What was nice about arriving to Hogwarts for the term on a Friday meant that classes didn't start until the following Monday. For two whole days students could do basically just about anything they wanted (within reason, of course) before they had to worry about any responsibilities.
For Olive, that meant sleeping in.
Of course, she hadn't meant to sleep in until almost noon.
By the time she had woken up, it seemed like her dormmates had already been awake and out of the dormitory for hours. Olive had sat up, looking sleepily at the empty dormitory before her, admiring the pleasant breeze coming in through the open window, confused as to why no one else was in the room with her. Usually she was one of the first to get up.
That had been nearly an hour beforehand, and now Olive was walking through the corridors of the castle. She was reading to the Great Hall, notebook tucked under her arm, hoping that she would find Nat and Cho eating lunch at the Ravenclaw table.
However, upon entering the Great Hall, she couldn't seem to find her two best friends in their usual place at their house table. When she walked over, greeting some of the other students with a shy smile, Ollie found that they weren't even in the Great Hall at all.
Ollie frowned. Where had Nat and Cho gone? Had they already eaten lunch and were outside somewhere? It was actually pretty mild for a late summer day, making it perfect to spend the afternoon under the sun. When she passed the courtyard, she found that half the school had made their way outside already.
Perhaps she would just catch up with them later.
Turning back around to head out of the Great Hall, she found two pairs of arms waving over at her. George and Fred were over at the Gryffindor table, appearing to be just sitting down for lunch, a few seconds short of calling the Ravenclaw's name to get her attention.
Even though she had seen them in muggle clothes practically all summer, there was something weird about seeing them without their Hogwarts uniforms seated at the Gryffindor table. Ollie didn't know why, but it gave her the sort of feeling that they were out to cause trouble.
When she made it to their table, it seemed like that was exactly the sort of thing they wanted to do.
"Hey, love." George smiled as she sat down next to him, planting a kiss on her temple.
Olive smiled up at him in response, her blue gaze taking in the mischievous and excited gazes of him and Fred. They both looked like they were up to something.
"You both look like you're about to cause trouble." She said, "What do you two have planned?"
Fred narrowed his eyes at the Ravenclaw, "Do you hear this, George? It's always 'what are you two planning' and 'what trouble have you got into' and never 'hello Fred, hello George, how are you two? Is that a haircut? I love the new jumper-'"
"Alright, you've made your point." Olive threw her hands up in defense, "How are you, Fred?"
The eldest twin shrugged, "Well, now that you ask, I'm absolutely brilliant, Ollie. Thank you."
George rolled his eyes at Fred's dramatic antics, "Stop being dramatic. We're excited because we're going down to the Quidditch pitch to fly around and do a bit of practice."
"We haven't flown all summer." Fred added, "It was torture."
Olive nodded, her eyes flicking between the two, "I know, I was there, remember?"
At least every other day over the summer holidays, George and Fred would complain about not being able to play quidditch or practice, or even just fly around for a bit. Besides gazing longingly at their brooms that remained tucked away into their room's closet, they hadn't done many Quidditch-related activities. While all the Weasley children complained about not being able to dust off their brooms, the twins were the ones who seemed to be missing it most.
"We were going to go down to the pitch today and get some flying in before dinner." Fred explained, "Have a little friendly scrimmage, fly around, practice a bit."
"You should come." Under the table, George's fingers interlocked with Olive's, "Didn't you say last year you wanted to learn how to fly?"
"I did." The Ravenclaw nodded, "Though I don't know if today is a good day-"
"Come on, Ollie, this is perfect!" Fred exclaimed, excitedly slamming his hand down at the table resulting in his fork nearly flying off the table, "Wind's down, the sun is out, today is the perfect day to fly."
"Fred's right." George added, though he sent a look to his twin for his overenthusiasm, "Though, only if you want to. I know how you feel about flying."
Olive was grateful for him knowing her comfort zone. She gave his hand a squeeze under the table, contemplating her options.
"I'll go with you." She said, "But I'm not doing anything crazy."
Fred was right, it was the perfect day for Quidditch. There was barely a breeze, the weather was warm but not overbearing, the sun was out but not too bright. They wouldn't get an afternoon like this until next summer, and by then they would have graduated and not have as much free time to fly.
Olive stood on the pitch next to George. A broom lay in the plush grass at her feet, one of the extra Cleansweeps from the locker rooms. She could feel her boyfriend's gaze on her as she tied up her curls, her stomach twisting with nerves and uneasiness.
"Ready?" George asked. He held his broom over his shoulder, his beater's bat over the other one. From the way he bounced on the balls of his feet and raised his head to take in the summer sun, he was excited to finally fly after so long.
Olive, on the other hand, was not so excited. She wanted to learn to fly, and she was excited to, but heights made her nervous. So did falling.
"Are you sure this is safe?" She asked him, the question sounding stupid as soon as it left her mouth.
"Yes, love, it's safe." George put down the bat, "The more you practice, the easier it'll become, and the safer you'll be."
Ollie quickly bent over and picked up her broom, gripping the handle tightly with both hands. She looked to George, watching him mount his own broom and hover a few feet above her. He watched her expectantly, not even holding onto the handle but out in front of him incase he needed to help her.
She swung her leg over the broom. As soon as her feet were off the ground, the broom rose a bit as she guided it upwards. The feeling of hovering made her stomach lurch and her palms itch. For a moment, Olive wanted to lower herself back down to the ground and call it a day, but then she remembered that night George took her around the castle. Even though she had hung tightly onto him the entire time, it was fun. Flying was fun.
"If I fall," Olive looked at George with widened eyes, her broom hesitantly rising as she tried to remember the basic steps back from her first year, "You have to promise to catch me."
The ginger chuckled at the look she was giving him, but nodded seriously, "I promise, Olls, I'll catch you."
He fly up right beside her, his eyes sweeping over her form. Reaching over, he gently grabbed her hands and adjusted her grip on the handle. Ollie's hands were clammy, shaking slightly from her nerves.
"How's it going down there?" Fred called from above them, having made several laps around the castle already. His hair was windswept, his cheeks reddened from the sun, "Ollie, I expect to race you around the castle, later!"
He zipped around on his broom, weaving between the goalposts and making laps around the stands. Like George, Fred flew so effortlessly it looked like he was barely trying, like it was second nature.
Olive's broom jerked a bit as she stared up at him, making a small gasp escape her lips and her eyes to widen in fright. They weren't that far off the ground, but she was definitely the highest she's ever been when flying on her own.
"Maybe this was a bad idea." She said quickly, her eyes shooting to George, who had carefully grabbed her handle to steady the broom, "I couldn't get it when I was eleven, I can't get it now-"
"Olls." George lowered his voice, "It's alright, you can do this. I'm right here if you need help."
"You make it look easy." Ollie told him, doing her best not to look down at the ground, "How do you do it?"
"Practice." He explained, "Sort of like how you're so brilliant at writing. You've been doing it for so long it becomes like second nature."
The Ravenclaw nodded. It was a good analogy, but she didn't know how to transcribe a feeling like that. Flying seemed so foreign, so unnatural. How was she supposed to make it feel like a second nature if she could barely move the broom without it jerking or without George needing to steady her?
Olive followed his instructions, going at a nice, slow pace. Her hands gripped the handle of her broom so tightly she thought she was going to snap the broom handle in half.
George stayed close by, watching her. He cheered her on when she successfully did a lap around the pitch, and rewarded her with a kiss or two for rising up a few more feet to meet him. Even when Ginny, Ron, and Harry game down with their brooms to join them, he kept by her side to make sure she was okay.
"You know," Olive said after an hour of flying practice, "If I don't look down, it's actually slightly less terrifying."
"Only slightly?" George teased her, "You're getting pretty good, love, I'm proud."
Olive managed to turn herself around to face him, "Thanks, George."
She looked up at the game Fred had made up when the others joined them. Ron, who was going to try out for Keeper, was hovering in front of the goal posts. Fred and Ginny were pelting quaffles at him while Harry yelled encouraging things like "why are you ducking?" and "maybe use your hands next time."
"This is probably boring you." Ollie said, "You should go join the others."
"Nah." George shook his head, "I want to make sure you get the hang of it."
"I think it's going to take more than one afternoon for me to get the hang of it." She reassured him, "I can do some laps down here while you practice up with the others."
George stared at her for moment. He didn't want to leave her to go practice if she wasn't comfortable enough. If she wasn't ready to fly on her own, without him keeping an eye on her, then he would stay.
"Georgie." Olive gave him a look, "I'll be fine down here. Go have fun."
He flew by her, slowing to give her a quick kiss, and then raced to join the others. Olive stayed right where she was, gripping the handle of her broom tightly as she watched George join in on the fun. He and Fred grabbed their beater's bats and began hitting the bludger around. Ginny and Harry continued to through quaffles at Ron, who needed the practice if he wanted to make the team.
Olive smiled as she watched them. She was getting used to being up high, but she didn't think she'd be up for racing around like the others were. So, she flew slowly around the pitch, soaking up the sun, humming to herself.
It was quite a nice day, and up that high a pleasant breeze ruffled the curls around her face that had fallen from the loose bun on top of her head. If she wasn't so focused on not falling and maintaining control of her broom, she would have thought it relaxing.
"Ollie!"
The voice came from somewhere in the stands, and it took the Ravenclaw a moment to find the source of the call. By the time Olive slowly but surely flew higher until she was level with the quidditch stands, that same voice had called her a few more times.
"Olive!"
It was Hermione. She was seated in the Gryffindor stands with a book in her lap, watching her friends play quidditch in the warm afternoon sun. Olive, slowly flew over to where the fifth year was seated, looking very much like a beginner.
"Never thought I'd see you fly." Hermione said, stepping down to the front of the stands to get closer to the Ravenclaw, "How's it going?"
Olive shrugged, steadying the broom as it started to jerk slightly. Her face paled at the sudden movement, but she was able to get the broom under control on her own this time.
"It's... interesting." She admitted, "If I wasn't so afraid of heights I might be having fun."
"I was never good at flying." Hermione shuddered at the thought, "It was the only class I nearly failed."
"Same here." Ollie agreed, "George wanted to teach me... so I thought I would learn."
Her eyes trailed up to where her boyfriend was flying around the goal posts at the opposite end of the pitch. He was racing to hit the bludger before it landed out of bounds, bat raised and a look of sheer concentration on his freckled face. The wind from his speed rippled his shirt, and when he swung and hit the bludger back towards Fred, Olive found herself blushing.
When she turned back to face Hermione, Olive found the fifth year staring at her with a knowing smile. It was the same look she got the previous morning when she walked back from George's room.
A knowing, teasing smile.
"Oh hush, 'Mione." Olive found herself laughing.
"I didn't say anything."
"You might as well have." Olive joked with a shrug, "Almost like yesterday when-"
"Ollie! Watch out!"
"Duck!"
At first, Olive didn't comprehend what was going on, or she couldn't at least. She was already trying to keep her broom steady while talking with Hermione, which proved to be very difficult. Her reaction-time on a broom was slow, and her brain immediately went into a panic when she heard the half-panicked shout. Whatever control over her broom she had was virtually gone in that moment.
When she looked up, she saw George racing towards her with incredible speed, the bludger right in front of him. The ball of iron was heading right towards the Ravenclaw, the gap closing rather quickly.
"What-"
The Ravenclaw didn't have time to react, so she just braced herself. However, she didn't receive the near-deadly blow from the solid-iron ball that had been racing towards her. Instead, George barreled into her with enough force to take out Slytherin's stockiest player.
Everything went spinning as arms wrapped around her waist. Suddenly Olive felt like she was falling, and then realized she no longer had track of her broom. Her head spun, her body feeling jolted from the impact. Her heart beat like a hummingbird in her chest as she frantically tried to comprehend what was happening.
Was she falling? What happened to the bludger? Did George get hit?
"I've got you."
George had apparently planned for the save to be graceful, but it was honestly anything but that. Once he had gotten Olive out of the path of the bludger (Hermione had luckily ducked and was out of harm's way), he had lost control of his broom for a few seconds. The two were freefalling.
All Olive could comprehend was the rush of falling, the terrifying feeling of the ground growing closer. George tightened his grip around her waist with one arm and grabbed hold of his broom with the other. Just a few feet from the ground he was able to slow them down, steadying the broom to at least allow them to roll onto the grass without any injuries.
When they stopped rolling, Olive found herself staring up at the sky, laying face-up in the grass. George, with one of his arms still snaked around her waist, was half on top of her and half laying in the grass. His head was in the crook of Olive's shoulder, his breath tickling the back of her neck.
"What... what just happened?" The Ravenclaw asked breathlessly, "George?"
The ginger picked up his head and slowly untangled himself from her, laying down in the grass beside her with his gaze to the sky. He was breathing heavily from the momentary panic that happened a few seconds ago, most likely having held his breath the entire time.
"Missed the bludger." George explained, "Are you okay?"
Besides the grass stains in her shirt and the blades of grass caught in her curls, Olive was fine. She was a little startled, and her heart wouldn't stop beating so quickly, but she wasn't hurt at all.
"I'm okay. You?" She pushed herself up onto her elbows, giving their concerned friends flying in the sky above them a thumbs-up to let them know they were okay.
"Yeah." George sat up and turned to Olive, his eyes scanning for any bumps or bruises. Reaching over, he plucked a stray blade of grass from her hair and let it fall slowly to the ground, "I'm sorry, Olls, I thought I could get to it in time, but..."
"George." Ollie scooted closer, "It's okay. We're both in one piece."
He nodded, though he still looked slightly guilty for nearly getting Olive hit with a bludger. As a beater for the Gryffindor team, he knew exactly how much getting hit with one hurt. However, the smile she was giving him seemed to lift his remorseful spirits.
"Still." George added, "It could have hit you."
"But it didn't." She retorted playfully.
Olive laid back down on the grass, her eyes watching puffy clouds pass by with delight. She patted the spot next to her with a tiny smile. Now that she was already laying in the grass, it was actually pretty nice to just sit and enjoy the beautiful weather. Above them, Fred, Ginny, Harry, and Ron continued to play their makeshift game of quidditch. Hermione continued to read in the stands. The bludger had also been put away for the afternoon, which was probably the best for everyone right now.
George laid down in the grass next to Ollie, their shoulders comfortable touching. From the corner of her eye she could see the still guilty frown on his face.
"Hey," Turning onto her side, she propped herself up on an elbow to look at him, "Look at me."
Slowly, he lifted his dark gaze to meet hers. He was doing his best to not seem bothered by what happened, but Olive knew George. She knew just by the way he fidgeted with his hands or bit his lip what he was feeling. Even if he didn't want anyone to know what he was feeling, Olive knew.
"It is okay, Georgie." She told him clearly, slowly, pointedly, "I am okay. You are okay. That is all that matters."
Ollie leaned forward and planted a kiss on his forehead, knowing that he secretly enjoyed it. She laid back down comfortably next to him, lacing their fingers together. Clouds were starting to form shapes above them, giving them moments of shade when they passed in front of the sun, allowing the heat to cool in those short periods.
"Besides," She added quietly, peering over at him through the corner of her eye, "You saving me from a bludger makes a pretty cool story."
Tucking one arm behind his head, he let out a short laugh, "Only you would use that to cheer me up."
"I like to think that I know you pretty well, Georgie."
"Do you?"
"Mhm."
"Well," George turned his head to look at her, "What am I thinking right now?"
Olive pretended to take a moment to think, scrunching her brows dramatically, "You're thinking that your girlfriend is super awesome... and that you want to get out of here for a little bit."
"Correct." George sat up, his eyes sparkling, "And correct."
Leaping to his feet, he pulled Ollie up before she could even comprehend what happened. She let out a small gasp of surprise, her lips twisting upwards into a grin.
"Next question." He asked, something fiery in the loaded gaze he was giving her, "Where are we going?"
Olive bit her lip, "I think you're going to tell me it's a surprise and I'm going to have to find out."
She suddenly found arms picking her up bridal style, and George took off towards a location unknown to her. There was a smirk on his lips that Olive knew he got when they were either about to kiss or after the fact.
"Correct." He whispered to her, his voice low despite no one being around them. Their flying companions couldn't hear them, and there was no way that Hermione would have been able to either.
"You know you can put me down." Olive giggled, poking George's sunburned cheek with her finger to tease him, "I am perfectly capable of walking myself to this surprise location."
"I know." He shrugged, slowing to a walk as they neared the other side of the quidditch pitch stands, "But it's much more fun this way."
They ducked under the Ravenclaw section, the dark blue fabric covering the elaborate woodwork shrouding them in near-darkness. They had complete privacy.
Finally, George put Ollie down, his fingers trailing up and down her arms.
Olive rolled up onto the balls of her feet, reaching up to run her fingers through his hair. Goosebumps riddled her arms as he began to trace his hands up and down her back beneath her t-shirt.
They had done a lot of sneaking around over the summer. It was nearly impossible to get the privacy they wanted in order to just talk, or even do what they were doing now. Even though they still needed to sneak around technically, there were a lot more convenient places to hide, places that didn't involve narrow hallways or small bathrooms, or even unstable rooftops.
When their lips met, it was like making up for all the times they hadn't been able to kiss, all the times they weren't able to be completely alone because of the close-quarters of 12 Grimmauld Place (and the sheer number of people who lived their or visited the house).
His hands were warm as they traced down her spine, delicate, slightly callused from constructing pranks and playing quidditch. Olive shivered involuntarily, and she felt George smirk against her lips. His hands moved to her hips, where he lifted her up and sat her down on a low-hanging wooden beam. They were comfortably eye-level.
"You like the surprise?" He asked her in a low voice, his eyes not leaving her lips.
Olive laughed a little. They didn't travel far from their original location, and she was pretty sure lots of people came down here to snog, but right now it was perfect.
It was perfect because right now it felt like their place.
"You know I hate surprises," She pulled him in, her fingers teasingly fiddling the hem of his shirt, "But this I can get behind."
He smelt like grass from their tumble onto the pitch, and his face was warm from the sun. When his hands moved he would pull away slightly to make sure she was okay, and Olive would always smile and pull him back to her.
While Olive's heart raced from nerves, from the intensity of them together, she couldn't help but feel a comforting presence of, well, comfort. All of the anxieties and crowded thoughts that always crowded her mind had completely vanished.
She felt his lips trail away from hers and down her neck until they found a sweet-spot she didn't know she had. Olive let out a tiny gasp of surprise, which caused the ginger to pause.
"You okay?" He spoke against soft skin just a few inches above her raised werewolf scratches, his voice vibrating against her.
Olive took his face in her hands, smiling at his messy hair as he beamed up at her. Her eyes squinted to see him properly, studying him for a moment. He was a bit confused, slightly breathless, his hands not leaving her waist.
Then, she nodded, brushing the hair off his forehead. George's smile grew wider, and just before he returned to plant kisses on her neck, he met her again briefly on the lips.
"We should have these flying lessons more often." She whispered, eyes closing as her whole body relaxed into him.
George pulled away slightly and peered up at her, grinning ear to ear.
"I was thinking the exact same thing, Olls."