Status: nearly done
Falling For
Christmas Confessionals
The house had brightened once I gave them news of the Potter sighting. Fred was very eager to get back to Lee’s to spread the word, and even Molly seemed to perk up at the news. It was great to see the Weasley’s instilled with a little more hope than what they had been previously running on before hand.
Christmas lunch led me tucked up between George and Fleur. The French girl beside me was warbling on about the lovely new cottage Bill and her had found by the sea. From what she was describing, I fell in love with the idea of living on the beach with a simple ginger boy.
Molly had knitted me a lovely deep green sweater, patterned with white flecks of woollen snow that scraped the bottom. I put it on instantly, just in time to receive some new perfume from Bill and Fleur, and a brilliant pair of scissors from Arthur. Fred had passed me a new bottle of fire whisky while his parents working only to steal it back off me a while later to take a swig.
The family had put me in a better mood – I was no longer thinking about Noël and our moment the previous night. Molly and Arthur were pleased with their spread of sweets, plugs and a Celestina Warbeck record (You Stole My Cauldren, but You Can’t Have My Heart). Fleur and Bill acquired some champagne and some fairy lights for their new cottage. Charlie received an old book about dragons I had found in my father’s library, and Fred gained three new pairs of socks. All he could do was stare at me and I winked. For Ginny, who was the quietest of the lot, I had made a simple grey dress that had taken up some of my unemployment time and cleared space in my busy mind.
I didn’t even know if she liked dresses, but she accepted it with a beautiful smile either way. I loved Ginny; she was the sister I never had. How cliché.
My bedroom at Noël’s house was a powder yellow colour, laced with stark white trimmings and glistening with polished floorboards. I had a writing desk, a mirror and a cupboard – the simplicities. I enjoyed it; I thought it was beautiful.
George was sniffing around my bed, casually pressing the mattress to find the density of the stodgy thing. His hair was speckled with the snow we had gathered from our walk back from the Potter’s grave. He wanted to see the wreath, just to believe it was real. He was a little bit drunk from sharing my bottle of fire whisky with his counter-part, swaying on his feet whenever he stood still enough. We had to Floo-Powder our way home.
I pulled off my sweater, placing it on the writing chair, shaking my hair out of its plaits.
“Noël’s not coming home tonight.” I told George and his brows rose, a smile creeping onto his face. “He’s spending Christmas with his parents.”
“Well that’s good for us, isn’t it? I’ve been dying for a nice shag.”
“So poetic.” I scoffed at him, pulling off my dress and flipping it back into the chair. He stepped forward and took me into his arms, slipping his thumbs into the top of my stockings, teasing them down to my hips. He kissed my forehead, then my nose, then my lips, letting me curl my fingers through his wet hair to pull him closer. “Mmm-“ my mind alerted me of something for a second, and all I could think of suddenly was Noël. “George.”
“What?” He had his face in my neck, attempting to get to the soft spot above my collarbone. I pushed him away.
“George.” I looked at him and he took his hands from my stockings. “Listen, I have something to tell you…-“
“You’re not pregnant, are you?” His eyes widened and as did mine, making me step back.
“Merlin, no!”
“Thank all the divine beings, Mignon, don’t scare me like that.” He threw himself back onto my bed, sprawling himself lazily on my lovely clean sheets. I crawled onto the bed beside him, curling up into a foetal position with my head on my knees. He perked up. “What’s wrong?”
“I was talking to Noël last night, and we were drinking, and he started saying things.”
“Like what..?” He leant forward curiously. I was so confused at how blasé he was about it. Any other man would have flipped his metaphorical shit by now. A man saying things over alcohol to another man’s girlfriend? Kill him!
“About how if you and I had never gotten back together, that he and I might have had a chance.”
“Wait, what?”
“I’m so sorry. I kissed him on the forehead just to show sympathy and that was it! Nothing else, I promise you that.”
“… But…” He leant back in thought; his face horrified enough to make his freckles stick out even more. “But isn’t Noël.. you know… um… gay?”
“W-w-what?!” I straight-faced him for a second before laughing right in his face. “Oh. You’re serious. No, he’s not.”
“He’s not gay… then why the bloody hell did I send you here? This is not what I had planned.” He sat up straight, curling his fists into my sheets. I grabbed him by the shoulders.
“Nothing happened! We were just talking! I wanted to tell you because it was eating me up inside.”
“You did look very peaky today.” He paused. “So what did he say?”
“He was just asking about if I ever thought about what would have happened if you and I hadn’t gotten back together a few years back. And then I kissed him on the forehead and we went to bed. Separately.” I spluttered out. “Nothing happened. I just wanted you to know.”
“But why? Why are you telling me this?”
“Wouldn’t you rather hear the truth from me instead of some berk who didn’t know the full story? I’m telling you now so you don’t get the wrong impression.”
“I sent you here thinking that he was a lonely gay man who had no intentions of bedding you.” He blinked at me, still obviously drunk.
“You see now why I felt it a little weird?” I let go of him and his face softened, taking my face into his hands. He leant in to rest his forehead on mine.
“Do you want to move home?” His breath was warm against my face.
“… No.” I breathed back. “That’d be ridiculous. I’m already moved in here.”
“And you’re not going to have him on the side, are you?”
“Definitely not.” I shook my head at him and his face brightened like a child’s. “As if I would ever do you wrong. You are a very understanding boyfriend.”
“Soon to be fiancé!”
“Soon.” I poked his nose and he threw himself back into my pillows. I crawled on top of him, sitting on his lap. “Thank you for not killing me.”
“No reason to, I believe.” He mumbled, taking my bra strap and pulling me down to press his lips against mine. “I can’t exactly see you having the grace to pull off a luxurious affair behind my back.”
“I can’t see myself doing it at all, thank you.” I muttered in his ear and rested on his chest. He rolled me over and kissed my nose.
“I love you, Min.” his eyes were bright and hazy, holding my own with his own intoxicating stare. I smiled, pulling him into me and holding him there, his breath easy on my neck. He pulled me in closer, tangling his spindly legs with mine.
“I love you too.”
Christmas lunch led me tucked up between George and Fleur. The French girl beside me was warbling on about the lovely new cottage Bill and her had found by the sea. From what she was describing, I fell in love with the idea of living on the beach with a simple ginger boy.
Molly had knitted me a lovely deep green sweater, patterned with white flecks of woollen snow that scraped the bottom. I put it on instantly, just in time to receive some new perfume from Bill and Fleur, and a brilliant pair of scissors from Arthur. Fred had passed me a new bottle of fire whisky while his parents working only to steal it back off me a while later to take a swig.
The family had put me in a better mood – I was no longer thinking about Noël and our moment the previous night. Molly and Arthur were pleased with their spread of sweets, plugs and a Celestina Warbeck record (You Stole My Cauldren, but You Can’t Have My Heart). Fleur and Bill acquired some champagne and some fairy lights for their new cottage. Charlie received an old book about dragons I had found in my father’s library, and Fred gained three new pairs of socks. All he could do was stare at me and I winked. For Ginny, who was the quietest of the lot, I had made a simple grey dress that had taken up some of my unemployment time and cleared space in my busy mind.
I didn’t even know if she liked dresses, but she accepted it with a beautiful smile either way. I loved Ginny; she was the sister I never had. How cliché.
My bedroom at Noël’s house was a powder yellow colour, laced with stark white trimmings and glistening with polished floorboards. I had a writing desk, a mirror and a cupboard – the simplicities. I enjoyed it; I thought it was beautiful.
George was sniffing around my bed, casually pressing the mattress to find the density of the stodgy thing. His hair was speckled with the snow we had gathered from our walk back from the Potter’s grave. He wanted to see the wreath, just to believe it was real. He was a little bit drunk from sharing my bottle of fire whisky with his counter-part, swaying on his feet whenever he stood still enough. We had to Floo-Powder our way home.
I pulled off my sweater, placing it on the writing chair, shaking my hair out of its plaits.
“Noël’s not coming home tonight.” I told George and his brows rose, a smile creeping onto his face. “He’s spending Christmas with his parents.”
“Well that’s good for us, isn’t it? I’ve been dying for a nice shag.”
“So poetic.” I scoffed at him, pulling off my dress and flipping it back into the chair. He stepped forward and took me into his arms, slipping his thumbs into the top of my stockings, teasing them down to my hips. He kissed my forehead, then my nose, then my lips, letting me curl my fingers through his wet hair to pull him closer. “Mmm-“ my mind alerted me of something for a second, and all I could think of suddenly was Noël. “George.”
“What?” He had his face in my neck, attempting to get to the soft spot above my collarbone. I pushed him away.
“George.” I looked at him and he took his hands from my stockings. “Listen, I have something to tell you…-“
“You’re not pregnant, are you?” His eyes widened and as did mine, making me step back.
“Merlin, no!”
“Thank all the divine beings, Mignon, don’t scare me like that.” He threw himself back onto my bed, sprawling himself lazily on my lovely clean sheets. I crawled onto the bed beside him, curling up into a foetal position with my head on my knees. He perked up. “What’s wrong?”
“I was talking to Noël last night, and we were drinking, and he started saying things.”
“Like what..?” He leant forward curiously. I was so confused at how blasé he was about it. Any other man would have flipped his metaphorical shit by now. A man saying things over alcohol to another man’s girlfriend? Kill him!
“About how if you and I had never gotten back together, that he and I might have had a chance.”
“Wait, what?”
“I’m so sorry. I kissed him on the forehead just to show sympathy and that was it! Nothing else, I promise you that.”
“… But…” He leant back in thought; his face horrified enough to make his freckles stick out even more. “But isn’t Noël.. you know… um… gay?”
“W-w-what?!” I straight-faced him for a second before laughing right in his face. “Oh. You’re serious. No, he’s not.”
“He’s not gay… then why the bloody hell did I send you here? This is not what I had planned.” He sat up straight, curling his fists into my sheets. I grabbed him by the shoulders.
“Nothing happened! We were just talking! I wanted to tell you because it was eating me up inside.”
“You did look very peaky today.” He paused. “So what did he say?”
“He was just asking about if I ever thought about what would have happened if you and I hadn’t gotten back together a few years back. And then I kissed him on the forehead and we went to bed. Separately.” I spluttered out. “Nothing happened. I just wanted you to know.”
“But why? Why are you telling me this?”
“Wouldn’t you rather hear the truth from me instead of some berk who didn’t know the full story? I’m telling you now so you don’t get the wrong impression.”
“I sent you here thinking that he was a lonely gay man who had no intentions of bedding you.” He blinked at me, still obviously drunk.
“You see now why I felt it a little weird?” I let go of him and his face softened, taking my face into his hands. He leant in to rest his forehead on mine.
“Do you want to move home?” His breath was warm against my face.
“… No.” I breathed back. “That’d be ridiculous. I’m already moved in here.”
“And you’re not going to have him on the side, are you?”
“Definitely not.” I shook my head at him and his face brightened like a child’s. “As if I would ever do you wrong. You are a very understanding boyfriend.”
“Soon to be fiancé!”
“Soon.” I poked his nose and he threw himself back into my pillows. I crawled on top of him, sitting on his lap. “Thank you for not killing me.”
“No reason to, I believe.” He mumbled, taking my bra strap and pulling me down to press his lips against mine. “I can’t exactly see you having the grace to pull off a luxurious affair behind my back.”
“I can’t see myself doing it at all, thank you.” I muttered in his ear and rested on his chest. He rolled me over and kissed my nose.
“I love you, Min.” his eyes were bright and hazy, holding my own with his own intoxicating stare. I smiled, pulling him into me and holding him there, his breath easy on my neck. He pulled me in closer, tangling his spindly legs with mine.
“I love you too.”
