Olive remembers Christmas fondly.
She can't remember the Christmases she has had since her memory was scarred, but the ones she remembers from her childhood warm her soul on the coldest days. The first thing she thinks of when she wakes however, is not a holiday or the gifts it brings or the food it entails or how she needs to remember to go to her grandfather's later. The first thing Olive thinks of when she wakes up, is the heavy thing trapping her flat to the mattress.
She blinks one eye open, studying the object that is weighing her down. A dreamy sigh nearly escapes her when she sees the muscly bicep curled around her, attached to an even more muscular shoulder. She grins, her memory of falling asleep in his childhood bedroom far too foggy to decipher. But she remembers his raspy voice, his rippling muscles, her name on his lips.
Merlin, George Weasley is hot.
She fans her face, suddenly and pleasantly surprised by the flashes of images she can recall from the night before. George was hard to forget, his face and his expressions. But her smile fades when she can only faintly recall those three special words she had so craved to hear from him. How had he said it? She wasn't sure. She knew it was lovely, she could feel the memory of hearing him say that he loved her. She could feel the elation she had felt. But she couldn't remember the other words he'd used, nor the moment he had said them.
Olive clenches her eyes shut, tears a terrifying threat that she wards away quickly. She swallows past the sudden lump in her throat, silently scolding herself. It didn't matter...right? Gingerly, she removes his arm from around her waist, rolling down the sleeves of the jumper he had given her to sleep in. She pulls on some sleeping pants, tightening up the drawstring of the soft flannel before tip toeing towards the door. It was still early. She could tell by the cool light streaming through the frosted windows. That, and the unusual silence. She wasn't sure it would ever be quiet at the burrow.
She pauses with her hand on the door knob, turning to look at where George is snoring softly in his old bed, a relaxed expression on his face. His hands flex over the blankets, brows furrowing for just a moment before he relaxes once again. Olive takes a mental picture of George Weasley resting peacefully in his childhood room, the one he shared with his soulmate. She's not sure if she'll ever see him look this serene in a place that he and Fred share. In case she doesn't, she just hopes she'll remember this. It feels like change. A very good one.
Quietly, she steps into the hall and shuts the door behind her, heading for the stairs and carefully descending into the living room. She's barelly touched her foot to the rather colorful rug in the middle of the room when a throat clears. She jumps, clutching her chest and whisper yelling, "For the love of Merlin, Lee! Do you have to scare--"
Her mouth clamps shut, eyes widening upon finding quite a few more people than she was expecting looking her direction. Lee grins cheekily from where he's sat next to a rather amused Charlie at the table, Harry and Ginny quickly covering their smiles with their mugs from their seats. Hermione is elbowing a laughing Ron, Bill quirking a brow when Fleur lets out a quiet laugh of her own. Percy eyes her uncertainly. Molly Weasley looks properly chuffed from where she's standing next to the stove. The only ones that seem to be oblivious to her presence are Arthur reading his newspaper and a sleeping Victoire.
Olive rubs her hands together, looking around the Burrow awkwardly before saying timidly, "Happy Christmas?"
"Indeed," Arthur says without looking up from his newspaper, causing her face to flame, "It does seems to be a rather happy one."
Laughter breaks out amongst the Weasley children and their partners, wheezes and giggles coming from the whole lot. Olive strides over to smack Lee upside the head, muttering, "You prat. Could have warned me."
He sticks out his tongue at her, nose crinkled. But beneath the mischief, is gratitude. And maybe a hint of hope. It was clear that Olive Murphy joining them for breakfast this morning was a welcome surprise, the hippogriff in the room growing abundantly clear. Everyone had slept in their rooms, leaving one empty room for Olive and George. They knew that they had gone into his old room. That was why Lee looked so hopeful, why Ginny gently nudged her under the table with her foot, why Molly Weasley piled extra spiced apples on her plate, and why Arthur simply winked at her over his newspaper.
Breakfast isn't nearly as formal as dinner usually is. Plates come and go, people stand and walk around, filling their bowls and glasses from the long line of breakfast foods waiting on the counter. It's relaxed. It's warm. Olive eats until she's full, deciding she will most definitely eat a little more when George wakes up. She finds herself seated in the cozy arm chair in the family room, Ginny and Hermione sitting on the run a few feet away in their fluffy robes. Olive laughs when Charlie and Ron begin to bicker, Lee goading Charlie on until Bill shoots him a disapproving glare. It feels normal. It feels like family. She's certain her heart can't take anymore when she hears the stairs creak.
Suddenly nervous that George may not feel as comfortable with having shown her his past, she grips her cup of tea a little tighter, looking up from where she's tucked in. She sees sock clad feet first, followed by flannel pajamas. Her heart crawls into her throat, expecting the worst and only finding the best. Her last shreds of dignity melt into a pathetic puddle at the sight of George when he steps down the last couple of stairs. His hair is sticking up, chaotic and unruly auburn strands that make him look young. There's a crease on his cheek, a line that tells her he slept well. A line she hopes means no nightmares or unrest.
What really makes her heart sing, is the tired young boy in his arms. Teddy yawns, his chubby arms slung around George's neck. He says something to the toddler before walking over and handing him to Harry, the conversations in the Burrow still bustling and loud despite the very obvious surprise and joy they all feel. George looks rested. He looks happy. He pats his dad on the shoulder, kisses his mum's cheek and ruffles Ron's hair.
He mutters something to Bill, smirking slightly at his older brother's reply before rounding the sofa and heading her direction. He playfully bumps into Ginny as he passes, earning a "Hey!" George just keeps on walking towards her, taking shuffling strides until she's forced to tip her head up as he comes to a stop in front of her. Her cheeks warm with embarrassment over how happy she is to see him this way. He smiles slightly, leaning down to press his lips to her cheek.
She's not sure what she expected to get for Christmas this year, but this bypassed any gift she could have imagined. George leans back and then leans in again to kiss her cheek once more, mumbling, "Morning, love. Been up long?'
Love. Dear Godric, she's definitely not breathing. Not when she hears that word from George Weasley's mouth.
"Just a little while," She whispers, resting her forehead against his. He sneaks an arm behind her back, pulling her into a half hug that's all warmth and tenderness. It makes her eyes water. She quickly blinks away tears, pushing at his chest when he lets out a snort of amusement over her emotions.
He stands up to his full height, peering at her as he gently takes her cup from her, "I'll get you some more."
Olive nods, smile wobbling as she insists, "Eat something while you're over there. It's all delicious."
George winks, and Merlin's beard Olive can't take it. She can't. She has to get out some of these emotions She turns to Ginny and Hermione when George walks to the kitchen, her eyes wide like an absolute nutter. Hermione slowly trails off from what she's saying to Ginny, quirking a brow at the younger girl. Olive can't hold it in anymore, the whispered words spouting from her mouth uncontrollably, "He told me he loves me last night. At least I think I remember him telling me."
Ginny's jaw drops, eyes wide. Hermione gasps, covering her mouth with her hands. Olive nods rapidly, mouthing, "I know!"
The girls crawl closer, Ginny pushing Hermione playfully out of the way so that she can hug Olive first. It feels wonderful, to have such support. She can feel Ginny's shoulders shaking slightly when she says, "It's about time!"
She pulls away and then it's Hermione's turn to hug her, far more gently than Ginny. Hermione murmurs warmly, "I'm proud of you, Olive."
Her throat suddenly closes, a memory of Hermione and Harry looking at her with distraught expressions surfacing far too quickly for Olive to push it away. She hugs Hermione tighter and whispers, "I haven't told him. I haven't told him any of it."
Hermione shakes her head quickly, insisting lowly, "He loves you, Olive. He'll support you. You might find that telling him will make it better."
She nods uncertainly, looking up to see George approaching with a plate in one hand and a cup in the other. Ron grumbles petulantly, "No fair. Mum said no eating in here."
George glances at his brother and smirks, earning a half hearted glare. Hermione quickly shuffles back to where she and Ginny were sitting on the rug, George stepping around them and coming to a stop in front of Olive. He grins slightly, studying her for a long moment that makes her cheeks flame and her voice come out defensive, "What?"
He hands her the plate he's doctored, setting her tea on the coffee table. Olive squawks quietly, balking at him when he easily bands an arm and lifts her up, tucking himself into the chair as he lowers her into his lap.
Her cheeks have to be a beacon of embarrassment now, miserably unable to avoid the suggestive looks Lee and Charlie are sending her way. Not to mention the glances towards the chair she and George are perched on, specifically the emotional ones from Molly Weasley.
She looks down at her hands when George takes the plate from them, his eyes slowly lifting to catch her gaze. She stares at him for a long moment, feeling as if she's forgetting something important the longer that she stares at his chocolate colored eyes.
"Ollie?"
She swallows, glances away briefly before studying his beautiful eyes once more, "Yes, George?"
He smiles faintly, reaches up with one hand to wrap her hair around his finger as he says quietly, "I like Christmas better with you here."
Oh sweet baby hippogriffs. She can't handle it. She nods quickly, smile wobbling, "I like it better with you too, George."
His expression softens further, a punch to her solar plexus. She's not certain she's breathing. In fact, she's certain she isn't when George Weasley offers up a smile shy and boyish and knowing as he leans a little closer and murmurs, "And I love you. Very very much."
There it is. That's what she had forgotten. She'd been missing the security he brings, the blanket of love and protection only he can offer to her. She'd been missing it for two years...maybe even her whole life. She'd forgotten how good it felt to hear George say words she wasn't sure she would remember coming from someone else.
Olive sniffs, biting down hard on her trembling lower lip. George chuckles, wincing when she reaches out and pinches his arm, his hand holding hers tight to keep himself safe. Olive squeezes his hand, feels his squeeze her, and then she whispers with obvious tears threatening her eyes, "Well, I love you too, George. Very very much."
He sighs deeply, looking at her with a soft expression on his face, his lips fighting a smile, "I know you do, Ollie."
It's the best present. Hearing that from him. Or at least she thinks it is until George settles a neatly wrapped gift in her lap, one he'd evidently managed to hide behind his back.
Olive unwraps it slowly, her vision blurring when she uncovers a pretty lavender book. A new planner. She flips it open to the first page, eyes and heart catching on the inside cover where words are scribbled neatly,
To Olive,
I like your version of events best. I don't want to remember what Christmas felt like without you, so let's write down all of the things that happened today. We can remember it together.
Love,
Your George.
Merlin.
Love didn't begin to cover what she felt for this boy.
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