Lover ; George Weasley

Seventy-five

"Why do you keep the syrup in the fridge?"

At my question, George looked up and finished chewing while he leaned back in his chair.

"Why I keep the syrup in the fridge?"

"Yeah." I said. "It's... odd."

George chuckled and reached over to take some of my salad, but I moved it out of his reach.

"What do you think you're doing? Eat your own salad."

"But yours have chicken."

"Then you should've ordered yours with."

"And I'll remember that for the next time."

I narrowed my eyes at him before I offered him some of my salad, and I watched him smile in victory as he ate some of it.

"But seriously—" I asked. "...the syrup?"

"What's so terrible about storing it in the fridge?"

I chuckled.

"Is it one of those old-man things that only you do?"

"Oh?" He raised his eyebrows and put down his fork, before folding his arms over his chest. "Call me old one more time, I dare you."

"Okay." I put down my salad and looked at him. "You are old... ancient."

My eyes followed him as he slowly stood up and walked closer to me, leaning down over me with a hand on the back of my chair and a hand on the table.

"I'm sorry?" He asked as I looked up at him with a smirk. "Couldn't quite hear you. You see— I'm not wearing my hearing aids today so you'll have to speak a bit louder."

"Okay." I lifted a hand and placed it against the back of his neck. "You... are... old."

George grabbed the seat of the chair and spun it around so that I was facing him completely and in one quick movement, he had grabbed my thighs and pulled me out of the chair, causing me to shriek with laughter as I clung onto him to not fall onto the floor.

"George!"

"I'm going to make you regret calling me old." He said and aggressively kissed my neck, biting down on my neck which only caused me to laugh even louder.

His ability to make me laugh even after something like what happened yesterday, was absolutely amazing.

As George walked through the door to his room, he acted as if he was going to drop me, making me shriek while he himself laughed at my reaction.

"You are such a child!"

"Am I?" He smirked and threw me on the bed, holding onto my thighs while I propped myself up on my elbows. "I thought I was old."

"You're both."

"How can I be both?"

"You're an old child." I smirked and he rolled his eyes, leaning down to kiss me. "I'm going to marry you."

George froze at my comment and I realised what I had just said. He pulled his head back a few inches to look at me with a cocked eyebrow while I laid down on my back and sighed.

"Not now, obviously." I said. "But someday."

"Yeah?" A smile spread on his face. "I don't have a say?"

"Nope."

"And why not?" He chuckled.

"Because I'll be embarrassed if you don't want to marry me." I said. "Though we don't ever have to get married if you don't want that again. Just know that I'm never letting go of you. I don't care that we've only been dating for four and a half months but I've never been as happy as I am when I'm with you. I don't ever want to lose that."

Instead of answering, he leaned down to kiss me, smiling against my lips.

"Don't you have to get back to work soon?" I whispered, kissing him back softly. He hummed, rocking his hips against mine, and a moan got stuck in my throat.

"I'm sure Ron will understand."

"What?" I chuckled, breaking the kiss. "That you'd rather be up here fucking your girlfriend who's home sick from work after her ex-husband tried to off himself, then go back to work?"

Silence fell upon the room for a moment before  he nodded.

"Exactly."

I snorted with laughter, covering my face with both of my hands until I could contain it, then my mood completely shifted in the split of a second, and I felt myself get all anxious about what had happened yesterday.

"You okay?"

"Yeah."

"Hey—" he grabbed my jaw in his hand. "...don't lie to me, yeah? You can tell me if you're not okay."

I sat up while George straightened up to make room for me. He brushed his fingers through the front of my hair and I automatically leaned my head back, looking up at him.

"I feel like it's my fault." I admitted. "I think I may have been too tough on him. All the times I've yelled at him, called him pathetic... I accused him of molesting our daughter. He loves me and I—"

"Woah." George cut me off with a small laugh, full of sarcasm. "He loves you? You don't hit the people you love."

George stepped away from me and pushed his hands into the pockets of his trousers.

"He loves me." I repeated. "I don't want him to, but it's obvious—"

"Obvious how?" He asked. "I haven't seen him do one thing that shows any kind of love. Did him beating you up tell you that he loves you? Or him trying to sue you for custody? Him cheating on you throughout your marriage? Or how about when he wanted you to watch him die? You're not together, yet he still finds a way to manipulate the shit out of you."

"George." I sighed. "He's not manipulating me—"

"Oh my god." He ran a hand over his mouth. "He actually is. When I first met you, you could admit to it but now that he's got you sucked in again, you can't see it."

I rolled my eyes at him.

"You're unbelievable right now."

"Well why else would you call that love, Dia?" He asked. "It's manipulation. Every time he fucks up, he comes back and he apologises and he tells you he loves you while doing some small nice act. He acts civil but then suddenly that changes and it ends up being one evil circle. He's a psychopath, Dahlia."

"A psychopath." I scoffed. "You're being dramatic. A psychopath doesn't show sympathy."

George looked at me like I was the one who was unbelievable right now, taking another step back.

"I can't believe I'm having a conversation with you where you're defending the man who hurt you." He said. "You literally just told me this morning how it had felt like being back in your marriage, having to hide from him because you were scared he was going to kill you."

"Because that's what it felt like!" I raised my voice. "But right now, I don't care about all the things he's done, when he just tried to kill himself! He's depressed and he needs help so that my children can have a father growing up!"

I took a deep breath. I didn't want to have this conversation. I didn't even want to discuss Malcolm right now.

I let out a laugh, shaking my head as I looked towards the window.

"What are you scared of?" I asked. "That I'll leave you and go back to him?"

"Actually... yes."

That made my head snap in his direction.

"That wasn't a serious question."

"No, but it was a serious answer." He told me and turned before walking out of the room, making sure to slam the door behind him.

Once I heard the front door close too, I groaned and laid down, staring up at the ceiling.

Fuck.