Amortentia- A George Weasley and Adrian Pucey Love Triangle

1. The Letter

Three days have passed since the wretched day in potions. I haven't told anyone but Lee about what had happened; I couldn't even tell him who I really smelled. I don't want to believe it myself. I had lied to the boys that I was sick so I could spend the last few days for myself; I needed to wallow in my own sadness and think about where to go from here.

I sit alone in my room, only an aching heart keeping me company. I feel like a horrible, sick excuse of a human. I love George. I always have. But obviously, I didn't love him the way I thought I did. I thought I had gone past this; George and I had built something so beautiful together.

He was gentle, he was kind. He was there for me and respected me; things were so different than our first shot at dating. He was different, he had matured. I know he put in all of this work for me, to please me and to get another shot with me. I feel like I'm going to be sick.

All of this for a girl who didn't even love him? He didn't deserve that. I thought my heart was in the right place, I truly did. I wouldn't have started anything with him romantically again if I wasn't, I set that boundary on myself. I forced him to take his time, and I forced myself to think about what I was going into. Now I feel like I've wasted his time, played with his heart. But I do love him, I do.

I look to the bag that sits at the foot of my bed. My heart begins to race, and I force myself to look away. I can't open that stupid letter; that would be my final straw. But I have to open it, I have to. Ever since George's birthday party, it has been heavy in my mind.

I decide to open the letter, just to rip the bandaid off. The letter won't bother me anymore; I won't wonder what was written or not written any longer. I'll know for sure, and it'll be over.

I feel slightly lightheaded as I reach to grab my bag. It's nearly midday and I haven't eaten since last night, I can barely stomach anything with the guilt I carry. When I feel the parchment at the bottom of my bag, my heart stops beating. I take a shaky breath, pulling the note out slowly. It crinkles loudly, but my racing heartbeat is louder in my ears.

I stare at the folded paper for a moment before I decide to actually open it. It opens smoothly, but something isn't right. This isn't Adrian's writing. It takes me a second to recognize who's writing this is. I've seen it only once before, but my blood boils at the memory. This was written by Adrian Pucey's father.

What kind of joke was this? Adrian's dad hates me. I remember Adrian said it had something to do with his mother, so I take a deep breath to calm myself down. I begin to read, afraid of what I am going to find.

My son. It is with a heavy heart that I write to you. It's about your mother. She's alright, now. She's come down with some sickness; we aren't sure what it is yet. She's meant to go to St. Mungo's in a week's time. She... she isn't the same as she used to be. She's forgetful. She's falling ill physically as well, it's harder for her to walk.

My heart falls; my eyes begin to burn. I can feel a sickness in the pit of my stomach. Mrs. Pucey was ill? It breaks my already fragile spirit. I allow myself to cry for a moment. There's still half a page left, so I wipe my eyes and try to find my place.

I don't write this just to frighten you. She may not have much time; her health is deteriorating quickly. She's has asked for something. She wants to see you. But... she also wants to see your girlfriend. She's asked to see you both together, she wants to see you once more happy and... she says "in love". She says she's never seen you happier than this Christmas, and she wants to see it one last time, just in case. You know how I feel about her, but I care about your mother a lot more than that. Write back.