| Inked | (George Weasley)

Chapter One Hundred One

"We were going to go down to the pitch today and get some flying in before dinner." Fred explained, "Have a little friendly scrimmage, fly around, practice a bit."

"You should come." Under the table, George's fingers interlocked with Olive's, "Didn't you say last year you wanted to learn how to fly?"

"I did." The Ravenclaw nodded, "Though I don't know if today is a good day-"

"Come on, Ollie, this is perfect!" Fred exclaimed, excitedly slamming his hand down at the table resulting in his fork nearly flying off the table, "Wind's down, the sun is out, today is the perfect day to fly."

"Fred's right." George added, though he sent a look to his twin for his overenthusiasm, "Though, only if you want to. I know how you feel about flying."

Olive was grateful for him knowing her comfort zone. She gave his hand a squeeze under the table, contemplating her options.

"I'll go with you." She said, "But I'm not doing anything crazy."

Fred was right, it was the perfect day for Quidditch. There was barely a breeze, the weather was warm but not overbearing, the sun was out but not too bright. They wouldn't get an afternoon like this until next summer, and by then they would have graduated and not have as much free time to fly.

Olive stood on the pitch next to George. A broom lay in the plush grass at her feet, one of the extra Cleansweeps from the locker rooms. She could feel her boyfriend's gaze on her as she tied up her curls, her stomach twisting with nerves and uneasiness.

"Ready?" George asked. He held his broom over his shoulder, his beater's bat over the other one. From the way he bounced on the balls of his feet and raised his head to take in the summer sun, he was excited to finally fly after so long.

Olive, on the other hand, was not so excited. She wanted to learn to fly, and she was excited to, but heights made her nervous. So did falling.

"Are you sure this is safe?" She asked him, the question sounding stupid as soon as it left her mouth.

"Yes, love, it's safe." George put down the bat, "The more you practice, the easier it'll become, and the safer you'll be."

Ollie quickly bent over and picked up her broom, gripping the handle tightly with both hands. She looked to George, watching him mount his own broom and hover a few feet above her. He watched her expectantly, not even holding onto the handle but out in front of him incase he needed to help her.

She swung her leg over the broom. As soon as her feet were off the ground, the broom rose a bit as she guided it upwards. The feeling of hovering made her stomach lurch and her palms itch. For a moment, Olive wanted to lower herself back down to the ground and call it a day, but then she remembered that night George took her around the castle. Even though she had hung tightly onto him the entire time, it was fun. Flying was fun.

"If I fall," Olive looked at George with widened eyes, her broom hesitantly rising as she tried to remember the basic steps back from her first year, "You have to promise to catch me."

The ginger chuckled at the look she was giving him, but nodded seriously, "I promise, Olls, I'll catch you."

He fly up right beside her, his eyes sweeping over her form. Reaching over, he gently grabbed her hands and adjusted her grip on the handle. Ollie's hands were clammy, shaking slightly from her nerves.

"How's it going down there?" Fred called from above them, having made several laps around the castle already. His hair was windswept, his cheeks reddened from the sun, "Ollie, I expect to race you around the castle, later!"