💌🏹

╰┈➤ ❝ [𝐶𝐻𝐴𝑃𝑇𝐸𝑅 𝑁𝐼𝑁𝐸] ❞ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-
⁺⤾·˚.⃗. [ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴛᴜʀɴ ᴏғ ᴍɪss sᴛᴜᴅɪᴏᴜs ] 𑁍ࠜೄ ･ﾟˊˎ
﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
- Scottish Highlands
( September, 1994. )

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐖 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐋𝐘𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐀'𝐒 𝐒𝐊𝐔𝐋𝐋, she blinked awake, squinting against the brightness. Her head throbbed, every pulse reverberating through her temples with painful intensity. She had never experienced a hangover before, and the combination of nausea and pain was both foreign and overwhelming.

She groaned, pressing her fingers against her temples. "What... what happened last night?" she muttered to herself, trying to piece together foggy fragments of memory.

As she lay there, staring up at the ceiling and struggling to remember, the door creaked open. In walked Elvira, looking somewhat disheveled but undeniably pleased with herself. Her makeup was smudged, and her black eyeliner traced faint streaks under her eyes, but the wicked smirk on her face hinted at a night well spent.

"Morning, sunshine," Elvira greeted with a laugh, seeing Olympia's obvious discomfort.

Olympia pushed herself up with effort, wincing. "Where were you?" she asked, her voice rough. Her friend's appearance only increased her curiosity about the events of the previous night.

Elvira flopped down on the edge of her bed, stretching leisurely before replying. "Slytherin boys' dormitories," she said with a smug smile.

Olympia's eyebrows shot up. "You what?"

Elvira's smirk widened. "Fredrick Pickett," she said, practically purring his name. "The Slytherin boys have quite the setup, I'll tell you that much."

Olympia rolled her eyes, trying to hide her amusement. "Of course you'd be with the Slytherins," she muttered. Just then, Seraphina stirred in her bed, rubbing her eyes and yawning as she sat up.

"Oh, Merlin, you're awake," Seraphina said, giving Olympia a once-over. "How's the headache?"

"Awful," Olympia replied, pressing her palms to her head again. "Is this what a hangover feels like?"

Seraphina nodded sympathetically, then reached into her bag and pulled out a small glass vial. "Here, I thought you might need this," she said, handing it to Olympia.

Olympia took the vial, blinking in surprise. "What is it?"

"I snuck down to Snape's classroom and whipped up a hangover draught for you last night," Seraphina explained. "Figured you'd wake up feeling this way."

Olympia's heart swelled with gratitude as she took the vial from her friend's hand. "You're the best, Sera. Thank you."

Seraphina just smiled, waving it off. "Just drink it. It tastes vile, but it'll help."

Olympia braced herself, uncorking the vial and downing the potion in one go. Instantly, her face contorted as the metallic, bitter taste hit her tongue. She gagged, feeling like she'd swallowed rusty nails. "That... is disgusting," she choked out, scrunching her face.

Elvira chuckled, patting Olympia's shoulder. "Consider it punishment for drinking that much firewhiskey last night."

Olympia shot her a look, the taste still lingering on her tongue, but already feeling her headache begin to subside. "Alright, let's get ready. I need food."

The girls quickly freshened up and dressed, each of them moving at a slightly slower pace than usual as the night's exhaustion lingered. Once they were ready, they headed down to the Great Hall. On the way there, Seraphina turned to Olympia, an amused smile on her face.

"So," she began casually, "do you remember much of last night?"

Olympia shook her head, puzzled. "Not really... Why?"

Elvira let out a snort of laughter, throwing Olympia a knowing grin. "Because you couldn't keep your hands off George Weasley."

Olympia stopped in her tracks, her cheeks flushing a deep red. "I what?" She felt her stomach do a nervous flip as she tried to recall the events, but her mind only offered blurry images and the faint feeling of George's warmth. "Oh, Merlin..."

"Oh, yes," Elvira said with a wicked grin, "you two were all over each other."

Seraphina chuckled softly. "I'm sure he didn't mind."

Olympia's face was beet red as they continued walking, her thoughts racing. She could hardly believe it, and yet the embarrassment was all too real. By the time they reached the Great Hall, her cheeks were still tinged with pink, and she felt both curious and nervous to see George.

The Great Hall was packed with sixth and seventh years, many of whom looked equally hungover and exhausted. Students were slumped over plates of food, sipping coffee and rubbing bleary eyes. The usual formality of house seating had been relaxed, allowing everyone to sit wherever they pleased, and the girls spotted Fred, George, and Lee at a table on the far side, waving them over.

Olympia approached the table cautiously, her eyes immediately drifting to George. There was an awkwardness in his posture as he met her gaze, a tension she couldn't quite decipher. She couldn't remember much from last night, but judging by the awkward silence that hung between them, he probably did.

The group settled down, and Olympia focused on her breakfast, more than aware of the tension between her and George. The silence grew until finally, Fred cleared his throat, glancing between the two of them with an almost mischievous look.

"So," Fred began, his eyes twinkling as he leaned forward, "how'd everyone enjoy the party last night?"

Olympia's stomach twisted, but she kept her expression neutral. "I, um... I don't remember much of it," she admitted, trying to keep her tone light.

Elvira took the opportunity to jump in, a sly smile on her face. "Oh, I had a fantastic time. I was with Fredrick Pickett, the Slytherin," she said, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "He's... quite something."

Fred groaned, making a face. "Please spare us the details, Elvira."

Elvira just laughed, undeterred. "Don't worry, I'll keep it G-rated... for now." She shot Olympia a wicked grin, as if daring her to remember more about her own night.

Seraphina, in contrast, gave a small, shy smile. "It was nice, but... I don't know if it's really my scene." She glanced at Lee, who was smiling at her, his eyes warm and soft. She quickly looked down, blushing faintly.

As the conversation drifted away from her, Olympia sighed in relief. But she could feel George's eyes on her, studying her face as if looking for something. She glanced at him briefly, her face growing warmer under his gaze.

George was quiet, his expression carefully neutral, though Fred noticed his twin's discomfort. George poked at his food, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface. He didn't want to bring it up, but he couldn't shake the disappointment that she didn't remember what had happened between them.

After breakfast, the group left the hall together and headed toward their first class: Potions. George fell into step beside Olympia, the silence between them heavy. Finally, he turned to her, his voice quiet but tense. "Do you really not remember?"

Olympia met his gaze, her expression guarded now. "No, I don't," she replied, her tone brisk, already slipping back into her usual focus-for-classes mode. "Why? Did something happen?" She looked at him with a mix of curiosity and the distant formality she often wore around him in daylight.

George's jaw clenched, and he looked away, frustrated and hurt. He forced a tight smile. "Nothing. Just... wondered, is all."

Fred, walking behind them, caught George's eye and gave him a look of sympathy. He knew exactly what George was feeling, and he wished he could say something to help, but he didn't want to make things worse.

They reached the Potions classroom, where Professor Snape stood at the front, his gaze sweeping over the room with his usual look of disdain. "Take your seats," he instructed, his voice icy and severe.

The class settled into their seats, and Snape began his lecture, introducing them to today's topic. "Amortentia," he said, gesturing to a cauldron filled with a shimmering, mother-of-pearl-colored liquid. "The most powerful love potion in existence. It is known to smell differently to each person, depending on what they are most attracted to."

He paused, scanning the students with a hint of a smirk. "Miss Harrington," he drawled, his eyes landing on Olympia, "perhaps you'd care to tell us what you smell?"

Olympia felt her heart skip a beat as she stood up, making her way to the front of the room. She leaned over the cauldron, inhaling slowly as a unique, intoxicating scent filled her senses.

For a moment, she was at a loss for words, the smell taking her somewhere else entirely. "I smell... fresh grass," she began softly, "and something warm, like... cinnamon and cloves. . And um, firewhiskey." Her voice wavered as she realized, with growing clarity, that these were scents she associated with George.

As Olympia finished describing the scent she detected in the Amortentia, she cast a quick glance around the room and noticed several eyes on her, including Fred's and George's. Fred's brow lifted in subtle surprise, his expression almost unreadable-curiosity mixed with something close to amusement. He turned slightly, catching George's eye with a pointed look, as if to say, Did you catch that? George returned his brother's gaze, a mix of confusion and intrigue sparking in his eyes. He couldn't help but wonder if what Olympia had described-warm spices and fresh grass-meant what he thought it did.

Just then, Snape's voice cut through the quiet murmurs that had erupted. "Thank you, Miss Harrington. Take your seat," he said, his tone cold but not without a trace of interest. Once Olympia was seated again, he swept his gaze over the class, his voice sharp and intense. "Amortentia is not a toy, as some of you may foolishly believe. It is one of the most dangerous potions in this room, precisely because it does not create real love-only obsession."

He leaned closer over the cauldron, his dark eyes flashing. "Be warned: misusing this potion can have... serious consequences. What you feel under its influence is not genuine. In this class, I expect restraint, responsibility, and respect for the craft. Anyone who fails to demonstrate these qualities will be expelled."

As he continued explaining the history of Amortentia, George felt a faint aroma waft toward him from the cauldron at the front of the room. The smell was subtle, yet it drifted to him with unexpected clarity: a light summer breeze, warm with a hint of fresh parchment, and a faint undertone of lavender. His mind flashed to memories of Olympia at the Burrow, her quiet, studious manner mingling with that strange, carefree energy that summer had brought out in her. The smell pulled him back to those late nights under the stars, the shared laughter that always surprised him, the glimpses of something warmer and more playful beneath her usual serious expression.

He blinked, forcing himself to refocus on Snape's words, but the aroma clung to him, and he felt his pulse quicken. He tried to shake off the feeling, hoping he was the only one who noticed his distraction.

"Amortentia can mimic the familiar scents one associates with... desire," Snape continued, his dark gaze passing over the class. "But never forget, it is an illusion. A trick."

With that, Snape moved on, explaining the potion's brewing process and properties in detail, though George struggled to focus, his thoughts drifting back to the previous night and what Olympia might have felt.

After what felt like an eternity, Snape finally dismissed the class. As the students packed up, George looked over to where Olympia was already slipping her books into her bag with swift, practiced motions. He wanted to catch her, to ask her about her Amortentia description, to find out if she'd even thought of him as she spoke. But before he could get his things together, she was out of her seat, hurrying toward the door with a purposeful stride.

"Olympia, wait!" he called, but she kept moving, her back stiffening slightly at the sound of his voice.

It was clear she was avoiding him, and the way she pushed through the crowd confirmed it. George sighed, his shoulders sagging as he watched her disappear into the corridor. The Amortentia's scent still lingered faintly in the air, taunting him with questions he didn't have answers to.

Fred sidled up beside him, clapping him on the shoulder with a half-smile that seemed to carry more weight than usual. "Looks like you've got some work to do, mate," he said quietly. "Miss studious is back."

George nodded, his gaze still fixed on the door. He knew that avoiding him wouldn't change anything-not for him, and certainly not for her. He'd have to find another chance to talk to her, even if it meant forcing the conversation she seemed so keen to avoid.