You hadn’t meant to glare. Really, you hadn’t. But when you spotted Angelina leaning a little too close to George at the table, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered something, your stomach tightened all on its own.

George laughed, bright and careless, and you could feel the heat rise in your chest. He didn’t even notice you watching.

The moment passed, but it lingered. You told yourself you were being ridiculous — Angelina had always been close with the twins. Still, the ache sat stubbornly in your chest.

Hours later, when the noise of the common room had thinned and you finally had a moment to yourself, you felt arms slide easily around your waist. You knew the hold instantly, the way his palms rested flat and warm against you, the way his chin hovered just near your shoulder.

“Missed you,” George murmured into your hair, his grin audible in his voice.

Normally, you would have melted. Instead, you stiffened. Your hands moved to his wrists and gently pried him off. You stepped forward, putting an inch of space between you.

His brows furrowed. “What’s this, then?”

You crossed your arms, not looking at him. “Nothing.”

“Nothing, she says,” he repeated softly, head tilting as if he could read every thought you weren’t saying.

When you didn’t answer, his hands found your hips again, firmer this time. He leaned in, lips grazing your neck, brushing deliberately slow over your skin. “Nothing wouldn’t taste this sweet,” he murmured, pressing another kiss just below your ear.

Your breath caught. “George—”

“Mhm?” His voice was low, teasing, and the kisses didn’t stop. “Jealousy suits you, love. Makes you all fiery.” His teeth grazed lightly at your skin, enough to make you shiver. “But you don’t need to be.” Another kiss, softer this time. “Not with me.”

You wanted to stay cross, wanted to hold onto the little sting of seeing him with Angelina, but it was impossible when his mouth kept mapping its way down your neck, when his voice melted into every curve of your thoughts.

“You’ve got my attention,” he whispered against your collarbone. “Always you. Always.”

You finally turned toward him, cheeks hot, your attempt at a glare faltering when you met his grin. He looked far too pleased with himself.

“Not funny,” you muttered, though your voice wasn’t nearly as stern as you wanted it to be.

He smirked, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “No, it’s hilarious. You, trying to ignore me.” His lips ghosted yours, playful, refusing to give in fully. “Adorable, really.”

Your arms, still crossed, betrayed you when one hand loosened and tugged at his sleeve. He chuckled low, satisfied, pressing a real kiss to your lips at last.

When he pulled back, his smile was wicked, eyes dancing with mischief. “So… how long do you plan on staying mad at me, darling? Just want to know if I should keep kissing your neck until morning.”