For the life of her, Olive could not remember where George Weasley said to meet him.
She'd written down the date in her planner and when Lee had come by earlier in the week for a scoop of his favorite ice cream, he had mentioned the time the party started because he was covering the shop for George.
But Olive couldn't even remember if she'd asked Lee where George was going to meet up with her, and she realized rather late that she was missing that little fact.
Jackie had laughed when she'd come down into the kitchen, flustered and wearing two different shoes. She'd sent Olive back up to her apartment, advising her to choose something she was comfortable in.
When she'd come back down, Jackie had a scoop of lavender ice cream waiting for her, and promptly shooed her to sit outside and relax.
Olive anxiously munches on her ice cream, peering down at her pink trainers. Maybe they were too much. She reckons she still has time to change since she didn't even know when—
"You bite your ice cream?"
Olive's head snaps up so fast her vision blurs at the edges. George Weasley's frame casts a shadow over her green table, and she immediately blurts out, "Oh thank Merlin!"
He quirks a brow at her, and she takes another bite of her ice cream, cheeks aflame with embarrassment. Olive smiles sheepishly, admitting, "I couldn't remember if you were coming here, or if I was supposed to come find you. I really meant to—"
"Ollie."
She pauses and George is looking at her in the eye. He's looking at her head on, neck craned and tilted slightly to the side to hear her. Her flush deepens, her eyes making note of the white cotton shirt clinging to his muscles. She'd never seen him in anything other than a button up. At least not that she could remember.
"Yes," She finally says, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. "I bite my ice cream."
George's lips twitch, and she smiles slightly when he mutters drily, "Of course you do. Are you ready?"
She nervously pats down her hair, glancing down at her yellow shorts and white tee. There were balloons embroidered in the center. She'd thought it was fitting for the occasion. Jackie liked it, so Olive hadn't changed again.
"Yeah," She says finally, lifting her head as she stands. George shoves his hands in his pockets and she stands there for a moment, uncertain what to do. She hesitates before switching to his other side, his right side. He looks down at her, and her heart warms when his lips lift slightly at the corners. He was still broody, still on edge.
"Are you ready?" She asks curiously. George's eyes widen a fraction at the question, and she bites back a smile when he offers up a half shrug. That was okay. He didn't need to speak to answer her question. He withdraws his right hand from his pocket and reaches carefully for her arm, pausing just before his fingertips touch her skin,
"This okay?" He's nervous. She doesn't think it's her though. She nearly asks him how long it had been since he'd been home. She nods quickly, reaching out and gently grabbing his hand. She smiles, and George nods once, reassuring himself. Reassuring her.
She closes her eyes, wrinkling her nose at the uncomfortable feeling of apparation. But when the ground feels stable under her feet, she opens her eyes and gasps at the sight before her.
Green. Tall green grass and rolling hills and tree leaves that wave hello from far above her. She bites her lip, ignores the stretch of her scar when she tries to not grin like a complete nutter. She can see the tops of vines growing over hedges, hints of a vast and wild garden that she's almost certain holds berries and vegetables she could spend all day gorging herself on. Her eyes trace the precariously stilted home, the many chimneys and windows and different color sidings. It's beautiful. It's magic.
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,
"What?"
She hopes she hasn't offended him, his tone comes across defensive. She grins, biting her tongue for a moment before saying simply, "I've just never really considered how close you are to ceilings, George."
The lines fade, and a rush of happiness floods her from head to toe when he huffs, mouth quirked on one side, "Yes, well I suppose it's better than being so close to the floor."
Olive laughs, gently nudging him with her hip and shaking her head. It's when her laughter fades that she realizes people are looking at them. George immediately tenses up again, clearing his throat and muttering, "I'm gonna go say hi to my dad."
Olive's eyes find Harry Potter standing in the corner of the room, and she nods, smiling encouragingly at George, "Go ahead. I'm a big girl."
His lips twitch, and she wonders if he's going to make a joke, comment on her height. She would laugh. She wants to tell him, to promise that she'll laugh. But he just nods and carefully moves around her, disappearing around the corner.
She doesn't even make it a step towards Harry.
"Hi."
Olive blinks at the red headed man standing in front of her. He has longer hair than George, orange flames dusting his shoulders. She shifts a little, slightly more nervous than she thought she would be. The trouble with people that looked so similar...
She'd have a horrible time remembering their names.
"Hi," Olive smiles, and the man grins back, "I'm Olive."
"A pleasure," His voice is higher than George's, but holds a familiar raspiness that makes her smile grow. He seems nice. "I'm Charlie."
"Charlie," Olive repeats, and he nods in affirmation. She hopes she isn't blushing. She really wanted to remember all of this. His grin grows as he asks, "You a friend of Ginny's?"
"No."
Olive blinks a few times, confused by the words spoken from her head. She leans her head back, peering up at the person towering over her again. He hadn't been gone very long, and the cords of his neck look even more strained. She smiles and offers, "Hi, George."
He glances down at her, eyes briefly lingering on her hand clasped in Charlie's. When he does finally look at her, his lips twitch again. No smile this time.
"Hi, Ollie."
That's okay. Her smile was probably big enough for the both of them. She leans her head back upright and studies the way Charlie seems to be stunned by George's words. His grin softens into a smile, and Olive feels a surge of affection for the man. Charlie. She could tell he very much cared about his brother.
"Introduced her to everyone yet, Georgie?"
George grunts and Charlie let's go of her hand. Olive peers around the side of Charlie and smiles at Harry, waving at a fellow non-redhead. He grins and gestures for her to join him. She glances back over her shoulder at George, saying gently, "I'm just gonna say hello to Harry."
He blinks, and she ignores the fact that Charlie is still there watching them. George seems to be ignoring it too. He glances over her head at where Harry is standing. Olive nudges the toe of her bright trainers against his grey ones. At least he wasn't wearing those leather shoes again. "Come with me."
George nods, and they leave Charlie standing there in favor of the much more composed Harry. Harry didn't stare. Maybe because he was used to being stared at.
"Hi, Harry," Olive smiles at the boy who lived, earning a half grin in return, "Where's Ginny hiding?"
"She's playing quidditch out back," He says, laughter in his voice. Olive fights a grin when he continues, "She needed a little break."
George mutters something in agreement, and Olive sees that he's peering out across his family home, his hands stuffed in his pockets and eyes shifting like he can't look at one thing for too long.
"Teddy was asking for you, George."
Olive tilts her head to the side when the auburn haired boy pauses his anxious assessing and looks at Harry. He hesitates before asking, "Where is he?"
"Ron and Mione have him," Harry responds, smiling slightly, "Think they're all watching Gin. I'll walk out there with you if you'd like."
George shrugs a little and Olive quirks a brow in surprise when his eyes slide down to meet hers. The turmoil in his gaze is heart breaking, but she wonders if fresh air will help. That's what she always liked. No walls, more space. She didn't like to be crowded either. So she nods her head up and down, and George looks back at Harry, mumbling, "Okay."
Harry flashes a quick smile at Olive before taking the lead. She goes to follow after him, excited to see Ginny playing quidditch, excited to get some fresh air.
Fingertips brush her arm and she pauses, looking back at George. He's frozen, jaw clenched tight. If only he knew that she got it. She understood. She'd show him. She shifts awkwardly, rocking back on her heels and then she asks sheepishly, "Don't leave me, yeah? I get a little bit nervous meeting new people."
His shoulders relax and he nods with furrowed brows, like she's the one that's been so anxious this whole time and he would help her through it.
That was fine, acting like she needs more support.
She liked holding his hand anyway.