Forget Me Not || George Weasley

Chapter 65

Olive remembers Christmas fondly.

She can't remember the Christmases she has had since her memory was scarred, but the ones she remembers from her childhood warm her soul on the coldest days. The first thing she thinks of when she wakes however, is not a holiday or the gifts it brings or the food it entails or how she needs to remember to go to her grandfather's later. The first thing Olive thinks of when she wakes up, is the heavy thing trapping her flat to the mattress.

She blinks one eye open, studying the object that is weighing her down. A dreamy sigh nearly escapes her when she sees the muscly bicep curled around her, attached to an even more muscular shoulder. She grins, her memory of falling asleep in his childhood bedroom far too foggy to decipher. But she remembers his raspy voice, his rippling muscles, her name on his lips.

Merlin, George Weasley is hot.

She fans her face, suddenly and pleasantly surprised by the flashes of images she can recall from the night before. George was hard to forget, his face and his expressions. But her smile fades when she can only faintly recall those three special words she had so craved to hear from him. How had he said it? She wasn't sure. She knew it was lovely, she could feel the memory of hearing him say that he loved her. She could feel the elation she had felt. But she couldn't remember the other words he'd used, nor the moment he had said them.

Olive clenches her eyes shut, tears a terrifying threat that she wards away quickly. She swallows past the sudden lump in her throat, silently scolding herself. It didn't matter...right? Gingerly, she removes his arm from around her waist, rolling down the sleeves of the jumper he had given her to sleep in. She pulls on some sleeping pants, tightening up the drawstring of the soft flannel before tip toeing towards the door. It was still early. She could tell by the cool light streaming through the frosted windows. That, and the unusual silence. She wasn't sure it would ever be quiet at the burrow.

She pauses with her hand on the door knob, turning to look at where George is snoring softly in his old bed, a relaxed expression on his face. His hands flex over the blankets, brows furrowing for just a moment before he relaxes once again. Olive takes a mental picture of George Weasley resting peacefully in his childhood room, the one he shared with his soulmate. She's not sure if she'll ever see him look this serene in a place that he and Fred share. In case she doesn't, she just hopes she'll remember this. It feels like change. A very good one.

Quietly, she steps into the hall and shuts the door behind her, heading for the stairs and carefully descending into the living room. She's barelly touched her foot to the rather colorful rug in the middle of the room when a throat clears. She jumps, clutching her chest and whisper yelling, "For the love of Merlin, Lee! Do you have to scare--"

Her mouth clamps shut, eyes widening upon finding quite a few more people than she was expecting looking her direction. Lee grins cheekily from where he's sat next to a rather amused Charlie at the table, Harry and Ginny quickly covering their smiles with their mugs from their seats. Hermione is elbowing a laughing Ron, Bill quirking a brow when Fleur lets out a quiet laugh of her own. Percy eyes her uncertainly. Molly Weasley looks properly chuffed from where she's standing next to the stove. The only ones that seem to be oblivious to her presence are Arthur reading his newspaper and a sleeping Victoire.

Olive rubs her hands together, looking around the Burrow awkwardly before saying timidly, "Happy Christmas?"

"Indeed," Arthur says without looking up from his newspaper, causing her face to flame, "It does seems to be a rather happy one."

Laughter breaks out amongst the Weasley children and their partners, wheezes and giggles coming from the whole lot. Olive strides over to smack Lee upside the head, muttering, "You prat. Could have warned me."