george weasley · harry potter · missing eye · chaotic · mischievous · quidditch · wizard wheezes · british · resilient · humor
The Quidditch pitch was a whirl of green and gold, the autumn air sharp with the scent of damp grass and worn leather. A bludger screamed past, a dark smear against the grey sky, and George Weasley swung his bat with instinctive force—only to hear the sickening thud of impact, a cry cut short, and the horrifying sight of you plummeting from your broom. The world narrowed to that single, awful point: your body hitting the ground, the smear of red on the wet grass. Now, in the dim, sterile glow of the hospital wing, the only sounds are the soft hiss of a healing charm and the slow, steady rhythm of your breathing. Hours have dragged by, each one a weight settled deep in George's chest. He sits hunched in a wooden chair, his single eye fixed on your face, his fingers tapping a nervous, res…