A Ferret with Nothing

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Sorry for the wait!! There's just a huge thing I have to take care of (my father is selling my childhood home and its just a little too much to handle) Thank you for being patient and I hope you enjoy this chapter :)

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*Riley's POV*

            "So how's everything going?" Oliver mused as we sat eating ice cream in his new flat in downtown London.

            "I've been better," I muttered as I took a spoonful of my peanut butter ice cream.

            "Fred's still in St.Mungo's?"

            I nodded slightly and Oliver gave me a small smile before stealing a spoonful of my ice cream.

            "He'll wake up, Rye...just try to stay positive. How's George holding up?" Oliver commented as he leaned back in his chair.

            "He's...up and about," I muttered, I didn't want to admit that George had been locking himself in the apartment since the war—which had been a little over two months now—and tried very little to socialize with anyone but me. Plus his drinking habit that had basically exploded overnight. Oliver would never let me stay if he knew what was going on.

            "I'm sure his family feels just the same, Rye," Oliver smiled comfortingly.

            I nodded and finished off my ice cream before taking a sip of tea. 

            "You know, if you really need to, you can stay here," Oliver shrugged.

            "Thanks, Oliver. I'm fine there though," I stated as he leaned back casually in his chair. I didn't want to leave George alone, he needed someone around. Even if he were to snap, he was still doing as much as he could to take care of the both of us. "Oliver, I need to tell you something..."

            "I'm listening."

            I locked eyes with him, Oliver was known for his rage when it came to my safety and qudditch—honestly the whole Gryffindor team agreed that they would rather make him enraged about something dealing with me than having Oliver act ridiculously about team practices. Fred and George once wanted to get him so pissed that he would forget about a practice he'd scheduled one day before their O.W.L.S. took place so they could get some rest. "Now, before you get angry and stop listening to me because you're in some kind of rage...I need you to know that this was not Fred's fau—"

            "Oh god, please tell me you aren't pregnant," Oliver whispered. I nodded, Oliver sucked in a breath and fell silent.

            "That's actually why I really wanted to see you today," I stated as I sat straighter in my chair, "I wanted to tell you right away but—"

            "Let me guess, you kept thinking I was going to murder Fred, didn't you?" I nodded and Oliver sighed, "I wouldn't have murdered Fred."

            "That's good to know," I smiled slightly.

            "I'm not exactly ecstatic about the news though," Oliver frowned as he gazed at me.

            "How do you think I feel?" I muttered as I folded my arms over my chest.

            "Is he getting any better?" Oliver asked, his voice serious now.

            I let out a shaky breath, I didn't like talking about Fred. George was the one who did all the talking while I just stood there looking at the ground or my hands. "I don't know actually, I visited yesterday and the healers mentioned that Fred's hand had moved."

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