???????? ??? ????????

It was an ordinary Tuesday when everything seemed to change. The week had been relatively calm, the kind of peaceful rhythm Y/n had come to appreciate. There were still whispers in the halls, but she’d learned to ignore them, focusing instead on her studies, her friends, and, of course, George. It felt like the world was finally settling into place after weeks of uncertainty and tension. But that peaceful calm was about to be shattered.

Y/n and George had just finished a late dinner in the Great Hall when a loud, piercing shout broke through the noise of students chatting and laughing. Everyone froze, turning toward the source of the commotion. Y/n’s heart sank when she saw who it was.

Draco stood at the entrance to the hall, his face twisted in anger. His eyes were locked on Y/n, and there was something dangerously determined in his gaze.

"You!" Draco’s voice cut through the silence like a knife. "You’re making a fool of yourself, Y/n."

George stiffened beside her, and Y/n instinctively stepped closer to him. "What’s going on, Draco?" she called out, trying to keep her voice steady, though her stomach was in knots.

Draco stormed toward them, his steps heavy and deliberate. "You think this is just a phase, don’t you? You think you can keep playing this little game with the Weasley, and no one will care. But it’s not that simple, Y/n." He sneered at George, who stood tall beside her, arms crossed. "You’re not in your little Slytherin bubble anymore. You’re in a place where people are watching. You’re playing with fire, and you’re going to get burned."

The tension in the air was palpable. Everyone around them was watching, waiting to see how this would play out. Y/n’s fists clenched at her sides, her mind racing. She wanted to fire back, wanted to tell Draco off once and for all, but the cold, calculated look in his eyes told her this wasn’t just about her and George anymore. This was something bigger.

"Leave it, Draco," George said, his voice surprisingly calm but laced with a quiet fury. "You don’t know what you’re talking about."

"Oh, I think I do," Draco said, his voice dripping with venom. "You think you’re better than me, don’t you, Weasley? You think you’re above it all, that you can just waltz into her life and pretend like you’re some knight in shining armor. You’re not. You’re nothing more than a distraction. A fool."

Y/N stepped forward, her own anger now rising to meet his. "You don’t get to tell me who I can and can’t be with, Draco," she said, her voice steady but fierce. "You don’t control my life. And you certainly don’t control George."

Draco’s eyes flickered with something—rage, perhaps, or maybe something darker—but he didn’t break eye contact. "You’ll regret this. Both of you. People like you—" He pointed at George. "And people like her—" He jerked his chin toward Y/n. "You’re nothing more than a scandal waiting to happen. You’ll see. You’ll both see."

Without waiting for a response, Draco turned and stalked out of the hall, leaving a thick silence in his wake. The students who had been watching slowly began to murmur to each other, the air buzzing with gossip and curiosity.

Y/n felt her heart pounding in her chest, her breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. She wanted to scream, to tell everyone how wrong Draco was. But instead, she turned to George, searching his face for some kind of reassurance.

"Are you okay?" George asked softly, his hand resting on her shoulder.

She nodded, but the truth was, she wasn’t okay. What Draco had said… it lingered in her mind. You’re nothing more than a distraction. The words echoed in her head, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that there might be some truth to them. Maybe Draco was right. Maybe she was just setting herself up for heartbreak.

"Y/n…" George’s voice broke through her thoughts. "You don’t have to listen to him. You know that, right?"

She met his gaze, trying to steady her breath. "It’s not just him, George. It’s everyone. They’re all going to see us as some kind of joke. You know they will."

"Who cares what they think?" George said, his tone insistent. "As long as we’re together, nothing else matters. I’m not going anywhere, Y/n. I don’t care if the whole school thinks we’re a joke. I care about you."

Y/n’s throat tightened at his words. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe that they could make it through this, that nothing could tear them apart. But the weight of Draco’s words was heavy, and in the pit of her stomach, the doubt began to settle.

Before she could respond, Fred Weasley appeared, his expression serious. "Oi, you two okay?" he asked, his eyes flicking between them.

Y/N gave him a small, forced smile. "Yeah, we’re fine. Just a little... shaken up."

Fred’s gaze hardened. "That little prat never knows when to keep his mouth shut, does he?" He looked toward the door where Draco had disappeared. "Don’t let him get to you, Y/n. He’s just trying to get under your skin. You’ve got us. Don’t forget that."

George nodded, his hand tightening on her shoulder. "Exactly. You’ve got us."

But even as he said it, Y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that Draco had planted a seed of doubt in her mind. Was she really strong enough to withstand this? Was their relationship strong enough to survive the pressure of everyone watching, waiting for them to fail?

---

The following days felt like a storm had rolled through, and no matter how hard she tried to ignore it, the storm lingered. The whispers grew louder, the stares more pointed. Everywhere she went, Y/n felt the weight of the judgment, like a cloud hanging over her. She and George stuck together, but the strain was palpable. George could sense her unease, and no matter how many times he reassured her, Y/n couldn’t shake the growing fear that the cracks were beginning to show.

One evening, after a particularly tense dinner, Y/n found herself alone in the common room, her thoughts swirling. She had tried to escape the storm outside, but it seemed like the storm was inside her now, too. She stared into the fire, watching the flickering flames, when the door opened, and George stepped inside.

He looked exhausted, his expression worn. He took one look at her and walked over, sitting beside her on the couch. "You okay?" he asked quietly.

Y/N didn’t answer immediately. She just sat there, feeling the weight of everything that had happened—the pressure, the doubt, the fear. The warmth of the fire wasn’t enough to ease the cold that had settled in her chest.

"Y/n," George said, his voice soft but firm, "Talk to me. What’s going on?"

Finally, she turned to him, her voice barely above a whisper. "I’m scared, George. Scared that I’m not strong enough to handle this. Scared that maybe... maybe we’re just not meant to be. Maybe we’re just—"

"Stop," George said, his voice cutting through the air like a lifeline. "We’re meant to be. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. We’re not giving up. Not now. Not ever."

Y/n felt tears sting at her eyes, but she didn’t fight them. She let them fall, feeling the weight of everything she had been holding back. George didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close.

"We’ll get through this," he whispered into her hair. "Together."

And in that moment, Y/n realized something—maybe it wasn’t about the pressure or the whispers. Maybe it was just about the two of them, and what they were willing to fight for.