| Inked | (George Weasley)

Chapter Eighty-Eight

A heavy, weighted feeling settled on Ollie's shoulders. This was something beyond her comprehension. She didn't know how she was able to do any of this- all she was doing was writing! The last thing she expected to come out of her obsession with writing was an ability to bring people back from the dead.

She shuddered, closing her eyes tightly. Madame Pomfrey would scold her if she knew what was racing through the girl's mind. Olive needed to rest, she needed sleep.

Besides, she was sure if she had any questions at any point, she could always ask Dumbledore. He seemed to know more about what she had done than she did.

However, Olive didn't get to dwell on those thoughts much. Mere moments after her eyes were closed, thanks to those calming potions, she was quickly off to a dreamless sleep.

"Weasley, what did I tell you? Miss Lark needs rest. You cannot barge in here like you own the place."

"She is resting, Madame Pomfrey. I'm just visiting her. I had no idea she was even in here until about five minutes ago."

Olive stirred awake to a familiar voice, opening her eyes to witness George and Madame Pomfrey bickering. Carefully she sat up, hiding the small smirk that pulled at her lips by pretending to yawn.

"Olls." George's forehead creased with worry, "Nat told me some of what happened, are you... are you okay?"

He grabbed her hands within his own, giving them a tight, comforting squeeze.

"Mr. Weasley, I told you to leave, and I will not ask again-"

"It's okay." Olive looked up to Madame Pomfrey with a pleading look, "Really."

George patted a small brown bag next to him, "I brought lunch?"

He offered the Healer an innocent smile, batting his lashes at her until the woman caved. She inspected the bag quickly.

"I suppose I can allow you a few minutes." She said sternly, "Some food would do Miss Lark some good."

With that, the woman turned on her heel and left, muttering under her breath. Olive turned to George with a small smile, grateful to have some variance to her otherwise boring day of sitting in bed.

"Olls, what happened?" George asked quietly, "Nat found me in the Great Hall and told me you were in the Hospital Wing... that you had some sort of fit?"

The Ravenclaw nodded, looking down at her hands intertwined with George's. When she looked back up at him, she found him staring at her curiously.

"I did." Ollie nodded, "I'm okay now... it was just scary, is all."

George noted the bags under the Ravenclaw's eyes, the weariness in her expression. Her palms had small cuts on them from when she must have dug her nails into the flesh, already starting to scab. He felt terrible for not having been there for her, one of the downsides to not being able to easily access the other houses' common rooms.

"There's something else, isn't there?" He asked her, "Something you're not telling me."

That same weight from before settled on Olive's chest. She sighed, closing her eyes briefly as she formed her next words carefully. Although she did swear to Dumbledore she wouldn't tell anyone about Cedric... she didn't want to lie to George. She couldn't.

"You have to promise me something." She said, lowering her voice so that it was barely above a whisper.

George nodded, his dark eyes softening at the sudden change in her expression. She looked almost hesitant, scared to say what she was about to tell him.