| Inked | (George Weasley)

Chapter Thirty-Two

"Olive, can we talk?"

Olive watched George with her wide cobalt stare, basically helpless to move since she was confined to the hospital bed.

"Wh-what are you doing here?" She asked, her voice quiet like it had been when they first met several months ago. George shoved his hands in his pockets, shrugging his shoulders as he fidgeted under Ollie's narrowed glance.

"We were visiting Ron." He started, "Then we heard about what happened to you."

Olive nodded slowly, as if asking him to continue.

"I wanted to apologize, really. I tried to yesterday... but you ran off. Olive, I really shouldn't have said those things. I didn't even mean them, I was just mad. People did horrible things to you and I had no right to bring that up." He said, looking down at his feet, "So if you'd allow it, I'd really like to be friends again."

There was a pause as the girl pondered George's apology.

"Do you mean it?"

He looked up, eyes meeting hers.

"Cross my heart."

Olive could feel a blush working it's way up her pallor cheeks. She smiled softly, motioning for George to sit down next to her bed.

"I accept on one condition." She said, "I'm not pranking anyone or helping you with anything."

"Deal."

Olive reached up her uninjured hand, slowly shaking George's. It caused her abdomen to scream out in discomfort, but she was able to keep the wincing and grimacing to a minimum.

"Now that we're friends, I'm going to give it to you honestly." George said, "You look like you've been dragged through hell."

Olive chuckled, "I was scratched by a werewolf, George."

"I know that." The redhead shrugged, "I just didn't expect to see you all cooped up in here."

The Ravenclaw nodded, "Well, I am. At least until I can move."

"How does it feel?" George asked, "Did it hurt?"

"No, George." Olive furrowed her brows, "Werewolf claws ripping through my flesh felt like getting hugged by a cloud."

"I was just asking!" The Gryffindor put his hands up in defense. Olive chuckled, causing her whole abdomen to flare up with pain. She grimaced, coughing a bit from the sharp throbs that snaked their way around her torso. For a moment, the Lark girl's hair flashed white with shock, then quickly went away as fast as it came.

Olive blinked back the tears that pricked her eyes, still trying to keep the even smile on her face as George watched her with worried eyes. He stopped joking once he saw her in pain, wanting to keep the teen as relaxed as possible.

"Sorry." He said, clearing his throat, "I didn't mean-"

"It's not your fault." Olive interjected, "It's just... I'm going to have to learn to be careful."

"Yeah." He scratched the back of his head, "So... what were you doing outside last night that would cause you to be scratched by a werewolf?"

Olive quirked a brow for a moment, thinking of an appropriate answer. She couldn't tell him she was the black cat... not just yet. She wanted to milk the small victories she achieved as the feline for a bit longer.

"I was at the wrong place at the wrong time." Olive quickly fibbed, hiding the pink tinge in her cheeks, "It's kind of a long story..."

"As your friend, one day I'd like to know this story." George said.

"You will." Olive nodded, "Just... not yet. It's been a rough few hours."

"I understand." The ginger nodded, "I can leave if you'd like-"

"Wait." Olive nodded to the small bit of parchment Missy had left on her bedside table. She couldn't bring herself to move her arms herself, and only hoped George would catch on, "Can you write something for me?"

Ollie felt daring. She never thought in a million years she'd be asking George Weasley of all people to do this for her. Especially after the year she's had. However, the only way for people to live on was to grow, and Olive was going to be growing a lot very very soon.

"Yeah, sure thing." He grabbed a small slip of parchment from the table and the pen that sat beside it.

"193 Wilmington Road, Devon. Flat 4C." She said slowly and clearly enough for him to write in one try. George held up the paper for Ollie to read, which she nodded to after approving of the spelling.

"What is this?" George asked, flipping the paper back to himself to read.

"I-it's my address." She said quietly, "In case you o-or Fred wanted to keep in touch over the summer."

The Weasley smiled, tucking the slip of parchment into his front shirt pocket while trying to hide the giddy grin on his face.

"Thanks." George nodded, "I'd like that."

"Really?"

"Sure. I mean, how else can Fred and I bother you over the summer?"

Olive rolled her eyes, letting out a small sigh of frustration from his remark. However, she couldn't help but keep the small smirk on her face as she did so. She didn't know if it was the medicine Madame Pomfrey had given her, or her pain level, but George Weasley for once in his life was tolerable.

"No pranks or surprises." Olive warned, "We live in a muggle building."

"I can't honestly make that promise, but I will certainly try." George shrugged his shoulders, giving Olive a wink before getting to his feet.

"Please." Olive shot him a look, "I mean it."

"Alright, Ollie." the ginger saluted the Ravenclaw girl as he slowly retreated back around the curtain. Olive waved her hand slowly, picking it up only slightly from her lap. As she watched George disappear from her line of sight, she kept the tiny smirk on her face.

She kept the smile on her face throughout the nap that she took moments after George left. Ollie sunk back into her pillows and blankets, exhausted from her wounds and drowsy from the medicine. The smirk on her face lasted for hours, longer than the tea Missy brought her had stayed hot. Longer than the duration of breakfast and even lunch.

Despite hating George Weasley for the majority of the year, Olive felt that same sort of bliss she felt when they ran through the halls late at night all those months ago. She felt the rush in her chest, the tingling in her clammy hands.

Perhaps George had changed, or perhaps Ollie had changed too.