game night | g. weasley

38. Cuts Will Scar

{trigger warning: mentions of blood and pain}

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A loud crash startled George awake, and he was quick to look for Delilah.

He let out a relieved sigh, seeing her curled up into his side, her arms wrapped around his middle.

Another thud made Delilah stir awake, and George slowly began crawling out of her arms.

"Hey," she whispered groggily, "Where are you going?"

"Stay here," he instructed, moving around the bed and getting his wand before making his way to the door.

Delilah scoffed, rolling her eyes and grabbing her wand before stepping in front of George. "I think you're forgetting who the Auror is here, Weasley."

"Well, you're still half asleep," George chuckled, making Delilah nudge him in the stomach before she began to slowly open the door, George behind her.

But the two lowered their wands as they saw Fred Weasley stumbling through his own house. A bottle of, what seemed to be, Vodka, loose in his hands.

"You don't want me. . ." He was mumbling, "Well, I don't want you either!"

He threw the bottle, and both Delilah and George winced but were both disappointed to see the bottle was actually empty.

Delilah took large steps towards him, avoiding the glass on the floor, "Freddie. . ."

He looked up at her, a silly grin spreading across his face, "Delilah! My favorite girl! Is George here? If not maybe you can come into my room with me."

His sentence trailed off as he approached her and wrapped his arms through her waist, pulling her into his chest.

She smiled sadly at him, pulling his arms away from her. "Come on, Freddie, you should get some sleep," she whispered to him, patting his cheek lightly before pulling him towards his room.

"Ooh, is sleep a code word for sex, darling?" He smirked, his hand slipping to the small of her back and under George's large sweatshirt she had on.

"Sure," she rolled her eyes, looking back to George. "Clean up the glass, will you?"

He nodded with a sigh, "Just don't have sex with him."

"I won't," Delilah laughed, pushing Fred into his room.

She left the door open, but Fred didn't seem to care or even notice George as he pulled her flush against his front. "I've wanted to get you alone for awhile now," he muttered, pressing a kiss to her neck.

"Fred, we aren't having sex," she pushed him away from her. "Get your ass into your bed."

He huffed, "Ugh, fine."

He kicked his shoes off, sitting on the end of his bed so he could rip his socks off too, and then he pulled his shirt over his head.

"Come on, get to the top—"

"I'll let you be on top," Fred cut her off, smiling smugly at her as he laid back and began unbuttoning his pants. "Get over here and fuck me."

She bit her lip, nodding as she crawled into his lap after he pulled his trousers down, and she placed her hands on his chest.

When Fred's hands found her waist, she slapped him harshly across the face, taking him by surprise.

"Get your fucking act together, Frederick!" She scolded, holding his hands down with her own. "Coming home drunk like this is ridiculous, and I'm fucking tired of it! You don't get to shag Lee anymore, boo fucking hoo! He's happy with Zach, and you just have to be happy for him. Now get your head on your fucking pillows before I beat the magic out of you!"