George hates blue.
He decides rather quickly, sitting halfway on a stool in the Leaky Cauldron with one foot pressed firmly to the ground in case he needs to make a quick escape, that he now hate blue.
Specifically, the silvery blue that Nigel Wolperts eyes turn into every time Ollie laughs. George scoots his stool closer to the ice cream witch, ignoring the very amused look Harry is shooting his way. George had demanded that Lee get Ron and Harry and the girls to meet them at the Leaky Cauldron, determined to send a clear message to Nigel. This would be the only way he would get drinks with Ollie, with multiple people watching him. Or more like multiple people watching George watching Nigel. His head hurts from the confusing thought, eyes sliding back to Nigel.
He's staring at Olive, the kind of stare that George can practically hear pathetic sonnets used to describe. He didn't like that look, but more than that he didn't like the way Wolpert treated Olive. The jabs at her memory, the annoyed looks, the palpable frustration. George almost wanted to thank him, because now he understood some of Olive's nerves over her memory. He wanted to punch the fuck out of Nigel Wolpert. He would if he knew Ollie wouldn't hate him for it. She'd been trying to get them to talk all night, asking questions that George could only manage to reply to with a grunt. Nigel wasn't much better, his words clipped and tone cool. George knew he was pissed, and George was pissed because he knew. Everyone fucking knew that Wolpert wanted Olive. At least everyone but the girl herself.
He rips his eyes away from Wolpert just in time to catch familiar green. He waits for the buzzing in his ears to grow, for anger to simmer. But evidently blue has claimed the anger provoking spot that green used to have. Now, that green, that smile. She flushes slightly, and he glances briefly at her untouched drink. A pang of guilt tears through his chest. She wasn't drinking, she wasn't relaxed. Because she was making sure that he and Nigel stayed cordial. George is up out of his seat without wasting another breath, his fingers reaching down to twine with hers and pull her away from the table.
The pub is boisterous, full of laughter and enough people to hide him and Olive from a set oof angry blue eyes. George usually hates crowds, but tonight he was grateful for the protection. He wasn't sure how many more longing looks he could see before he did something stupid. Though Nigel wasn't the only one making eyes at the tiny blonde. George shoots a leering wizard a heated glare before pulling Olive into his arms and rocking back and forth.
"George."
He glances down, surprised to hear her voice so clearly over the music. Her face is tilted up towards his good ear, melting his heart and easily erasing his ever present anxiety. His limbs suddenly feel heavy, and his back hunches to lean his forehead against hers, an exhausted whisper leaving him, "Ollie."
Olive's grin is like a beacon, so bright that it pulls the shadowy doubt he couldn't name to the front of his mind. The anger over Nigel, the possessive monster growing in his chest. It was doubt. Doubt because in the crowd of a pub, surrounded by younger wizards that weren't damaged by the war, George wasn't sure if she remembered how he felt about her. He wasn't sure if she remembered how she felt about him. Exclusive. He'd said the word, under bedsheets and pressed up against her sleepy body. He wasn't sure he knew what it meant, only that he knew he wanted it.
"Are you done?"
His eyes slide shut, the smell of raspberry lulling him deeper into the warmth of her. He felt protective, he felt jealous. And yet, holding her felt like freedom. The song switches to something upbeat, something faster than their swaying calls for. He mumbles wearily, "With what, Ollie?"
"Staking your claim. I think you've made it pretty clear."
If he couldn't hear the amusement in her voice, he'd be concerned she was angry. He leans his head up, chewing anxiously on his inner cheek as he tries to work out what to say. Someone jostles into them, a man whose eyes linger a little two long on the way Olive's swishing skirt clings to her arse.
"Watch it," George barks out, eyes narrowed on the wizard until he has the decency to turn an unflattering shade of red and mumble something George can't hear. George's hands slide over Olive's back, digging into the soft sweater. The color reminds him of the ocean, a pretty dark teal that made her eyes look lighter. He doesn't hear what the man says to Olive, but his body freezes when oh so faintly Olive's voice reaches his good ear, "Forgive my boyfriend. He's rather crabby when he's forced to stay up late."
George's gaze easily slips from the wizard and lands on chaotic blonde hair that bobs and bounces when she nods. Boyfriend. His posture straightens, his eyes grow irritated from his sudden inability to blink. Green confronts his, Olive's eyes landing on him and flickering with a hint of confusion until her jaw drops slightly and her lips form a stunned 'O'.
Boyfriend.
He doesn't realize he's said it until she begins a very awkward, stammering explanation, "I- Did I- What I meant to say-- Oh, Merlin this is--"
"Say it again."
He can practically feel the heat radiating from her pink cheeks, deep ruby like the color of raspberries. Merlin, he was in deep with this girl. Olive opens and closes her mouth a few times before squeaking out sheepishly, "George, I only meant to make sure that man knew that you and I--"
"Ollie," His voice is strained, his fingers tightening in her pretty blue sweater and body swaying closer to hers just as she finally says quietly, "Boyfriend." She pauses, lips twitching into a soft smile, "Is that okay, old man?"
George finally blinks, his hands hauling her up into his chest so that he can satisfy his sudden and unquenchable thirst for her. Boyfriend. His mouth slants on her's tongue slipping past her surprised lips and flicking against her's. Boyfriend. He was Ollie's boyfriend. He groans at the thought, tugging at her lip with his teeth before slipping his tongue in again to lick, to taste, to take. Her answering moan fizzles inside of him like champagne, filling him up with golden light that sings her name over and over until something slams into him from behind and shatters the heaven he's certain he'd just found.
George whips his head around, scowling immediately at a nausea inducing blue. Nigel smiles, his hands on the hips of a witch George didn't recognize, but those fucking blue eyes are aimed at Olive once again.
"Sorry," He sounds anything but. George nearly lets go of Olive to finally show Nigel Wolpert just what he thought of him when the boy's smile fades rather quickly. George turns back to Olive just in time to see her giving her friend a thumbs up and mouthing, "She's pretty!"
Ollie. Oh, Ollie.
George leans down and buries his face in her unruly hair, trying desperately to muffle the sound of his laughter. His chest shakes and his face aches from his grin. This girl. He'd keep this one. Her hands fist his shirt, voice perplexed as she asks, "What?! What are you laughing about now, George Weasley?!"
"You, crazy girl," George snickers and pulls her in closer. The doubt, the possessiveness, the rotten jealousy. It doesn't disappear, but it fades so fast that he forgets what it feels like. He feels warm instead, warm when he leans back to brush her hair from her face and murmur, "My girlfriend is the funniest person I know."
Girlfriend. Olive's cheeks grow as pink as her trainers again, her eyes turning down in a show of shyness so sweet that George could practically taste ice cream. Sweet. She was sweet and good, and she knew him in a way that he didn't think anyone else did. The ugly stuff, the stuff they hadn't even talked about, she knew.
Olive's lips twist into a bashful smile, evidently too shy to address what he'd called her. He meant it. George leans into her, smirking when her eyes grow rounder. He swallows, slightly ashamed by the rasp in his voice, "You aren't mad at me for being so rude tonight?"
He'd been an arse, he knew. Even when Ron and Hermione had showed up after Ginny and Harry. He'd been a prick, too focused on keeping an eye on Nigel to realize that Dennis had hugged Harry and thanked him, too focused on scaring off wizards that even glanced at Olive to notice that Ginny had mentioned something about the wedding to Lee. He'd been zeroed in, tense and geared up for a fight. He had been that way since A.F.D. He just hadn't realized it until Olive Murphy had called him on it that first time, told him he was rude. He didn't used to be that way. He didn't want to be that way. Not anymore.
"No," Olive grins slightly, stopping his heart for a brief moment, "You're cute when you're jealous. I like the brooding silver fox look."
His eyes narrow at her cheeky words, his mouth poised to retort, but his words die out when she raises up on her toes and whispers softly, "You don't need to be jealous, George. I've got a pretty major crush on you."
"A crush, huh?"
Merlin, his voice sounds like it's been raked over rocks. Rough and raspy, and he knows it's his throat trying to choke out all of the words he wants to say. Sweet ones, dirty ones. Words that are the exact opposite of what someone that wanted to take things slow would say.
"Mmhm," His eyes flutter closed, his lower lip pinched between his teeth to bite back a groan. Her mouth brushes over his ear, he can feel her lips curve into a smile he knows is perfect. "Like a write about you in my planner kind of crush."
"You write about me, Ollie?"
His eyes open and take in his new favorite color. The kind of green he would write about if he knew what to say. Her pupil is dark, wide enough to choke out the lighter flecks of sage and leave behind more of that rich color that reminds him of the pines from his healer's office. Green, green that he wanted to paint on his ceiling so he could see it every night before he went to sleep.
Fuck.
Her blink is slow, lazy. Her nod just a subtle bob of her chin. George bites down harder on his lip before letting it free so he doesn't chew through it. He inhales slowly, letting go of her fuzzy sweater to gently grab her chin. His thumb strokes over the skin, savoring the raised line that makes the pad of his finger tingle. He glides it higher, settles his finger over her cupids bow before dragging straight down. He lower lip comes with just slightly, soft and pouty. He reluctantly let's go, whispering, "Ollie?"
"Yes, George?"
His heart thunders against his ribs, drowning out the crowd, the music, every negative thought he's had in the last few hours. He swallows past the lump in his throat and asks, "Can I grab your hand?"
She tilts her head, a soft look passing over her face, "You don't have to ask. Not you." He wonders for a moment if she remembers telling him that before. He almost hopes she doesn't. It means that she means it, that she would say it again and again just because she meant it. His hand slides down to grab hers, pulling her out of the throng of drunk witches and wizards and beings. He doesn't spare Nigel a glance, even though he would bet his life that the sap would be watching Olive as they head back to the table.
He keeps his fingers wrapped around Olive's hand, a smile tugging at his lips when she stretches up on her toes and reaches between Dennis and Hermione to grab her bag. She smiles shyly at the older witch, saying loud enough that George can hear, "I think I'm gonna call it a night. I'm tired."
"Tired," Dennis repeats, a slight smirk on his face when he glances at George. It takes everything in him to do it, to look at Dennis. He meets the gaze of another person damaged by the loss of their brother and grins a little, offering, "Come by the shop sometime, mate. Anything you want, it's on the house."
Clearly surprised, it takes Dennis a few moments to even nod. George looks away before he can see himself in the reflection of the younger bloke's eyes. He and Dennis had a lot in common, but George would rather focus on the curly haired witch they both couldn't ignore.
Olive flushes when Harry shoots them a rather parental look, eyes narrowing on George. Deciding to ignore it, George places a hand on Olive's lower back and ushers her out of the pub before anyone notices the rather suggestive looks Lee is throwing their way. It wasn't his intention anyway, to do anything once they were out of the warm atmosphere of the Leaky Cauldron.
But when his steps carry them past a familiar pink door, his good ear tilted down to catch any word of protest as they progress down Diagon Alley towards his shop, he only catches a tiny hum of contentment. His lips twitch into a smile when Olive simply begins to swing their hands back and forth, her head bobbing side to side as she fails to accurately recall the weird sisters lyrics from the song that had been playing in the pub. He decides not to say anything.
He likes her version better.
{{Things are gonna get steamy! I rewrote this like three times so sorry for the wait! Hope you enjoyed :) }}