Just Around the Corner || A G. Weasley Story

Conclusion

This chapter is dedicated to you, the reader. Each and every one of you. Whether you have commented on every chapter, whether you started reading yesterday. This is for you.

Song recommendation: "This Side of Paradise" By: Coyote Theory (I think this song is a great summary and conclusion for the story 💜)

There will be an Author's Note at the end with information and personal info about me, your author! Feel free to read and comment, I will be reading all the comments there!

The longest chapter of "Just Around the Corner", our final one.

Christmas time, around a year later

Cassandra was white knuckling his large hand. Her lungs stilled as she listened.

"Garett "Gravis" White and Tigris Tompkins have been found guilty of the charges and are to serve their sentence in Azkaban.."

She breathed. She was relieved. She was filled with dread, though she wasn't sure why. Strong arms were wrapped around her body as she heard clapping. She breathed him in, snuggling into George's warm chest. "You did it love, it's over...it's finally over," He was rushing, voice breathy, as he was almost as relieved as she was. Or thought she was. She didn't know what this feeling was.

She could hear the shouting, the violent blue hair whipping her direction and spraying verbal assault. Cassandra looked on, behind the vile woman, deep into the rows of Ministry workers, finding Hermione Granger clapping, the light tilt of her head a silent expression congratulatory.

Cassandra was shed of most of her demons. One was still uncalled for, potentially lurking in shadows, just around dark corners. Adrian Pucey was never seen again after that day in the basement. Rumors flew outstretched on the backs of owl's wings. Some claimed he had fled to America or was living in hiding in the muggle world. Other's believed the Pucey family had paid off the ministry to leave his name off the records. Cassandra believed that one. Some say he was drinking away somewhere, dead in a ditch.

She was unsure what was real, truthful. As long as he stayed a rumor, she couldn't care less.

Back home, Cassandra slept away the exhaustion of the kidnappers' trial, trying to forget all the painful details churned up. Dreams were murky masked faces. Ropes. Laughter. She woke with a start, only to find George watching her, ready to comfort at any given time.

The middle of the night and he was wide awake and ready to step in. She needed release, comfort, warmth. She found that in heated, nude, tangled bodies, moving in motion against one another. His arm was cradled around her back, tangling into her hair as his hips met in time with hers. He kissed every inch of skin the position could allow him too, the soft lingering burn of his mouth on her flesh was an ointment, seeping into her bones, lighting a fire. She was pushing her body to his faster, chasing her high. He was cursing, babbling of her worth, her beauty. His mouth worshipped her, his body given for her desires.

George's eyes were hooded, cloaked as passion was overwhelming in the moonlight. His muscles flexed and hardened, a greek sculpture before her with his strong features, his sharp nose that pressed into her cheek during every kiss. He was strength. He was stone. He was art before her very eyes.

She was a war, he was her peace. Peace was delivered quickly, mingling moans and shouts of names weighed in the air around them as they fell into a sweaty heap, bodies meshed together.