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╰┈➤ ❝ [𝑆𝐸𝑉𝐸𝑁𝑇𝐸𝐸𝑁] ❞ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-
⁺⤾·˚.⃗.  [ᴄʜᴀʟʟᴇɴɢᴇʀs ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ] 𑁍ࠜೄ ･ﾟˊˎ
﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋

Great Hall
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
— Scottish Highlands
( November, 1994. )

𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐈𝐆 𝐃𝐀𝐘.
The morning sunlight filtered through the enchanted ceiling of Hogwarts' Great Hall, casting soft golden rays over the bustling room. Students were abuzz with excitement over the upcoming Quidditch World Cup challenge—the very first test for the selected champions. Conversations, usually punctuated by laughter and clinking silverware, had a sharper edge that morning, the electric tension of competition spreading across the hall like wildfire.

Olympia Harrington, was already seated at her table, but her eyes kept straying to the Hufflepuff table, searching for Cedric Diggory. They had become closer friends over the last few months, often finding moments here and there to talk or study together. Perhaps a bit more than that. But ever since he was selected as a Hogwarts champion, their time together had dwindled. Cedric's life had been a whirlwind of training and preparation, leaving him with little time to socialize. Olympia missed his presence more than she'd expected, and she was determined to see him before the first challenge began.

After a quick breakfast, Olympia stood, ignoring her friends' questions about where she was headed, and wove her way through the bustling students. She spotted Cedric just outside the Great Hall, surrounded by a few of his Hufflepuff friends, who were offering him last-minute encouragement. He stood tall, looking calm and confident, but she could see a flicker of anxiety in his eyes that betrayed the pressure he was feeling.

When Cedric finally noticed Olympia, his face lit up with a warm, genuine smile. He stepped away from his friends, and they shared a moment of comfortable silence, neither needing to fill the space with words. Olympia offered him a small grin, shifting from one foot to the other before finally speaking.

"I just wanted to wish you luck," she said softly, her voice barely audible above the clamor around them. "Not that you need it, of course. You'll be brilliant out there."

Cedric chuckled, a little embarrassed. "Thanks, Olympia. I'm really glad you're here." His gaze softened as he studied her face, perhaps remembering the quiet moments they'd shared in the library or by the lake. . Or perhaps the party. "It means a lot to me."

They shared an understanding look, a brief but meaningful connection, before the crowd around them thickened, and he was pulled away by well-wishers and admirers. Olympia watched him go, her heart fluttering slightly. She couldn't help but feel a mix of pride and a lingering ache. Olympia hoped he knew just how much faith she had in him, even if they had barely scratched the surface of what their friendship could be.

As Olympia turned back toward the Ravenclaw table, lost in her thoughts about Cedric, she didn't notice two mischievous figures sneaking up behind her. Fred and George Weasley, grinning like Cheshire cats, crept closer, their eyes twinkling with mischief.

Suddenly, "boo!" And with that George slipped his hands around her waist from behind, and Olympia gasped, her heart leaping in surprise. She turned swiftly, her eyes widening as she found herself inches away from George, their breaths catching as they locked eyes. His hands lingered on her waist, and for a moment, time seemed to still. There was a charged silence between them, a tension she hadn't expected, and the sounds of the bustling hall faded into the background.

She had spent some time with them over the last month, but not nearly as much as she used to.

They stood there, both surprised by the closeness, until Fred cleared his throat loudly, smirking as he broke the silence. "Oi, George, you planning to propose, or just stand there looking dazed?"

Olympia felt her cheeks flush, and George quickly dropped his hands, laughing awkwardly as he stepped back. "Just giving our dear Olympia a little scare," he said, scratching the back of his neck as he avoided her gaze.

Fred clapped her on the shoulder, his grin wide. "You looked like you needed a good jolt awake anyway, Harrington. Thinking too hard about Cedric, are we?"

Olympia's cheeks burned even redder, and she swatted Fred's hand away, laughing despite herself. "As if you two could scare me," she replied, trying to sound composed, but her voice wavered just slightly as her gaze flicked back to George, who was still watching her, a hint of something unreadable in his eyes.

Olympia tried to brush off Fred and George's antics, but as she caught George's gaze again, a flicker of frustration sparked within her. His face, usually so open and expressive, was suddenly unreadable, making it impossible for her to tell what he was thinking.

Was he just embarrassed by the joke, or had he felt the same strange, breathless moment she had?

Her mind wandered back to the Halloween party a few weeks back, and the rumors that he Marianna were now dating.

Her cheeks still warm, she forced herself to laugh along with Fred, but inside, her thoughts were a tangled mess. She hated feeling this out of control, so caught up in George's reaction—or lack of one—that she couldn't even brush it off like she normally would. The tension of the moment lingered, replaying in her mind as she replayed his expression, trying to decipher something, anything, beneath his casual grin. Why did he have to look so unaffected, when she felt like her heart was still racing?

Finally, she managed a tight smile, shoving down her frustration and confusion as best she could. But a part of her still itched to know: was George really as unfazed as he seemed, or was he just hiding it better than she was?

As Olympia walked back to her table, she scolded herself silently, her thoughts swirling with frustration. This is all my fault, she thought. I should never have let things get so close between us these past few months. She and George had always had a playful friendship, but recently, those moments seemed to carry something more—a lingering glance, an accidental touch, a joke that felt like it hinted at something deeper. She'd laughed it off, chalking it up to just another round of George's harmless teasing, but now she wasn't so sure.

She sighed, feeling a wave of conflict wash over her. She had tried to keep things light, even intentionally "friend-zoning" him a month prior, convinced that keeping their friendship simple was the best choice. George was a Weasley—a natural prankster with a reputation for never taking things seriously. How could she trust that any of these shared glances or small gestures were anything but passing jokes to him? She didn't want to be one of those girls who read too much into things, one of those girls you could add to the long list of girls snogged by Fred or George Weasley. A very long list. Besides, they were friends—good friends—had been forever, and she didn't want to jeopardize that.

But now, after that charged moment, she couldn't ignore the conflict in her heart. She was angry at herself for letting things get to this point, for caring so much about what he thought, for even entertaining the idea that maybe, just maybe, there was more between them than she'd been willing to admit. And yet, she couldn't shake the tension that still lingered, the way her pulse had raced when he'd looked at her like that.

As Olympia walked back to her table, Fred and George watched her go, Fred's grin shifting into something more curious. George's eyes lingered on Olympia a little longer than they should have, his expression a mix of confusion and something else he couldn't quite name.

Fred raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he looked over at his twin. "Alright, out with it," he said, nudging George. "What was that about?"

George blinked, snapping his gaze back to his brother. "What was what?" He asked with an innocent smile that deceived no one.

"Oh, come on, George," Fred scoffed, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. "You're practically staring a hole in the back of her head. And I think it's safe to say she noticed." He chuckled, shaking his head. "Don't forget—she put you squarely in the friend zone, remember? She's made that crystal clear."

George scratched the back of his neck, looking a little defensive. "Yeah, I know, Fred. She's only ever been a friend." His voice sounded strained, though, almost as if he was trying to convince himself as much as his twin.

Fred studied him, his grin softening a little. "Mhm sure."

George opened his mouth to protest, but stopped, glancing away as he tried to process it all. He knew Olympia was dead set on keeping things friendly, but he couldn't deny that he felt something more for her. And in that brief, silent moment they'd shared today, he'd felt it—something unspoken but intense.

Olympia had barely sat down at the Ravenclaw table when Cho, Elvira, and Seraphina all turned toward her, their eyes bright with curiosity. Cho was the first to speak, her voice laced with playful teasing.

"So, what was that all about?" Cho asked, her gaze flicking to where George and Fred were still chatting. "You two looked like you were having quite the moment out there."

Elvira, ever the one to poke fun, grinned. "I don't know, Olympia, you seemed a bit flustered. Something more going on between you and George than you're letting on?"

Olympia shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her thoughts still tangled from the encounter. She had been hoping they wouldn't notice, but it was hard to avoid when they knew her so well. Her fingers toyed with the edge of her cup, and she tried to keep her voice casual.

"It was nothing, really. Just George being his usual... self," Olympia said, trying to laugh it off. "He's always messing with me."

But it was Seraphina—quiet, observant Seraphina—who leaned in slightly, her gaze intense and knowing. "You know," she said softly, "you did friend-zone him a while ago. So, maybe you should stop letting him get so close if you don't want anything to change. You're giving him false hope."

The words hit Olympia like a cold splash of water. Her heart skipped a beat, and before she could stop herself, she snapped, her frustration bubbling over.

"Yes, I know!" Olympia snapped, her voice sharper than she intended. She leaned forward, her hands clenching on the table as she forced herself to meet Seraphina's gaze. "And I don't want George Weasley. So stop reading so much into it."

The words hung in the air, and the other girls fell silent for a moment. Cho and Elvira exchanged a glance, but Seraphina simply gave a small nod, her expression unreadable. Olympia's chest tightened, and for a brief, painful moment, she regretted her outburst. She wanted to take it back, to explain that she was just frustrated with herself—but the moment had passed, and now the silence felt too thick, too charged.

She forced herself to take a deep breath and softened her tone, though the sting of her words lingered. "Sorry, I just—gotta go" She didn't want to admit that she was more tangled up in her feelings than she cared to admit, especially not with her friends watching so closely.

Without another word, Olympia turned on her heel and hurried out of the Great Hall, her footsteps echoing in the corridor as she fled from the weight of her own tangled thoughts. Her breath came in shallow bursts as she made her way down the hallway, barely aware of where she was going, only knowing that she needed space — away from their questions, away from George, away from everything that was making her feel so out of control.

𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄.

The atmosphere around the Triwizard Tournament grounds was electric with excitement and tension, the first challenge just moments away. The air was thick with nervous anticipation, and Olympia felt her heart racing as she made her way toward the challengers' tent. She had spent the past few days trying to distract herself from the gnawing worry that had settled in her chest ever since Cedric had been chosen as one of the champions. The first challenge had finally arrived, and her fear for his safety was overwhelming.

As she reached the tent, she paused for a moment to steady herself. She hadn't seen Cedric since breakfast, and it felt like everything was moving too fast. She wasn't sure if he would even want to talk to her right now — he was so focused, so determined. But she had to say it, had to tell him how she felt before he faced whatever dangers lay ahead.

She pushed the tent flap aside and stepped inside, her eyes quickly scanning the space. Cedric stood near the center, adjusting his gear, a calm look on his face as he prepared himself mentally for what was to come. When he saw her, his face lit up with a warm smile, but Olympia could see the exhaustion in his eyes, the stress he was trying so hard to hide.

"Hey, Cedric," she said softly, her voice trembling slightly. "I... I just wanted to check in with you before—before everything starts."

He walked over to her, offering her a reassuring smile. "I'm fine, Olympia. Really. Just focused. I'll be alright."

But Olympia couldn't hold it back any longer. "I'm scared for you," the words suddenly bubbled from her lips, her voice barely above a whisper. "I know you're strong, and you can handle it, but I—" She faltered, struggling to find the right words. "I care about you, Cedric. I don't want to see you get hurt."

Cedric's expression softened, his eyes searching hers as if trying to gauge the depth of her words. There was no teasing or playfulness in his gaze now, just sincerity. Slowly, he reached out and cupped her face gently, brushing his thumb along her cheek in a comforting gesture.

"You don't have to worry about me," he said softly, his voice steady, though there was a warmth there that made Olympia's heart race. "I promise I'll be careful. But I'm glad you're here."

Before Olympia could respond, before she could speak the words that had been lingering in her mind, Cedric pulled her into a tight embrace, wrapping his arms around her with surprising tenderness. She closed her eyes, letting herself melt into the warmth of his hug, the safety of it washing over her. She could feel his heartbeat beneath her ear, strong and steady, and for a moment, the world outside the tent seemed to fade away.

Their embrace lingered, each of them holding the other a little longer than they'd intended. For just a few seconds, everything else—her worries, his stress—was forgotten, and they were simply two people standing together, finding comfort in each other's presence.

Then, as they pulled slightly apart, their faces were inches away, their eyes locking in a silent understanding. Olympia's breath caught in her throat, and she felt that familiar pull, the unspoken connection between them. She wanted to reach for him, wanted to close the distance and kiss him, just once more, like they had at the party.

And for a heartbeat, she thought he might, too.

But just as she leaned in, the sharp click of a camera broke the moment. Olympia's eyes snapped open, and she pulled back abruptly, her face flushing in embarrassment and surprise. Cedric's brow furrowed, and before they could say anything, the voice of Rita Skeeter pierced the air from the edge of the tent.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" Rita's voice was dripping with false sweetness as she stepped forward, her quill hovering over her notepad. "A little pre-challenge kiss for good luck? How lovely, how dramatic."

Olympia's heart sank as she looked at Rita, the reporter's smug grin already forming. Cedric's protective stance shifted, and he moved slightly in front of Olympia, but it was too late. Skeeter had already gotten the shot. Olympia's stomach twisted. She had wanted to have this moment with Cedric for herself, not for it to be twisted into something for the front page of the Daily Prophet.

Cedric sighed, his shoulders slumping with a mix of frustration and resignation. "Rita, can't you give it a rest for once?"

Olympia shot the reporter a hard look, her mind racing with a mixture of frustration and embarrassment.

But before she could speak, Cedric stepped forward, his voice firm. "Leave us alone. We're not your story today."

Rita simply grinned, tapping her quill against her notepad. "We'll see about that, Mr. Diggory, won't we? Best of luck with the challenge. You'll need it."

With that, she gave one final, satisfied click of her camera and slipped back out of the tent, leaving them in the quiet aftermath of the moment that had just been stolen from them. Cedric turned back to Olympia, his expression soft but strained.

"I'm sorry about that," he said quietly, his gaze apologetic. "She's relentless."

Olympia nodded, her emotions a tangled mess. "It's alright... Just, don't let her ruin this for you. Don't let her make this about anything other than the challenge. You need to focus."

Cedric gave her a small, reassuring smile, his hand brushing against hers. "I'll be alright."

The tension lingered in the air, but Olympia forced herself to smile, trying to push the thoughts of Skeeter and the stolen moment to the back of her mind. She had to be strong for Cedric, had to focus on the fact that he was about to face the challenge of a lifetime. The rest, she would figure out later.

Olympia left the tent, her mind still swirling from the strange and intense moment she'd shared with Cedric. She needed to focus on something else, something other than the way he had held her or the look on Rita Skeeter's face when she snapped that photo. She found her sister Cassie in the stands, sitting between Fred and George, all three of them watching the grounds in anticipation.

Cassie waved enthusiastically when she spotted Olympia, and Fred and George grinned mischievously at her. The twins leaned forward, their faces lit with excitement. "You ready for the show, Olympia?" Fred asked, his voice full of barely-contained energy.

"Yeah, I suppose so," Olympia replied, her voice a little distracted. She sat down between them, trying to ignore the unsettling feeling of Rita's camera flash still lingering in her mind. She shifted her attention to the field, knowing the first Triwizard challenge would soon begin.

The enormous arena was a sight to behold. Surrounding the field were massive stands, filled with students, spectators, and even some of the other champions' supporters. The ground itself was vast and empty, except for a series of large pens at one end, each containing a dragon. There were four dragons in total, each one more intimidating than the last: a Swedish Short-Snout, a Chinese Fireball, a Welsh Green, and the most terrifying of them all—the Hungarian Horntail.

The roar of the crowd swelled as the first champion, Viktor Krum, entered the arena. His Triwizard champion's uniform billowed as he walked across the field, the crowd going wild. With his trademark scowl, Krum took a deep breath and mounted his broomstick, looking up at the huge dragon guarding the golden egg. The dragon in front of him was the Chinese Fireball, with its shimmering scales of red and gold. The egg lay within a clutch of real dragon eggs, carefully guarded by the beast.

Krum didn't hesitate. He kicked off from the ground, soaring into the air with a sharp twist of his broomstick. The Chinese Fireball let out a deep, guttural roar as Krum darted and dodged through the air, his broom moving like an extension of his body. The dragon launched a jet of fire after him, but Krum weaved expertly, staying out of its fiery path.

The crowd was on their feet as he circled around, drawing the dragon's attention toward him. In a swift, fluid motion, Krum darted toward the clutch of eggs, reaching down and grabbing the golden egg. The Chinese Fireball snapped at him, but Krum was already on his broom, soaring away with the egg clutched tightly in his hand. The crowd erupted in applause, and Olympia let out a relieved breath. Krum had made it look effortless.

Next, Fleur Delacour took her turn. She walked confidently into the arena, her eyes shining with determination. Her dragon was the Swedish Short-Snout, a creature with piercing blue eyes and shimmering scales that reflected the sunlight. Unlike Krum, Fleur opted to approach the challenge with more elegance than speed. She raised her wand and cast a spell to calm the dragon, her voice steady as she commanded it to move aside. The Swedish Short-Snout growled but complied reluctantly, giving Fleur just enough space to retrieve the golden egg.

Fleur's success was met with applause, and Olympia couldn't help but feel a surge of admiration for the champion. It seemed like the challenge was being tackled with a surprising mix of skill and bravery—two things she knew Cedric possessed in abundance.

Finally, it was Cedric's turn. Olympia held her breath, her eyes fixed on the arena. Cedric entered with purpose, his stance confident but calm. The dragon that guarded his egg was the Welsh Green, its scales a deep forest green, and its yellow eyes gleamed with hostility. Cedric took a moment to steady himself before mounting his broom. As he ascended, the Welsh Green let out a ferocious roar, thrashing at the ground, sending a wave of dust and debris into the air. But Cedric was already in motion, weaving through the air with impressive agility.

He dodged the dragon's fiery breath with ease, each movement of his broomstick precise and calculated. Cedric's eyes were locked on the golden egg, and he flew closer, carefully edging toward it. The Welsh Green lunged at him with its sharp claws, but Cedric was faster. With a burst of speed, he grabbed the egg and took off into the air, pulling away from the enraged dragon. The crowd cheered, and Olympia couldn't help but smile, feeling a deep sense of pride for her friend. He had done it.

Now, it was Harry's turn. Olympia's stomach fluttered with nerves as Harry stepped into the arena, his broomstick held firmly in his hands. The Hungarian Horntail was the fiercest dragon of them all, its massive wings flapping as it towered over the field. Its scales were black as coal, and its eyes burned with fury. The dragon bellowed, snapping its jaws in the air, and Harry wasted no time. He mounted his broomstick with determination, soaring into the air just as the Horntail unleashed a stream of fire.

Harry dodged the flames effortlessly, his focus intense as he veered away from the dragon's fiery attacks. But just as he made his move toward the clutch of eggs, something went wrong. The Hungarian Horntail, enraged, broke loose from its bindings, its chains snapping as it charged after Harry, its massive wings sending gusts of wind that rocked the arena. Harry pushed his broom harder, barely staying ahead of the dragon's furious pursuit.

The roar of the Hungarian Horntail split the air, a deafening sound that sent a wave of panic through the stadium. The ground trembled beneath the force of its wings, and the crowd erupted into chaos. People screamed, rushing toward the exits, but there was nowhere to run. The dragon's massive wings beat the air with a force that sent dust and debris scattering across the stands, and its yellow eyes glowed with a menacing fury as it broke free from its restraints.

Olympia's heart hammered in her chest as her body tensed instinctively. Her eyes locked onto the dragon as it bellowed, its enormous claws scraping at the ground, and she felt the fear she had buried for so long rear its ugly head. The world around her seemed to slow as memories of the Quidditch World Cup flooded her mind—of the Death Eaters, the Dark Mark, and the chaos that had consumed the stadium that night. The panic, the helplessness, the terror of not knowing who would survive or what would happen next.

Before she could react, she felt George's arm around her, pulling her roughly toward him, his body moving faster than her mind could catch up. His muscular frame pressed against hers as he leapt on top of her, shielding her body with his own. His chest was firm against her back, and Olympia could feel the rapid thud of his heartbeat, mirroring the terror that coursed through her own veins. The heat of his body was undeniable, and for a fleeting moment, she could feel every inch of him against her—his warmth, the tension in his muscles as he braced for the impact. But it wasn't the physical closeness that seized her—it was the overwhelming instinct in George's actions. He wasn't thinking of anything but protecting her, keeping her safe.

His heart was racing.

George didn't say a word, his body shaking slightly from the fear that gripped him, but it was evident in every movement he made. His arms wrapped tightly around her, pulling her close as though he could shield her from the chaos itself. His breath was fast, almost erratic, and Olympia could feel his heart pounding in his chest, each beat vibrating through her own body. But in the midst of that panic, something else stirred deep within her—something she had tried to suppress, something dark that took over when the fear became too much.

And then, it hit them both at once—the overwhelming flood of memories. The sound of fire crackling in the distance. The screams of people running for their lives. The blinding flash of the Dark Mark filling the sky. The feeling of not knowing where the danger would come from, who would be hurt, or who might be lost. The muggle-born witches and wizards floating above them, their bodies contorted into horrid unnatural shapes. Their spines snapped, their limbs flaying.

Olympia's breath hitched in her throat as she felt George's hold tighten, his arms around her still strong but trembling ever so slightly. Her hands gripped his shirt as the images of that night at the Quidditch World Cup collided with the present. The chaos of the arena, the smoke, the flashing green lights. She could almost hear the shouts of terror from that night, feel the weight of the danger in the air. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the panic, but it was impossible.

She heard their screams echo relentlessly through her mind.

George's arms were like iron around her, his entire body tensed with the need to protect, but even as he held her, he felt the same terror gnawing at him. The fear that had taken root deep inside him that night had never really left. It had never truly gone away. The loud noises, the sense of helplessness, the fear of watching everything around him unravel in an instant—it was all too much. His chest tightened with the memories of running through the crowd, of seeing the look of terror in Fred's eyes as they were all pulled into something they never should have been a part of. Of not knowing if they would make it out alive.

George didn't speak; there were no words to offer that could undo what they had both felt. But his arms tightened around Olympia as though he could physically stop the world from coming apart, as if he could protect her from everything—even the memories. He could feel her trembling, just as he was, and he refused to let go. Not now.

Minutes passed—though they felt like hours—before the roar of the dragon began to fade. Olympia's head spun, the remnants of the flashbacks still clawing at her mind, but the chaotic sounds of the arena began to die down. The Hungarian Horntail had chased Harry out of the stadium, and the crowd watched, breathless, as the two figures disappeared into the distance. The stands were still trembling from the recent panic, but the danger had passed—for the moment.

Harry returned moments later, riding his broomstick, the Hungarian Horntail no longer in pursuit. The crowd erupted in cheers, a wave of relief washing over everyone as the first champion completed the task. But Olympia remained still, trapped in the whirlwind of her own thoughts.

She didn't join the cheers. The sound of the crowd seemed distant, muffled, as though she were listening to it underwater. All she could hear were the echoes of that night—the screams, the fire, the uncertainty—and it was all too much. The dragon's rampage had been terrifying, yes, but it was the memory of the Quidditch World Cup that held her frozen in place.

George finally loosened his grip on her, but his body still hovered protectively over hers. He slowly pulled them up, looking down at her, his eyes filled with concern, but he said nothing. There was nothing he could say that would make it better. The terror that gripped her now was deeper than any immediate danger. It was the kind of fear that burrowed under your skin, one that lingered long after the danger was gone.

For a long moment, Olympia didn't move. She just stared blankly at the arena, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her mind still trapped in the past. When the cheers around her grew louder, she could barely hear them. The adrenaline from the challenge had faded, but the anxiety that had been building inside her remained, choking her with its intensity.

George remained at her side, silently watching her, as Fred and Cassie cheered with the rest of the crowd. They hadn't been as deeply affected by the night, since they escaped the majority of it by fleeing to the forest before the worst of it occurred.

But Olympia and George had seen it all. And they remembered everything.

The tension in the air was palpable, but Olympia wasn't ready to join the celebration. Not yet. Not when the memories were still so fresh, so overwhelming.

She finally closed her eyes, taking a slow, shuddering breath, trying to push the flashbacks back into the recesses of her mind. But for now, the past would not let go. And it was going to take more than a cheering crowd to make her feel safe again.

The noise of the stadium still echoed in Olympia's ears, but it felt miles away. The cheering, the clapping, the overwhelming sense of relief — none of it reached her. The only thing she could focus on was the chaos inside her head, the flashbacks that still clawed at her, refusing to let go.

She didn't even realize that George was speaking to her until she felt his gentle but firm hand on her arm. His voice was low, soft, filled with concern. "Olympia," he murmured, his tone gentle but insistent. "Come on, let's get out of here."

Before she could process what was happening, George was guiding her away from the stands, his grip warm and steady as he led her through the crowd, away from the noise. The world seemed blurry around her — fragments of the challenge, of the dragon's roar, of the cheering crowd, all blending together in a dizzying haze. She felt like she was walking through a dream, her steps slow and unsteady, her head foggy.

George didn't let go of her, didn't leave her side for even a moment. He guided her through the crowd with quiet confidence, his presence a grounding force that Olympia couldn't escape even if she wanted to. She didn't want to, though. She needed him here, more than she could admit.

Finally, they reached the outside of the stadium, to a patch of grass where the sound of the crowd faded into the distance. The air here was cooler, the breeze gentle against her skin. George led her to a bench beneath a large oak tree and gently sat her down, as though he knew she needed the moment to collect herself. But Olympia's chest was still tight, her breath shallow, and every part of her felt like it was about to snap.

She couldn't hold it together anymore.

Before George could say anything more, Olympia's resolve crumbled. Her breath caught in her throat, and the tears began to spill over, hot and relentless. She pulled her knees to her chest, hugging them tight, and let the sobs break free. The sound of her own cries felt foreign, the rawness of her emotions overwhelming, and she couldn't stop it. The dam had broken, and everything came rushing out in a torrent of grief and fear that had been building for so long.

George was at her side in an instant. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into the safety of his chest, holding her tightly as she broke down in his arms. His embrace was strong, unwavering, as though he was a pillar of support in the midst of her storm. He didn't say anything at first, simply letting her cry. He could feel the tremors that shook her body, the weight of the fear she was trying to escape.

He gently stroked her hair, his voice low and soothing as he whispered words of comfort. "It's okay, Olympia. You're safe. You're safe now."

But the words didn't seem to reach her—not yet. All she could feel was the wave of terror crashing over her, the memories of that night at the World Cup dragging her under. The chaos. The darkness that had swallowed them whole. She remembered the cold dread, the helplessness, and the fear of being trapped in something she couldn't control.

The tears came in waves, each one carrying with it the weight of everything she had been holding back. She hadn't allowed herself to cry then, to mourn what they had all gone through. And now, in George's arms, the floodgates opened.

George's grip tightened around her, and he rested his chin on the top of her head, his heartbeat steady against her ear. He didn't try to fix it. He didn't say anything to make her feel better, because he knew nothing he said could erase the fear she was feeling. All he could do was hold her, be there for her in the silence.

He understood her fear, he understood all that she felt in this moment.

Time seemed to stretch on, but gradually, her sobs began to quiet. The tightness in her chest lessened, but the fear lingered, deep in the pit of her stomach. Olympia didn't pull away from George; instead, she buried her face in his chest, her body still trembling, as if she were trying to hide from the world.

George stayed with her, letting her cry as long as she needed. His hands rubbed her back in slow, comforting motions, and he didn't speak, only letting her lean into him, knowing that it was the only thing she needed right now. He was there for her, grounding her in a way she couldn't do for herself.

Minutes passed—slow and heavy—but finally, Olympia's sobs tapered off into soft sniffles. Her breathing was still shaky, but she had started to regain some control. She pulled away slightly, just enough to wipe her tear-streaked face with the back of her hand. Her eyes were red, her cheeks blotchy, but she couldn't bring herself to feel embarrassed. Not with George. Not now.

"I'm sorry," she whispered hoarsely, her voice cracking. "I—I didn't mean to... lose it like that."

George shook his head, his expression softening. "You don't have to apologize, Olympia. You've been through so much. It's okay to feel it. It's okay to break down."

Her eyes welled up again, but she forced herself to take a deep breath, trying to steady herself. She was still shaken, still afraid, but with George beside her, she felt a small spark of hope. He was here. He wasn't going anywhere. And that made the world seem a little bit less dark.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I thought I was past this. I thought I could handle it."

George's hand gently cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing away the last remnants of her tears. "You don't have to handle it on your own. Not anymore. We're in this together, Olympia. We'll face it together."

She looked into his eyes, there was kindness, understanding, and something deeper she couldn't quite put into words.

It wasn't much, but for that moment, it was enough. And in his arms, Olympia allowed herself to breathe, to feel safe again.