💌🏹

╰┈➤ ❝ [𝑇𝐻𝐼𝑅𝑇𝑌-𝑇𝑊𝑂] ❞ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-
⁺⤾·˚.⃗. [ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴄʜᴀɴᴛᴅ sᴛᴀʀs] 𑁍ࠜೄ ˊˎ
﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
— Scottish Highlands
( May, 1995. )

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐌𝐘 𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 was quiet, save for the rustling of parchment and the occasional murmur of the wind. Olympia was cross-legged on the cool stone floor, her notes and star charts scattered in a carefully organized mess. George sat beside her, far less focused on celestial alignments and much more intent on the way the moonlight danced in her hair.

"You're staring again," Olympia said, her eyes still fixed on her parchment as she scribbled a few notes. "You do realize that stargazing is supposed to involve actual stars, right?"

George smirked and leaned closer, his hand casually brushing against hers as he reached for her quill. "I'm looking at the brightest one here, so I think I'm doing it right."

She huffed a laugh and shook her head. "That's not going to get you out of failing this test, Weasley."

"Who said I'm worried about the test?" His fingers grazed the back of her hand again, this time lingering. "I've got my priorities sorted."

Olympia finally turned to face him, an unimpressed eyebrow arching. "Oh, you've got priorities now? That's new."

He grinned, his free hand moving to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his touch lingering at her jawline. "I'm a man of many talents. Prioritizing you just happens to be at the top of the list."

She rolled her eyes, though a smile tugged at her lips. "You're impossible."

"And yet, here I am," George said, his voice dropping into a lower, playful tone. "Lucky you."

Olympia turned back to her notes, though she was acutely aware of how close he was. "If you're not going to study, at least try not to distract me."

"Distract you? I'd never," he said innocently, leaning in until his lips brushed against her temple. "Though if we're being honest, I'd rather be studying something else right now."

She paused mid-writing, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. "Oh? And what would that be?"

George's grin widened, his voice dropping to a mischievous whisper. "Anatomy."

Olympia froze for a beat, then turned to him fully, her expression deadpan. "You're ridiculous."

"Ridiculously into you," he countered without missing a beat, his hand slipping to her waist and pulling her just a fraction closer. "Now, are you going to scold me, or are we going to turn this study session into something a bit more... interactive?"

Her laughter rang out softly, her resolve crumbling as she shook her head. "Fine," she said, leaning in to brush her lips against his, just once. "But only after you correctly identify at least three constellations."

"Deal," George said with a wink, though it was clear neither of them was overly concerned with stargazing anymore.

George stretched his arms behind his head, his confident smirk making Olympia suspicious. "Alright, three constellations, no problem," he began, his voice light and casual as he pointed toward the heavens. "There's Orion, easy one. Cassiopeia—practically screaming at us. And, of course, Ursa Major."

Olympia raised a brow, mildly impressed but unwilling to give him the satisfaction just yet. "Beginner's luck," she quipped. "Anyone with eyes could name those."

"Is that so?" he shot back, leaning in slightly, his tone smug. "How about three more then? Let's see... Lyra—associated with the myth of Orpheus and his lyre. Draco—spanning centuries of lore about dragons guarding treasures. And Pegasus—the winged horse that sprang from Medusa's blood. Shall I keep going, or do you surrender?"

Olympia stared at him, dumbfounded for a beat, before narrowing her eyes. "Where did you even learn that?"

George shrugged, his grin widening. "A man's got to have a few tricks up his sleeve, doesn't he? Or maybe I just knew you'd find it irresistible."

She rolled her eyes, though her smile betrayed her. "Irresistible is a strong word."

He leaned closer, his hand slipping to her waist, fingers brushing over her side. "I seem to recall a certain deal we made," he murmured, his voice low and teasing. "Three constellations, a kiss. And here I am, giving you six. I think I've earned an upgrade, don't you?"

Olympia's breath hitched slightly at the way his voice dropped, but she refused to let him win so easily. "Oh, is that how this works now? The more you ramble, the bigger the reward?"

"Not rambling," he countered smoothly, his thumb brushing against her hip, sending a shiver through her. "Just earning my dues."

Before she could fire back, his lips were on hers. This wasn't their usual playful kiss—it was deeper, hungrier, catching her completely off guard. His hands slid up her sides, one slipping to her back, pulling her closer, the other tangling in her hair. The kiss was electrifying, their lips moving in perfect sync as if they'd been waiting for this moment all along.

Olympia's initial surprise faded quickly as she found herself matching his fervor. Her own hands moved instinctively, gripping his shirt before sliding up to his shoulders and tangling in his hair. George's touch was firmer, bolder than usual, and it made her dizzy, every nerve in her body alight. She didn't care about studying or the Astronomy Tower—nothing else existed in this moment but him.

Just as her mind began to surrender entirely to the heat between them, George pulled away, leaving her breathless and wide-eyed. His lips hovered just above hers, his hands lingering at her waist, and his trademark smirk was firmly in place.

"You're stopping?" she asked, her voice soft and breathless, her chest rising and falling with the effort to catch her breath.

"Obviously," he said, his tone dripping with playful arrogance. "This is a study session, after all. Don't want you falling behind, Harrington."

Olympia's jaw dropped, a mix of disbelief and frustration flashing in her eyes. "You're insufferable."

"And yet," George replied, his smirk turning into a full-blown grin as he sat back slightly, though his fingers still toyed with the hem of her shirt, "you can't seem to resist me."

She shook her head, her lips twitching into a reluctant smile. "You're lucky I don't hex you right now."

"Lucky doesn't even begin to cover it," he quipped, leaning in just enough to brush a feather-light kiss against her jaw before pulling away completely, leaving her to fume—and blush—in equal measure.

George had just begun to settle back into their study session, though his quill remained untouched as he watched Olympia scribble notes with practiced precision. The glow of the starlight illuminated her features, and he couldn't help but lean in again, his lips curling into a soft smile as he reached for her hand.

But before he could close the distance between them, Olympia spoke, her voice cutting through the quiet.

"George, I have a question. An important one."

Her tone was serious, halting him mid-motion. His brows furrowed, his smile fading as he pulled back slightly, searching her face for clues. "Alright," he said slowly, his voice soft but cautious. "What's on your mind?"

She turned to face him fully, setting her quill down with care. For a moment, she hesitated, her teeth grazing her lower lip, as if carefully weighing her words. Then, she looked him directly in the eyes. "What are we?"

The question hung in the air between them, heavier than anything they'd ever discussed. George blinked, momentarily caught off guard. His expression shifted—gone was the cocky smirk, replaced by something softer, more vulnerable. He leaned back slightly, running a hand through his hair as he processed her words.

"What are we?" he repeated quietly, his voice measured as if testing the weight of it himself. "You mean... you and me?"

"Yes," she said, her tone steady despite the way her heart raced. "This thing between us. What is it?"

George's lips parted, and for a moment, he looked unsure, an emotion rarely seen on his face. But then, his gaze softened, and the faintest trace of a smile returned. He reached out, his hand finding hers and threading their fingers together.

"Well," he started, his voice quieter than usual, "I thought it was pretty obvious." He gave her hand a small squeeze, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. "It's not just a... thing for me, Olympia. It's you. Us. And I'm all in—if you are."

Her breath caught, her chest tightening at the honesty in his words. "You mean that?"

"Of course I mean it," he said, his voice steadier now, a smile tugging at his lips again. "Do you think I'd be up here pretending to care about constellations if I didn't?"

That earned a laugh from her, soft and warm, breaking the tension just enough. "I don't know, George. You've been surprisingly knowledgeable tonight." Her eyes fell back to the ground, her fingers twiddling with the hem of her skirt.

There was a charged silence between them, and George knew she had more on her mind. He reached forward and brushed a few strands of blonde hair from her forehead, "her, darling, talk to me. What's going on?"

She set her quill down deliberately, folding her hands in her lap as she turned to face him. "What about when we go home? Do we... tell our parents about us?"

George blinked, the question catching him off guard. "Our parents?" he repeated, his tone uncertain. "Uh, hadn't really thought about that."

Olympia pressed on, her cheeks warming slightly as she added, "It's just... my father might be less inclined to let me stay at your house so often if he knew you were, you know, snogging me senseless."

George chuckled, leaning forward again and running a hand through his hair. "Honestly, I hadn't thought about it much. But yeah, if I'm being honest? My mum would lose her shit if she found out. And not just at me—she'd probably take it up with your parents, and then it'd be a whole thing."

Olympia winced at the thought, nodding. "Yeah, that doesn't sound fun."

"So maybe," George said carefully, meeting her eyes with a soft smile, "we just... don't tell them. At least, not yet. I mean, not lying—just, you know, not volunteering the information. Just until the end of this summer, so they can't keep us apart."

Olympia raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical but not entirely opposed to the idea. "You really think that'll work? Your mum is practically a human lie detector."

George shrugged, the corners of his mouth lifting into a cheeky grin. "True. But I can be pretty convincing when I want to be."

"Convincing?" she repeated, smirking. "George, you can barely keep a straight face when someone asks if you're up to no good."

"Hey," he said with mock offense, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. "I take offense to that."

"Sure you do," she quipped, rolling her eyes but softening. "Fine. We won't tell them. For now."

"Good choice," George said with a playful wink, his grin turning a bit smug. "After all, I'd hate to be grounded for... what did you call it? Snogging you senseless?"

She smacked his arm again, though this time it was gentler, her cheeks flushing again. "Shush. Now I've had enough putting up with you, let's study." She joked.

George let out a dramatic gasp, placing a hand over his chest as if wounded. "Putting up with me? That's rich, coming from the girl who drags me to towers and makes me actually study."

"Oh, you're right," Olympia deadpanned, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "What a burden it is for you to spend time with me."

He chuckled, leaning his forehead against hers. "The heaviest burden of my life," he teased, his voice dropping to a softer tone. "And I wouldn't trade it for anything."

Olympia's teasing smile faltered for a moment, replaced by something warmer, more genuine. She met his gaze, her chest tightening at the sincerity in his eyes. "You're such a sap sometimes, you know that?"

"Only for you," he shot back without hesitation, his smirk returning.

She laughed, shaking her head before pulling back slightly. "Alright, alright, enough with the sweet talk. We've still got a test to prepare for, remember?"

George groaned dramatically, throwing his head back. "Why do you always ruin the mood with academics? This is the exact reason people think Ravenclaws are no fun."

"Maybe because we actually care about passing," she quipped, poking him in the side. "Come on, Weasley. Constellations. Focus."

He sighed, picking up his quill with exaggerated reluctance. "Fine. But don't blame me if I start daydreaming halfway through."

She rolled her eyes but smiled as she turned back to her notes. For a while, the tower was quiet again, save for the scratching of quills and the occasional rustle of parchment. But every so often, Olympia caught George glancing at her from the corner of her eye, his smirk still lingering as if he had something up his sleeve.

                         𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓, George was lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, his hands resting behind his head. His normally playful demeanor had faded, replaced by a thoughtful, almost pensive expression. Fred, lounging on his own bed, noticed the shift and arched an eyebrow. He tossed a rubbber ball at George's head, watching as it bounced off of him and back into his hands, leaving a rather annoyed George. "Oi." Fred called out. "Alright, spill. What's got you looking like you've just been hit with a Confundus Charm?"

George didn't respond immediately, his gaze still fixed on the ceiling. After a long pause, he finally spoke, his voice quieter than usual. "I think I love her."

Fred froze, the ball slipping from his hands and bouncing onto the floor. He stared at George for a moment before breaking into a wide grin. "Well, duh."

George turned his head, narrowing his eyes. "What do you mean, 'duh'?"

Fred rolled his eyes, sitting up and gesturing dramatically. "George, you've been in love with Olympia Harrington since we were six years old."

"What?" George blinked, caught off guard by the bold statement. "That's not true!"

Fred smirked knowingly, crossing his arms. "Oh, isn't it? Shall we take a walk down memory lane, then? Let's start with that time you gave her your dessert every day for a month because she said she liked treacle tart."

George flushed. "I was trying to cut back on sugar." He lied. Earning a loud snort of laughter from Fred.

"And then," Fred continued, ignoring him, "there was that time in third year when you spent an entire week trying to learn how to do that ridiculously complicated charm just to help her with her assignment."

"She needed help!" George protested weakly.

Fred leaned forward, grinning like a Cheshire cat. "And let's not forget all the times you mysteriously volunteered to carry her books, or 'just happened' to be in the same place as her during Hogsmeade trips."

George groaned, covering his face with his hands. "Alright, alright! I get it. You don't have to rub it in."

Fred laughed, flopping back onto his bed. "I'm just saying, mate. You've been sweet on her for years. The rest of us have just been waiting for you to catch up."

George let out a long breath, his hands dropping to his sides. "Yeah, well... I guess I've finally caught up."

Fred turned his head, his grin softening into something more genuine. "And you know what? Good for you, Georgie. You deserve it. Just don't muck it up, alright?"

George smiled faintly, the corners of his mouth lifting as he turned his gaze back to the ceiling. "I'll try not to."

Fred chuckled, tossing the ball back into the air. "Good. Because if you do, I'm pretty sure Achilles won't even give me a chance to deny knowing you before he comes after both of us."

George laughed, shaking his head. "Yeah, I'll keep that in mind."

Fred, ever the picture of exaggerated laziness, flopped dramatically onto his bed and tossed the rubber ball into the air with one hand. "So," he said, dragging the word out as if it were some Herculean task, "when are you going to tell her?"

George, lying flat on his own bed with his hands behind his head, frowned. "Tell her what?"

Fred caught the ball mid-air, giving his twin a look of pure disbelief. "Tell her what?" He mocked. "That you love her, you idiot! Merlin, you're denser than Crabbe on a bad day."

George shot him a glare, sitting up slightly. "It's not that simple, Fred. What if she doesn't feel the same?"

Fred snorted so loudly it sounded like a poorly-stifled laugh. "Oh, yeah, sure. Olympia Harrington—who voluntarily spends hours with you, willingly listens to your terrible jokes, and makes eyes at you like you hung the moon—definitely doesn't feel the same. Makes perfect sense."

George grabbed his pillow and chucked it at Fred, who dodged it with the reflexes of someone well-versed in sibling warfare. "I'm being serious, Fred."

"And I'm being realistic, George," Fred countered, tossing the ball at him, which George caught absentmindedly. "You're in your head too much. Just walk up to her and say, 'Olympia, I love you, and you're stuck with me, deal with it.' Easy."

George rolled his eyes. "Yeah, because that's romantic."

Fred leaned forward, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, right, sorry. Let's try again: 'Olympia, my dearest star-gazing goddess, I am but a humble ginger peasant in your presence, but I must confess my love before I perish under the weight of my longing.'" He clutched his chest dramatically, pretending to swoon onto his bed.

George threw the ball back at him, this time hitting him square in the stomach. "You're a bloody moron."

"And yet, I'm the moron with good advice," Fred quipped, sitting back up and tossing the ball in the air again. "Seriously, Georgie. When are you going to tell her?"

George groaned, lying back down and staring at the canopy. "I don't know. When the moment feels right."

Fred scoffed, nearly choking on his laugh. "The moment? What are you waiting for? A celestial alignment? A choir of hippogriffs to descend from the heavens?"

"I don't know!" George shot back, throwing his hands up. "What if I say it, and she looks at me like I've just declared my love for Filch's cat?"

Fred stared at him, deadpan. "If she does that, mate, you've officially picked the wrong girl."

George couldn't help but laugh at that, shaking his head. "You're mad."

"And yet, here I am, solving your love life for you," Fred said, tossing the ball again with a smirk. "You know, I could just tell her for you."

"Don't you dare," George warned, sitting up fully now, his glare pointed.

Fred grinned, his tone turning sing-song. "Oh, Olympia, Georgie's been in love with you since he was six and ate that godawful carrot cake you made—"

"Fred!" George grabbed another pillow and lobbed it at him, this time hitting Fred square in the face.

Fred cackled, throwing the pillow back. "Alright, alright, I won't tell her. But you'd better, Georgie. If not, you'll be stuck staring at her all googly-eyed forever, and I'll be forced to intervene. And trust me, you don't want that."

George groaned, lying back down and covering his face with his hands. "I hate you."

Fred smirked, flopping back onto his bed and catching the ball again. "You love me. Almost as much as you love Olympia."

George muttered something incoherent, though Fred could hear the reluctant laughter beneath it. "I swear, if I mess this up, you're taking the heat."

"Deal," Fred said with a grin, then added cheekily, "But only after Achilles finishes killing you."