with love || hogwarts imagines

George Weasley: Burrowed

Snow drifted to the ground, gently laying a fluffy white carpet across the gardens and aggravating the gnomes. It spilt off the Burrows tilting roof, piling up in mounds all around the yard. Christmas Day was nearing its end, the clocks hands nearly reaching to the sky about to strike 12.

The fire danced merrily in the hearth. Wrapping paper littered the floor, strewn about as though tossed away by an angry child. Well, I suppose that description is quite accurate with Ron getting an Irish Quidditch jersey instead of a Bulgarian one in a mix up with Fred. Everyone had gone to sleep in their new sweaters, determined to wear in the scratchy knits.

Laying on George's lap felt so perfect. He dipped where you fit right in and curved to follow yours. Your head was on his chest, arms wrapped around one another holding on tightly. In fact, he had squeezed so hard at one point, your back had cracked, making you both laugh. Your leg fell in between his. Warmth was the ultimate goal.

"Georgie?"

"Yes, love?"

"I'm so happy," you said, grinning up at him and gently propping your chin on his chest. You could stare at him forever. Eyes as dark as walnut wood and you could've sworn his jawline was sculpted by none less than Michelangelo himself.

"Yeah?" He smiled at you. If only you knew how adorable you looked, he thought.

You nodded and went quiet for a moment. Then your eyebrows drew together. "But there is one thing..."

"What is it?"

"I want to be closer," you said, giving a fake pout and your best puppy dog eyes.

George chuckled quietly, his chest humming gently beneath your head. "And how do you propose we do that? Any closer and we'll be sharing the same skin. Don't get me wrong, I love you and all, but I think that crosses the border between romantic and psychopathic."

You grinned in the lowlight, shadows dancing and weaving their way through the room, cast off by the fire. "I know just the thing."

"What're you—?"

You wiggled your way down the sofa, maintaining eye contact and then disappeared under the blanket. Next thing he knew, you were burrowing your way underneath George's sweater, your head struggling against the bottom curve of the yellow G. A bit more wriggling and soon your head popped up out of the collar, your forehead bumping George's chin as you emerged, a proud smile appearing on your face. "There."

"You're absurd," George laughed and tilted his head to the side to make room for yours to settle in the crook of his neck.

"But you love me," you whispered, your lips brushing against his neck as you said it.

"That I do."

is this the fluffiest thing i've ever written? yes. is it also my favorite? heck yes. i was in a lonely mood, so enjoy.

take care of yourselves and know you deserve a share-the-same-sweater-while-cuddling-and-laughing-together typa love.

love y'all,
jen xoxo