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╰┈➤ ❝ [𝑃𝑅𝑂𝐿𝑂𝐺𝑈𝐸] ❞ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-
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The Burrow
Village of Ottery St Catchpole
- Devon, England
( August, 1985. )

𝑻he summer George and Fred were six was a particularly sweltering one, the kind where the days stretched long and lazy, and the sticky air made everything move a little slower. The Burrow buzzed with the chaos of too many children crammed into too small a space, but for George, that summer had one highlight: the Harringtons.

The Harringtons lived in a charming, ivy-covered cottage not far from the Weasleys. The families often exchanged visits, their children running wild between gardens and kitchens. Olympia Harrington, with her golden hair and determined scowl, was George's age and already had a knack for bossing him around in a way that wasn't entirely unpleasant

Olympia Harrington, always the picture of focus and determination, stood on a wooden stool at the counter in the Burrow's chaotic kitchen. She wore an oversized apron that dragged slightly on the floor, the fabric covered in floury handprints. Her golden hair was tied back in two uneven plaits, and her little tongue poked out in concentration as she carefully poured sugar into a mixing bowl.

"Easy there, dear," Molly Weasley said kindly, her voice warm as she gently steadied the bowl. "Not too much, or it'll be sweeter than a Cauldron Cake."

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley," Olympia replied, her tone as serious as if she were concocting a potion instead of baking. She adjusted the spoonful of sugar with meticulous precision. "I want it to be perfect."

"It'll be perfect because you're putting your heart into it," Molly assured her with a smile, wiping her hands on her apron. "Though I will say, a bit of practice never hurts." She reached for the cinnamon and handed it to Olympia.

"Cinnamon next, right?" Olympia asked, her bright eyes scanning the recipe card propped against a flour tin.

"That's right, just a pinch," Molly replied. She glanced out the window above the sink, where Cassie was darting around the yard, her laughter mingling with Fred and George's shouts. Little Ron toddled behind them, determined to keep up, though he tripped over his own feet every few steps. Percy sat under the shade of a tree, nose buried in a book, entirely unbothered by the chaos.

Back in the kitchen, Olympia measured out a precise pinch of cinnamon, sprinkling it over the mound of flour. "I like the way this smells," she said, taking a deep whiff.

Molly chuckled. "It does smell lovely, doesn't it? Just wait until it's baking. The whole house will smell like a treat."

Olympia beamed, proud of her work. "Do you think they'll like it?" she asked, glancing toward the yard where the boys were playing.

"Oh, I'm sure they will," Molly said with a knowing smile. "Though with Fred and George, it's hard to say if they'll taste it properly—they tend to eat like starving trolls."

Olympia giggled at that, but her expression quickly turned serious again as she reached for the eggs. Molly helped her crack them into the bowl, the yolks wobbling amidst the other ingredients.

"Mrs. Weasley?" Olympia asked softly as she stirred, her little arms struggling to move the heavy wooden spoon through the thick batter.

"Yes, dear?"

"Do you think George will like it the most?"

Molly paused, her hands stilling as she reached for a grater. She hid her smile behind a casual tone. "I think George will love it, my sweet. He's got a bit of a sweet tooth, you know."

Olympia nodded, her cheeks pinkening as she stirred harder. "He's nice," she said quietly, almost to herself.

Molly's heart warmed, but she decided not to tease. Instead, she ruffled Olympia's hair gently. "He is. And so are you for making this cake for everyone."

They worked in companionable silence for a while, Molly guiding Olympia through grating the carrots and folding them into the batter. When it was finally ready, Olympia looked at the bowl of lumpy, orange-speckled mixture with pride.

"Into the tin it goes," Molly said, handing her a spatula.

Olympia carefully poured the batter into a baking tin, spreading it as evenly as her small hands could manage. Molly slid it into the oven, clapping her hands together. "Well done, Olympia. Now, we just wait."

The little girl climbed down from her stool, brushing off her flour-dusted hands. "I'm going to tell George it's in the oven," she declared, determination written all over her face.

Molly smiled as she watched Olympia dart out into the yard, her plaits bouncing. It was clear to her, even then, that there was something special in the way Olympia and George gravitated toward each other—an innocence and sweetness that only children could truly capture.

Back in the living room, Bill and Charlie lounged on the worn sofa, occasionally glancing toward the kitchen. Bill smirked, nudging Charlie. "Think that little cake's for everyone, or just a certain someone?"

Charlie chuckled. "If it's for George, I hope he likes cinnamon and carrots. What a pair."

Bill shrugged. "They'll eat anything. But I've got my bets on Olympia turning him into a proper gentleman one day."

Charlie laughed, shaking his head. "Good luck with that."

As the scent of cinnamon and sugar began to waft through the Burrow, Molly leaned against the counter, her smile growing. She could already hear Fred and George arguing over who got the first slice.

Fred darted across the yard, his laughter ringing out as he spun to face Olympia, who stood firmly planted by the kitchen door, hands on her hips in her signature no-nonsense pose.

"Ollie-Ols, you have to play!" Fred whined, bouncing on his toes like a coiled spring, ready to dash off at any moment.

Olympia narrowed her eyes at him, crossing her arms. "No, I'm baking."

George, who had just finished dragging little Ron away from the chaos of Fred and Cassie's game of tag, appeared at her side. "You said it's in the oven," he pointed out, his tone teasing. "That means you can play now."

Olympia lifted her chin defiantly. "What if I don't wanna play?" she asked, her hands snapping to her waist with all the sass her six-year-old self could muster.

Fred looked like he was going to burst from laughing, but George, ever the instigator, smirked. "Well, I guess it's for the best anyway," he said casually, his tone nonchalant as he leaned against the doorframe. "You're such a slow runner."

Olympia's jaw dropped. "I am not!" she huffed, her cheeks flushing pink.

George shrugged, feigning indifference. "You are, though. Like a turtle in molasses."

That did it. Olympia's scowl deepened, and before George could react, she bolted toward him with a loud, indignant yell. "Take that back, George Weasley!"

George's eyes widened as she charged. "Oh no—no, no, no!" he yelped, darting off across the yard with Olympia hot on his heels.

Fred doubled over laughing as George sprinted past, looking over his shoulder in terror. "Oi, I thought you didn't wanna play!" George shouted, his voice cracking with amusement and just a hint of panic.

"Stop running and say you're sorry!" Olympia hollered, her plaits flying behind her as she chased him.

"You're proving my point!" George called back, dodging a tree and narrowly avoiding Percy, who glanced up from his book with a disapproving glare.

"You'll be sorry when I catch you!" Olympia yelled, her little legs pumping furiously.

Cassie, momentarily forgetting her game with Fred, joined in on the chase. "Get him, Ollie!" she cheered.

Fred, still grinning, sauntered over to Percy and dropped onto the grass beside him. "I give it two minutes before she tackles him."

Percy sighed, shaking his head. "Honestly, it's a miracle the lot of you haven't broken a bone yet."

Meanwhile, George, realizing Olympia was gaining on him, let out an exaggerated groan of defeat and skidded to a stop, turning to face her with his hands raised. "Alright, alright, I surrender!"

Olympia stopped short, panting as she fixed him with a fierce glare. "Say I'm not slow!" she demanded.

George, trying not to laugh, gave her his best solemn look. "You're not slow."

"And?" she prompted, hands on her hips again.

George bit back a grin. "And you're the fastest runner I've ever seen."

Olympia's lips twitched, but she kept up her stern expression. "And?"

George sighed dramatically, dropping his shoulders. "And I'm a turtle in molasses."

Fred cackled from his spot on the grass. "That's more like it!"

Olympia finally let a smile break through, her earlier irritation forgotten. "Good," she said primly. "Now don't forget it, George Weasley." She turned on her heel and marched back toward the Burrow with all the dignity of a miniature queen.

George watched her go, shaking his head with a fond smile. "She's terrifying," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

Fred clapped a hand on his shoulder as he walked by. "That's why you like her, Georgie boy. You're doomed."

George's cheeks flushed as he turned to glare at Fred, who was now hopping around him in a circle, chanting in a sing-song voice.

"George and Olympia, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!" Fred grinned mischievously, clearly enjoying every second of his brother's discomfort.

"I do not!" George snapped, crossing his arms in defiance, though the red creeping up his neck told a different story.

Fred wasn't about to let up. "First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes—"

"Fred!" George lunged at him, but Fred was too quick, ducking out of the way and darting off with a laugh.

"Then comes George pushing a pram in a carriage!" Fred finished at the top of his lungs, dashing toward the Burrow with George hot on his heels.

"Take it back!" George shouted, his face burning.

"Make me!" Fred called over his shoulder, cackling as he zigzagged across the yard.

Fred finally stopped running, leaning against the garden fence as he caught his breath. George stopped a few feet away, glaring daggers at him.

"You're such a git," George grumbled, his arms crossed.

Fred grinned wickedly, wiping a tear of laughter from his eye. "And yet, I'm the git who's right."

George opened his mouth to argue but hesitated, glancing toward the kitchen where Olympia had disappeared. Fred raised an eyebrow, his grin widening.

"See?" Fred teased. "Doomed, Georgie. Absolutely doomed."

Olympia stuck her head out of the kitchen door, a bright smile lighting up her face. "Cakes ready!" she called, her voice brimming with pride.

Little Ron squealed with excitement, abandoning his game and dashing into the house. His tiny legs carried him so fast that he nearly toppled over the threshold.

Just then, Molly appeared at the top of the stairs, holding a groggy, wild-haired Ginny against her hip. The three-year-old rubbed her eyes with tiny fists, her bright red hair sticking out in every direction from her nap.

"Mumma, Mumma!" George exclaimed, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Can I hold Gin-Gin?"

Molly shook her head gently as she descended the stairs, smoothing Ginny's hair with one hand. "Not now, dear. She's fussy from her nap. After you've had some cake, alright?"

George's face fell slightly but brightened again at the mention of cake. The group gathered at the table, where Olympia was already proudly cutting slices and serving them with careful precision.

Fred and George shared a glance as their plates were set down in front of them. Carrot cake. Neither of them particularly liked carrot cake. Fred raised an eyebrow at George, as if to say, You first.

George hesitated but caught sight of Olympia's eager expression as she watched them, her hands clasped in front of her apron. Her face practically glowed with anticipation.

He quickly kicked Fred under the table, earning a startled yelp. "It's fantastic, Olympia!" George declared with exaggerated enthusiasm, giving her a wide grin. "Best thing I've ever tasted!"

Fred coughed to cover his laugh and gave a noncommittal, "Mhm!" But as soon as Olympia turned her attention to serving Ron, Fred spat the bite he'd taken into his napkin and slid his plate toward the little redhead.

Ron, oblivious to the exchange, happily devoured the slice in front of him, humming in delight.

Meanwhile, George soldiered on, forcing himself to eat every bite of his cake despite the taste. He smiled through it all, stealing glances at Olympia's beaming face. She was clearly thrilled with her baking success, and for some reason, that made it worth every overly sweet, slightly spiced mouthful.

Fred leaned over, muttering under his breath, "Taking one for the team, eh?"

George shot him a warning look and replied just as quietly, "Shut it, Fred."

As Olympia sat down with her own slice, George smiled at her again, his heart warm despite his now slightly queasy stomach.

Later that evening was a perfect blend of warm summer air and the sounds of children's laughter filling the garden. The air was alive with the soft glow of fireflies as they flitted about, and the kids were running wildly, trying to catch them in cupped hands.

Molly and Arthur sat on the porch, enjoying the peaceful moment after the chaotic afternoon. Arthur was gently rocking little Ron in his arms, who was slowly dozing off to the rhythm of his father's gentle motions. Molly, ever the doting mother, held a sleeping Ginny against her chest, her wild red hair fanning out across her mum's chest.

Nearby, Atlas Harrington and Percy were attempting to catch fireflies of their own, their quiet competition made up of a mix of grins and concentration.

But it wasn't long before the unmistakable sound of Fred and George's shouts cut through the air. The twins were in full-on troublemaking mode, chasing after Cassie and Olympia, yelling, "Marry me! Marry me!" with exaggerated, ridiculous seriousness.

Cassie and Olympia shrieked and laughed, both girls darting away with squeals of "No!" as they ran in the opposite direction, giggling uncontrollably. Fred and George, their faces lit up with mischievous grins, pursued them like hounds after a fox.

"Oi, don't go too far!" Arthur called from the porch, his voice a mixture of concern and amusement.

But the girls, undeterred, continued running, the laughter growing faint as they veered toward the woods.

Olympia skidded to a stop, realizing she had run herself into a dead end. She turned, only to find George standing there, not far behind her, looking far too pleased with himself.

"Don't you dare get down on one knee, George Weasley!" Olympia warned, hands planted firmly on her hips as she shot him a skeptical look.

But of course, George did exactly that. Without missing a beat, he dropped to one knee, his face the picture of theatrical seriousness.

"Marry me!" he said dramatically, though his grin made it clear that this was all part of the joke.

Olympia, incredulous, threw her hands in the air. "We're six!" she retorted, shaking her head in disbelief.

George raised a finger, leaning forward slightly. "And a quarter!"

Olympia rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a laugh. "Why do you want to marry me, anyway?"

George, still kneeling like he was making the most important declaration of his life, gave her an innocent smile. "Cause you're purty."

Olympia couldn't help but giggle, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Shut it!" she exclaimed playfully.

Before George could say another word, Olympia turned on her heels and dashed back toward the house, laughing as she ran.

George watched her go with a wide grin on his face, standing up and brushing off his knees. "I'll take that as a yes!" he called after her, his voice filled with playful confidence.