Forget Me Not || George Weasley

Chapter 13

She tears her eyes away from the scenery and grins up at George, her body practically vibrating from bated excitement. He's already looking at her, and while his body is tense, his eyes are glinting with amusement.

He's smiling.

George Weasley is smiling again.

"Like it?"

Olive bobs her head up and down, practically giddy, "Of course I like it! Look how green everything is, George!"

His brows knit together, like he's perplexed by her words. She doesn't mind, at least not now. She didn't mind if she looked weird. This home was too beautiful to ignore.

He rubs the back of his neck, looking out over the meadow and pond that she is desperate to get a closer look at. He hesitates for a brief moment, and she hides her smile by looking away when he says gruffly, "We can...we'll walk around later. Okay?"

His voice sounds strained so she looks up at him and says earnestly, "Sure, George. Whatever you want."

He again seems perplexed by her words, but Olive just follows along when he begins walking toward the slanting home, towering high in the sky. She wants to ask him what growing up here was like, but she decides now isn't the time. Maybe later. Maybe if they get a chance to see all of the green.

Olive smiles at the flutterby bushes, and she knows George is peeking over his shoulder at her. She knows he's getting more tense, his strides slowing and growing shorter until she doesn't have to struggle to keep up. Olive glances sideways at the sign hanging on the stone wall that reaches her ribs. The Burrow.

Lovely.

The door flies open before George can even reach for the handle, and Olive feels warm arms wrapped right around her. She wouldn't be surprised if her eyes popped out of her head from the intensity of the squeeze, her mouth forming a round 'o' in complete shock.

"Mum!"

Olive relaxes a little, still mildly freighted and panicked by the sudden touch. Hands grab her shoulders and she's confronted by a woman a few inches taller than her. A woman with hair the color of oranges and familiar watery eyes a brownish color that feels like a warm hug. Oh.

This was George's mother.

"Sorry! Sorry!" The woman apologies profusely, her smile wide and wobbly, "I'm just so excited!"

Olive smiles too, glancing away from the witch and finding that George is stiff as a board with red cheeks and nervous eyes.

"Don't apologize," Olive says warmly, turning back to the orange haired witch. She can see that George has turned his eyes from the sky and is watching them warily. She can feel him looking. "You're George's mum?"

"That's me!" She seems flustered, her own cheeks pink and her hands hurriedly releasing Olive. "Please, call me Molly. You must be Olive."

George sighs, interrupting the introduction with cool words, "Can we go inside now?"

Molly nods, turning to her son and smiling up at him. Olive doesn't say anything when he bends down and wraps an arm around her in a hurried and awkward hug. Molly turns before Olive can catch her expression, waving for them to follow her into the house.

George is staring blankly ahead, kicking the door shut behind him with his foot. Olive is immediately taken by the quantity of people with red hair. So stunned, that she feels her jaw drop. It's like every red head in existence is piled into the squat living space of The Burrow.

Olive quickly looks up, and she doesn't quite manage to hold her laugh. George's head is tucked up into his shoulders, back bent awkwardly to fit his large frame in the house. His hair is darker than the others. He's taller too. His panicked eyes flit down to her, and the lines around his mouth deepen,