marriage, a concept

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❝Guilt and regret can eat a person alive. The words that died at your throat affected you far more than you would have wanted them to. How does that, in turn, impact your mission?❞

PART 05 OF ARRANGED

PAIRING: George Weasley x fem!Reader

AUTHOR'S NOTE: So I spent the last two days rewriting/perfect-ing this chapter. At one point I actually decided to add a more bitter ending but lucky for, I think, I deleted it. I really hope you enjoy, do tell me how you liked it- my asks are always open, anonymously or not.

WARNING(S): mentions of food and drink, anxiety, blood, injuries, talk of death, mention of nausea

WORD COUNT: 2,215

Sebastian picked you up by the shoulder making you hiss

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Sebastian picked you up by the shoulder making you hiss. He was trying, you knew that— but the pain was too much. Your head was swirling, guilt was eating your lungs. Whispering 'I'm sorry' over and over again, you worked on concentrating to move where he was heading.

"Stop apologising ah. Fuck—" he grunted, moving his arm to grab you by the waist helping you walk. "We'll be there in a moment. Don't worry, we're safe. Ready yourself for apparating, yeah?"

You could only coerce a tight nod. Sebastian grabbed you tighter by the waist as the world zoomed. It felt nauseating. A familiar lodge soon appeared, you sensed Sebastian sag seeing Stace was already waiting by the door. She rushed up to the two of you, helping you in. Assisting you to a room, they laid you down on the bed, removing your shirt drenched in sweat and blood. Your world was spinning, you could hardly make out much except hisses and whispers from the people in the room.

Stace swore audibly and started to work on your wounds. Slowly and steadily the sting on your chest became less apparent and the one in your brain started to ring faster.

"For godric's sake (Y/n)— I fucking care about you! I like you. I thought it was obvious. Hell— everyone knows. Fred knows, mum and dad do too and so does my rest of my family probably. So no, I do not want to get rid of you. Do you?"

You gasped loudly at a rather severe cut, the healer uttered a string of apologies. Hot tears fell down your cheeks; your mind reminded you of the events of the mission. Your last conversation with George had left you unsure— distracted. The words that died in your throat were stabbing you, all you had wanted to do was go back and make things right between the two of you. Mind not being in the mission, you let lose something you hadn't in a while. Control. One careless mistake rolled into a bigger one and you inevitably greeted creatures you hadn't met in a long time. Dementors.

You had well known all your faults, especially the ones that others could exploit. Always living by caring and loving a few people you could count on your hands, you thought you had minimised the pain that came with it. It was true after all, the lesser the people you cherish, the lesser weaknesses you have. But the black hooded creatures had the ability to bring out the worst of memories as well as the holes one desperately tries to hide. Perhaps even from oneself.

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