AND I DON'T KNOW IF I CAN DO IT.
OH NO, I'VE SAID TOO MUCH.
— r.e.m
(cw: sexual content in the second half of the chapter)

"GEORGE! ANSWER THE DOOR! I KNOW YOU'RE AWAKE!" Kirsty shouted. She was banging on the door with urgency with one hand and holding a gift for George in another.

"Fuck, Kirsty! You can't just show up on my doorstep whenever you — What the hell is that?!" He asked as he opened the door, his mouth agape and his eyes wide.

"A kitten," Kirsty shrugged. "Surprise!"

"You got me a bloody kitten? What the fuck?" George spat.

"Can I come in?" Kirsty sighed. George nodded and stepped out of the way so Kirsty could enter his flat. She sat down on the couch and placed the kitten in her lap. "Look, he's ginger like you! I thought you could name him."

George shut the door and sat next to Kirsty. "Just... why did you do this?"

Kirsty lifted the kitten to George's face and pouted, "He's missing bit of his ear here. I saw him and just knew he was your animal soulmate. How could I say no to this face?" The kitten meowed and George smiled.

"I'm gonna have to buy food and toys and stuff... how am I going to have time with the shop and — "

"We could always hire someone new. I have been saying you need to work less and this is the perfect excuse... the purrrfect excuse." She handed George the kitten and he smiled again.

"Do you want to hire someone new?" George asked.

"You trust me?" Kirsty scoffed.

George nodded, "You know I trust you with my life."

"But with the shop?"

"Make sure Verity approves of them first," he chuckled.

They sat there and played with the kitten while George tried to think of a name. Kirsty couldn't help but fall deeper in love with him as she watched him.

"How about Vincent? I'm not the only ginger with a missing ear," George smiled.

"That's perfect!" Kirsty beamed. "Why don't you and I go down to the Magical Menagerie while our new hire cat sits while Ver does shipment."

George furrowed his brows with concern, "You've already hired someone else?"

Kirsty nodded and got up off the couch. She opened the door to George's flat and shouted down the stairs. "Hey, stockboy! Come on up!"

It was none other than Ron Weasley.

"Surprise?" He smiled.

"Ron? What's going on?" George said with a confused chuckle.

Kirsty smiled proudly, "Someone hated Auror school and asked me for a job."

"Behind my back?"

The woman nodded, "Yes."

Kirsty was scared for a moment of what George was going to do. She prayed silently that he wouldn't shout at her or begin to treat her differently for what she did. After all, she was just trying to help. George needed his family and he needed help with the shop. Ron was the perfect new hire and she hoped George realized it.

"Okay..." George nodded. "But Ron hates cats."

"I need practice with them. Hermione insists we get Crookshankes a brother or sister when we move in." Ron sighed.

George agreed and handed Ron Vincent. "We'll be back in an hour."

Kirsty squealed and grabbed George's hand, bringing him along with her as she ran down the steps and out of the shop.

"I'll never understand why you're always so chipper," he sighed.

"You make me chipper," Kirsty shrugged as they began walking down the cobblestone path towards the shop.

"I thought I was grumpy?" He teased.

"That's what makes you so charming."

They entered the pet shop and went right towards the cat section. The clerk aided them in getting the right food, toys, and even talked George into buying a cat tower. They left with one bag, using an undetectable extension charm.

"We're right across from Fortescue's... Up for a scoop?" Kirsty asked.

"If you insist," George nodded. He held the door open for her and she blushed.

The ice cream shoppe was one of her favorite places in the world. With the perfect old-school aesthetic and the delicious sweet scent, Kirsty would live there if she could.

"What can I get you two?" The bubbly woman behind the counter asked.

Kirsty scanned the board of flavors, wondering how so many could even exist.

"I'll get... pumpkin pie in a small cup," she beamed.

"And, er — I'll get a small cone of salted caramel," George said. He dug into his pockets and paid for both of them which made Kirsty all jittery inside.

"I didn't take you for a salted caramel kind of guy," Kirsty nudged him.

He shrugged, "I guess I've just been craving it for some reason."

"Here you two go," the worker smiled, handing Kirsty her cup and George his cone. They took a sat across from one another at a small table in the corner.

"This is nice. I feel like I haven't done anything not work-related in ages," George said.

"Do you want to come over mine tonight?" She blurted out. "I'm redecorating and need some advice. Ron said he could watch Vincent for as long as we needed. We just drop off the food and — "

"Won't your gran mind?"

Kirsty sighed and looked down at the table, "She died. A few months ago."

It hurt saying it out loud. The truth was, she struggled in silence in order to not make George feel bad. She wanted to let him grieve and not try and compete with how he was feeling.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. You never told me."

"You never asked," she said quietly. "I didn't want to bring it up while you're still dealing with everything."

"I'm not some porcelain doll, Kirsty."

"I know. I'm sorry."

They sat in silence for a bit, both chipping away at their sweet treat. Kirsty hated herself for probably upsetting George somehow.

However, he broke the silence first by saying, "Okay, I'll come over. One condition though..."

"Which is?"

"You let me cook you dinner."

It reminded him of Shell Cottage in a way. He could feel memories nearly vibrating off the walls. Sand delicately littered the floor and the furniture was white and pale blue. It screamed Kirsty. He could not imagine her laid back nature and free spirit living anywhere else.

"Is this where..."

"This is where I moved in after my parents were killed. Although I spent a lot of my childhood here. It's nothing too fancy but, it's all I have left of... any of them," Kirsty said. George noticed they were still holding hands from apparating but he didn't mind. He liked it.

"It's lovely," he nodded. She led him to the couch and sat down, taking him with her. Their knees touched and for some strange reason, George felt a spark inside him. Despite the fact he had seen her naked plenty of times and even been inside her, there was something so innocent about feeling her unintentional touch.

"George," the girl took a heavy breath and placed a hand on his arm, another action that gave him shivers. "Why do you think I want to help you move on? Why do you think I wake up every day and do what I do for you?"

"Why?" He asked, honestly not knowing the answer.

"Because I know that without me, you'd be on the floor in a pile of your own sick, unable to remember your own name. I know that I'm the one star in your fucking black night sky and that you can't stand me but I'm sorry that I would rather see you roll your eyes than dead. But you aren't even the slightest bit thankful are you? Yet I keep coming back. It's actually quite humiliating, being some piece of arse for you."

"I thought what we had was what you wanted," he said, lowering his gaze in shame.

"It is. I want your praise and adoration. Your attention and the validation that I'm the one that you want more than anything. But I know sometimes you shut your eyes because you don't wish it was me you're on top of. I know you berate me in public because you're — for some reason — ashamed of me. You wish I was someone else. Whether that's Fred as family or Rory as a friend or Marina as a lover and I'm sorry I can't be any of those but I can be Kirsty and that should be enough for you. I saved your fucking life, George Weasley."

"I never asked you to," he said quietly, "most days I wish you hadn't."

"It was only fair. You saved mine. If you didn't write to me about working for you after I had to leave school... I 'dunno what I would've done. I needed a distraction and you gave me one."

George was unsure how to feel about her confession. He had no idea his simple gesture had had such an impact on her. He was just being kind. Never once was his intention to save her or whatever she was going on about. George was not a savior. He was not some guardian angel. It was a thoughtless gesture, perhaps selfish in nature. They needed an extra hand at the shop since Rory was too horribly stubborn to work for them. Kirsty was one of the only people he knew who would be looking for work and with all the uncertainties they couldn't just put out a HELP WANTED sign.

"Listen, Kirsty," he sighed, "You're giving yourself some pat on the back for shit I wish you didn't even do."

"You're such a fucking dick!" She snapped, "Why did it have to be you?"

"What?"

"I'm fully aware that I could have anyone I wanted. Why is it that you're the one I chose? You're rude, brooding, and you don't see me as a human being most of the time!"

"Stop saying that!" He said loudly, "Why don't you think I see you as a person? D'you think I think of you as some object?"

The girl nodded and bit her bottom lip.

"Do you want to stop it then?" He asked, "What we got going? This on and off teasing and pining?"

"I can't," she said in almost a whisper, "because I can't let you just get away. You're the only one who understands and I think we need each other too much to end things. I want to get up and leave. I have dreams bigger than being some shop clerk, George. I'm staying for you though."

"That doesn't sound very healthy."

She rolled her eyes, he could tell there were soft tears brimming them as she spoke. "Does it matter? Isn't this the best option we have? I get to be with you like I've always wanted and you get to imagine my body as someone else's."

"I'm not doing that!" He defended.

"Fucking prove it then! George, you don't know one thing about me besides my skin. You don't know my middle name or even my bloody birthday!"

Shit. She was right. She had been right and George didn't want to admit it. Kirsty always had the need to be right but that was only because she was most of the time. No, all of the time.

"Forget it," she said suddenly, "I don't think I want you to know me. Just forget everything I said. We can go upstairs to my room and you can do whatever you want with me and I'll let you. I'll help you forget about all your baggage and when we're around my friends you can tell me to shut the fuck up. I don't know what I was thinking bringing you here."

"What?"

She groaned and stood up, finally breaking free from his hand.

"If we start getting to know each other... if you start to see me as a person then I'm going to fall in love with you. That's going to fucking suck. So let's just go back to what we were doing because I don't want to see that kind of heartbreak."

"I don't think I can love you."

Why did he say that? Why did he fucking say that? Was it true? Maybe. He didn't think he wanted to get to know her. Because he knew if she got to know him, she'd run. So it was only fair that for their own sake, they keep things a mystery. A part of him did want to get to know her. He wanted to know why sometimes there were paint stains on her hands or why she had decided to be so happy despite all the shit she had dealt with.

She held out her hand and he took it. He stood up slowly and followed her as she walked through her narrow hallway towards the wooden stairs. Chipped white paint covered them and they made a noise on each step. Pictures covered the walls of her as a child. A strange feeling washed over him. He truly had never seen her as a person before. She had a childhood and a family and went on holidays and enjoyed her own music and art.

However as she led him into her bedroom and shut the door, none of that mattered.

She kissed him a bit softer than she usually did. Her hands found their way to the back of his neck and she tugged him closer to her. He hunched over and placed his hands at the meat of her hips, gripping them firmly. She picked up a nice rhythm with each kiss and soon he found himself humming out moans against her lips.

Kirsty stopped and looked up at him. She took a deep breath and slowly kneeled in front of him. She had never done that before. Her hands reached up to his belt and she undid it, still looking up at him.

"You don't have to — why are you on your knees? We can just —"

"I want you to know how much I worship you, George Weasley."

So, he let her. He let her remove his trousers and softly kiss the waistband of his boxers. In conversation, she wasn't too good with her mouth. She was always saying something slightly uncalled for or inappropriate.

However, behind closed doors, she was phenomenal with it. He shivered as she kissed him and slowly removed his boxers. Kirsty put her mouth on him and immediately a sharp moan escaped his lips. His hands instinctively grabbed her head and he laced his fingers through her soft, golden hair. She moved her head at a slow pace, making sure both of them enjoyed each moment.

"Fuck, Kirsty," he moaned, "You're so — oh, yeah. Wow."

The girl just kept going. There was something about the image of her on her knees for him that made the experience especially enjoyable.

He seemed to forget all about their conversation earlier as his head tipped back, praise for the girl falling from his mouth like a waterfall of adoration. Her movements against him were so intentional and flawless. Each placement of her hands, her tongue, her lips... they all meant something and brought him even closer to the edge. He could feel it, growing inside him, gurgling up like a volcano on the brink of eruption.

"Kirsty, fuck, I'm -"

She stopped. She looked up at him, big brown eyes with a strangely innocent gaze.

"Did you think I was going to let you have all the fun?" She teased. There it was. She was unapologetically Kirsty again. Snarky and almost bratty. She stood up and planted a harsh kiss on his lips. He stumbled back onto the bed and swiftly removed her skirt as she ripped her own top off over her head. George removed his own and planted his elbows on either side of her.

The truth was, George didn't need to shut his eyes and imagine she was someone else. Kirsty was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, there was not a doubt about that. But just because he didn't need to picture her as another girl, did not mean he didn't do it anyways. It was wrong, he knew it was. But sometimes it was completely accidental.

He kissed her neck while his hands were preoccupied with what was underneath her bra.

Her quiet moans were like a symphony. It was a sublime sound, her pleas for him to continue.

"Do you want to?" He asked her, tugging the waistband of her underwear, making eye contact for probably the last time during their intimate exchange.

She nodded, "Yes."

He shut his eyes when he entered her, but heard as her breath hitched. Her nails dug into his biceps and her back arched making both of them feel amplified pleasure. Her knees were tucked into her chest tightly which made it easier for him to go deeper and fill her with his lust even more.

"George," she whispered against his lips. "I'm sorry for asking this but can you... can you just pretend you love me? Lie to me, just for a little? No one's ever said that to me before and I'm just embarrassed about what I said earlier and I would really appreciate —"

"Fine," he nodded. He put his hand on her face, locks of hair laced through his fingers messily placed on her cheek. He made sure his eyes were shut as he fulfilled her request.

"I- I love you," he said. It was deadpan, but the least he could do was say it like he meant it. He wasn't sure if it was the euphoria of her warm body or the grief still living inside him, but he began to detach himself from where he was and who he was with.

"I love you," he moaned with more assurance, "I love you so much. Fuck, Mar. K-Kirsty. Kirsty. You're so... beautiful."

He opened his eyes for a fleeting moment and saw her body hitch forward as she released with a loud moan. He closed his eyes again and felt the pleasure of his climax. He fell beside her and turned his head to look at her. She just kept her gaze at the ceiling.

"That was good," George nodded.

"Yeah," she said softly, "Thanks for er... sorry I had you do that I just needed to... you can leave now."

George took a deep breath and propped himself up on his elbow. She looked at him with just her eyes, it almost appeared to be a glare of annoyance.

"I'm sorry," he told her, "I was just... it sort of slipped out."

"I understand. You can leave now. I'll see you at work and... same time tomorrow I guess."

He sat up suddenly, "Kirsty, please. I'm really sorry. I didn't know where my head was at."

"Doesn't matter where your head is at as long as your body's here with me," she said in an almost singsong voice.

She sat up and looked at him. A hand threaded through his red hair and she planted a kiss on his cheek. She bit her bottom lip and shook her head. "If you want to stay, I won't stop you but..."

"I'll stay. I promised you a dinner, remember?"

a/n

i didn't mean to make this smut so depressing and give kirsty such a character arc but i am glad i did