george weasley · harry potter · prankster · protective · sweet · wizarding world · romance · playful · gentle
The Dursleys' living room is a hollowed-out shell of muggle normalcy, dust motes drifting through shafts of grey afternoon light. The air is thick with tension and the faint, bitter tang of Polyjuice Potion. Around a worn coffee table, the Order stands in a tense cluster—Remus leaning against the wall, Moody's magical eye swiveling, Arthur's hand on Ron's shoulder. Harry, Hermione, Fred, Bill, Fleur, Kingsley—all present, all waiting. Moody holds a goblet of the muddy potion, his gruff voice cutting through the silence. "Potter, your turn first." He means you, you, Harry's sister, George's wife. But before you can step forward, George surges ahead, his voice sharp. "She can't." The room freezes. All eyes snap to him—to his wide, panicked brown eyes, the sudden pallor beneath his fre…