Forget Me Not || George Weasley

Chapter 45

"A kiss, huh?" Olive gasps when his teeth sink into her skin, leaving a tender sensation behind that fills her with buzzing arousal. Fuck. Something had changed since the night before. Or perhaps it was the early morning where she'd nearly passed out from feeling George Weasley hard beneath her, whispering her name and claiming her lips. Something had changed, and her need for him had climbed to new heights. Her brows furrow slightly in delight, a sigh sounding from her lips when he soothes the bite with gentle kisses up and down the side of her neck. She likes it. She likes him. Like-like. 

Panic starts to bloom below her ribs, especially when George turns and takes a step away from her just when his mother walks in. Casual. We're they—was this...Olive wasn't sure what she wanted to ask. She couldn't remember ever being this worked up over a boy. He seemed to like her too—he'd said it, hadn't he? Exclusively. He'd said that too. He'd held her hand in front of his family. Merlin, he'd kissed her in front of Lee--

"Hi, Mum," His voice sounds mangled, strained, and when Olive glances at Molly Weasley, she can see why. For a split second, something flashes over her eyes. Joy. It's disbelieving joy. It's gone the next time the witch blinks, and Olive feels a pain far greater than she'd been anticipating. Because in that split second, Molly Weasley thought that Fred was standing in front of her fireplace once again. Fred, not George. Olive doesn't reach for George's hand. Instead she presses the side of her arm against his hip, just a little. He doesn't move away. 

"Good Godric!" Molly laughs nervously, clutching a pair of mismatched gloves to her chest, "You two scared the day lights out of me! What are you doing here?"

George is quiet, and the way his shoulders seem to sink lower tells Olive that they're nearing a potential shut down moment. She knew them all too well, had experienced the same sensation of suffocating unknown where all she can do is cry and scream and scratch at her mouth when it begins to prickle with memories. She smiles, bright and cheery, "I forgot something here yesterday."

Molly's brows raise in acknowledgement, but it's George that is looking at her in confusion. He had expressed his urge to apologize early this morning, but the words never seemed to get close enough to his lips. His frustration with himself was palpable. Olive ignores him, feigning a sheepish grin, "Though now I can't remember what it is I forgot."

"That's alright, dear," The older witch says encouragingly, "I'm sure it will come to you."

For a few long moments, awkward silence blankets the three of them. Olive wants to ask when was the last time that George had come home for something other than a family obligation. Though she has a pretty good feeling it was B.F.D. Molly seems to be pondering the same thing, but quickly attempts to ease the tension with another good natured smile. 

"Did you two want something to eat?" Molly asks hopefully, dusting her hands off on her dress. Olive replies happily, "Oh, George already made..." her voice falters, words stoping short. She blinks a few times, brows furrowing. This morning. They'd eaten this morning, she knew because she was full. But she couldn't remember what it had been. The nerves were eroding at her already weak memory, anxiety preventing her from fully recalling the chain of events over the last several hours. She glances at the clock on the wall, panicking slightly. How long had they been there?

"We had pancakes already, Mum,"  George's voice is nonchalant, and Olive forces an awkward smile. She's too busy worrying about forgetting any moments with George to see Molly pinning her son with a suggestive look. George clears his throat, and Olive glances up at him in surprise when he says, "We were hoping to just spend the day here. I still haven't shown Ollie around."

Olive reckons it's as close to an apology that he can manage for his attitude the night of his mother's birthday. But Molly seems to take it well, her eyes shining with tears faster than she can blink them away. Her hair seems brighter when she says loudly to cover up her wobbling smile, "Of course! I'll make lunch around two. Unless you're hungry--"