Lover ; George Weasley

Thirty-five

Malcolm continued being hostile towards George.

As the kids were playing in the next room, the three of us sat in the living room. George sat in the corner of the sofa, his arm stretched out behind me and his leg placed over his knee.

I sat next to him and Malcolm sat in the armchair.

"Do you remember back in school?" Malcolm asked me, and immediately I knew why he wanted to talk memories. He lifted his glass to take a sip before he looked at me again. "When I asked you out?"

I sighed and leaned back against George's arm.

"I remember."

"We went to Hogsmeade." He breathed. "That was nice, wasn't it?"

I shrugged.

"At the time, it was." I said. "What are you trying to do here, Malcolm? Throw George off?"

I glanced at George who seemed unbothered, drinking his glass of whiskey. Then I looked at Malcolm again.

"He knows we met at school and he knows how long we were together." I said. "He's also not the jealous type which can't be said about a certain someone else..."

Malcolm let out a laugh as he at up straight, looking at me.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"That you have been obsessed with trying to prove something." I said. "Yes, we were together since we were young, but we are in the middle of a fucking divorce and I've moved on so get that through your thick skull and stop bothering him."

George snickered into his glass, trying to keep back a laugh, but Malcolm noticed.

"What's so funny?"

"You." George grinned. "Hilarious actually. Pathetic if I have to be honest."

"George—" I placed my hand on his thigh as he sat up, putting both his feet on the floor. He leaned forward, his arms resting against his thighs.

"It's your daughters birthday." George continued. "Yet here you are, acting like a jealous prick because you see the woman you mistreated move on with someone else. If you didn't want to lose her, you probably shouldn't have laid a hand on her in the first place. Why don't you leave Dia alone and focus on your daughter? You're lucky she still wants anything to do with you."

Oh boy.

Malcolm leaned over to place his glass on the sofa table.

"Dia?" He let out a laugh as he raised his eyebrows. "Cute."

He then looked at George again.

"Don't speak to me about my daughter." He said in a low tone. "I'm her father, do you hear me?"

George leaned back on the sofa.

"And a lousy one at that."

Malcolm stood up, staring at George for a moment before he looked at me.

"Can I speak to you on the balcony?"

"Malcolm, not—"

He cut me off by grabbing onto my arm which caused George to immediately stand up and grabbed his wrist to make him let go of me, and he did.

"If you ever lay a hand on her again, I will—"

Malcolm punched George straight in the jaw and I squealed as George tumbled back, landing on the floor while his glass shattered against the floor.

"George!"

I hurried to get to him but Malcolm grabbed onto my arm, keeping me closer to himself.

"Let go of me!" I exclaimed, pushing him in the chest but he tightened his grip on my arm.

"You're such a fucking whore, you know that?!" He laughed in my face. "What do you get out of being with this loser? Find a solution for your daddy issues somewhere else."

"Malcolm!" I pushed him in the chest again and this time he let go of me, taking a step back. "You've had too much to drink. I want you to leave."

"Oh c'mon!" He laughed. "It's Elsie's birthday!"

"You punched him!" I gestured towards George. "You started all of this drama when you were just supposed to be here for Elsie's eighth birthday! It's time you go home."

I turned to George who was rubbing his jaw, getting off the floor, and then I noticed the four children standing in the doorway between the bedroom and the living room.

"Daddy?" Roxanne asked, fear in her eyes as she held onto the doorframe with one hand, her brother having an arm wrapped around her.

"I'm okay, Roxi." George assured her, sending her a smile. "Just a little misunderstanding is all..."

I looked at Malcolm again.

"Goodbye Malcolm."

He took one look at me, then scoffed and marched towards the door.

"Daddy!" Elsie yelled as she ran after him. She held onto his arm, trying to pull him back. "It's my birthday! You can't leave!"

Malcolm glanced towards me and I wrapped my arms around myself before he crouched down and said something to her, offering her a small smile.

Then he left and Elsie looked at the door for a moment before she with disappointment walked back to the room and Leah automatically followed her.

"Roxi, darling." George spoke as I stared at the floor, processing what had just happened. "Do you remember when I told you how amazing you are at cheering people up?"

"You said that I'm the sun in everyone's lives."

"That's right, love. Why don't you and Fred go and try to cheer up Elsie, yeah?"

"Okay."

Her and Fred disappeared into the bedroom before George turned to me.

"I'm so sorry." I said softly, looking at him. "I shouldn't have invited him... I shouldn't..."

"You've got nothing to apologise for, Dia." He said and reached for my hand, pulling me closer to him. "And you did right when you invited him. It shows him that you're being mature about the divorce and that you still want him to have a relationship to your kids."

I brought a hand up to his face, sighing. He was read on his jaw and I knew it was going to form into a bruise.

"Come—" I then grabbed his hand and led him to the bathroom. "...I found a bottle of bruising paste among my things when I moved. I bought it when I was twelve and visited your shop but they don't go bad so..."

I motioned for George to sit down on the toilet seat and while he did so, I found the bruising paste.

"I hate him." I said, talking about Malcolm. "But at the same time I don't... you know?"

"Yeah." George nodded. "You've got history with him."

I dipped my fingers in the paste before using my other hand to tilt his chin up and to one side.

I spread the paste across his skin, making sure to be careful — gentle.

"Well, it's certainly been a productive day." I sighed.

George hummed and ran his hands to the back of my thighs, giving them a squeeze.

"You told me you love me." He smiled. "Then your husband punched me."

"Soon-to-be ex." I corrected him. As I finished spreading the paste across his skin, I ran my fingers into his hair and hugged him closely to my body, his head against my chest.

I pressed a kiss to his head.

"I'm gonna kill him if he ever touches you again." I whispered. "He needs to learn his place."