messy // george weasley

ch19: Your Song

This is the second chapter in a double update. Please make sure you have read 18 already :)

☆☆☆

"What're you in the mood for?"

As she moved back to her barstool, Willow laughed. "You made it seem like you already had a plan."

"Well, you're hungry, right?"

"Yes, I think that's been established."

"Okay, so then I'm going to cook for you," George smiled.

She chuckled, "Yes, George. I can gather that much. What I'm wondering is what you're going to cook for us."

His brow furrowed as he turned to look around the kitchen. Once he had rummaged around their cabinets for a few moments, he finally reemerged with his arms full of all sorts of ingredients. As he dumped everything onto the counter, he swatted Willow's hand away.

"This is my thing tonight, Willow," he insisted. "I don't want any help from you, okay? Let me do this for you."

Willow settled back in her chair as she felt her face warm up. He wanted to cook for her, that wasn't something you do for a person you didn't care about. She had been raised to show her love through cooking; what if George's mother had taught him something similar? Or maybe she was looking too far into a simple, friendly gesture.

"How's Italian sound?" he asked, bringing her attention back to him.

Willow smiled over at him as she watched him gather what he would need. "Sounds like a great idea," she replied.

George began to put away the things he didn't need before he turned to grab a cutting board and a sharp knife. Willow watched as he began to sloppily cut into the white onion he soon placed on the board. In an effort to stop herself from trying to correct his positioning, she asked him a question.

"Are you going to make your own sauce?"

He paused his chopping long enough to rearrange his grip on the onion as he said, "It's the way my mum always made it growing up, so yes, I am going to try."

She lightly smiled even though George was too busy staring at the onion to see it. After wincing a few too many times as he nearly chopped off a finger, Willow finally broke down.

"George! Can I please at least help you cut your veggies? I don't think I know how to reattach a finger," she anxiously breathed out.

He laughed as he looked up at her. Waving the large knife in the air, he responded, "You're not going to trick me that easily, my dear. You'd be surprised to find out this isn't my first battle with an onion, I know what I'm doing."

"I'm sure you do, but your hand placement is making me extremely nervous."

"Everything makes you nervous," he pointed out.

"I'm ignoring that to state that you holding a knife makes me more anxious than anything else."

"Well," he sighed, "if you're that worried about me, why don't you distract yourself."

Willow pursed her lips as he used his knife to point toward the large stereo in the corner of the room. "Go pick us out some groovy music, and then you can even pick a bottle of wine from the drink fridge," he happily stated.

She opened her mouth to argue but was cut off by George placing a hand in the air before he motioned her away from the kitchen. Hanging her head in defeat, she swung her legs off the barstool and trudged toward the basket of CDs in the corner.