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George was lucky he remembered to turn the light on in this damn closet, otherwise Lia shoving him and Claire in before slamming the door shut would have been a lot less enjoyable. He fumbled around at the wall until the two of them were illuminated, very close to each other, with Claire looking thoroughly unimpressed.
“Sorry about… her,” she muttered, keeping her eyes focused on his. “She’s… well, uh… she’s really just happy that I came to the party in the first place just because she wanted me to talk to you again. I mean, we’ve only got to be in here for seven minutes or whatever, so if you want to just-”
“No, I’ve been wanting to talk to you,” George admitted, looking around for somewhere to sit and, seeing nowhere, settled his hands by his side again. “I know we… we left breakfast on a… in a weird spot-”
“Yeah, well, who’s fault was that?”
There was a pause as George carefully contemplated his words. “Mine. I know. And I wanted to talk to you because I wanted to apologize, I just didn't know how to… What I said wasn’t true. It was rude and dumb and… I know it's no excuse, but I’m still angry about everything. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”
Claire crossed her arms over her chest. “No, you shouldn’t have. And it really hurt, George. You don't think I'm angry, too? After all the times I’ve been over here and played games with you and taken interest in things you’re interested in." She didn't know if it would be enough to convey her point, the feelings she desperately didn't want to feel right now, but they needed to be on the same page. About all of it. " We’ve talked for hours and you’ve known me for years and-”
“I know! I know!” He took a deep breath, keeping his voice low as he ran nervous fingers through his hair. “It’s all I’ve been thinking about for weeks, okay? I didn’t know you’ve been on your own. I didn’t know any of that. I didn’t know you were at Hogwarts for the battle.”
“Does any of that matter? Would you feel differently if I was still living at home? If I was still with my parents? If I hadn't fought?! Are you even listening to me?”
"How am I supposed to apologize if you’re still mad?”
“I’m not.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
Claire wanted to roll her eyes. She wanted to do something. She wanted to leave this damn closet so she could get more than two inches from George so that her brain could function normally. “Fine.” Clearly he was going to go about this conversation in whatever way he felt would help. Whether it would or not was to be determined, but she would oblige for the moment.
“Your parents really kicked you out?” he asked, and Claire felt bile rise up into her throat.
“What if I don’t want to talk about it?”
“Then I guess we can just sit here in silence for the next five minutes.”
Claire waited a few seconds in defiance before answering. “I wanted to help Muggles and they didn’t like that. That’s all it took. Simple as that.”
George’s face fell. “I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault. That’s… that was right before the beginning of seventh year. They pushed me to tell them what it was I wanted to do and I hesitated because, well… I've always known their stance against Muggles. But they insisted and then look what happened afterwards. I lived with Lia the rest of that summer at her parents’, and then we found a place in London after we graduated when we both got jobs.” Claire really wished they could sit. This felt like such a strange conversation to be having in a closet with barely any room to move. But at least they were having it..
“Well, for what it's worth, I think that’s really cool that you’re doing that. I mean, that you didn’t listen to them and you’re doing something you’re passionate about. I kind of had the same problem with Mum not really liking what it is I’m doing, but I’m proud of you.” George cleared his throat softly, letting his eyes wander over Claire’s face. She looked like she was about to cry, avoiding his gaze and swallowing hard. He reached out to rest a comforting hand on her shoulder, and her arms dropped immediately, letting his fingertips slide down her arm so he could take her hand.
Her eyes followed. George was proud of her? How could he possibly be truly proud of anything she’d done when he’d spent breakfast shaming her for just being a damn Slytherin? She’d come to hate that house the longer she spent with the rest of the people in it, but it wasn’t about whether she liked it - it was about who she was. She just hated the mark it put on her for the rest of the school. For the people she cared about. She was lucky Lia had never given it a second thought. But here, in this stupid closet, what she could see of George was honest and sincere and truly sorry for the things he’d said. His grip on her hand was firm, but gentle, thumb daring to brush against her skin. She glanced down - the difference in size had his nearly enveloping her own, and she couldn't help but wonder what it might feel like for him to hold her. She hadn't worn her crest ring, worried that it might set him off again, but right now, she didn't think it would matter. They weren’t at Hogwarts anymore. Their houses didn’t matter. And right now, he was just Ginny’s brother and Claire was just Lia’s friend. They were just people. George was someone who she had a crush on, currently. Who was telling her he was proud of her, when she hadn’t heard those words from anyone in a very long time.
He was looking at her like he’d finally realized that fighting on their side was so against everything he’d learned she was supposed to be. That it was something she should be proud of, and not something that she should have known was right. And it was that juxtaposition, that realization, the difference in what her own family had told her and thought about her now that she’d left, that feeling erupting in her chest and taking over every ounce of doubt she had about what she was wanted, that had her grabbing George by the collar and pulling him down into her for a kiss, same page or not.
He froze at first; she could feel him tense, and she worried she’d fucked up again. But she didn’t dare pull away out of fear of embarrassing herself. She knew she’d have to stop eventually, but it was so much easier to just stay here and kiss him… until he was kissing back. Wrapping his arms around her shoulders and threading his fingers through her hair and sliding his tongue into her mouth and she thought her heart might explode into a thousand pieces. Fuck Lia for shoving her in this closet with him, but if her lips hadn't currently been occupied, Claire might be tempted to kiss her for it.
Claire’s grip let up, but George’s didn’t. It didn’t let up at all. In fact, he settled one hand on the small of her back as he pressed further into her. It wasn’t until her shoulders hit a shelf behind her and what felt like towels began to rain down on her that she finally forced herself to break contact.
“George,” she muttered against his lips, but it came out like a half-moan, which wasn’t helping her case. She took a sharp breath and tried again. “There are… there are towels on my head, George.”
But all he did was lean back himself and pull her with him, so the couple of towels left slid down her back. Merlin, he was going to be the death of her, because he didn't stop kissing her.
"George, wait," Claire moaned again, then her breath hitched as George's definition of "wait" meant moving his lips from hers to her neck. Fuck . She probably said that out loud, too, because he only gripped her tighter. "If you don't take your lips off me right now-"
"What'll you do?" he whispered against her skin, and the tone of his voice had her knickers in a sorry state. She thought she could feel something pressing against her hip as well.
"Hex you into next year, probably. Or we'll be giving your sister a show when Lia opens this door." They must only have a couple minutes left by now, most of which Claire would need to straighten out her hair and clothes to make herself look halfway presentable again.
George just groaned in a mix of frustration and disappointment, but pulled back and adjusted his trousers. "Shit," he whispered. "I can't go out there like this."
Against her best judgment, Claire glanced down to at least see what she was working with. It was a mistake, as even just a hint of him in the dark only increased her discomfort, like her brain just needed confirmation that it existed. She let out a slow breath to calm herself as her eyes moved back up to George's. "Do you want me to insult you again?"
"Might make things worse."
That drew a genuine laugh out of her, and she pressed her forehead into George's chest. His heart was racing, and it was an effort to pull away. "You're insane. Why don't I just… get back over here?" Claire backed up as much as she could into the shelves again. The edges of the shelves had a strange way of pulling her back down to Earth.
"Good idea. Yeah. Sorry."
"Don't be sorry."
Once the desperation died down, the small space was bathed in silence again, save for the shuffling of clothes and soft panting. Claire found herself biting her lip to hide a smile, like she was thirteen or something. It was embarrassing, the way she just… watched him. She watched him rake his fingers through his hair to fix where she'd messed with it. He pulled his shirt away from his chest, fixing the collar, then did one last adjustment of his trousers. The only thing she had to fix was her shirt, but she didn't want to do too much in George's presence in fear the desire would flare up all over again.
"So…" he started.
"So…" Claire cleared her throat softly.
"This isn't… it , is it?"
"Fuck no. There are… a few things I think we need to revisit."
"Good."
"Good."
"Okay, let's just pretend like we fought the whole time in here, yeah? Otherwise Gin will never let me live it down."
"Right." She couldn't stop watching his lips as he spoke. Oh, she was in trouble.
As if on cue, the door unlocked and swung open, and they narrowed their eyes at each other playfully. Then George was gone, and Claire took a deep breath to cool down and get some non-charged air in her lungs. If she knew no one was watching, she'd have screamed into one of the towels on the floor. Instead, she just glued her eyes to the ground as she walked back out into the living room, glancing up at Lia to let her know that her plan worked so she wouldn't have to pry it out of her later.
George just convincingly sulked away and before she could think about how she already wanted to get her hands on him again, she found herself asking, "Hey, Luna, up for a game of chess?"