Forget Me Not || George Weasley

Chapter 20

"What is the worst thing you have ever done?"

Conor O'Connor looks as serene as ever. George had plopped down on the sofa of his office the moment their session started, feeling far less combative than last time. In fact, today he might even say that he felt okay.

The night before, he and Lee had taken over food to Florean's and watched Olive make ice cream. George didn't like the humming noise that the muggle machine made while it was churning, but the sunset orange splattered across the ice cream witch's blue dungarees had distracted him from the sounds. A new flavor. George had wanted to ask to taste it, but he hadn't managed to gather the courage. Lee had been the one to initiate the get together, George hadn't changed that much. But he'd been excited to go.

He'd never admit it.

"I completed your challenge," George says in response to the healer's silent question. "Actually, I've done a few things that...things that I enjoyed B.F.D."

Conor O'Connor looks properly chuffed, setting aside the god awful notes he insists on keeping. He smiles, asking curiously, "Like what?"

George hesitates at the question, not sure how the healer will take it. He finally relents, narrowing his eyes in a warning, "I played chess with the witch that works with Olive...and I picked a song to listen to."

It was too hopeful to imagine a world where the wizard wouldn't pick apart George's vague answers. He was being more cautious though. George didn't blame him after the way he'd left last time.

"Would you care to expand on that?"

George glances at the hourglass sitting behind the healer, saying in a more curt tone, "If you answer my question first."

O'Connor sighs, folding his hands neatly in his lap. He scratches his chin, and George nearly comments on the beginnings of the beard he's growing. It made him look like a barred owl, round and grey and wise in a way that infuriated him.

"When I was an apprentice, a Healer left me alone with a patient suffering from a curse we'd never seen before. Just a few minutes where I was the healer looking at a patient."

George blinks in surprise when the healer leans back in his chair, meets George's gaze evenly, and says calmly, "He died, because instead of waiting for the healer to return, I thought I knew what spell to use to counter the effects. Arrogance, George. It's the very worst thing I've done."

Silence passes between them, and despite his curiosity, George senses that the healer wouldn't answer any further questions on the subject. He grabs a pillow to hold limply on his lap, hesitating for a brief moment before saying quietly, "That's...I'm sorry."

Conor O'Connor smiles, adjusting his glasses, "It was a long time ago, George. Tell me about the song."

His throat bobs at the question, and he slowly looks away from the healer to study the fir tree painting for the millionth time.

"It was a muggle song. I went to a pub."

The stiff silence that greets him has his eyes hurriedly flickering back to greet O'Connor's quizzical stare. George leans forward, brows furrowed, "I didn't drink, Doc."

The healer's lips twitch, and George can see he's glad. He hadn't wanted to drink, not really. He'd liked being sober. He liked remembering every detail about that night. He nearly manages a smile too, but then his face heats up when he remembers what it is they're talking about.

"I went to a pub with friends and Ginny and Ron," The healer quirks a brow, and George tries to keep his tone even when he says, "Ollie took us."

The healer raises his brows, "Ollie?"