No Tricks (George Weasley x OC)

Chapter 3

Tightly holding onto a small parcel, and a purple Pygmy Puff perched on his shoulder, George knocked on the darkly painted door of Olive Tree Art & Tattoos.

He had learned over the past week what a tattoo was, when his father had come to the shop to visit and noticed the brand new sign across the street. The explanation had been brief and messy, as often when Arthur talked of Muggle matters. But it had been enough for George. What he wanted to know now, was why Oli was so knowledgeable on the matter as to open a shop dedicated to the medium.

As he swallowed thickly, the textured window allowed him to see Oli walk towards him. Swinging the door open, she smiled and invited him in.

"Welcome! You're the first to arrive," she said as he shuffled inside.

"Well good thing I didn't come alone then," George said, pointing to the Pygmy Puff on his shoulder.

Oli emitted a cooing sound and wiggled a finger at the creature. As she took a step back, George stretched out an arm, presenting her with the wrapped parcel.

"Awww, you shouldn't have," Oli tried to reprimand him, but her smile was too obvious.

"Inauguration gift," was the only explanation George deigned to give.

Oli started peeling off the wrapping before stopping abruptly: "Is this from your shop?"

"No, no," George reassured her with a chuckle.

"Because I've noticed the kinds of things you guys sell."

"It's not from our store," George repeated solemnly. "And if it was, it would be for you to pull a prank on someone else."

"Hm," was all Oli said in mock suspicion.

She finished ripping the paper and discovered a glass jar. The label read "Sugarplum's Chocolate Spread - With Exploding Candy!"

"How did you know?" Oli asked with a smile that showed the question was rhetorical.

Nevertheless, George entertained her: "Just a feeling."

As she thanked him and put the jar aside, another person knocked on the front door and Oli made haste to welcome the new guests. Meanwhile, George took the chance to become more familiar with the environment. The room was painted emerald green, with an accent wall of geometric wallpaper. Golden details were spread out, a luxurious chandelier hanging from the ceiling in the middle of an intricately painted circular pattern. The furniture was mostly made from black wood or glass. There too, touches of gold served to brighten up the pieces. It felt intimate and elegant at the same time, the velvety cushions in the soft leather couch appearing very comfortable. If you paid close attention, you could tell that most of the furniture had a life prior to the opening of the shop. However, those details were easily missed by most, too busy examining the various plants spread throughout the room. Finally, large, velvet curtains separated the area from what George assumed to be the back of the store.

George turned back towards Oli as she welcomed more and more guests into the room. She had a contagious smile, warm and inviting; the kind that made you feel like everything would be alright. For the first time that evening, George felt his heart flutter at the thought and sight of his new neighbor. He could not wait to speak more with her.

He would have to be patient however, for the night would not offer many opportunities for quiet conversations. The inauguration of Olive Tree Art & Tattoo had attracted the entirety of the Diagon Alley shop owners. The promise of tea and biscuits had worked.

People were spread throughout the room, some using the chairs and the couch, others standing by the desk or the window. A merry atmosphere filled the space, the sound of chatter accompanied by a gentle background melody.

"Miss Tillers! Miss Tillers!" a voice erupted from the crowd.

It was mister Mulpepper, the owner of the apothecary.

"Yes, sir?" Oli asked cautiously, but with a smile.

"Miss Tillers, I ought to ask you what I believe many of us have been wondering," he said while motioning to the crowd. "What in Godrick's name is a tattoo?"

Oli smiled more brightly at the curiosity of her guest. Standing up straight and relaxed, she explained: "It is a Muggle art form that consists of permanently drawing on one's skin."

She paused so as to allow everyone to react with ohhh's and ahhh's, or more whispered questions.

"I actually have tattoo's myself, as you can see," and she showed off her hands.

"And how do you draw those on permanently? If it is a Muggle art form, they surely do not use magic!"

Many questions followed about the tattoo process, all of which Oli answered with poise and ease. The crinkles by her eyes permanently etched into her features, as she clearly enjoyed sharing this knowledge. George found himself smiling while absentmindedly petting the Pygmy Puff.

At last, someone asked the question that had been on all of their lips: "How do you know so much about a Muggle art form."

Oli briefly paused and took a sip from her glass.

"My father is a Muggleborn wizard."

Another chorus of ahhh's was uttered by the small crowd.

"I was in contact with my Muggle family a lot while growing up."

And with that, all the questions had been answered, all the tea had been drunk and all the biscuits had been eaten. It was time for everyone to return home.

Oli walked each guest separately out of the shop, thanking them for having stopped by. At last, only George remained. He had stayed behind, observing a framed painting on the wall by the velvety curtains. His head snapped when he heard Oli sigh from beside the door.

"Same time next week?" George poked with a smile.

Fighting the urge to yawn, Oli looked over her shoulder, eyes crinkling: "At your shop?"

"God no!" George fought back. "Don't get me wrong, they're lovely people but..."

"It's a lot."

They nodded comprehensively at each other.

Pointing at the painting he was observing, George wondered: "Yours?"

Oli walked closer.

"Yes."

Standing next to him now, she added: "A watercolor of my hometown."

"Where is that?"

Oli met his gaze.

"Ghent."

"Belgium?"

She nodded.

Turning back to the painting, she became melancholic.

"I lived there my entire life until I came here."

"How was it?"

"A lot calmer. Ghent is a small city compared to London. I knew many people there too." She paused. "It was home."

George frowned.

"Is it not anymore?"

Oli shrugged.

"Not sure yet. I'm starting to like it here."

She was smiling again, and so was George.

"Maybe you could have two homes?"

As he met her gaze again, George noticed a hint of sadness in her eyes.

"That is to see."

Sighing, George picked up the Pygmy Puff from his shoulder.

"For what it matters," he whispered, handing her the creature, "I am happy you're here."