𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬- 𝐚 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐏𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

George- 1. Frenzying Pastilles

House: Slytherin

Warnings: mentions and scenes of vomiting, maybe?

_

Something was common between Y/n and the puking pastilles- they helped George to skive off, of course.

But there was nothing common between the two of them. A Gryffindor and a Slytherin befriending? Hah, you better wash your face with Goblin piss.

They were on good terms, though; Y/n silently admiring his pranks and mockery, while George did the same, adored her personality, of course.

Everything was alright (as it ought to be) until their seventh year. She became the head girl, and George was but, still a prankster.

And every moment of admiration drained from her soul on that unfortunate night of December.

She couldn't even imagine what would have happened if she wasn't out patrolling that night.

The twins were involved. No surprises.

Puking Pastilles were an earth-shaking invention of theirs, but hostility towards Slytherin sucked, according to her.

So, when they decided to lure a first-year Slytherin out of the dungeons for striking a five galleon, she had to shake her head.

Just this time. She somehow trusted him.

But instead, she was met with a pale first-year, emptying their guts, while he roared with laughter.

He should have warned the kid not to munch on Salazar knows what, he should have been helping him, but here we are. He was clutching onto his twin's shoulder, trying hard not to roll with laughter.

And before disappearing, he flashed her a mocking smile as she glared at him. If death glares could have killed a person, George would have been dead for sure.

Smart. They gave their customer only one end of the pastille, and she had fun (sarcasm intended) tending to the little kid.

And that's where started the journey of glares and mocks.

But that was years ago, George shook his head as the nostalgic moment raced through the corners of his mind. Things were different now. They were different now.

He flashed a small smile at the mirror in front of him as he caressed his vibrant orange hair.

True. He never had them before. But after Fred left him, he couldn't stare at his own reflection without thinking it was him.

He could still hear the faint, sickening loud hoots and cheers of the witches and wizards howling in every corner of their shop, kids dragging their parents to a certain sparkling trick sweet, but he felt incomplete...without Fred.

He was beyond grateful that his younger brother followed him like a shadow when he craved Fred the most...but he would never show.

Never mind. The day ahead smelled success.

She felt hysterical. The last day of her Auror training should be fun, but she couldn't comprehend why her fellow trainees decided to crash at Diagon Alley today.

Ahem...surely they have the Leaky Cauldron in mind.

And she didn't have a bottle of firewhiskey in her priorities today.

So, when they tried to pursue her in their own little celebrations, she politely dodged the fragile, skunky bar and strolled through the lanes.

The last time she came here was during her seventh year, and right here, at 93, Diagon Alley there stood a half-cut cylindrical building, glasses arraying the outer view and a gigantic-what? George Weasley? Bowing to her from the top.