game night | g. weasley

45. Sickness

tw: panic attacks, mentions of throwing up, and self harm. please do not read if these trigger you. this chapter is particularly personal and in order to read it, you must have an open mind on self harm and the struggles of life, not only as a teen but also as an adult.

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"You alright?" Fred asked, walking past George with a box in his hands. "You look pale."

George pulled at his work tie from his spot behind the register. "Is it hot in here? I feel slightly suffocated by the heat."

Fred furrowed his eyebrows, "Uh. . . I feel fine. You must have a fever. Go upstairs and rest, I'll be up in a few to check on you." He turned around, his eyes scanning the shop for a moment. "Justin! Come work the register—"

"Freddie, I'm fine, really," George spoke, taking his jacket off and rolling up his sleeves. "I think I just need a snack and some water. Give me a minute or two."

"You don't usually get like this when it gets colder," Fred said in disbelief, suggesting that George didn't usually get sick in the winter like their siblings, but George didn't care.

"I'm fine," he disappeared into the office, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand as he closed the door.

"Hey George."

He whipped around, his heart stopping as he saw the man he wished would get out of his mind, standing in front of his desk.

"What the fuck?!" George shouted, placing a tired hand over his heart. "What're you doing in here? This is for employees only."

"I needed to get you alone," Asher explained. "Away from your protective brother. Fred."

He went to pull something out of his pocket, making George whip his wand out and point it at him. But his hand faltered as Asher now held just a small vial.

"I had to get you alone somehow," he whispered. "I might have put a few drops of a Sickening Potion into your tea this morning—"

"How the fuck were you able to do that?"

"I have my ways," he shrugged, throwing the bottle to George in which he caught it. "It's the antidote."

"Why should I trust you? For all I know, this will kill me," George said, examining the bottle.

Potions were never his strong suit, but he knew blue potions were usually on the positive side of results.

"I don't want to kill you, Georgie, I just wanna talk. Please believe me and drink it before you pass out."

The look on his face told George he should trust him, listen to what he had to say. But the small feeling in George's stomach said he should throw the vial at him and run.

But he did feel close to passing out, so he uncorked it and swallowed it down hesitantly. Relief washed over him, and his temperature felt like it's normal degree again.

"See, you can trust me," Asher smiled, walking closer to George. "Come on, please just sit and let me explain."

George took a step back, cursing as he ran into the door. "Asher, get away from me."

"I can see it in your eyes now, and I saw it when I showed up a few days ago," he mumbled. "You missed me. You have questions—"

"Fucking of course I do!"

"Then ask," Asher grabbed his hand, sitting him into one of the two seats in front of the desk, Asher himself taking the other one. "I'm willing to answer all of them."