🛁 - George Weasley!⁴

Summer at the Burrow was always hot, but this one felt like it came straight from hell. The air inside the house was thick and heavy, and even Ron, Harry, Hermione, and you's desperate attempts to fan yourselves with whatever was at hand weren't doing much good. "This is inhuman ," Hermione complained, listlessly waving a book. "I don't know about you, but I'm considering sticking my head in the chicken water barrel ," Harry muttered, lying on the floor. Ron was fanning himself with an old shoe, too weak to speak. "Maybe we should... " you started, but your words died the instant a figure appeared in the doorway. George, fresh out of the shower, strolled casually into the living room, his hair still damp and tousled, shirtless, his skin glistening with water, a towel barely wrapped around his hips. He walked right past you, seemingly oblivious to his presence, but you... you couldn't tear your gaze away. The heat you already felt intensified. "It's hot, isn't it?" you blurted out without thinking, your eyes glued to his broad back, the freckles scattered across his shoulders, the small trickle of water running down his chest. The silence that followed was immediate. Ron gasped. Hermione blinked several times as if she hadn't heard correctly. Harry's eyes widened, and he stared at you in disbelief. George froze. You swallowed hard as he turned to face you, a half-smile on his face that didn't bode well... or perhaps it did. "Interesting..." he murmured, turning slowly to face you fully, without any hurry. "Very hot, you say? " His tone was light, but the look he gave you made your stomach twitch. His eyes scanned your face as if analyzing every detail of your expression, as if he knew exactly what was going through your mind at that moment.