| Inked | (George Weasley)

Chapter Eighty-One

Silence.

Olive was frozen, her heart beating so fast it was vibrating inside her chest. She stared at the crowd in front of her, her wide cat-eyes almost glassy in the light.

No one moved, or even made a sound. No one was even breathing. All any of the Gryffindors could do was stare at the Ravenclaw, who was very obviously the black cat that had been messing with Fred and George's pranks for nearly two years.

Oh, no...

She couldn't believe herself. How could she be so stupid?! Olive knew she wanted to tell George and Fred... but maybe after their birthday over a butterbeer or something (she could slip in some firewhisky for good measure). Out of all the possibilities to tell them, Olive wanted to do it her way, and not by accident out of pure instinct and adrenaline.

Fred was rather surprised, amused even. His brows were raised, mouth slightly gaping. It was like getting a good grade that you didn't expect on an exam.

George? Olive wished she was better at reading people. He was just staring at her, his expression a mixture of different emotions she couldn't place together. She felt like she just kicked a puppy, guilt eating away at her chest making it nearly impossible to breathe.

All she wanted to do was spin around and patter away... but she knew that could never be an option anymore. The cat was, quite literally, out of the bag.

Slowly, she morphed back into herself, climbing awkwardly down from the pile of pillows once they could no longer support her weight from her change in size. Her hands were fidgeting, kneading each other into clammy dough. They once again itched for the comfort of her notebook and pen, where she could whisk herself away into a different story. Anywhere but there.

But again, that was not an option.

Slowly, once the initial shock was over with, people slowly started to tip-toe away, whispering amongst themselves. Olive shifted uncomfortably, her face hot, wanting nothing more than to backtrack five minutes and not reveal herself as the black cat... in front of the entire Gryffindor House... on the twins' birthday.

Obviously she felt terrible.

"Olive..." George whispered, his voice quiet yet firm, trailing off as if the words he had carefully planned to say had left him.

Ollie had to stop herself from cringing at the way he said her name. George had so rarely used her full name anymore. It had always been the sing-song Olls that made her heart swell with comfortable warmth.

Now?

It was like he was addressing an entirely different person- not the girl he was head over heels for.

"George." Olive's voice was quiet. She cleared her throat, taking a step forward, "Please... I- I didn't want you to find out like this... I was going to tell you- I was going to tell you everything."

She couldn't stop stammering, not knowing what to say that could fix this. Her eyes searched George's pleading for him to understand. All she wanted was for him to understand- for him not to be mad at her. At this point, she still couldn't tell what he was feeling.

"Well, to start, you picked a bloody brilliant time." He quipped, his tone on the line between joking and upset, "How could... why did you not tell us?"

Olive shook her head, looking down at the floor as she searched for the right words to say, "I... I thought you would hate me. I thought you both would hate me if I told you... I kept putting it off, and I know that's such a stupid reason..."