Weasley Twins Oneshots & Imagines

Sugar Rush (G.W.)

George Weasley doesn't normally find himself so very easily nervous around girls. If anything, his charm normally puts forth a bit of confidence. But with you, it's different. He finds his heart hammering in his chest, sometimes he's at a loss for words, or your actions take him by surprise in the most wonderful of ways.

When you both go for the last sugar quill at Honeydukes, the clerk behind the desk shrugs his shoulders as if to say, That's the final one—work it out amongst yourselves.

When he turns to look at you, his face flushes red and he feels as though his feet are cemented into the ground. He's frozen. He blinks a few times—it's almost as if you aren't real, you're so beautiful— "For the lady, then," George says and smirks at you. As a nervous smile tugs at the edges of your lips, he spots the Gryffindor colors when you pull your scarf out from your coat pockets. Your sparkly eyes are intriguing.

"Thank you," you reply nervously, paying the clerk and turning back toward George. "That's really nice of you."

And before he can say anything else or get to know you better, even your name, you float out of the store and out of sight. George stands there, still frozen, before coming out of his daydream-like state, and rushes out of the store.

"Wait!"

He runs out of Honeydukes, leaving his very confused brothers and friends behind, and catches you before you get back to the castle. Blimey, you're a quick walker. You freeze, whirling around to face him.

"I'd at least like to know the name of the girl I gave up my favorite sweet for," he says, panting a bit, and smiles softly at you. When you grin back, he feels a tug at his heartstrings.

Your face goes rosy, and you shake your head in utter embarrassment. "Oh my, I'm so sorry—I can't believe—should've introduced myself.. I'm Y/N—"

He can't help but laugh a little at your flustered form. "Y/N," George repeats, your name swimming through his mind. "I'm George.. Weasley, by the way. Thought I recognized you." He points at your Gryffindor scarf. "We're in Potions together, yeah?"

You nod in reply, biting your lip, giving the same smile that you had given him in Honeydukes. He comes to realize this is a huge hint to your nervousness, finding amusement in the fact that your eyes shift down toward your shoes, as well, avoiding any and all eye contact. Then you glance up at him, "Really brilliant match last week, by the way."

George is caught off guard by this. "Oh—thanks," he says brightly, excited to know that you've been watching Quidditch matches. He points to the Ballycastle Bats team pin you have on your bag, "Northern Ireland fan, are you?"

"Think I'd be shunned by my family if I wasn't."

"Won't be able to convert you to a Cannons fan, I reckon?"

Your lips twitch. "Afraid not."

He laughs as he watches you tuck a piece of hair behind your ear nervously, "Ever play before?"

"Oh, god," you reply, nearly dropping your sweets onto the muddy ground beneath you, "No—I'm complete, complete rubbish." George can see your cheeks go rosy again, but is it from the cold, or the nerves? "No, I mean, I'd love to play, really would, but I reckon I'd send Gryffindor's rep plummeting."

George slams his hands into his pockets, as if this is going to help him fight his own nerves, "I'm sure you're not that bad.. maybe you just need a few lessons,"

Was this an offer? He doesn't break the gaze you two are holding. You say softly, "Yeah—maybe. But not Seeker—my eyesight is awful."

Again, George laughs. "Well what would you play?"