving each other cherished memories in that time. Draco would go and get the supplies, sending George his small Pensieve. It wasn’t much, it never felt like enough but it helped. It helped remind them why they waited weeks between secret letters, worrying themselves sick with worst case scenarios. The few times they would meet during the war always felt like the last and they were never long enough. Neither of them was entirely sure how they kept it together, how they managed, but they did and that would be all that would matter.
*~*~*
George’s life wasn’t supposed to be like this. He’d just gotten his boyfriend back and now this. His father was severely injured; he could be dead for all they knew. He doubted anyone, not even Fred, knew how shaken he was. No one could know how shocked and terrified he was. Their father could die, his father could die, his quirky father whom he loved and secretly admired was in mortal peril. When he and Fred got into their dorm they looked at each other. Their bond that no one could ever understand let them communicate silently. Fred needed to talk to Angelina, to explain things to her, tell her not to worry. Somehow George knew he’d already asked Ginny to go get her for him. George, he needed to run to the dungeons. He needed Draco; needed to see him and just…he needed him. They nodded their understanding and George dashed out of the room.
He sprinted all the way down to the dungeons, barely able to whisper the Slytherin password to get into the common room. He and Draco always told each other their house’s passwords in case of emergencies. He’d never needed it before. He knew where Draco's room was, money went far in Slytherin and Draco had managed to get himself his own room. He flew up the stairs and didn’t bother to knock before bursting into Draco's room. Draco had never been a light sleeper, but the bang when the door flew open and hit the wall woke him up. He sat up, yawning and stretching, looking at George through questioning, groggy eyes. He murmured something that George was sure wasn’t actual English. Draco had never been a morning person. But he did manage a quiet “George, what’s wrong?” rubbing sleep from one eye.
George threw himself onto the bed, crawling into Draco's lap. He rested his head on his slender thigh and looked up at him, eyes prickling with tears. Draco stared down at him in concern, but didn’t say anything. He ran a hand through George’s hair, massaging his scalp, and George simply broke beneath him. He cried silently, tears falling swift and numerous to wet a spot on Draco's blanket. He gently sobbed a few times, burying his face in Draco's waist when he did. His arms wound up around Draco's slim waist, holding onto him as he cried. He didn’t cry for long. The tears stopped and he took a deep, shuddering breath. Above him Draco looked at him with soft, caring eyes that reminded George of his mother’s. “What happened?” Draco asked quietly, hand still running through George’s hair, his other rubbing up and down his arm gently.
“My,” he sniffed “My father was…he was attacked. By a snake. By You-Know-Who’s snake. He…” his voice cracked “he could die.” A small sob escaped him and he returned his face to Draco's waist.
“Shh…It’ll be okay. Your father’s a fighter, and there’s no way he’d ever let your family down. He’ll get better.” Draco soothed, pulling George up to his chest before lying back down on his bed.
“He…we’ve always been close. I can’t loose him, I can’t Draco. He’s”
“It’s okay.” Draco kissed the top of his head and held him against his chest, stroking his hair. “I’m here. They’ll get to him in time. He’ll be okay.”
George cried for a few minutes, still quiet but this time the sobs escaped him in huge shaking breaths. Draco just held him and did his best to comfort him. It was strangely calming the way Draco gently stroked his hair, the way his heart beat gently in his chest against George’s ear. He looked up at Draco, head still resting on his chest, surprised that he believe everything Draco was saying. If anyone else had told him not to worry, that his father would be okay George wouldn’t have given it any thought. But Draco said it like he meant it, like he knew Arthur Weasley was going to be perfectly alright and it gave George hope.
He stayed there, letting himself be held by Draco, for the first time he could ever remember, for a few more minutes. He knew he should leave, should go get ready to leave with his siblings but it took him a while to bring himself to leave those soothing arms. He gave Draco a swift, adoring kiss before leaving. Draco told him to write when he knew anything. They told each other they loved one another, sharing a few more chaste, quick kisses before George left.
They immerged from the final dream in varying states of shock. Ginny and Hermione both had tear streaked faces. Ron's jaw saw set, his lips a thin tight line, staring blankly ahead in thought. Harry was just trying to wrap his head around it all. None of them said anything for the longest time. They sat silently all taking in what they’d seen. It was a lot to digest, especially the last two. No one had ever thought of either George or Draco the way they were in the memories. Draco had always been a cowardly prat with a shitty sense of humor and George was always the one cracking jokes and making everyone smile. To think they’d had to go through so much during the war and even before it was unnerving. They’d never thought about how hard it must’ve been for them, for anyone else really. When someone finally did speak it was Ginny.
“We should take this back.” The all nodded and silently got up to leave for George’s place.
George opened the door, glancing down at the box in Ginny’s hand and smiled knowingly. He let them in and they all settled into the living room. George in his usual armchair, Draco leaving the couch and the book he’d been reading to sit on the arm of George’s chair. The four stared silently at the couple for a moment, Hermione the one to break the silence. “We watched all the memories.” She announced nervously.
George nodded and Draco seemed pleased but a little wary.
“They were…interesting.” Ron said lamely, knowing himself how lame it had sounded.
“I can’t imagine what it must’ve been like.” Ginny admitted quietly, only glancing at her brother briefly before looking down at her lap.
“What what must’ve been like?” Draco asked curiously.
“You two…during the war. It must’ve been horrible. Worrying all the time, not seeing each other, families fighting. I don’t know what I would’ve done.” She said, looking up.
George chuckled and Draco nodded with a small smile on his face. “It was hard, but worth it.” George said, glancing up at Draco fondly for a moment.
After that they fell into light, cheerful conversation. George told Draco what each of the trio was planning to do now. Ron and Draco got along well. Harry and Draco only glared at each other once because of a badly placed joke about the Gryffindor Quidditch team. But everyone seemed to be letting the past stay where it belonged. They all made a genuine effort to get over their previous hatred for each other. They even went so far to begin asking Draco was he was doing now that he’d left Hogwarts. He was making potions for Weasley Wizard Wheezes, which surprised all of them. Draco told them George was shit at potions and it was how he paid the rent. He’d elbowed George in the chest before he could say something stupid about paying the rent through other means. It was refreshing, seeing them all get along. George was astronomically happy by the time it came about that the four had to leave.
Just before he left Ron turned around and looked at both of them. He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants absently, ears turning a little red, and looking like he might puke. Looking from George to Draco he said “Come over sometime. Maybe you me and Hermione could uh…have dinner together or something.” After that he rushed out of their flat.
With their guests gone George made use of the privacy to pin Draco onto the couch, lying between his legs and smiling down at him like the cat that caught the canary. “What?” Draco asked, struggling against his hold.
“They like you.” George smirked, leaning down to place a kiss on Draco's lips.
When he pulled away he nodded thoughtfully “They’re beginning to, yes.”
George grinned from ear to ear. He couldn’t think of anything that would make him happier than his family learning to love the man beneath him and accepting him into their family…Well he could think of one thing. “When’re you going to introduce me to your parents?” he teased. He expected Draco's horrified expression, the wide eyes and cheeks going red. What he didn’t expect was for Draco to throw him off -he’d always been secretly surprisingly strong when he wanted to be- and lock himself in their room for an hour before George could coax him out. Or rather coax Draco to let him in so he could pin Draco to the mattress.
After a moderate amount of love making Draco looked over to George and said “You know my father isn’t above killing people.”
“I am aware.” George rolled on top of Draco again “Especially when it comes to his precious son.”
“I’ll think about it.” Draco whispered so quietly that George almost didn’t hear him.
George grinned “I’m sure they’ll love me.”
Draco just rolled his eyes. George would be the death of him, he knew it. “I love you.”
“I know you do.” George joked before pressing their lips together “I love you too.”
Draco supposed maybe George, if anyone, could win his parents over…if he lived past the introductions.
~FIN~