Forget Me Not || George Weasley

Chapter 36

Olive smiles up at Jackie, unable to resist reaching up to pinch the older witch's cheeks.

"Would you—" Jackie swats at her hands, saying warningly, "You stop that."

"You're my favorite employee," Olive professes, instead throwing her arms around the witch in a rather stiff hug. Jackie sighs, peeling Olive off of her like gum from her shoe. If Olive didn't see the smile threatening her lips she'd think she was genuinely bothering the witch.

"I'm your only employee," Jackie says bluntly, shoving Olive towards the door, "Would you get out of here already?"

"Yes," Olive starts, "but don't—"

"Forget to take the flower vendor his order," Jackie sighs, "You've told me three times and you've showed me where you wrote it down in your planner. I've got it, Olive. Go on, then!"

Jackie slams the pink door shut behind her, and an odd sense of Deja vu that she can't quite explain causes Olive to stumble slightly.

She flinches when hands grasp her arms, but then a familiar low voice greets her ears, "Hi, Ollie."

She looks up, a smile already stretching her scar, "Hi, George—"

She pauses, brows furrowed slightly as she takes in his clothes. He's got on a rather nice sweater, on that grows taut over those biceps she wants to squeeze the life out of. While he looks rather fit, it's the color that gives her pause. She couldn't recall ever seeing him wear blue, dark but not so dark that it looks navy. Her smile grows when she glances up and sees that his brows are notched together, an odd expression on his face that causes his mouth to press into a firm line.

"You look nice today."

She's not sure what compels her to say it, but it's the truth. She's currently debating in her head if George Weasley shirtless could top him wearing this sweater. Yep. She'd fortunately been blessed to remember the sight of his muscles back, but after that it had become slightly blurry in her mind. She wishes it wouldn't be weird of her to ask him to strip the sweater off to give her memory a refresh.

His brows raise slightly and then his expression changes, grows softer. She feels her cheeks warming under his quizzical stare. She feels like a damned fire when he says quietly, "So do you."

Olive plasters her palms to her face even though she knows it might look weird. She rocks back on her feet, her brows raising in surprise when George clears his throat, "I was just coming to see what you were doing."

"Oh," Olive shrugs a little, her smile growing, "I'm just going to see my grandad for supper."

George blinks, his nod slightly stiff. He runs a hand across the back of his neck, offering up a slight smile, "Alright. Are you busy tomorrow? Lee wants you to come have takeaway at the shop."

Her heart twists slightly. Lee wants her to. Did he want her to? Olive bobs her head up and down, "Yeah, I can do that."

He shifts awkwardly, looking over her head before flickering his eyes back down to her. His smile flickers too, shifting like his body.

"George?"

Merlin, what the fuck is she doing.

"Yeah, Ollie?"

He looks unsure. She wants him to smile like he did when they shared French toast in her bed, when he erased every thought of the past she was so scared to puzzle together.

"Would you want to come with me?"

His brows slowly creep up his forehead, and just when she considers explaining away the invitation or racing to hide her flushed face in the safety of her shop, his lips slowly tilt up into a half smile that restarts her heart.