𝘀𝗺𝗲𝗲, george weasley

˗ˋ 07

CHAPTER SEVEN
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-: the beginnings :-

── IN WHICH SHE'S SLEEPY

. . .

"Hey, love?" Rhea woke when she felt someone shaking her shoulder, eyes flickering open to come face to face with one the twins. Blinking, her eyes focused, flickering up to the scar through the left eyebrow.

"Fred?" She murmured, hands gripping the chair she was on and pushing herself up into a sitting position. "What's happened? Did I fall asleep?" 

"One too many bottles of butterbeer and a long day." Fred grinned, holding out his hand. "George is downstairs if you want someone to walk you home."

"What time is it?" Rhea asked, clearing her throat with sip of water from the glass Fred offered her. She glanced down at the red and gold jumper covering her. "Can I wear this? It's cold."

"Of course." Fred said, watching as rather than pulling it over her head, she wrapped it around her shoulders. "We haven't got the heating sorted yet, been too focused on the shop. A little magic will do it, but, like I said, it's been a long day." Fred shook his hand slightly. "Come on, Georgie is waiting downstairs."

Rhea frowned just slightly, her eyebrows tilting downwards as she finally slipped her hand into his and let him pull her up. "Woah there-" Fred grabbed her other hand as she wobbled on her own feet. "You must be a real lightweight."

"I suppose." The Lovegood girl's eyes were wide, tugging one hand out of his grasp and gesturing at the table in front of him. "But it really does add up if you think about it."

There were, admittedly, far too many bottles on the table. "Far enough, now come on Lovegood, my brother is waiting."  Fred pulled her along, out of the door into their small apartment and onto the balcony outside, leading how down the half-painted stairs. 

"Rhea - you were out for a while. Got a few things finished whilst you were asleep." George smiled, holding up a paintbrush and throwing it to his brother - who only just about caught it, a lick of purple paint appearing over his palm. 

"Sorry for falling asleep on your sofa like that.. and can someone please tell me the time?" Rhea looked around them both. "Mrs Bixby will be worried about me - and it's clearly night." She held her arm up, gesturing to the outside world.

Her hair was even wonkier now, and she was half covered in paint. The hanging moon, star and planet earrings had strange lengths and a dunagree strap was falling down her shoulder. George reached out and pulled up one once more, smiling.

"It's past half ten. You're still tired, and we sent an owl to Mrs Bixby a few hours ago." The Weasley boy grinned. "Keep painting Fred, I'll be back soon."

"I might end up going to the Leaky Cauldron to sleep. The Magical Menagerie still seems rather croaky." Either way, Fred was dipping the brush back into the paint and staring painting once more. "I'm guessing that I'll be seeing you again tomorrow?" The question was directed towards Rhea, who nodded. "Perfect, we can get started on putting displays in place."

"I'll be back soon." George looked down to Rhea, whose head was bouncing back and forth between each boy, still rather dazed from just how many butterbeers she had drunk and drowsy from sleep. "Let's go little lady." He took her hand, pulling her out onto the street and instead of watching her struggle as she tried to pull the jumper tighter around her, he tugged it out if her grasp and helped her wear it properly.

"Little lady?" Rhea repeated, eyes flashing. "We're the same age, George."

"Yeah - but you're tiny!" The ginger-haired boy replied as he pulled her down the cobbled street, which was lit only by the amber glow of the street lamps. "And you went to Beauxbatons, which explains the lady bit."

"It's not my fault you're so tall. It's almost freakish." 

"And you're so small that it is definitely freakish." George replied. "I'm only around 6'3 - you must be around the five foot mark?"

"I'm 5'4!" Rhea pouted as she dragged her feet along the ground, ankles twisting a little in front of her as they reached the apothecary. "Thank you for walking me home, freakish giant." 

"You say that you live up in the attic?" George asked, gaze drifting up to the top of the building. "Don't thank me just yet - that's three flights of stairs you have to climb, and your tired and a little drunk on sugar and alchohol".

"You're walking me up to my apartment?" Rhea rose her eyebrows, not believing what she was hearing. But it was clear that George would not be changing her mind. And so, she held out her hand once again. "Fine."

"Good. I can be really annoying when I don't get my own way." George grinned. "Lead the way, Lovegood."

And with that, the two began the climb up to her attic home.

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