Click-click click-click...
Olive's meeting with Professor Flitwick about her future career path had come around quicker than she realized. Before she knew, it was the third of January, the day before she was supposed to meet with her Head of House.
And she had nearly forgotten about the portfolio he wanted.
After writing a panicked letter the night before to Remus about what she should do and how she should put together her portfolio, Olive was sitting in the Muggle-Studies classroom on a rainy Tuesday evening, typing in her stories on a type-writer.
It was tedious, slow-going work, considering Olive had only used a typewriter once or twice to touch up some old recipe cards for Missy one Christmas... but the words were already written for her, she just had to copy them.
Her fingers worked like chopsticks, carefully typing out each word, knowing that if she messed up she would have to rip out the page and start over again.
Yes, Ollie knew there were enchanted typewriters that existed that journalists used when writing articles for the Daily Profit, but there were none at her disposal, and she didn't have enough time to figure out how to enchant this one herself. Besides, Remus had told her that typing the stories out would be good for her.
He just didn't tell her how long it would take her.
She checked her watch, letting out a tired sigh as the hour neared eleven-thirty. Having special permission from Professor Flitwick and Professor Burbage to use the classroom as long as she needed, she didn't need to worry about sneaking back to the common room when she was done.
However, she didn't want to be up all night. Remus had suggested four or five stories, half of them shorter and the other longer. Olive was about halfway through typing one of the longer ones, one of her notebooks opened flat on the desk beside her.
Click-click click-click click-click...
"That has probably got to be the most annoying sound ever."
Jumping in her seat, Olive turned around with a pounding heart to see who was at the door. She was surprised to see anyone so late in the night, especially since it was after curfew, but as soon as her eyes landed on the culprit that surprise melted.
"Tell me about it, I've been here since four." Olive clutched her chest for a moment, "Do you always sneak up on people these days?"
George Weasley leaned against the doorframe, arms folded across his chest as he shrugged. The awkwardness that was present a few days prior still hung in the air, but without the pressure of people watching them, they both eased a bit.
"More or less." He answered mischievously.
Closing the door behind him, he walked further into the classroom. Olive turned back to face the typewriter, making sure she didn't mess up her page when George had scared her.
"I would ask what you were doing out so late, but I honestly don't really want to know." The Ravenclaw sighed, her eyes feeling heavy in the dim torch light, "Besides, I think I might have a small clue."
George spun a chair around and sat facing Olive, "Who says I didn't come out here late at night to see you?"
Ollie quirked a brow, "You probably didn't even know I was here."
He smiled in a way that told the girl she was right. Olive shook her head with a small smile, putting her focus back on typing out her stories for her portfolio.
"I was... testing out some potential products with Fred, for our shop. He and Lee went to grab more supplies in the dormitory." George leaned forward, resting his chin upon the table, dark eyes glancing up at Olive as she worked, "I heard the typing as I walked by and peaked in. Saw it was you."
Olive carefully removed the sheet of paper, laying face down on top of the small pile that had been created. Placing in another sheet, she turned the knob a few times to feed the paper in and began type again. She could feel George's gaze on her as she typed, making her cheeks flush red.
"So... what are you doing exactly?" George asked her, breaking the small moment of silence.
"I'm making a writing portfolio." She answered simply, "I'm meeting with Flitwick tomorrow to talk about career options and he wanted me to put one together."
The Weasley twin checked his watch, "Tomorrow? It's nearly eleven now!"
"I know..." Ollie sat back, running a hand down her face as she suppressed a yawn, "I... kind of forgot about it until last night, and I couldn't use the typewriter until Professor Burbage's last class got out at four."
George nodded, looking to the stack of paper, "So this is all yours? Typed out?"
The Ravenclaw nodded, flicking her eyes from the keys of the typewriter to the open notebook in front of her to the slowly growing paragraph on the page. She could feel George still watching her, and she was afraid if she looked her might get all tongue-tied again.
"Well, not all of it, obviously. Only four." She stopped, her eyes skimming over carefully what she had typed, "I'm supposed to be showing my best work."
She did quotations in the air when she said 'best work,' which caused George's eyes to flick to the stack of pages besides her.
Before Olive could say anything, he carefully snatched the bundle of paper off the table.
"George," She warned, "Be careful, please, I don't-"
"I'm being careful, Olls, see?"
He adjusted his grip on the pages so that his pinkies were out, his silly way of showing her that he was being gentle with her work.
Sheepishly, Olive watched George skim over her work, her cheeks growing hot as she waited for him to make a comment. Whether it was a good or bad comment, she was afraid to find out.
It was one thing for teachers to look over her work, or her family back home, but for George? Sure, he read some of her writing over her shoulder a few times... but after she had typed out her most polished pieces the pressure of wanting him to like it seemed to weigh on her more heavily.
George was silent, his face morphing from its smirk into a relaxed expression of deep thought. His eyes flicked back and forth, and as he finished a page he carefully placed it face down on the table, being sure not to crinkle any of the edges.
Olive gripped the hem of her robes, her fingers twitching with anticipation as she waited for him to finish.
Only a few minutes had passed, but it felt like forever. George carefully gathered the pages when he finished, neatly placing them back on the desk where he had found them.
Olive was looking at him expectantly, her brows raised, lips parted slightly in question. Her eyes danced over his expression in an attempt to get the words out of him before he could say them.
George leaned forward, resting his chin on top of his arms again, "What?"
"Well?" The Ravenclaw asked quietly, "What did... you think?"
The mischievous smirk had returned to his lips, "About?"
Olive let out a groan of frustration, but it was followed by a laugh. She reached over and playfully hit George on the arm, giving him a fake glare from across the desk.
"You're impossible." She rolled her eyes, "You know that?"
George winked, "Yes, but I like it when people remind me."
Another laugh escaped Olive's lips as she continued typing, cheeks still warm under the ginger's gaze. Her fingers worked slow and precise, not wanting to make a mistake and have to start the page over.
"Don't you have some products to go try?" She asked quickly, her eyes flicking up to George before fixating back on the typewriter. Their eyes met briefly when she looked up, all the more reason she focused in on what she was doing.
Why is he staring at me like that?
"Yeah." He shrugged, "But I like sitting here with you."
"But I'm being boring." Olive said with a slight frown, "I'm going to be here for hours more, George."
George pulled a sickle out of his pocket and began to spin it on the top of the desk, trying to stop it mid-spin with his index finger, "All the more reason for me to stay and keep you company."
Another blush.
Damn it, Weasley.
"Just because I have permission to be out late doesn't mean we should take advantage of it, George!"
"Well that's no fun, is it?"
"George!"
Olive found herself running after the ginger, her footsteps light as she dashed around a corner to catch up with him. Her portfolio was clutched to her chest, placed into a sturdy protective folder to keep the papers from getting ruined.
However, she wondered if she should have put them in her bag before running after George.
He glanced over his shoulder, his face flushed from running, a grin brightening his freckled features. Long limbs strode expertly around the castle, as if he could navigate it with his eyes closed... and Ollie was pretty sure he could.
"George!" Olive whispered after him again, "Where are you going? We're going to get in so much trouble-"
"How could we, Olls? You have special permission to be out this late!"
Her cheeks reddened, remembering the note in her bag signed by both Professor Burbage and Professor Flitwick that said she could be out this late.
What would Filch say if he caught them and she tried to get out of detention by showing him that note?
Breathless and slightly disheveled from chasing after George, Olive came to a skidding halt after rounding a sharp corner to prevent herself from crashing into him.
However, that did not exactly go as planned.
Olive tripped, bumping into George's back as she scrambled to find better footing. The two stumbled forward, and came tumbling into the grass in the courtyard.
Great.
Papers went flying, and all Olive could comprehend was the tangle of limbs, the cold brush of grass against her neck, and the chill of early January air. When they stopped rolling, the pair of sixth years found themselves in quite a cliché situation.
Ollie stared wide-eyed up at George, who had landed on top of her, his face so close to hers she could feel the tickle of his breath on her nose. There was no doubt that her cheeks were red, her eyes dilated so much she could have been high on a dose of amortentia.
Dark eyes stared into hers, wide with surprise. Olive noticed the way his pupils dilated when they caught sight of her, and her heart pounded hard in her chest.
"Well." George brushed a curl away from Olive's face, his hand lingering against her cheek, "That was... fun."
He rolled off of her, propping himself up on his elbow so that he was facing her. Their clothes were damp from the frost-covered crash, fingers and toes starting to go numb from the freezing temperature.
Olive took a few deep breaths, trying to keep them subtle, pushing herself up into a sitting position. Her hands shook slightly, fumbling with her tie.
"Yeah." She sent him a glance, her breath a foggy cloud sent out into the night air, "Fun."
That warm feeling began to take hold of her chest. They could have kissed, right then and there. It was one of those moments the universe throws at you that is specifically meant for kissing... but the both Olive and George seemed to be in such surprise from their tumble that they did not fully comprehend the timing of that moment until it was too late.
"Here." George began gathering her papers, doing his best to keep them somewhat in chronological order. Olive started to help, but the Weasley waved a hand her way that told the Ravenclaw that he had it under control.
"Where were you going, anyway?" She asked, brushing the wet grass from her skirt as she slowly got to her feet. Her clothes were grass-stained and rumpled, which she immediately occupied herself with fixing as George collected the scattered pieces of her portfolio, "Before I nearly tackled you to the ground."
George smirked, "You did tackle me to the ground." He plucked the last paper from the ground and slid it into the folder, "But I wanted to show you something... figured the timing would be right if it wasn't for... you know..."
He motioned to the general area where they fell into each other. Olive looked away to hide the pink tinge to her cheeks, which were darker than a usual flush from the cold.
"Sorry about that." She rubbed her arm, overly aware of the tingling in her cheek where George had brushed it with his thumb earlier. Approaching the ginger, she grabbed the folder from his fingers with a grateful smile. Her eyes were turned to the sky, which was wear the Weasley was looking.
"Show me what?"
George grabbed her hand, somehow warm against her cold skin. He pointed up to the sky just above the forbidden forest, eyes squinted in concentration as he searched the sky, "There!"
Olive looked, her eyes squinted slightly to get a good look. She smiled in awe when she saw it.
Fireworks.
"It that?"
"Fred and Lee? Yeah. They're testing some new... festive products for the shop." He gave her hand a squeeze, "They're almost gone now... but we can make them go into certain shapes. I wanted you to be the first one to see them."
She sent a sideways glance to George, "You stayed up hours into the night with me in Professor Burbage's classroom to show me this?"
George nodded, his lips pressed into a warm smile.
Olive looked back to where the colorful flecks of fireworks danced across the distant night sky, creating glittering patterns of dragons, shapes, flowers, and even moving people. They blended in with the constellations, as if the fireworks were specifically designed for this particular night.
"It's wonderful." She whispered, leaning closer. Their arms were now pressed together, the top of Ollie's head resting against George's shoulder. She didn't know what was making her do that, but for some reason it just felt right.
"Olls?"
"Mhm?"
"About what happened at the Yule Ball..."
Olive's heart lurched into her stomach. Was this going to be something bad? Did George suddenly not like her, or did the kisses they've shared mean nothing to him the entire time?
"I didn't know how to approach you about this since that night... I kept making excuses to talk to you but I couldn't seem to figure out what to say, or even how or when to say it." He explained, slowly turning towards the Ravenclaw so that they were facing each other.
Her eyes beamed up at him almost expectantly, "Say what?"
George paused, his dark eyes searching her blue ones. He looked nervous, almost unsure of what to say. His brows scrunched together in deep thought, causing one of his eyes to almost wink at her from the sheer concentration of his thoughts. It was moments like these where it was clear that George was the more heartfelt, thoughtful of the twins.
"Olls..." He cleared his throat, reaching over to take her other hand. His hands shook ever so slightly, but seemed to relax in Ollie's grip. She gave his hands a squeeze, tracing tiny circled into the backs of his hands with her thumbs, "I..."
Hesitating, he did the only thing he could think of.
And that was press his lips to hers yet again.
Olive melted into George, the numbness from the cold washing away into pure, comforting heat. Her eyelashes tickled his face as she closed her eyes, and he wrapped a hand around her waist.
This kiss was longer, deeper than the ones they previously shared. Both gripped the other with sureness, as if the mere act of moving their lips against each other's was the very conversation they needed to have.
After a long while when they pulled away, both slightly out of breath and flushed with cheeky grins.
"Would you maybe want to... you know..." He brushed more curls from Olive's face, his fingers gentle as they grazed her cheeks, "Next Hogsmeade trip..."
The Ravenclaw's hand reached up, holding George's hand against her cheek for a moment longer. She smiled, a confidence in her expression that rarely ever seemed to surface.
"I'd love to."