Forget Me Not || George Weasley

Chapter 42

"Sure," It feels fake, gruff. He knows she can tell, but she evidently is set on not saying anything. She was waiting for him to tell her and George feared she'd be waiting for a long time. Though the green in her eyes suddenly looks knowing, her voice nonchalant, "Lee went ahead. I told him I would lock up."

George's lips twitch, "You'll lock up, huh?"

She bobs her head up and down, mischief twisting her mouth, "Yep. I know all of the best protection charms." George quirks a brow, "Really? I seem to remember you leaving your shop unlocked—"

"I don't remember that," Olive interjects playfully, stroking her chin like she has to struggle to remember such a thing. He knows she's lying. If she didn't remember, she would have turned as pink as her sweater.

His anxiety and nerves over tomorrow fade rather quickly, and when he realizes it's her doing he wants to demand how she does it. How she can make him feel better.

"The sooner we get there the sooner you can snog me in your old room."

If anyone else had mentioned his old room, he might've been sick. He hadn't been in that room in two years. But when a rather pleasing image of her curls spread out on his childhood blankets appears in his mind, he finds that the emotion simmering low in his belly isn't anger or despair.

George stands, cupping the back of her neck and tilting her head back so he can lock their mouths together in a kiss that feels far from the slow, courting kind he'd been restraining himself to. It's hot, hungry. George licks at her lower lip, groaning when she strokes her tongue against his. He rears back, cursing grumpily, "Fuck, fine. Let's go."

Olive twists back and forth on her new trainers, skipping from the office and out into the shop while George locks the door. When he gets to the front, she's pulling on a black coat. His nose wrinkles slightly, expecting more vibrant colors. He doesn't say anything, just grabs her hand and tugs her out of the door. She stands right beside him when he locks the front and cast the protection spells, listening eagerly. He makes a mental note to ask if she wants him to teach her the ones he and Fred he come up with. If someone tried to enter the shop when it was closed, their clothes would disappear and a ringing alarm would go off. It hadn't been necessary yet, but he knew it would definitely work against petty thieves.

Olive tugs gently on his sleeve, and George slips his fingers down to twine with hers. He was nervous. Nervous because today was the day before Halloween, because he wasn't sure if he could avoid discussing it. Because he wasn't sure how Olive wanted him to act around his family, if she wanted him to touch her, to kiss her. If they were really something more.

He closes his eyes tight when they apparate, shuddering as soon as they land and the bitter wind whips at their exposed skin. He doesn't get a chance to open his eyes, not before lips brush against his. He drops her hand to grab onto the softness of her sweater, squeezing her waist desperately. His eyes burn behind their lids, his heart aching when her smile brushes against his frown again and again until he leans down to kiss her really.

She presses closer, cementing her front to his and tilting her chin up so he doesn't have to lean far to move his mouth down her scar. He presses a soft kiss below her chin, mumbling awkwardly, "I don't know if I'm ready to show you my old room."

Her skin moves, scar stretching to tell him that she's smiling, "That's okay. I don't know if I'm ready to see it." George sighs and winds his arms around her, moving his mouth down the column of her throat until the fuzzy pink fabric wrapped around her tickles his face.

"Hey, George."

He pauses, lifting his head to see Percy standing in the doorway of the Burrow. His hands tighten into fists, but Percy just juts his head towards the house, mumbling, "Teddy's looking for you."