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February had arrived, and with it came a fresh layer of tension between Y/n and George, one that neither of them had anticipated. The peaceful rhythm they'd established in their quiet moments together—the easy laughter, the conversations about everything and nothing—had been disrupted by something neither of them could ignore. The proximity of their relationship, however subtle, was starting to draw attention, and neither of them were prepared for the impact it had.

It started with small things. The way students from both Gryffindor and Slytherin began to look at them differently, like they were some strange anomaly that didn’t quite fit. Whispers followed them in the hallways. People asked questions that weren’t meant for them, tried to gauge what was happening between the two. Even worse were the accusations, the side-eyed glances from their own housemates, their friends, their rivals.

And all of this? It made Y/n want to retreat, to pull back into the safety of her carefully constructed walls. The last thing she wanted was to give anyone reason to scrutinize them.

---

The tension between her and George wasn’t immediately obvious to outsiders, but it was there. A subtle distance in the way they interacted, the silence between words that used to flow easily. They were still friends, still close, but there was a shadow hanging over them—an unspoken worry about what everyone else thought.

It came to a head one evening after dinner when Y/n found George waiting for her outside the Slytherin common room, looking a little more serious than usual.

"Hey," he greeted, offering a small smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Can we talk?"

Y/n gave him a tight-lipped smile, her fingers nervously gripping the hem of her robe. "What about?"

George hesitated before answering, his eyes darting toward the common room door. "About us," he said quietly, as if trying to keep the conversation between just the two of them, though it felt like everyone in the corridor could hear it. "We’ve been... avoiding it, haven’t we?"

Y/n sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly as she leaned against the stone wall of the corridor. "I don’t know what you want me to say, George. Things have changed. And I don't know if we’re ready for everything that comes with that."

She could see his jaw tighten, his lips forming a thin line. "Are you saying you don’t want to see where this goes? Because I don’t want to just give up on this. I thought you felt the same."

Y/n closed her eyes, the frustration building inside her chest. "It’s not about giving up. It’s about what happens when people start talking. What happens when the world notices us. You and I... we’re from different houses, George. And people are already starting to notice. They’re going to question everything we do."

George took a step closer, his expression softening, though a shadow of uncertainty remained in his eyes. "Is that why you’ve been pulling away?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Because you’re worried about what everyone else thinks?"

Y/n’s breath caught in her throat, and she felt a lump form in her chest. It’s not just about them, she thought. But what could she say to him? That she was afraid? That she had spent so much of her life building walls to protect herself from getting hurt, from letting people in? That trusting someone like George—someone so warm, so carefree—was terrifying because of how easily it could fall apart?

"I can’t be what everyone expects me to be," she said softly, looking away, unable to meet his gaze. "I’ve spent so long trying to fit into this mold, trying to make sure I don’t stand out too much. What if all this attention isn’t worth it? What if we’re just asking for trouble?"

George’s voice, when it came, was steady, though there was a quiet edge to it. "Y/n, if we let other people dictate what we do, we’re never going to get anywhere. You think I care what people say about me? About us? We’re not hurting anyone. All I care about is that I want to be with you. And I don’t want to keep dancing around this like it’s some big secret."

Her stomach twisted, the unease curling in her gut. She had known it would come to this eventually—this moment where they would have to decide whether to ignore what others said, to take the leap together. But now that it was here, Y/n didn’t know what to do.

"You don’t get it," she said softly, shaking her head. "I’ve spent my whole life in Slytherin. I’ve been taught to distrust people like you. Like them. This isn’t just some silly crush that’s going to fade away. This is serious, and I’m not sure I’m ready for everything that comes with it."

George took another step forward, closer than before, and there was a certain intensity in his eyes now that made Y/n’s heart race. "You don’t have to be ready for everything all at once," he said gently, his voice calm. "You don’t have to have all the answers right now. I’m not going anywhere, Y/n. We’ll take it slow. But I can’t stand here and pretend that nothing’s happening between us. I don’t want to hide anymore."

For a long moment, there was silence between them, thick and heavy. Y/n could hear the pounding of her own heart, feel the tension in the air. And yet, despite the unease, something inside her shifted. She had spent so long protecting herself, but was it really worth it if she never took a chance?

She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could say anything, a voice broke through the quiet.

"Is everything all right, Y/n?"

Y/n froze. Her heart skipped a beat as she turned toward the source of the voice—Draco Malfoy, standing a few feet away, watching them with a cool, calculating gaze. He was flanked by Blaise Zabini and a few other Slytherins, all of whom were now eyeing George with mild suspicion.

Y/n’s stomach churned, and she felt her pulse quicken. The last thing she needed right now was for Malfoy to turn this into something more than it was. Her whole body tensed, and George’s expression hardened, a flash of irritation crossing his face.

"Everything’s fine," Y/n said quickly, stepping between them, her voice firm as she directed her attention to Draco. "We’re just talking."

Draco raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced, but he didn’t press further. He exchanged a look with Blaise, who smirked as if he had already figured it out. "Well, I hope you’re not making any plans to disappoint your housemates, Y/n. They’re not fond of… surprises."

Y/n bit back a retort, her eyes narrowing slightly. She wasn’t about to let Draco dictate her actions, but the weight of his words hung in the air like a cloud, dark and threatening.

George, sensing the tension, spoke up before it could escalate. "We’re not doing anything wrong," he said, his voice cool but firm. "We’re just talking. Is there a problem with that?"

Malfoy and his friends exchanged looks, clearly enjoying the discomfort in the air. Finally, Draco gave a nonchalant shrug. "Not yet," he said with a smug smile. "But we’ll see how long that lasts."

As he and his group turned to leave, Y/n felt the tightness in her chest return. This was exactly what she had feared—the weight of expectations, the pressure of being watched, judged by everyone around them.

George looked at her, his expression a mix of concern and frustration. "You didn’t deserve that," he muttered.

Y/n shook her head. "It doesn’t matter. It’s just... I’m not sure I can do this. I’m not sure we can do this."

She turned away, feeling the weight of the decision settling heavily on her shoulders.

George reached out to stop her, but before he could, she spoke quietly, her voice breaking through the uncertainty that had taken over.

"Maybe I need some time to figure this out," she said softly. "Maybe we both do."

And with that, she walked away, leaving George standing in the corridor, heart heavy, unsure of what came next.