Maybe George did it on purpose. But Oliver was sure he didn’t imagine it.
He brooded over it for three days (a week after reveling in winning the cup), and the next morning at breakfast, Oliver poked Alicia in the arm with his fork.
“You just put that in your mouth,” Alicia said.
“Yep.” Oliver took another small forkful of hash and chewed it thoughtfully. “Hey, do you think there’s anything to bumping noses?”
Alicia toyed with her soft boiled egg, and feigned thoughtfulness. “Um, ‘bumping noses’ huh? Hmm, um. Is that a euphemism for, I mean. Are you hitting on me?”
Oliver stared at her in horror.
**
He caught Harry and tugged him into a corner, as Granger and that younger Weasley slowed down, eying them curiously.
“Quidditch is over, Oliver, remember? We won too,” Harry said, looking more tired than Oliver had ever noticed. He shook his head roughly, and held onto Potter’s shoulders. The boy felt rather bony.
“No, Potter, it’s not about Quidditch. Well, it is sort of but. Stop rolling your eyes!” Oliver passed a hand over his forehead. It suddenly occurred to him that the middle of the hallway between classes wasn’t exactly a setting conducive to a having a heart-to-heart. He tried not to think about that. “Do you think-did you see George? Like, when we won the cup, and we were coming off the pitch. Remember that? Did you notice…anything? With George? Anything in particular about him.”
“Er, yeah, Oliver, he has a twin. And I just won the cup! Why on earth would I be studying the inner workings of George Weasley? No offense, Ron.”
“Hey! No skin and all that,” Ron said cheerily, because he and Granger were listening quite boldly now.
Oliver straightened up, and released his grip on Harry’s shoulders. “Right, well. Of course that makes sense. Right. Later.” As he stomped away, he heard Granger’s piping voice--
“What about George? Well, what’s wrong with Fred?”
But the boys just giggled and didn’t reply.
**
The days got warmer and Oliver discovered that the twins liked to study outside. It was a little odd, he thought as he traipsed after them at a good distance. Weasley twins, in general, always seemed to have the attention span of a gnat. Only gnats would doze off in the middle of one of Oliver’s superb pep-talks. Only gnats would start whispering while Oliver was in the middle of a killer move to stump that Cho Chang. Only gnats would hit Oliver over the head with his own broom and call it an accident.
But very soon the twins settled under a tree where the late afternoon sun still shone, and began to behave in a studious manner. Every now and then George would lean over to Fred and press his fingers against the open text book, talking earnestly. Once Fred did nab George’s quill, but it was obviously just to make some sort of correction in his notebook and when he was done, he peacefully handed it back. Fascinated, forgetting all about his own studying for the O.W.L.s, Oliver watched them until the sun set.
No, he just watched George.
**
“Fred and George? Psh. They take nothing seriously, Oliver, believe me. Nothing.” Percy combed his hair in a neat part down the middle because it was wet. Oliver stared at him in disdain and wondered why he bothered. Percy’s hair would never be as soft as George’s. He shook his head and wet his toothbrush.
“Yes, Perce, I know they take nothing seriously, but you know. You’re their brother. Have you noticed anything different about George?”
Percy sniffed. “Yes. He told me that hexing my glasses to permanently fog over wasn’t as funny as he originally thought it would be. Is that different enough for you?” Percy’s tone had gotten decidedly cold. The other seventh years cleared out of the bathroom, because a pissed-off Percy meant a pissed-off Prefect.
Oliver shrugged and aimlessly rubbed his toothbrush against his gums. “Say, have you and Clearwater ever bumped noses?”
“Ah yes,” Percy said with some self-satisfaction. “We call it a ‘busy kiss’, you know? Because it’s quick and clean. And when we’re too busy to…” Percy suddenly blinked rapid at the Oliver in the mirror. “Well! I mean! How could you ask! What’s it to you, you nosy, thick-headed, dim-witted-“
Oliver spat in the sink and left Percy to his indignant sputtering.
**
“Okay. It’s simple. Just talk to him. Just ask. It’s that easy. School’s nearly done. Those exam…things are nearly finished. What else is there to worry about. Nothing. Don’t worry about noth-anything. Just ask. Just ask him.”
“Just ask him what?” And for a moment Oliver thought George had swung over the back of the couch to flomp beside him, but when he looked up, it was just Fred.
“Oh, hullo,” Oliver said dully.
“What are you muttering on about?” Fred poked him and flipped through a Martin Miggle comics and jiggled his leg and chewed on a Fizzing Whizzbee, all at the same time. But Oliver didn’t notice any of it.
“Shouldn’t you be permanently connected to your twin?” Oliver sniped, annoyed at the non-Georgeness of Fred Weasley.
“Mum took care of that problem when we were ten,” Fred murmured, engrossed in the comic book. “Chopped us right in half with her cleaver, I think. Silly Oliver.”
Oliver sighed painfully. “Fred…do you. When someone bumps noses with you and you’re sure it was on purpose, like-“
“Like rubs their nose against your own? Like Perce does with his Cantaloupe bird in the hallways like a right ponce?”
“Er…yeah.” For some reason, Oliver was finding this distinctly uncomfortable. It felt like going behind George’s back, talking to Fred like this. Again he wished George was sitting next to him, not his twin. It was just weird. He looked at Fred, who was looking right back at him, and grinning.
“Ollie’s got a girlfriend.” Fred singing voice was low and gentle. “And her name’s not Quidditch.”
“Girlfriend.” For an insane moment Oliver wondered if George would look good in lip gloss.
“Yeah, I’m sure it means the bird is into you, Wood. Well, unless it was. Alright, like, when did it happen?”
“Right after the game. We were all so happy. And the Quidditch Cup, it was, y’know? It was ours. And. When Harry was being carried off the pitch on our shoulders, that’s when it happened. Just sudden like that.”
Fred’s eyes widened. “Wow. You mean, whoa. One of the Chasergirls?”
Oliver leaned his head against the back of the couch. The ceiling had some nice moldings. “No, one of the Beater. Boys.”
Oliver didn’t know how Fred must have felt, until the twin wordlessly got up and left.
**
Oliver lazily began packing his trunk when the others went for their last breakfast in the Great Hall. Breakfast was good and useful, especially before playing a game. Gave the players energy, and the stamina needed to perform well. He never cared for it. He liked bacon though. Maybe porridge. But bacon tasted nice, it was salty and-
“Percy here?” George was hovering in the doorway of the seventh year dorm, one foot tipped back behind the other. His hips swayed restlessly.
“Er, no, he’s downstairs, Prefecting.”
“Good,” George said in three long steps that brought him right up against Oliver. “Good, because, Fred told me. Oliver, and.” And he - there was no mistaking it this time - he leaned in and closed his eyes before gently rubbing his nose back and forth against Oliver’s. George sighed as he did it, and Oliver could smell tang, like orange juice. His legs wobbled and he sat on the bed. Or tried to, but the duvet was slippery and he slid right off. And there was George, crouching next to him beside the slippery bed.
Oliver took George’s face between his hands and kissed him, and it was weird because it happened just like it did in all the dreams he had. George was ready and accessible, Oliver was frenetic and maybe perhaps a little sloppy, but Oliver liked to be realistic when he dreamed. And George’s tongue was wicked and it licked Oliver’s teeth in a way that sent tremors down his spine. George tasted like breakfast and Oliver devoured him. He never dreamed that part.
As Oliver’s mouth scraped down George’s jawline, and against the freckled tilted neck, George laughed slightly and said, “Y’know. I’m kind of glad that Black bloke got away.”
And Oliver said, “What? I love you.”
And summer had just begun.
end