𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐋𝐋 ━ George Weasley

━ 𝟘𝟚𝟜. 𝑀𝑢𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑑 𝑊𝑖𝑛𝑒 & 𝑀𝑒𝑟𝑟𝑦 𝑀𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠

💌🏹

╰┈➤ ❝ [𝑇𝑊𝐸𝑁𝑇𝑌-𝐹𝑂𝑈𝑅] ❞ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-
⁺⤾·˚.⃗.  [ᴍᴜʟʟᴇᴅ ᴡɪɴᴇ & ᴍᴇʀʀʏ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛs] 𑁍ࠜೄ ˊˎ
﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋

The Three Broomsticks
Hogsmeade
— Scottish Highlands
( December 24th, 1994. )

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐒 was abuzz with the warmth of the holidays, the air thick with the scent of mulled wine and sweet cinnamon. The crackling fire in the hearth cast a golden glow across the room, flickering in the windows as soft snowflakes drifted down outside. Inside, the atmosphere was a perfect blend of comfort and joy. The tables were laden with festive treats—mince pies, gingerbread, mulled wine, and trays of steaming butterbeer. The light from the fire made the wood-paneled walls glow, and the soft hum of Christmas music added to the ambiance, filling the space with warmth and cheer.

At the large round table near the back of the pub, Olympia and her friends had gathered for their Christmas Eve get-together. The group sat comfortably around the table, everyone in high spirits and wearing cozy, festive clothing. The table was covered with wrapped gifts—bright paper and shimmering ribbons peeking out from the pile in the center. The presents hadn't yet been opened, but there was a palpable excitement in the air as everyone chatted eagerly about their plans for Christmas and the upcoming holidays.

Olympia sat with Cedric beside her, his arm draped casually over her shoulders, offering her a quiet sense of comfort. He had been a constant source of support in recent months, their friendship growing deeper with each passing day. He made her feel safe, and she leaned into him just a little, feeling the warmth of his presence. But even as Cedric spoke to her about some Quidditch-related topic, Olympia's attention was divided. Her eyes kept darting across the table to George.

Across from her, George sat next to Marianna, his arm comfortably around her waist. She seemed to fit into the space beside him effortlessly, her head resting lightly on his shoulder as she chatted with Fred. They were laughing about something, but Olympia barely heard the conversation. Her thoughts were consumed by George, who, despite his easy smile, kept stealing glances at her from across the table. His eyes would lock with hers for a split second, intense and unspoken, before quickly darting away—almost as if he couldn't quite control the pull between them. The tension was thick, like an invisible thread that connected them, stretching taut with each brief exchange of looks.