"Come on, Olls." George grabbed the girl's other hand, and started dragging her down the hall while she was still trying to comprehend exactly what had gone wrong.
"What? Hey!" Olive dug her heels in the ground, "Where- where are we going?"
The younger Weasley twin raised his brows, "Um, the Hospital Wing? Where else?"
The Ravenclaw shook her head, "No, I can try again-"
George looked at the girl like she was crazy, "No. Your fingers are turning white, which means you're probably losing circulation. Besides, doesn't it hurt?"
Ollie nodded, "Yes... very much so."
"Then we're going." George resumed leading Olive to the Hospital Wing, "We'll be in and out in no time."
The Ravenclaw sighed, slumping her shoulders forward as she reluctantly followed George. Their hands were still intertwined, hers getting more tense and clammier the closer they got to the Hospital Wing. She kept her gaze down, her face pale, avoiding eye contact with anybody, including George.
"I... I don't exactly like the Hospital Wing." Olive's voice had gone quiet, stammering over her words, "Do we have to?"
At the change in her tone, George slowed a bit. He turned to the Ravenclaw, studying her nervous features for a moment, before the realization came to his face. He felt like an idiot for forcing her to go to the Hospital Wing, but he also knew that if she wanted to write again she needed to get her hand fixed.
"I forgot." He stopped in his tracks, "Olive, I'm sorry. I forgot about last year-"
"It's fine." Olive gently pulled her hand away, "I... it's stupid, anyways. I just... last time I was here I felt like I was dying."
They stood in silence for a moment. Olive avoided eye contact with George, feeling his eyes on her, burning into her skull. She felt like a child, having a fear of Healers.
George didn't say anything either. What was he supposed to say? He felt like an idiot for forgetting Olive might not be so ecstatic to go to the Hospital Wing, because last time she nearly died. He wanted to apologize, but for one of the first moments in his life, he couldn't speak.
Then, Olive took a deep breath, looking up at George with a nervous yet determined look.
"I'll go, but... will you come in with me?"
The ginger nodded, "Of course."
The Ravenclaw, although still tense, relaxed a bit. She nodded, starting again for the Hospital Wing. Although she was nervous to go back, she knew that she couldn't fix her hand on her own, and Madame Pomfrey would fix it in seconds.
Ollie just had to hope she wouldn't chicken out at the last second.
"Ah, Miss Lark! What brings you in today?" Madame Pomfrey asked, "Come for a check up on your scars?"
Olive self consciously tugged on her collar, shaking her head at the woman.
"No, they're fine." She held up her hand, "I uh... I came about this."
Madame Pomfrey looked at Ollie's hand, furrowing her brows. The Healer motioned for the Ravenclaw to sit down on a bed, and took the girl's hand within her own to inspect it more clearly.
"What happened?" She asked.
Olive looked to George, who stood a little ways away in the doorway. He quirked a brow at her, motioning for the girl to speak, and preferably the truth, about what happened.
"I... may have... punched something." Olive admitted, "And then I tried to fix it."
Madame Pomfrey pushed two fingers down on Olive's knuckles, which caused the girl to flinch and let out a small protest as pain shot up her wrist.
"How long ago was this?" Madame Pomfrey asked, giving the Ravenclaw a knowing look, as if to say it she probably already knew what happened.
Olive shrugged, "Saturday."
The Healer shook her head in disappointment, "You should have come to me right away. I can fix it, but it's going to hurt a lot more than it would have a few days ago."
"Sorry." Olive said, slumping her shoulders down. She watched as Madame Pomfrey quickly threw together a potion, using her wand to stir it with a quick spell.
Handing the cup to Olive, Madame Pomfrey sighed, "Don't be. You'd be surprised how many students punch someone and then wait days to let me fix their broken knuckles."
Olive raised her brows, "What?"
"This is a school, dear. With teenagers." The Healer chuckled, "Now, drink up."
The raven-haired girl downed the potion pretty quickly, the liquid burning her throat like fire whiskey. It tasted like bad mushrooms and dirt, which made the girl nearly gag the potion back up, but Madame Pomfrey was quick with the final spell.
The Healer waved her wand over Olive's hand, assisting the potion in its work. Immediately a sharp, stabbing pain filled the girl's hand, causing her to yelp out in pain. The bones in her fingers were shifting back into place, the damage to her hand instantly (and painfully) repaired.
Then, as quickly as it started, the pain stopped. Olive sighed in relief, her hand looking normal. She wiggled her fingers, and found them to be working just fine, without any pain.
"Thank you, Madame Pomfrey." Olive said, "Really."
She hopped off the bed, giving the woman a smile before she headed towards the door where George was waiting.
"Miss Lark?" Madame Pomfrey called, which caused the teen to turn back to the Healer with an expectant look.
"Next time... learn how to throw a punch."
Olive's cheeks tinged pink, her eyes widening. After stammering a 'yes' and bidding Madame Pomfrey a lovely rest of her evening, the Ravenclaw met George by the door, who was holding in a chuckle at what the Healer had told her.
"Shut up." Olive smirked, shaking her head as she suppressed a laugh herself, walking just ahead of George out of the Hospital Wing.
George quirked a brow, hands up in defense, "But I didn't say anything?"
Olive nodded, "I know, but I know you enough to know that you were going to say something that you think is just pure genius."
"Really." George caught up with Ollie, stepping in front of her so that she'd stop walking, "What was I going to say?"
The Ravenclaw looked up at the youngest Weasley twin, her bright blue eyes holding a hint of mischievousness and (dare it be said) flirtatiousness. She opened her mouth to speak, but after a few moments she felt the presence of the two dozen students already in the hallway. Even if they weren't looking at them, she still dropped her gaze, throwing her hands up on George's shoulders to turn him around.
"Let's go." She said, trying to remain cool to keep the roots of her hair from flushing pink. Her hands had begun to twitch at her sides, not only reminding her of the essay she needed to write, but of the story sitting unfinished in her notebook.
"What? Where?" George was too caught up in their little game to remember why he was even with Olive.
Ollie turned to look up at him again, "Have you forgotten that you came and asked for my help?"
The ginger shrugged, "That depends..."
"Weasley, you're impossible." The Ravenclaw led him back to the library, faking an air of annoyance at his usual antics, "We have a potions essay due in the morning, remember?"
George sighed, either having known that all along or he was just caught in the moment, "I forgot about that..."
They entered the library and resumed their seats at the table where Olive had been previously working. She opened up her textbook and notes, and immediately began writing, trying to hide the look of joy on her face as she watched her hand move in complete comfort across her parchment. George watched her for a moment, completely shocked that even Olive would have the capability of smiling while writing a Potions essay, but then again he felt like it didn't matter.
She found bliss in writing just about anything.
"Okay, so tell me about your thesis." Olive said, still writing, her eyes not even leaving her parchment, "You have a thesis, right?"
George, who had unrolled a fresh set of parchment that didn't even have his name on it, froze, looking like he was a deer caught in headlights. When he didn't answer, Olive looked up.
"George."
"Yes, Olls?"
"You know what a thesis is, right?"
"Of course!" The redhead exclaimed, which caused Madame Pince to walk by, giving the two students a dirty look that caused them to remain silent for a few moments, "I just... didn't think I needed to have one yet?"
Olive looked up at the Gryffindor like he was stupid, "For someone who's extremely clever, you can be a bit thick sometimes, George."
It was going to be a long evening.