Forget Me Not || George Weasley

Chapter 35

"Of course she scares you," O'Conor agrees and it soothes George's nerves. He was glad the healer was validating those feelings. Scared. Completely and utterly terrified. Because Olive Murphy was young and she likes pink trainers and purple dungarees. She likes raspberry and has green eyes and walks with change instead of fighting it.

"But I think you're more scared of yourself."

His spine stiffens at the words, fists clenching. His teeth may just break from the force of his tightening jaw. His lungs feel tight too, every part of him coiling like a spring ready to force him up and out of this office. Just when he's starting to get comfortable, when he's starting to feel brave.

He meets the healer's grey eyes, waiting silently. Conor O'Connor must see the strain in his expression because he sighs and says calmly, "George, you haven't hurt anyone—"

"I punched Percy."

The healer quirks a brow, a smile playing at his lips as he says simply, "I probably would have to."

George feels his lips twitch and then he's saying pointedly, "I'm pretty sure you aren't supposed to say things like that."

"I won't tell if you won't," O'Connor shrugs, steepling his fingers and resting his chin on them as he says, "You haven't hurt anyone in some time. I'm pleased with your progress. Proud even. Don't be scared of yourself, and certainly don't be scared of her. Not really."

George swallows past the lump in his throat. It had been so long since he felt this way. Actually, he couldn't recall ever feeling this way. Nervous, like a first year with a brand new crush on a girl way out of his league.

"I feel like I know her," He sighs, "But like I still don't know half of the things I want to."

"That's what dating is for, isn't it?"

His nose wrinkles slightly and he grunts, "Who said anything about dating?"

"Oh," Conor O'Connor looks far more smug than George is used to. "Forgive me. So you're okay if Olive goes out on a date with...who is it you said she was chummy with? The one in the picture on her wall?"

Regret. He never should have told the sodding healer about the picture of Nigel Wolpert swinging Olive around in front of the black lake at Hogwarts. Chummy. That picture was far from chummy. Nigel looks like he's won the quidditch cup when he presses a kiss to Olive's cheek, and she looks like a bloody sunbeam.

"Nigel," He relents, digging his thumb nail into his palm. "They're just friends." He doesn't believe it, even as he says it. Ollie might think that Nigel was just her friend. But George had seen that picture, and he'd certainly seen how the boy looked at her the one time he'd run into him and Dennis in her shop.

"That's what you are isn't it?" George's thumbnail digs deeper at the question and Conor O'Connor quirks a brow when he muses, "Just friends."

"Alright," George explodes, gesturing wildly and exclaiming, "No! I wouldn't be okay, I'd be fucking pissed!"

"Because you like her. Like like her."

He rolls his eyes at the juvenile grin on his healer's face, saying exasperatedly, "Of course I fucking like like her! She's..."

The healer leans forward, quirking a brow and waiting for him to go on. George stumbles over his words, unsure what to say. She's...she's Ollie. He didn't see her coming. It's part of why he likes her. She's new, she's different. She didn't know Fred. She only knew him, George. George A.F.D. She couldn't miss the George she never met.

"Why do you like her?"

He shoots him another exasperated look and the healer smiles slightly, changing his tactics and instead asking, "Tell me about her."