So imagine this. Y/n Y/l/n, like, by far the shortest girl at Hogwarts. Ironically, she’s a seventh year with the height of a first year. Her friends tease her about it all the time. Totally normal. She’s used to it by now, honestly. What’s not normal is the fact that one particular Weasley is completely hyper-fixated on her. Well, not normal to her. To George Weasley, it’s completely normal. Sure, he’d always been taller than her. He’d always liked how tiny she was compared to him, too. But once he shot up to his full height at 6’2, oh, George was a goner. Suddenly, the height difference was his favorite thing in the world, and he made absolutely no effort to hide it. He didn’t care who was around. He didn’t care what people said. Whenever George spotted y/n, he’d walk straight over, bend his knees slightly, and scoop her up with one arm like she weighed absolutely nothing. Then, before she could even properly complain, he’d lift her onto one of his shoulders and start walking away with her, flirting relentlessly the entire time as if this were the most ordinary thing in the world. And after he kept doing it? Well, y/n eventually stopped fighting him. Now, whenever George slings her over his shoulder, she simply perches there, crossing her legs comfortably while one hand rests against his head to keep her balance. George, naturally, thinks he’s won. Y/n refuses to admit that she’s gotten used to it.