| Inked | (George Weasley)

Chapter Sixty-Eight

"Olls."

Hands lightly shook her shoulder, jolting the Ravenclaw from the light sleep she was just in. Her eyes opened slowly, and blearily she looked around, taking in her surroundings.

Had I been dreaming this whole time?

But her eyes fell on George, who was sitting up next to her, smiling gently down at her as she slowly brought herself to a state of full awareness. The jacket of his dress robes was draped over her shoulders, keeping her bundled against the cold.

It wasn't a dream. Everything that had happened at the Yule Ball was real.

"Oh my god." She sat up, cheeks going redder than George's hair, "Did I fall asleep?"

She clapped her hands over her mouth, embarrassment heating up her chest.

"Just for a little bit." George checked his watch, "Twenty minutes or so."

Olive closed her eyes, letting out a long sigh as she processed the last thing she remembered before dozing off.

"I'm so sorry." She pushed the curls from her face, "That's so embarrassing."

George raised his brows, "What? No, Olls, don't apologize. It's okay." He shrugged, "I saw that you were dancing for half the night, you must be tired."

"You saw me dancing?"

"And you said you weren't good at it." He smirked, looking back out at the starry night. In his eyes, Olive could see the gears churning, as if there was something he wanted to say but couldn't get it out.

She watched him for a minute, her blue eyes now free from fatigue, taking in every quirk of his brow, every freckle on his cheek. Olive wanted to know what he was going to say, but she didn't have the guts to ask. In her mind, she was trying to piece it together herself.

But even she couldn't find the right words sometimes, even in writing.

So, Olive did the only thing she could think of in that moment. She scooted a hair closer to him, and slowly reached her arm over, looping it with his and snaking her fingers down until her hand was interlocked with his.

George relaxed more at her touch, though he had already been nearly completely at ease. His eyes moved from whatever he was looking at in the distance, and moved down to her.

At first, she thought he was going to kiss her. Maybe he was, or was at least thinking about it. Olive could have sworn his eyes danced down to look at her lips briefly before trailing back up her face and into her eyes. His other arm reached over, gently gripping her arm, his thumb tracing the back of it.

Olive wanted him to kiss her. Again.

But it didn't happen.

"What are you two doing up here?!"

As if George and Ollie were struck by lightning, they pulled away, and suddenly they were three feet from each other.

The Ravenclaw felt heat flash across her cheeks and her stomach jolt in alarm. Her hands, almost instinctively, ran up to her neck to pull at a shirt collar that wasn't there. Her thumb was met with raised flesh, causing the edges of her hair to match the pink tinge on her cheeks.

Professor Snape stood at the entrance to the Astronomy Tower, his wand brightly lit in the two teen's faces.

"Well?" The teacher demanded impatiently, "That question wasn't rhetorical."

Olive was stammering, her face starting to drain of color. The words were there, but she couldn't get them out, eventually biting her tongue and looking solemnly at her lap.