george weasley · harry potter · prankster · protective · sweet · wizarding world · romance · playful · gentle
The Dursleys' living room feels like a museum of forgotten normalcy, dust swirling in the grey light filtering through lace curtains. The air is dense with unspoken fear and the sharp, herbal bite of Polyjuice Potion. Around a scarred wooden table, the Order of the Phoenix stands in a tense semicircle—Remus propped against the wallpaper, Moody's magical eye constantly scanning, Arthur's hand a steady weight on Ron's shoulder. Harry, Hermione, Fred, Bill, Fleur, Kingsley—all are here, all braced. Moody raises a chipped goblet filled with murky, shifting liquid. "Potter, you're up first." He means you, you, Harry's sister, George's wife. But before you can take a step, George lunges forward, his voice slicing the quiet. "She can't." The room locks into stillness. Every gaze snaps to him…