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Harry still couldn’t believe what had happened earlier today and so he left his bed in Ron’s room and crept down the stairs to see it all again with his own eyes. A stair creaked beneath his foot and he froze, listening for signs of life. When nothing seemed to stir, he continued back down to the living room, keeping his weight on the edge of the steps to stop any further creaking.
He made his way into the living room, where a fire was still smouldering, kept safe with spells and wards. He added another log to the fire before sitting down in front of it and staring up at the mantel where the stockings hung.
Arthur’s hung the furthest on the left, done in bright red with white lettering and a diamond pattern stitched in. Molly’s hung next to his, royal purple with a pink letter and a pink toe. Bill’s was navy, with a bright green ‘W’ and a pattern of reindeer around the top. Charlie’s was next, done in dark green and brown. It had always amused Harry that even before Charlie was old enough to lift his head, Molly had chosen a dragon design for his stocking.
Percy’s stocking was the least worn of all the stockings and still looked almost as new as the day Molly had made it - probably due to its more fastidious owner. It was sky blue with a red ‘P’ and a snowman with a book. Fred and George’s were both red and green, though the colours were flipped. Fred’s had a pattern of mistletoe, while George had chestnuts along the foot. Ron’s stocking was orange with purple lettering, and Harry had wondered if that was what began his obsession with the Chudley Cannons. There was a picture of a fruit pie stitched into the ankle of the stocking.
Harry’s gaze stopped there, he didn’t even make it to Ginny’s pink stocking with the white snowflakes. Because there, hanging on the mantelpiece between Ron and Ginny, was a bottle green stocking, decorated with golden snitches and a large gold ‘H’.
The warmth he had felt when Molly and Arthur had presented it to him filled him again. After Sirius had died last year, Harry had thought that would be it. That despite Molly’s words, he would never really have a family. Not until he made one of his own.
But there it was, a stocking, just for him, hanging on the mantelpiece in a home where he was not only welcome but loved too.
The clock chimed the hour and Harry glanced toward it. He couldn’t see the face from where he was sitting, but he knew there was a new hand there too. A hand with his face on it - a hand that pointed to home.
As he turned back to the fire, he caught sight of a figure leaning against the doorframe and started a little.
“Oh! Hey, George,” he said quietly, “What are you doing up?”
“I could ask you the same question,” George replied, coming into the room to sit down beside Harry. “You alright?”
Harry nodded, ducking his head a little embarrassed at being caught, “Yeah, um, yeah. I’m fine.”
“Uh-huh, sure,” George said, a grin on his face as he nudged Harry with his elbow. “C’mon Harry, you haven’t ever been able to hide anything from me.”
Harry sighed. What George said was true. Whenever Harry had been scared, or lonely, or worried over something grand, or even something trivial, George had seemed to know. And once George knew, he would do anything he could to make Harry smile again. Sometimes they talked, sometimes they joked. Sometimes George would sneak down to the Hogwarts kitchens and bring back the most ridiculous large piece of cake he could find and they would stuff themselves silly.
George was always there to help Harry with his studies, with spells, always ready to give advice or to listen. Or to just be there as Harry’s friend with no agenda. It was always so easy with George - to just be himself.
He looked down at his feet, plucking absently at a hole in the toe of his sock.
“I just, I never expected this. The stocking, and the clock,” he murmured.
“Hey,” said George, nudging him again, “they gave them to you because you're family too. "
George said something else, but it was mumbled so quietly Harry didn't really hear what he said but his head snapped up as the words 'never wanted' registered.
" What? " he whispered, shocked and hurt. A cold shivering sensation dripped through him and he stared at George as if he had never seen him before.
How could George be the one to say something like that? Harry would never, ever have thought he could say something like that. That he would hurt him this way. George was different, what Harry felt for him was different, but right now... it felt like his heart was about to shatter...
Something in his voice must have given away his current emotional state as George looked at him, dread washing over his face as he stared at Harry.
"You heard that?"
Anger flared in Harry and he pushed himself to his feet. Pushed himself away from George.
"Heard that you never wanted me? What, was there a vote and you said no, were you the only one? Or were the others? Who else? Percy, right? Maybe Fred too? How could you- how could you be my friend all this time and feel that way about me?” His voice started to break, “Do you really hate me that much that you-"
A hand clapped over his mouth. Sometime during his rant, George had stood up and made his way over to Harry.
"Harry, Harry please , calm down, I don't hate you. Merlin, I could never, ever hate you. I don't know how you could even think that."
Harry just glared at him, trying to mask the giant wound George had just opened in him. He was supposed to be happy, he had just found a real family. How could George have been lying to him all this time?
"Harry," George said again, his voice soft and full of angst, "I promise you, I'll make an oath right here and now if you need, but I swear , I didn't say that I never wanted you. I do, so much… I just, I never wanted you like a brother ."
Harry felt himself begin to deflate, and his eyebrows drew together as George took his hands away and shot a silencing spell at the door.
"I don't understand," Harry said.
George looked at him for a long moment, seemingly deciding on something.
“I like you, Harry,” he said intently.
Harry frowned further, even as his heart skipped a beat. If only George meant what Harry dreamed of him saying, “I like you too, George, I don’t see-”
“No,” George said, clearly frustrated now as he dragged a hand through his hair, “I like you. As in… I fancy you.”
Harry’s jaw dropped open, “You fancy me? As in-”
“As in haven’t been able to stop thinking about you for the last three years?”
“Three years ?”
George smiled at him weakly, “Are you just going to keep repeating what I say? Because if you could just hurry up and crush my dreams, that would be lovely.”
Harry shoved at his chest and George rocked back, “You’re an absolute git! You know that, right?” George winced, but Harry kept talking, “You’re telling me that we could have spent the last few years snogging all over Hogwarts?”
George blinked at him as Harry’s words sank in, “Wait, what are you saying?”
Harry sighed exasperatedly, already pulling George closer again, “I’m saying that I fancy you too, you prat!”
A slow, tentative smile spread across George’s face, “Really?”
“Really,” Harry confirmed, his hands tightening in George’s sleep shirt, still a little cross and unsettled from the wild fluctuation of his feelings over the last few minutes, yet refusing to let go of what little contact he had.
George stepped closer still, his hands moving up to rest on Harry’s elbows and Harry’s heart started to beat a little faster as he realised what they had both just confessed to. He looked up into George’s eyes, searching his face for any clue as to what might happen next. One of George’s hands slid up Harry’s arm to cup his face, and his thumb reassuringly brushed against his cheek.
“You think maybe we could try and catch up on all that missed snogging then?”
The residual tension Harry had been holding onto melted away and he smiled, a slow quirk of his lips.
“Yeah. Yeah, I think that could be alright.”
He only caught a flash of George’s grin before warm lips pressed against his own.
~ fin ~