Before the Dawn | George Weasley

75

A celebratory feast was thrown in the Great Hall.

McGonagall had repaired the house tables, but no one sat at any table in particular, the four houses meshing in along with everyone else, the roar of animated conversation deafening.  Everywhere I looked, people were laughing and embracing each other, still riding the euphoria of having won the war against the most malevolent wizard in recent history and living to tell the tale.

I sat at a table with the Weasleys at the quietest table, none of us feeling particularly talkative. 

Arthur and Charlie were sitting in silence, dark circles under their eyes. Fred looked a little woozy across from me, but George had his arm around his shoulders to hold him upright, his forehead leaned against Fred's temple and his eyes trained on the table. Percy kept pulling off his glasses and polishing them on his cloak, apparently unable to get all of the dust off. Bill and Fleur sat together, their hands intertwined. Ginny sat with her head on Molly's shoulder, staring into space.

Jamie sat beside me, looking dazed. She'd returned my locket to me, and it was back in its rightful place around my neck, its silver metal cool against my skin.

I picked at my food, but couldn't quite bring myself to eat, more tired than hungry. I felt as if I could sleep for a year, and yearned for my soft bed back at the McDowell Villa. It seemed ages ago that George and I had lay there with our arms around each other, revelling in the fragile silence and nervously wondering what the future held in store. 

I glanced at him, then, my eyes tracing the slope of his nose, the angle of his jaw, and decided I would very much like him to be there when I finally returned home, that I would sleep far better with my head resting on his chest and the easy rhythm of his beating heart in my ear. I made a mental note to propose the idea to him later.

Jamie nudged me, then, pulling me from my thoughts and silently asking if I was going to finish my food. I pushed my plate towards her with a wry smile.

My gaze met Percy's across the table, and I realised now was as good a time as ever. "We haven't officially met. My name is Mackie. I'm George's.... er, George's..."

"Guardian angel," Fred mumbled, a little groggily. "Mine, too. Saved our arses more than a few times now, hasn't she?"

I met George's eyes uncertainly. We hadn't exactly discussed the current status of our relationship, seeing as neither of us were guaranteed to survive the night—it hadn't seemed important, at the time. But before either of us could speak, Fred continued.

"Except for this last time. I have the delightful Miss McDowell watching over me now." Even with head trauma, Fred could not keep himself from flirting with Jamie. He flashed her a woozy, yet somehow charming, grin. "Isn't that right, McDowell? Hang on—was saving my life your way of agreeing to go on a date with me?"

Jamie shook her head, her cheeks a bit pink. "I should've tied that scarf tighter."

Fred chuckled. "You did do your best to strangle me. Better luck next time."

George just smiled tiredly, glancing at Percy. "Mackie's a member of the Order, Perce."

"Pleasure." Percy looked a bit overwhelmed but nevertheless extended a hand, and I twisted to shake it a bit awkwardly with my good hand. "I'm Percy."

"I know," I said, forcing myself not to look at George and Fred just then. "I've heard so much about you."

Percy gave his younger brothers a dry look. "Wonderful things, I'm sure."

Fred let out a high-pitched giggle. The corners of George's lips quirked upwards.

I glanced at George again. His was gazing at me, still wearing that slight smile despite the deep exhaustion in his eyes. We said nothing, but an unspoken agreement passed between us that we could worry about labels and relationship matters later—for now, we were alive, and that was enough.