Forget Me Not || George Weasley

Chapter 11

"Absolutely, dear. You know those Americans always thought they had the best," His smile is smug, and Olive can't resist her grin, "No one does tobacco finer than Leo."

"I'll be sure to let him know," Olive laughs, reaching out to grab one of his hands. It's open, palm up, like he's waiting for her. She squeezes it tight, the way he used to when he would grab her by the hands after she fell. He never asked if she was okay, he would simply tell her she was. She was grateful. Always had been. He still tells her she's okay, even when he doesn't say it.

His head lifts when he raises a brow, voice curious, "You can't stay the night?"

"Afraid not," Olive sighs, feeling a pang of guilt. "Jackie's off tomorrow and I've gotta wake up bright and early. You could always come stay with me?"

The lines of his face deepen as he smiles. He wouldn't. Diagon Alley reminded him of his wife, and that wound had never fully healed. He didn't have to see magic to miss it. He chuckles, squeezing her hand, "And leave Franklin all alone with my cake? Not bloody likely!"

Her cheeks are still damp when he raises his free hand to her face. He doesn't mention it, even though she's certain he notices. He just smiles, and the cloudiness of his eyes does nothing to hide the secrets of his mind. She knew her grandfather. She knew him probably better than she knew herself. He shakes his head, still smiling, "Go on then. I'll see you next week."

The weeks felt longer now, and yet somehow time felt shorter. She knows it's time for her to go, so she nods and smiles, moving his hand to press her lips against it so he can feel.

He chuckles and Olive stands, slyly scooting a smidge of cake over to where Franklin has flopped over onto his side. He doesn't even move, just cranes his neck to lick at the ice cream on the floor.

"Olive!" Her grandfather scolds, earning a defensive, "I didn't do anything!"

She cleans up the last of the cake and the shiny blue paper, smiling when she sees that the box of tobacco and the new pipe are sat perfectly on his side table. She gives him a quick hug, and the two of them agree on a day next week. She writes it down in her planner before she walks out onto his front porch. She'd yet to forget a day meant to be spent with her granddad. She wouldn't start now.

She looks out over his yard and smiles, closing her eyes and disapparating away with a loud 'crack.'

Olive stumbles when she lands in Diagon Alley, taking a moment to look up at the orangish-pink color of the sky. She smiles, and her cheeks dry fully under the waning sun.

"Hi, Jackie!" Olive doesn't even mind looking up when she walks into Florean's. She's too focused on scribbling in her planner. August second. Her grandfather really enjoyed the raspberry chocolate flavor. She wanted to remember. "Did you manage to deliver—"

Her words falter when she looks up and sees her employee sitting at the counter, embroiled in what looks like a very serious game of chess. It's not the chess that gives Olive pause.

It's the boy she's playing with.

"Hush, Olive," Jackie says grumpily, "I'm trying to think."

Olive stands frozen, head tilting to the side to try and engrain this moment into her mind. The moment where George Weasley looks nervously at the older witch in front of him before slowly lifting his head to lock eyes with Olive. She smiles, hoping her surprise doesn't show on her face. His cheeks are a faint shade of pink like the sunset sky, and Olive offers up a small wave. She hadn't seen him since the Leaky Cauldron. Harry told her he'd had to leave. And then he's told her a little more, that Ron had scared him off. She wasn't pleased that George had to leave, but she was happy it hadn't been her doing.