Forget Me Not || George Weasley

Chapter 48

{{Okay, so this is reallllly long. But I know people don't really like breaking up the steamy chapters in half, so here you go. MATURE WARNING PEOPLE. AVERT YOUR GAZE IF YOU DO NOT LIKE STEAMY CHAPTERS!!}}

Olive glances up at George as he removes the protective wards on his shop, suddenly gripped by nerves.

Not the cute little butterflies floating in her stomach kind of nerves. The hippogriff throwing a party in her chest kind. The kind that nearly makes her let go of his hand to brace herself on her knees.

Girlfriend. George had called her his girlfriend, but that awful little ghost of doubt in her mind taunted that he'd only done it because she called him her boyfriend. Was he genuinely—

"Ollie?"

She looks up and sees that he's standing in the doorway, a concerned wrinkle between his brows. He raises his free hand to gently rest the back against her forehead, asking lowly, "Headache?"

"No," She shakes her head, wishing desperately that her face didn't turn so pink so easily. She shrugs a little, lips quirking into a nervous smile, "Just thinking."

George nods, gently pulling her through the door before shutting and locking it behind her. He keeps his hand around hers, and when she looks down she can't help the warm feeling that spreads through her chest at the way his thumb gently strokes over her hand. It's mindless, simple. She couldn't remember anyone else ever doing that.

He starts walking towards the back, up the familiar stairs that lead to his flat, and Olive tries to ignore the way his button up stretches across the muscles of his back. She wants to beg him to take it off, to stand silently so she can commit every hard line of his body to memory. Slow. She was trying to remember that taking things slow was the right thing, but she couldn't remember why. 

Her mouth dries when George swings open the door to his flat, and as soon as she steps in, her eyes fall onto the couch. That sodding couch. It erodes every warm, buzzy feeling she has. That couch, the couch that George and Angelina had most certainly had sex on. Her brows pinch together and she rests her free hand on her stomach. Those nerves turned to rotten jealousy and shame. Merlin, she couldn't even begin to think of what George thought of Angelina when he looked at that couch. Angelina was tall and strong, lithe and fluid. She wore clothes that a grown up would wear, clothes that were appropriate and neutral. She had perfect skin, skin untouched by scars. Olive's throat burns when she tries to swallow. Angelina probably remembered every single time she and George had sat on that couch--

"Ollie."

Her head hurriedly turns, finding George standing a few feet away from her with a very serious expression on his face. She nearly asks him whats wrong, if he'd asked her something, but her brows furrow when he says firmly, "The way he looks at you kills me. Wolpert. I could have killed him tonight."

"George," She laughs awkwardly, cheeks already burning with shame, "Nigel and I got together a long time ago. Really, I followed him around for so long that I think he finally got tired of me and just decided to try it out. We're just friends."

"Do you remember being with him?" He asks it like he wants to know, not like he's going to punish her for being honest. She blinks, raising a hand to press to her burning face before whispering, "Not really. Vague things, like the broom closet in the dungeons. I was scared because I thought if a Slytherin found us we'd be in for it. I remember it being fast," George's lips twitch slightly, and she can't resist her own smile, "And I remember him calling me cute afterwards. Cute. I was horrified. I remember it being so disappointing because it turned out the feelings I had for him were not the feelings I wanted to have. I love Nigel because he's been my friend for a long time, but he's dismissive. His nature is to dismiss one thing in favor of the next, to move on and keep moving on in a way that makes it hard to catch up. I don't remember anything as well as I remember being glad that we were only really good friends instead of something more."