| Inked | (George Weasley)

Chapter Seventy-One

Click-click click-click...

Olive's meeting with Professor Flitwick about her future career path had come around quicker than she realized. Before she knew, it was the third of January, the day before she was supposed to meet with her Head of House.

And she had nearly forgotten about the portfolio he wanted.

After writing a panicked letter the night before to Remus about what she should do and how she should put together her portfolio, Olive was sitting in the Muggle-Studies classroom on a rainy Tuesday evening, typing in her stories on a type-writer.

It was tedious, slow-going work, considering Olive had only used a typewriter once or twice to touch up some old recipe cards for Missy one Christmas... but the words were already written for her, she just had to copy them.

Her fingers worked like chopsticks, carefully typing out each word, knowing that if she messed up she would have to rip out the page and start over again.

Yes, Ollie knew there were enchanted typewriters that existed that journalists used when writing articles for the Daily Profit, but there were none at her disposal, and she didn't have enough time to figure out how to enchant this one herself. Besides, Remus had told her that typing the stories out would be good for her.

He just didn't tell her how long it would take her.

She checked her watch, letting out a tired sigh as the hour neared eleven-thirty. Having special permission from Professor Flitwick and Professor Burbage to use the classroom as long as she needed, she didn't need to worry about sneaking back to the common room when she was done.

However, she didn't want to be up all night. Remus had suggested four or five stories, half of them shorter and the other longer. Olive was about halfway through typing one of the longer ones, one of her notebooks opened flat on the desk beside her.

Click-click click-click click-click...

"That has probably got to be the most annoying sound ever."

Jumping in her seat, Olive turned around with a pounding heart to see who was at the door. She was surprised to see anyone so late in the night, especially since it was after curfew, but as soon as her eyes landed on the culprit that surprise melted.

"Tell me about it, I've been here since four." Olive clutched her chest for a moment, "Do you always sneak up on people these days?"

George Weasley leaned against the doorframe, arms folded across his chest as he shrugged. The awkwardness that was present a few days prior still hung in the air, but without the pressure of people watching them, they both eased a bit.

"More or less." He answered mischievously.

Closing the door behind him, he walked further into the classroom. Olive turned back to face the typewriter, making sure she didn't mess up her page when George had scared her.

"I would ask what you were doing out so late, but I honestly don't really want to know." The Ravenclaw sighed, her eyes feeling heavy in the dim torch light, "Besides, I think I might have a small clue."

George spun a chair around and sat facing Olive, "Who says I didn't come out here late at night to see you?"

Ollie quirked a brow, "You probably didn't even know I was here."