George Fabian Weasley (hiseviltwin) wrote in reduxpitch, @ 2016-07-30 00:59:00 |
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Entry tags: | character: george weasley, character: lydia winters |
WHO: George and Lydia
WHEN: Saturday morning
WHERE: Lydia’s bedroom
WHAT: George is confused af. As a matter of fact, so is Lydia.
RATING: Medium-high for language
WARNINGS: Talk of kidnapping and stalker-behavior
STATUS: Completed in Docs
George had had a very busy day! He’d been so excited during his lessons that he paid even less attention than usual. What was the point, really? It was his last day in the castle, probably forever, and it wasn’t like they were going to be sitting exams on any of this junk. More than the anticipation, pretending like everything was normal was the worst bit of it. Just a normal day, tra-la-la. No Portable Swamps in my bag, nope.
Except there was and it had worked beautifully, turning one of the Eastern corridors into an impassable quagmire. Not that George had had any real concerns about this, but it was a very delicate operation! Timing was crucial! Of course, the twins couldn’t hang around admiring their work all day, they had to keep the old bat on the move, give Harry the time he needed, so it was a daring chase - not really, but in years to come, George would likely tell the story as if it had been - to the Entrance Hall and a spectacular exit from formal education.
And so they had, for the very first time, gone home to their very own flat above their very own store. George. Was. Giddy. They both were. And sleep wasn’t something they were terribly keen on doing right away, but eventually, somewhere around dawn, George at least couldn’t fight it anymore and was soon passing out right on the most hideous - and wonderful - sofa he had ever seen in his life.
When he woke, it didn’t seem like he had been out all that long, he was still so tired. He grumbled and stretched, turning over in bed and draping his arm over the body next to him. There was a pause of about four seconds before his eyes popped open and he pulled his hand back as though the person was too hot to touch.
Bed. He was in a bed. That was the first thing that was weird. Second thing was the person. The female person. Thirdly, and he realized this rather late, was that this wasn’t a room he’d ever been in before.
Slowly, so as not to wake the person, he propped himself up on his elbow. Gingerly, he reached for the blanket to pull it back and saw blonde hair. That was disappointing. Brunette would have been better. He pulled the blanket a little more to try and see her face, but before he noticed that he noticed boobs. This was a naked person.
“Shit,” he said, quickly covering her back up and pushing away towards the edge of the bed. “Whaaaaaat is happening…?”
--
Work had been pretty stressful for Lydia in the past week or so. With everything that happened at the World Cup and it being an international incident her office was more busy than normal this time of year. She had put in extra hours to get all the briefings prepared for the higher ups and it had left her positively exhausted. She was so grateful when Friday came along and she had the weekend to unwind and just spend time with her boyfriend and her dog.
She went to the event at the Hound’s Pint and got herself well smashed, but she figured she very much deserved it. She was still in her twenties, she was allowed to have fun every now and again, especially when work was hell. George and her had a fun night and she passed out, planning to not wake up until the afternoon.
Feeling the bed move and a voice talking she groaned and pulled the blankets over her head, the hangover from the night prior hitting her. Why hadn’t she taken a potion the night before. She could tell it wasn’t afternoon if George was still in bed, he would have had to be at the shop already for work. Rolling over so she laid on her back she looked over at him, her body still covered by the blanket, “George, what is going on?”
--
Oh crap. He had woken her. He’d really, really hoped to escape and find his way home and figure this out. Nothing to do but make his best exit and run far away.
“That's what I'd like to know,” he mumbled as he looked around the room, then he paused, slowly turning his head back towards the woman. “....how do you know my name?” Because that opened up a whole mess of confusing things, but would also answer the big question if she was just some lunatic stalker. Not that this thought made him feel any better.
“You know what,” he said with forced casualness as he groped around for his wand, “don't worry about it. Probably a misunderstanding, right? No harm done.”
--
Uhm, did he really just ask her that? Did something happen last night that she didn’t remember? She didn’t recall blacking out but did she accidentally call him the wrong name at one point? Oh fuck it wasn’t Higgs was it? That’s exactly the kind of thing their relationship didn’t need at this very point in time.
Propping herself up on her elbows, she kept her chest covered and she gave him a very confused look. “Are you still drunk? What do you mean how do I know your name? Or is this some new roleplay kink you’re all of a sudden interested in trying out?” She really didn’t feel like dealing with this, she was tired and hungover and it was Saturday for Merlin’s sake.
Out in the other room she hear barking and groaned and flopped back on the bed, “And there goes the dog,” she whined to herself. So much for a relaxing morning.
--
Because of course she would have a dog. That seemed about right, and it would make his escape tricky if it took offense to the presence of a strange man. It was probably named after him, too. That seemed like lunatic stalker behavior. She probably kissed it and said she loved it and then giggled like a crazy person.
“Look,” he said, losing patience with playing along because he was a Gryffindor, by gum, and wand or not, he wasn't a ninny. “You're obviously the one with the weird stuff, and I'm sure You're really a very nice, misunderstood soul, but I don't know you, and frankly I prefer to know the people I wake up next to. So,” And he paused to throw the covers off himself, “I'm just going to go and….” He stopped cold. He had been so concerned about her nudity that he hadn't noticed his own.
“Why am I naked?”
--
Okay now this wasn’t even the slightest bit funny anymore. She was starting to get flat out annoyed with him. When did his sense of humor go so out the window that he thought messing around with her like this was funny? This wasn’t the George she knew.
“What are you playing about? You do to know me! I’m your girlfriend for Merlin’s sake. We’ve been together for several months now and all of a sudden you don’t know who I am? That’s low George.” Reaching down on her side of the bed she grabbed the long shirt that was on the floor and threw it on, because clearly she didn’t feel like being naked around him if he was playing at this game.
Rolling her eyes at his last question she fully sat up and turned to look at him, “Are you really asking me that? Use your big boy 24-year old brain to figure it out. When two people in a relationship love each other and come home intoxicated from a party what do you think happens?”
--
George couldn't remember a party, though. Well. He and Fred had been making a lot of noise but no girls had been invited. He supposed one could have come over but why weren't they in his bed?
He quickly grabbed a pillow to cover himself with as he tried to remember. “You're not a very good stalker,” he said vaguely, “not knowing how old I am. If you're going to play like we know each other, don't skip the details…”
He made to stand up, pillow held firmly over himself and nervously ran his hand through his hair and paused when something seemed off. Unbalanced. He shoved his finger right into his left ear and wiggled it around. Nothing.
Full of actual fear now and feeling totally defenseless, he stepped back toward the wall. “What the fuck did you do to me?”
--
“A stalker?! Really that’s what you want to call me now?” Lydia said with a glare. “If I was the stalker then why were you the one who invited me to New Zealand with you? You were the one who sent me flowers and took me on that first date! You were the one took me to your parent’s place and had the firework show for me! You, Mr. Weasley, were the one who started the boyfriend/girlfriend conversation and yet somehow I’m the stalker in this relationship you suddenly don’t remember?!”
Lydia hated that she found him slightly adorable trying to be all modest and covering himself with a pillow, but she couldn’t focus on that, she was trying to figure out what was going on with him. “And what do you mean I don’t know your age! I was at your birthday party this year at the Pub! You had that crazy flavored popcorn and your sister started the food fight? You said it was the greatest thing ever! You’re twenty-four and I turn twenty-six next week!”
She didn’t even process his last statement, she was still fuming at the other ones. “Is this you trying to pretend you are Fred or something? I mean I’m well aware you weren’t sorted into Ravenclaw like me, but you are much more clever than this!”
--
George was still fiddling with his apparently fucked up ear, but he could still hear the woman talking. He dropped his hand, which was shaking, and tried to keep the pure panic out of his voice. “You are clearly delusional,” he said, “because I think that stuff happened in your head. How about this. I’m going to go to the hospital now to fix whatever you did,” he raised a hand to point at his ear, “and you can come too and they can examine your brain. Does that sound fun?” He tried to make this sound like the suggestion was one of the better ones, like it could be a real treat to go see Healers together.
He shook his head, then and backed away more. “Nope, wrong. I turned eighteen just a few weeks ago. I remember. I was there. Had it at school, there was a big to-do, lots of noise, got in loads of trouble. Best day ever. Now I’m going to go. If you don’t want to come, you can keep my clothes, I don’t want them anymore, call them my gift to you if you promise to leave me alone. Deal?”
--
Lydia was losing it. This was not real life. She seriously could not be going through something like this with him again. Sure their relationship didn’t start on the most normal of terms but she figured by now things would have settled down some right? She had a feeling this headache wasn’t just from the hangover anymore. Damn it George.
Looking around she got an idea. Grabbing the photo that was on her nightstand she shoved it at him. “Look this is from our vacation in Italy,” she said of the picture of them kissing, “how would I have that if this wasn’t real?! We are dating!”
--
George made sure that the pillow was covering him completely before slowly reaching for the framed photo. He took it carefully, watching her the whole time, just in case. He stepped back again as he studied the photo. They were moving, of course, and grinning as they kissed for the camera, arms around each other. They looked happy. It could be a fake, right? But he’d never kissed anybody like that before in his whole life, and certainly not where it would have been photographed and then manipulated.
“I.. I don’t understand,” he said quietly, a note of pleading in his voice. “Who are you? Why is this happening?”
--
Lydia rolled her eyes, “I told you, I’m your girlfriend. Lydia? Lydia Winters? We’ve been together a few months now, after well a whole shit show of stuff, but obviously all of this means nothing to you. I’m really getting sick of all of this stuff George.” She found a pair of running shorts and quickly put them on, clearly he wasn’t interested in her body so why not just cover it up.
Grabbing a hair tie she threw her hair up and shook her head. “I’m going to let you get dressed and then you can get out of here. You’re supposed to be at the store soon anyways and frankly I’m not up for dealing with you acting like I don’t exist in your life. Besides we don’t need Fred thinking I’m keeping you from your job.”
Walking out of her bedroom she went and picked Westley up from his cage and carried him into the kitchen. Waving her wand she fed him and started some tea for herself. Lydia was so unbelievably frustrated and pissed off with George.
--
George stared at the photo for several minutes after she left, once bringing it right up close to his eyes so that he could squint and make absolutely sure that it was him in the picture and not Fred, because that would be easy for his twin to have done, to stage this whole thing, but he’d have jumped out by now, right? He’d be laughing and making fun of George for his freak out. So that left his original theory, that this girl was bananas, or maybe she was telling the truth and it was him that had lost his mind, or maybe this wasn’t real. That was the idea he liked the best, even if it made the least sense. But she’d left and hadn’t threatened him with anything or attacked him or whatever. That was something.
He was surprised to find his wand on the dresser on top of a heap of clothes that he didn’t recognize. He set the wand aside - having nowhere comfortable on his person to stash it for the moment - and tried the clothes, which fit perfectly. Hooray? When he was dressed, and with his wand firmly in his hand, he emerged from the bedroom into a totally unfamiliar flat. He could hear (kinda) the woman making noise in another room.
He started looking for the exit and spotted a door with locks that he assumed would lead him out, but it meant passing the obviously furious blonde. Lydia, she’d said? He’d known of a Lydia once. Vaguely. Had she been blonde?
“Um,” he said as he paused in the entry to the kitchen. He was feeling a little calmer as he convinced himself this was some hallucination. “Sorry about the confusion, I guess. I just got… Mixed up? I’m sure you’re a very nice girlfriend and I hope your day gets better.”
--
Lydia had been staring at the vodka bottle while her tea warmed up, strongly considering adding it to her tea. She knew there was no way that she was going to be able to fall back asleep any time soon, her weekend plans shot all to hell. Instead she just held her dog, who had just finished eating, at least someone loved her still.
Hearing him come to the kitchen the little dog wiggled in her arms wanting to get down and say hello to his second favorite human, but Lydia wasn’t having any of that. He didn’t did he hang out with Westley is he was going to be like this. At the moment Westley was very much her dog and not theirs. “Westley stop,” she snapped at the little dog.
Finally turning her attention back to George she sighed at his comments, was that his way of trying to make things better? If so, no thank you. “Just go to work George, go whine to your brother or something. Whenever you decide to man up again, come on back. If you really just wanted to end this relationship you could have just said so, and not put on this whole charade.”
--
Okay, the dog was cute. George had to wave at the little guy. “That’s a nice name,” he told the dog before shifting his attention back to the woman holding him. Those were some pretty hurtful things that she said and his shoulders sagged a bit. He’d really hurt her feelings, hadn’t he? (Nevermind that she was either totally insane or didn’t exist at all, so it really wasn’t his fault.)
“I’m not playing,” he said with a shrug, “I’m not joking or teasing. Something happened to me and I can’t hear and I don’t know who you are and I don’t know where I am and I just want to go home now, so if I can really leave, then I’m going to.” He took a few tentative steps toward the front door. “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.”
--
She almost wanted to snap at him for talking to Westley like that. Oh so he could be nice to the dog but not her? That was really rich. Truth be told her feelings were really really hurt and even though it was awful to think she wondered if maybe she should have been used to that by now? It was a harsh reality but things kept seeming to come up.Sure maybe George didn’t want to hurt her, but it was happening and she wasn’t sure how much more of it she could take. Where was the line?
She couldn’t even look at him during his apology. Instead she just grabbed her wand and flicked it towards the door, unlocking and opening it. “Just go George,” she said after a pause, “please.” She didn’t want to see him right now.
--
George really just wanted her to believe him, for her own sake. She needed help and the first step, he thought, would be to realize that she was mentally unstable. (Or not real, in which case, there was no hope.) But nothing he could say seemed to work, so he just sort of sighed and waved again at the dog and turned to leave.
He half expected not to be able to get out of the door, but it led to a normal hallway which in turn led to a normal staircase and then out into Diagon Alley, within sight of his shop and he very nearly cried with relief as he flat out ran away.