Title: Secrets... and Plummets Thereof

Author: Bonster

Feedback: heck yes. please.

Archive: If you (who's list I did not post to) want it, then sure. Just drop me a line and let me know first.

Pairing: George Weasley/Harry Potter

Summary: George has a crush.

Category: Fluff

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling, Scholastic, Warner Brothers and possibly other big wigs own all HP stuff. I merely fangirl.

Notes: 1) Written for multifandom1000's "Secrets" challenge. But ALAS! It ended up 1099 or so words. The punk. 2) Woohaw! First HP fandom fic evah! *celebrates* 3) Many thanks to Michelle and Ngaio!

George Weasley had a secret.

However, because his brother, Fred, knew about it, it wasn't that much of a secret.

And when Lee Jordan was told the secret, he peppered hints of said secret into his commentary during the Quidditch match against Hufflepuff. When George heard Lee's voice booming out, "And there's the magnificent and magnanimous George Weasley batting away the bludger from a much beloved seeker," he promptly stilled, and the bludger he had been aiming for careened into his side. Only a nearby hand prevented a fall from his broom.

Holding his side, which was screaming in pain, George was aware that whoever had a hold of his arm was gently guiding him down to the ground, where he slid off his broom and lay on his back. He watched the clouds for a few moments, pondering ways and means of taking revenge and humiliating Lee in some way, when he looked to who had guided him down to the ground.

Harry Potter. Crush himself.

A murky memory of one of his father's muggle books and the pictures within came to mind. With the sun blazing from behind him, Harry looked completely angelic. The concerned expression and the wind rustling his hair and robes--he seemed wrapped in a kind of softness.

Groaning and gulping, George closed his eyes, intent on collecting himself enough to say something witty, something proper of a downed Weasley twin, and he said, "Harry, do you know you look like an angel right now?"

And the world went black.


George came to in the hospital wing. He was lying with his head half off the pillow, and his neck had a very definite crick in it. Gingerly sitting up, he took note that his side still ached, but much more a weak throb than searing agony.

Glancing around, he saw that Fred had left him the plans of their latest idea, properly concealed as History of Magic homework of course, to make curly wurlies that would live up to their name. Instead of just being boring old chocolate, they would be a treat that when ingested, made one's hair stand on end, curl a bit, and twirl around with a loud whistling sound. That was much more exciting after all.

Just as he started reaching for the parchment to check something, the door at the end of the room opened, and in walked Madam Pomfrey. George could just make out a scarlet robe in the hallway beyond, and swore that he saw a glint of metal about where a pair of glasses would be as the door was shut.

Attributing it to wishful thinking and an addled, possibly concussed brain, George turned his attention to Madam Pomfrey's condemnation of wizarding events that used such fast-flying and highly dangerous objects for mere sport.

George quirked an eyebrow as Madam Pomfrey went to a cabinet to retrieve some potions, continuing to mutter under her breath. He knew for a fact that she had a framed, and quite treasured, photograph of Puddlemere United in a bottom desk drawer.

He quickly lowered his eyebrow as she turned back around and came to his side, handing him a cup of foul-smelling purple goop. Urging him to drink it all or he would just have to go without visitors for another day or two, he held his nose and downed the liquid, if the grainy texture and powdery feel could qualify it as a liquid.

To be denied visitors... when a certain someone may be standing outside the door just now? You'd have to be daft--or not in the middle of crushing on said hopefully nearby person--not to comply. Just this once anyway.

Madam Pomfrey opened the door, and it was indeed hopefully nearby person who had been standing just outside. George felt that a bright grin would not be remiss since he was supposed to be bouncing back after a near death, or an almost near death, experience. The answering, somewhat relieved grin in return warmed him and caused the complete cessation of pain in his side.

"Hello, Harry," George said.

"Hello, George." Harry sat down in a chair beside the bed. "How're you feeling?"

George made a show of a twisting around, bending his torso to the sides and raising his arms. "Perfectly well." George frowned and curled his lips. "Except for the aftertaste of healing potion, which is utterly and fantastically disgusting."

Harry's sympathetic look was marred by the amusement clearly shining from his eyes. "I'm sure it is."

Best turn the conversation to Quidditch, George thought, before I say something pathetic about his eyes or how much he liked when Harry was relaxed if only because it lessened the heavy weight from his shoulders for a little while. "Well, what happened after my misfortune? You catch the snitch?"

Harry grinned. "Yeah, I did. It was there, just behind your shoulder. So after the bludger hit you, I caught it. And you, I guess."

George felt a lurch in his stomach. Harry's words were ridiculously close to true, and if they were, how would that have come about?

The answer came to him.

"Where is my brother?"

"Oh, he and Lee are in the common room cackling like mad about what happened to you."

George's hand gripped the bed sheet a little tighter. Keep it casual, George, old man. "They didn't mention what was so hilarious, did they?"

Harry glanced away, a spot on his robes suddenly worth his interest. Then George heard a very quiet murmuring. Although he didn't catch the last part of the sentence, he definitely had heard something about a crush and an angel.

George groaned and shut his eyes tight. Harry knew, and from the 'this is awkward' body language, George knew that a gentle let-down was about to be voiced.

"George, I- This is hard for me to say."

George flinched, but kept his eyes closed. When a slightly moistened pair of lips pressed against his, a horrific thought of Madam Pomfrey being the person behind those lips shook him, and he opened his eyes. Of course, they went immediately cross-eyed, but he definitely determined it was not Madam Pomfrey and was indeed Harry who was doing the kissing.

When Harry just as suddenly pulled away, George said, "That was unexpected." Blinking, he watched Harry's posture stiffen slightly, and quickly added, "But very nice."

Harry gave a shy smile and settled back into his chair.

George would have to remember to thank Lee, after, of course, making sure he was the first to try out the new and improved curly wurlies.

The end