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╰┈➤ ❝ [𝑇𝑊𝐸𝑁𝑇𝑌-𝑇𝐻𝑅𝐸𝐸] ❞ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-
⁺⤾·˚.⃗. [ᴀ ᴡᴀʟᴛᴢ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ] 𑁍ࠜೄ ･ﾟˊˎ
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Assembly Hall
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
— Scottish Highlands
( December 22nd, 1994. )

            𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐋𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋 had been transformed once again for dance practice. The long house tables had been pushed to the sides, and the floor gleamed under the enchanted floating candles. A slow hum of anticipation hung in the air as students paired off, most of them chattering nervously or excitedly. The Yule Ball was only days away, and this was their final chance to practice before the big event.

Olympia stood near the edge of the hall, arms crossed lightly as she surveyed the crowd. Her gaze flicked to George, who was joking with Fred and Lee on the opposite side of the room. He was laughing, his grin as broad as ever, but when his eyes momentarily locked with hers, something flickered in his expression—something she couldn't quite place.

She quickly looked away, her heart giving an unbidden flutter. Ridiculous, she thought, forcing herself to focus on the task at hand. Over the past few weeks, she and George had gone out of their way to avoid dancing together. The first practice had been awkward enough, with every step charged with unspoken tension. After that, they'd quietly chosen different partners, and neither had mentioned it aloud.

"All right, everyone, settle down!" Professor McGonagall's firm voice carried across the hall, instantly silencing the chatter. She stood at the front, her sharp gaze sweeping over the students. "As this is your final practice, I will be selecting your partners today. The Yule Ball requires poise, precision, and the ability to adapt."

A collective murmur spread through the hall as students exchanged uneasy glances. Olympia's stomach tightened, her mind racing.

Anyone but him.

McGonagall began calling out names, pairing students together with her usual efficiency. "Miss Harrington," she said briskly, glancing over her spectacles. Olympia straightened automatically, her heart pounding. "You'll be partnered with Mr. Weasley. George Weasley." McGonagall gave a quick knowing glance to the two, a small smile on her lips.

Olympia felt her cheeks flush as every nerve in her body lit up. She stole a glance at George, who looked equally taken aback. Fred nudged him with a smirk, clearly amused, while George shot him a withering glare before starting toward her.

As he approached, Olympia schooled her features into polite neutrality.

George stopped a foot away, shoving his hands into his pockets for a brief moment before offering her a hand. "Looks like it's us again," he said, his tone light but hesitant, as if testing the waters.

Olympia nodded, slipping her hand into his. "Perfect observation Georgie," she replied sarcastically with a slight smile, keeping her voice as even and light as possible.

George met out a soft chuckle at her sarcastic quip, moving himself into position. The warmth of his hand against hers sent an unbidden jolt up her arm, and she cursed herself for noticing. George's expression softened slightly, the tension between them palpable as they moved into position.

The moment George's hand brushed her waist and settled firmly, Olympia's breath caught in her throat. She felt like she'd stepped into a furnace, every nerve in her body alight. His touch wasn't forceful, but it was steady, grounding, and far too intimate for her liking—or perhaps for her sanity. Her fingers trembled slightly as she placed them on his shoulder, and for a brief moment, her gaze flicked to his before darting away.

"Ready?" George asked, his voice low, with a softness she hadn't expected.

Olympia nodded, not trusting herself to speak. "Ready," she murmured, though she felt anything but.

They stepped into the dance, the music swirling around them as their bodies moved in tandem. Each turn, each step brought them closer, their movements smooth but charged with an intensity neither of them could ignore. Olympia tried to focus on the steps, on the mechanics of the dance, but all she could feel was the heat of George's hand at her waist and the way his thumb brushed against the fabric of her shirt with every shift.

George wasn't faring much better. He'd thought avoiding her these past few weeks had dulled whatever this... thing was between them. But now, with her so close, her scent faint and sweet, her body moving effortlessly in sync with his, it felt like a storm had erupted inside him. Every glance, every brush of her fingers sent his heart racing, and he was struggling to keep his composure.

The first turn came, and as George guided her into the motion, he leaned in slightly to adjust their angle. His lips brushed closer to her ear than he intended, and the words came before he could stop them.

"Why are you so tense?" he asked, his voice low, barely audible over the music.

Olympia stiffened, her breath catching as a shiver ran down her spine. "What?" she managed, though her voice betrayed her.

George didn't pull back. If anything, he leaned closer, his lips brushing so close to her ear that she could feel the warmth of his breath. "You're tense, Ols," he whispered, his tone laced with something deeper, something that made her knees feel weak. "Why?"

Her heart thundered in her chest, and she swore the entire hall must have heard it. "George," she breathed, her voice barely a whisper, her tone half a plea, half a warning.

"What?" he asked, almost instantly, the word soft but charged. His fingers tightened ever so slightly on her waist, anchoring her, pulling her closer without meaning to.

Olympia's head tilted just the slightest fraction as she exhaled shakily, her lashes fluttering. She couldn't bring herself to look at him, not when every muscle in her body was screaming for her to lean into him, to close the infinitesimal gap between them.

They turned again, and her hand tightened on his shoulder as she steadied herself, but the movement only brought them closer. The curve of her cheek was just inches from his, her hair brushing against his jaw. George's heart was pounding as he felt her breath hitch again, her chest rising and falling against his.

The music swelled, and they moved seamlessly through the final steps, but neither truly noticed the melody or the others around them. Their world had shrunk to just the two of them—the press of their hands, the warmth of their bodies, the tension that crackled like lightning in the air between them.

When the music came to an end, they stopped but didn't immediately part. George's hand lingered at her waist, his thumb pressing gently, just barely. Olympia's fingers trembled where they rested on his shoulder, and her eyes finally, hesitantly, flicked up to meet his.

"Good," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "—You're good at this."

"So are you," he replied, his tone unusually soft, almost reverent.

The spell broke when someone jostled them from behind, and Olympia stepped back quickly, pulling away as if burned. Her cheeks were flushed, her breathing uneven, and her hands felt far too empty now that they weren't resting on him.

George let her go, though his hand hesitated for a moment before dropping to his side. He watched her retreat, his jaw tightening as he fought the urge to call her back. Whatever had just happened between them—whatever it was they were so desperately trying to suppress—it wasn't going away.

And they both knew it.

Olympia hurried down the hall, her pace quick, almost frantic. She needed to get out of there—away from the still-lingering tension with George, away from the heat that seemed to follow her whenever he was near. The sound of her footsteps echoed in the corridor, a steady beat that did little to calm the pounding of her heart.

She wasn't paying much attention to where she was going, her thoughts a whirlwind of everything that had just happened—the dance, George, the way he'd looked at her, the way she had looked at him. Every moment felt like it had been charged with something she couldn't name, something that left her feeling exposed and uncertain.

As she turned a corner, her eyes snapped upward—and before she could stop herself, she collided with something solid.

"Whoa!" a familiar voice called out, steady hands catching her shoulders to steady her.

She gasped, stepping back quickly, looking up into Cedric's face. The moment she saw him, some of the tension in her chest eased, but her heart still raced as if it had never slowed.

"Sorry," she murmured, still flustered, her cheeks flushed. "I wasn't paying attention."

Cedric smiled warmly, his hands still resting lightly on her arms. "No harm done," he said with a soft laugh. "You look like you've been running from something." His eyes were filled with genuine concern, his expression kind and patient as always.

Olympia took a deep breath, her mind racing for something to say, anything to mask the confusion that still swirled inside her. "Just... a bit of a stressful day," she replied, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

He tilted his head, clearly not entirely convinced. "You sure you're alright? You don't look like it."

Her gaze flickered for a moment, her lips parting as if to explain, but she couldn't. She didn't know how to tell him that it wasn't just a stressful day—it was everything she felt but couldn't quite understand.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she said, offering another smile, this one more sincere. "Just... a bit overwhelmed, class stuff."

Cedric didn't push, but he didn't look entirely satisfied with her answer either. His gaze softened as he studied her for a moment longer, a faint frown pulling at his lips. "Alright," he said, though his voice carried a note of concern. "Well, if you ever want to talk about it, I'm here."

Olympia's heart fluttered slightly at his words. She had no doubt that Cedric meant it—that he was always there for her, in the way only he could be.

"Thanks, Cedric," she replied, her voice quiet but genuine.

With a small nod, Cedric gave her a reassuring smile. "See you later okay?"

She nodded, her throat tight as she quickly stepped around him. "Okay."

As she walked away, her thoughts still tangled, Olympia couldn't help but wonder what it was about George—about that—that made her feel so out of control. But for now, Cedric's steady presence was enough to offer her a brief moment of calm, even if only fleeting.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐓𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄 crackled softly in the corner of Olympia's room, but the flickering light did little to chase away the feeling of restlessness that had settled in her chest. She sat at her desk, surrounded by textbooks and notes, trying to focus on an essay that wasn't really holding her attention. Her quill danced across the parchment absently, but her mind was elsewhere—mostly on him. George. The way he looked at her, the way his presence made everything feel different.

She sighed, pushing her hair back behind her ears as she tried to force herself back into the task at hand. It wasn't working.

The door to her room creaked open, and Seraphina stepped inside. Olympia didn't need to look up to know who it was.

"Still studying?" Seraphina asked, her voice light, but with an edge of concern. She had always been observant, and Olympia knew it wouldn't take much for her to notice that something was off.

Olympia glanced at her friend, offering a weak smile. "Yeah. Keeps my mind off things."

Seraphina arched an eyebrow, stepping further into the room. "Keeps your mind off what exactly?" she asked gently, her tone laced with genuine curiosity.

Olympia hesitated for a moment, her fingers stilling on the quill. She could feel Seraphina's gaze on her, the weight of her attention making her uncomfortable.

"Nothing," Olympia said quickly, shrugging. "I've just got a lot on my mind, that's all."

Seraphina didn't buy it. She took a few steps closer, leaning against the desk with her arms crossed. "You know, you don't have to hide it from me, Ols," she said softly. "You can talk to me. Whatever it is."

Olympia opened her mouth to protest, but Seraphina raised a hand, stopping her before she could speak. "I'm not going to force it out of you," she added with a small, understanding smile. "But if you do want to talk, I want to be here for you."

The sincerity in Seraphina's voice caused something to stir in Olympia. She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. It had been so hard to admit it, even to herself.

"I don't know if I can," Olympia confessed quietly, almost to herself. "I don't even understand it fully."

Seraphina's voice was soft, coaxing. "You don't have to understand it all right now. Just tell me what's going on. Whatever's on your mind, you can say it."

Olympia's heart fluttered in her chest, and she suddenly felt exposed, as though the walls she had carefully constructed around herself were crumbling. She wasn't ready to talk about it, but something in Seraphina's calm, unwavering support made her feel like she could.

"I—" Olympia started, then paused, unsure. She could feel the tension building in her chest, making it harder to speak. "I don't know, Seraphina. I'm... I'm confused. I've been feeling—something—and I don't know what to do about it."

Seraphina's expression softened, but she didn't push. She just nodded, waiting.

"It's George," Olympia finally whispered, the name slipping from her lips like a secret she hadn't meant to say aloud.

Seraphina's eyes widened, but she didn't interrupt. She just stayed quiet, watching Olympia closely.

"I don't know when it started," Olympia continued, her voice faltering a little. "I mean, we've been friends for ages, but lately... whenever he's around, it's different. And I can't stop thinking about him. I feel something every time I see him, and it's... distracting. But I can't figure out what it means. And then there's Marianna..."

Seraphina's expression darkened just slightly at the mention of Marianna, but she quickly masked it with a soft smile, stepping closer to Olympia. "And what about Marianna?" she asked, gently encouraging her to keep talking.

Olympia frowned, her hands wringing nervously in her lap. "I don't want to feel like this. I don't want to be the person who's... who's jealous, but I am. Every time I see them together, it... it just messes with my head. And I don't even know why. It doesn't even make sense."

Seraphina leaned down, placing a hand on Olympia's shoulder, a gesture of reassurance. "It doesn't have to make sense, Ols. Emotions don't always make sense. They just are."

"I just... I can't stop thinking about him," Olympia said, the words coming out all at once now, her chest tight with the weight of everything she'd been keeping in. "And I don't know what to do with it."

Seraphina didn't say anything right away, letting the silence linger. She squeezed Olympia's shoulder gently, offering her a quiet smile. "You don't have to have all the answers right now," she said softly. "Just take it one step at a time."

Olympia let out a shaky breath, feeling a weight lift from her chest, as though she'd been carrying something far heavier than she had realized. She had said it aloud, and it didn't feel as terrifying as she'd thought.

"Thanks, Seraphina," she whispered, her voice a little hoarse. "I didn't think I'd be able to say that out loud."

"You don't have to thank me," Seraphina said, her voice warm. "That's what friends are for. To help you carry whatever weight you need to."

Olympia smiled, feeling a little lighter, though her heart still ached with uncertainty. But at least now, she didn't feel so alone with her thoughts.