Forget Me Not || George Weasley

Chapter 30

Olive shifts anxiously back and forth on her feet, peering down at her shoes.

"What are you fretting over, Olive?"

Her eyes slowly lift, a sheepish smile on her face. Jackie stands with her hands on her hips, a flat expression on her face and her quirked brow the only indication that she'd actually asked a question. Olive reaches up to pinch the older witch's cheek, frowning when Jackie swats her hand away, "You're just so adorable, Jackie."

"Don't change the subject," She huffs, rolling her eyes but not before Olive sees the tiniest glint of mirth. "Go on. Tell me what's the matter."

Olive hesitates, nearly lying and saying she was unsure of her outfit. But she loved these pants, green and white gingham that made her so happy she could hardly stand still enough to pull them on. A sour apple sort of green. Her shirt matches her trainers, but it was a far lighter shade of pink.

"Olive?"

"Fine," She sighs, shrugging her shoulders and grumbling, "I'm scared I won't remember who is who. They all look very similar."

Jackie's lips slowly turn up into a half smile, and Olive can tell she's trying not to laugh when she says bluntly, "Just reintroduce yourself."

"I changed my mind," Olive grins, "You're an absolute wench, Jackie."

The witch shrugs, "You love it." Jackie's smile grows as she looks out through the windows of the shop, "You better get going. Your boyfriend is waiting."

Olive elbows her grumpy employee, saying hurriedly, "If by boyfriend you mean a boy that is my friend, then you would be correct."

Her face heats up under Jackie's unimpressed stare, and when she raises her hand and points towards the door, Olive simply sighs and nods. She swings it open, yelling loudly and earning another exasperated look from the witch, "I love you!"

She can't help her laughter when the door slams magically shut behind her, her chest aching with warmth and affection for the witch. It was true, whether Jackie liked it or not. Olive loved her.

She bends over to tie her shoes, not looking up when a shadow falls over her, "Hi, George."

"Why don't you use magic?"

Olive pauses for a moment before finishing up the knot of her laces and peering up at the tall man blocking the sun. He's got on a pair of dark denims, but instead of his normal button up he's wearing a heather grey shirt that clings to him in a way that should be illegal. Her cheeks grow warmer, though she's quick to blame it on the heat of the day.

"I don't know," Olive replies, her smile growing when he reaches down and grabs under her arms and pulls her to her feet with rather appealing ease. "My grandfather taught me how to tie my shoes. Never really thought to use magic."

George blinks down at her, and his lips slowly curve into a smile that she knows is turning her as pink as her shirt. As if remembering himself, he reaches out and his fingers brush against her bicep before he pulls on the edge of her sleeve and says lowly, "Hi, Ollie."

She feels her smile twisting into something awkward and shy, so she reaches up and tugs on the sleeve of his shirt as well, asking, "Ready to go?"

"Sure," Her brows raise in surprise at the blatant sarcasm in his tone, "Maybe Percy will punch me after we get to eat this time."

Olive can't help it, she laughs, and her hand moves from his sleeve to his arm where she playfully pinches him, "That's the spirit!"

He smiles, her stomach flipping at the apparent ease of the expression. She liked it, his smile. She liked seeing it yesterday too while she messed around with new flavors too. He'd stayed at the shop until the evening, tasting and even taking notes for her. She liked it. A lot.