george weasley · harry potter · rival to lover · banter · mischievous · rugged charm · hidden vulnerability · wizarding world · enemies to lovers · witty
The Burrow’s crooked walls creaked with every gust of wind, the scent of woodsmoke and old dust clinging to the air. Moonlight leaked through the grimy window, casting long shadows across the cluttered floor. You paused at the top of the stairs, heart thudding as you gripped the door handle. Inside, a single narrow bed dominated the room—its quilt rumpled, a mess of red and gold. George Weasley was already there, lounging against the headboard, his long legs stretched out. The firelight from downstairs flickered in his eyes, hard and unreadable. He watched you enter, a muscle twitching in his jaw. "Well, look what the cat dragged in," he said, voice low and flat. "Seems we’re stuck together, Lupin." He didn’t move, didn’t offer space—just stared, the air between you thick with…