game night | g. weasley

63. One Last Game Night

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Everything was coming to an end.

It had been a long and eventful game night, and almost every couple was tired by the end of it.

Jasmine was introduced to everyone, and they all seemed to love her very much.

Hermione and Ron told the group their news, that they had eloped the past weekend and were looking for a bigger place. Ron explained that they couldn't wait to plan a big wedding, so they skipped that step and went straight to being legally married.

Zach moved into Lee's cottage, and invited everyone over for lunch.

Harry and Ginny truly had nothing new going on, but they still seemed so happy.

So it seemed that Delilah and George had set off a chain reaction of commitment. With their marriage, everyone seemed to be following along and taking their relationships to the next level.

Since Fred had an extra bedroom in the flat, he was planning on inviting Jasmine to move in with him not too far in the future, and George had nothing but encouragement for him.

After a few different board games, all of the guests left George and Delilah alone once again. They cleaned up all of the snacks and games, stuffing everything away for another time.

As they were getting ready for bed, George decided the Chocolate Liquor he had had was getting to his head, and he decided to tease Delilah a little bit.

"Love?" He whispered, stepping away from his side of the bed and walking over to Delilah, where she had been digging in his drawer for one of his t-shirts.

"I know, I'm sorry, but I just don't feel like my own clothes," she explained, finally deciding on one of his old Quidditch jerseys she loves so much.

She turned to him, but she froze when she realized how close he truly was. She looked up at him from his bare chest, seeing him smirking down at her.

It was that silly, mischievous smirk he always had when he was up to no good, one she knew very well from when they were in their first few weeks of dating when he would prank her a lot. He had a terrible poker face.

But further into their relationship, Delilah realized, it became a smirk that would mean he was a bit drunk, or he simply had something sexual on his mind.

"You're so red," she whispered, noticing how the alcohol burned his chest and ears right up, like an allergic reaction or something.

"I get like that with liquor," he said, stepping closer.

She stepped back, her back hitting his dresser. She gulped, watching his face come closer to her own, smelling his breath mixed of liquor and mint toothpaste (similar to her own).

"What's on your mind?" She asked after a moment, her fingers squeezing around his jersey a bit more. She loved and hated how flustered she still got around him, especially when he was so slow and dominant with his movements.

The way he kept slowly inching closer to her, showing her he was in control of himself and her. The way his smirk kept enlarging, the fog over his eyes disguising his lust for her.

It all made her stomach churn, and Delilah couldn't focus on her thoughts, let alone figure out a way to overpower him.

"Just you," he finally said. "You in that jersey, in my arms."

She raised an eyebrow, "That's all?"

He tilted his head, his smirk drifting away, "What else are you expecting, darling?"