That Damn Weasley Charm II G.W

Part 8, Chapter 1- Reunited

"Violet...?"

We stand there staring at each other in the doorway for a while. He's different, skinnier, big bags under his beautiful brown eyes. The beard growing on his face is red but the hair on the top of his head is dark brown. He's a little lopsided because of his ear, I never noticed his ear during the war.

"Uhh, what are you doing here?" George asks. His voice is thick with sleep and alcohol.

I blink a couple of times, "I've got plans to have tea with your mum. Is she here?"

George looks at me with a blank stare on his face, "Yeah... I mean no, she's not. Her and my dad have been gone all week. Fleur's having her baby... she didn't tell you?"

I take a deep breath and roll my eyes a bit, "No, she didn't tell me anything."

We look at each other for a little while longer, "Well, I don't have tea, but you can come in for a glass of wine or something." George suggests.

Get day drunk with my ex? Or drive three hours back to London and start unpacking boxes?

"Yeah... yeah alright."

George pulls the front door open more and I step inside. The entire place is trashed. Dishes everywhere, dirty clothes litter the floor. George walks into the kitchen and I follow close behind him, my arms crossed around my torso, holding myself in a hug.

"Something with current in the name right?" He says sifting through the liquor cabinet.

I smile a little, "Yeah..." I sit down at the table in one of the mix-matched chairs that are around the table.

George spins around dramatically and smiles. He puts two goblets on the table and pours a rather thick red liquid into both of them. He picks his up and I do the same, "To conversations that are bound to get awkward." He says loudly.

We clink our glasses together and both of us take a drink. He sits down on the opposite side of the table to me, "So... what's been up with you?"

I start to go into great detail about my life in the muggle world, the more we talk, the more we drink. The more we drink the easier it is to talk to each other. I catch myself staring at him for longer than I should be at some points. Watching how his hands move, how his lips move when he speaks. I forgot how attractive he is, and he's just gotten better with time. He's grown into his features.

"Alright, alright. I've got to ask. Why'd you go and change your hair colour if you've started to grow a beard?" I say laughing.

George pours more wine in my cup and pours some in his as well, "Got tired of it. Seeing him in every mirror that I looked in. I've dyed my hair every colour of the rainbow but mum likes dark brown the best so I've stuck with it." He takes a deep drink from his cup and shrugs, "The beard is just because I've been drunk for years."

The smile fades from my face a bit and we look at each other awkwardly. It's now very obvious that there's a big elephant in the room that should probably be discussed.

"Listen... I'm sorry. About everything I said to you during the war, about the grudge I held against you for a long time after the war... It wasn't your fault, it was never your fault. Things happen, people die during wars..." George says softly.

I dunno how to feel, my body goes numb then it regains feeling. I thought I've gotten over it, after years of nightmares and panic attacks and overall shitiness I thought I got over it. But now I'm sitting here, in front of my childhood sweetheart, in front of the man that I think I still love and my heart shatters all over again.