the painter // george weasley //

9

Summer Flowers, Louis Aston Knight

Olive took the day off. It was a beautiful day, very hot day. She was walking around a muggle neighborhood, all the townhomes were the same. Stark white, nothing out of the ordinary. Everything was the same, she felt like she was in purgatory. Was this purgatory, boring, white, no color... No excitement. It was a beautiful day though, it was hot, but she heard no children laughing or hear the sounds of basketballs pounding on the pavement. It was a ghost town, boring, she thought. All the houses had at least one window open, the drapes beautifully floating out of the open window in some houses, or an occasionally magazine or novel reader sitting on the edge of the sill. She can hear the weatherman, either from the televisions blaring or the radios inside.

"Today is a hot one, 38 degrees out there." She heard the man say

She keeps forgetting she isn't in the States anymore, she needs to buy herself a book on the conversions. To her, 38 degrees is a warm, not exactly, a not as cold winter day. But it's not winter, it's about to be June. The triplets were born in June. She missed her family.

It was hot, she was sweating. She wasn't wearing her usually attire. Oversize sweater, didn't matter how hot it was... (except for today), overalls or baggy jeans. Either in the pair of non slip clogs, she got when she decided to work at a muggle fast food restaurant one summer as a joke. She actually really enjoyed it, she loved the idea of getting a toy with a meal. And she really likes cheeseburgers now, but you can forget the extra pickles. Or she was wearing her Doc Martens. They were just black, well kind of, now they are covered in paint splats. But today, she was wearing a tank top, that shows a big scar on her back. Thanks to the triplets. Their simple prank turned wrong, and 13 year old Olive was the victim. They don't pull pranks on her anymore. She was still wearing her baggy jeans though, but they were cuffed on the ankles and she was wearing her Birkenstocks; that Bug always makes fun of her for. Calls them her tree hugging shoes.

She somehow made it back to Diagon Alley, she thought that maybe because the alley always seemed shaded by the crooked buildings, it would be cooler, you'd think that. But it was just as hot. She was walking past the tea shop, Rose was leaning against the door frame waving a fan at her face.

"Too hot for tea today.." Rose complained as she shot a look at the normals enjoying steaming cups of tea. Olive laughed, knowing very well that Rose complained the entire time she made them the tea.

She eventually passed the pet store, the red head wasn't standing there like normal. The cats were still in the window playing. Then she passed the ice cream parlor. She thought about it, but that line was too long.

"Maybe I should go to grocery store.." She looked up at her apartment window a few doors down. She swung her leg around, bring her body with her. Then smacking face first into someone chest. They smelled like cinnamon, but not like the stuff you put of sweets. Or sweet potatoes like her dad does. No, it smelled like artificial cinnamon, like the type you put in spiced alcohol. Also, a lingering smell of fire or gunpowder. And wool. She smelled wool, like the wool of her mothers winter cloaks. She pushed herself back from the chest, ready to apologize. It was the red head.

"George." She smiled

"Olive!" His facial expression mirrored, "Hi! How are you?"

"Toasty." She smirked, "Thought of getting ice cream, but that line.." She looked at the parlor, he followed her eyes to the packed shop.

"Too many people.." He nodded, "What's your plan? Hot tea from Rose, then?" He chuckled

"I think she'd spit in my tea if I asked her to brew me a cup right now.." She giggled, "I was gonna go to the grocery store and get a tub of ice cream for myself and maybe eat it on bench by myself."