Waldosia/// George Weasley

Chapter 3

As the night drunkenly carried on for George, Clover pushed her alcohol aside in order to remain in a stable mindset. It's not that she minded getting piss drunk, it's just that she knew she had no where to go afterwards. Being both female and drunk was unfortunately not the best combination to be walking around at night with no destination. And her stubborn Slytherin ego refused to let her drag herself back to the Leaky Cauldron in a moment of weakness, even if it was her only option. So, she sat there sobering up as she watched George do quite the opposite.

"I'm not usually the one to say this, but...," Clover's eyes widened at the 7 empty pint glasses lined up in front of George, lightly taking the one he was drinking out of his hand, "Maybe you should slow down there."

George pouted when he noticed the cup in his hand was gone, looking over at her curiously, "Don't think I could handle myself?"

She scoffed and pointed at him, "The green undertone of your cheeks seems to think so."

"Well rest assured, I am quite good at handling my-," he cut off his own sentence and abruptly brought a hand up to his lips, his chest heaving as if he were going to throw up all the contents of alcohol from his body.

Clover's eyes went wide at seeing how his body started lurching towards her, "George Weasley I swear on Salazar Slytherin that if you spew your bloody vomit on me I'll..."

She stood up from her seat in a panic, preparing for the worst, as her eyes flurried back and forth while trying to think of how to finish her empty threat, "I'll...I'll...,"

"You'll what?" George's body language returned back to normal and a smirk was now dancing on his face.

"Eugh, you git! I should've known you were joking," Clover breathed out a sigh of relief as she sat back down in her seat and rolled her eyes at the boy.

"Well, I don't run a world renown joke shop for nothing," he winked at her before his drunk mind let his eyes trail down her body dramatically, "Plus, if I was spewing anything on you it most certainly would not be vomit."

Normally Clover would have walked away from a man who made at comment like that to her, but as she looked at the boy next to her with that snarky smirk on his face, she couldn't help but copy his expression. Whether it was the alcohol or the way she so effortlessly bantered with him, Clover found herself wanting to stay and continue the conversation with him. She didn't know why, but somehow she felt safe around him, as if for the first time in her life she finally held higher standards for a man other than the one she called her best friend.

"You're repulsive when you're drunk," she rolled her eyes again and shook her head as her lips edged upwards.

The ginger boy leaned in closer to her until his mouth was practically pressed against her ear, "And how do you know I'm not repulsive all the time?"

A red tint begrudgingly forced its way onto Clover's cheeks at the feeling of his warm breath hitting her neck. She laughed, in an attempt to push down the coloring of her face, and turned her head towards his, completely disregarding the close proximity they were in. She opened her mouth to speak when her eyes locked onto his, his face not even centimeters away from hers. And for a moment, they just stared at each other. Her eyes explored the pools of darkened honey staring back at her, her body shifting uncomfortably at how intense they were looking at each other. She should have looked away, but Clover had always been a curious girl. And right now she was hooked on the mystery before her, not understanding how brown eyes could dance so beautifully, yet look so sad.

"I think," George slurred out with a slight smile on his face, his eyes not breaking from hers, "I think our eyes are shagging right now."

That's all it took, just one joke to snap her out of the trance she fell into. Clover narrowed her eyes and devilishly brought her face threateningly closer to his, "Well, get a good look. Because that's the closest you'll ever get to shagging me."