An Hour later found George sitting on the couch thinking about Miggie. She was nothing like the other witches he had met. In the few brief moments he had seen her, he had gotten the sense that she was special and would become special to him. Well he didn't much have a choice in that matter. But looking at her and seeing how fragile she looked when she was cry made him want to protect her. Shield her away from the world, especially his world.
The padding of foot steps coming down the stairs snapped George out of his inner musing. Snapping his head to the side George turned to see Miggie fallowing his mother down into the living room. Miggie glanced at him before quickly gazing down. His mother had left the room to go cook dinner. they were the only ones in the living room and the tension could be cut by a knife.
Miggies mind was a hectic place normally filled with dates and papers and facts. she was the top History student in the United States it was her job to know what to say and when to say it. Now Miggie may have been the best in History but that didn't mean her other subject were lacking quite the opposite actually. Miggies group was the smartest academic group from there country and each person in that group had a specialty. Miggie took second in every other subject aside from math. She was fourth in math but still that was out of the whole countries high school population. But still Miggie was at a loss over what to do no amount of studing could have told her the answer
Miggie gazed at him. He was staring over at her like she scared him. It was weird no one had ever gazed at her that way. She was small and short and no one took her seriously, much less threatening. He was cute though she supposed. His shaggy red hair fell to his shoulders and his eyes they were green like an emerald, his face was covered in freckles.
"Can I sit with you," Miggie squeaked looking down at her shoes that were suddenly Very interesting.
"Sure," George replied watching as she sat an arms length away, she sat stock still without squirming.
" So I guess we're married," Miggie squeaked her face turning red like a tomato, she had never been very good with guys.
" I guess," George replied. She may not have been looking at him but he was looking at her. He studied her to see her response and she was not giving much away. She was not a ugly girl that was for sure. He had gotten the basic look at her both in the woods and in the room that she had been sleeping in but up close she truly was a beauty. Her hair that he once thought was black was one bus stop away from it, instead being a dark brown. Her left eye veiled by hair that went to her shoulder was still viewable , barely. They were a dark brown color that most would call mud but on her they looked like something else. There was orange undertones to her slightly tanned skin that oddly enough seemed washed out. A single trail of freckles laid under each of her eyes on her cheek. She was small five foot maybe and skinny. She wore a black midriff tank that exposed her non existent stomach and showed off her breast that were rather large for her size and short denim shorts that showed her small legs. Her veins snaked a crossed her exposed skin darkest at her knee caps and he bet that if he tried he would be able to trace then all over her skin. She worn a necklace around her neck that contained a single skeleton key. She just gazed down at her shoes her face red and nervous.
All of a sudden Miggie snapped her gaze up his his face and looked him dead in the eye. Her own eyes were filled with tears, but she didn't let them fall.
" Listen I'm really sorry. This is all my fault. I thought that I was going to help you but I just... just screwed things up. You would have been fine on your own but I had to but in and ... and now your stuck with me. I'm so sorry," Though Miggie didn't cry her voice was full of sadness.
She really was sad for him, George realized. She was sorry for both him and herself. Sorry that he was stuck with a girl he didn't now and she stuck with a guy she didn't love.
George gathered this slip of a girl in his arms and hugged her. He held her close and didn't let go. Wrapping one hand around her waist he brought the other to the back of her head to make it rest on his shoulder. She was so small to him she weighed next to nothing and George had to wonder if she ate at all. He could have sworn that he felt her ribs through the side of her shirt. It took her a few moments but she brought her arms around her neck and buried her face into the side of his neck.
"I'm sorry," She mumbled and this time she did cry and he felt her warn tears on his neck.
" It's okay, mate don't cry," he may not have loved her or liked her but he didn't hate her. She seemed to fragile to be left alone and seeming her cry made him think that she was going to burst into a million pieces and crumble.
" I always manage to ruin things," she whispered. She sounded so broken, so sad that he just had to tighten his hold on her in hopes that some way he would be able to keep her from exploding
It was than that George Weasley who didn't love the girl who he held, who he married swore to find a way to love her. And maybe just maybe he could get her to love him to.