If You'll Have Me | George Weasley

Chapter 17

IT WAS TRADITION to spend their nights just like this; Scattered throughout the living room, seated upon the floor and the two couches opposite of each other, and sharing a bottle of Firewhisky despite their very wine filled weekend. Eleanor couldn't deny, though, that it felt good to be back here. Here, where George was sat beside her on the couch, a foot crossed over his knee, and a glass of whiskey resting upon the other. Where the lighting was soft and the air smelt like summer as it blew through the open windows, gently brushing against her neck.

Most of the commotion had been coming from Ron and Harry, who were sat upon the floor playing Wizard's Chess and cursing at one another each time a piece fell to ruins. And as they continued to raise their voices, Eleanor's mind grew fuzzy from the liquor stinging her throat. From the hand on her back that George moved in slow, circular motions, reawakening that flutter in her stomach that only he could cause so effortlessly.

Eleanor had felt Hermione's eyes on her as she sat there besides George, arms folded across her chest with her cup balancing between her knees. Her friend was far too observant. Far too intuitive to the point where Eleanor felt like if she allowed the slightest shift in her mood, she would notice. And she did.

"Are you alright?" Hermione whispers, eyebrows raised, and when Eleanor feels George's eyes on her, she nods.

She had to be okay, because there was no reason for her not to be. There was nothing that justified the frustration that stirred inside of her as she sat beside George, listening to the steadiness of his breath. Thinking of that moment they had shared in his office where she had been more vulnerable that she'd like. More open.

It wasn't entirely a lie—To say that she had wanted him—Just shy of the fact that she wanted him in many more ways than just a few stolen kisses and sweet moments behind a closed door. Wanted him in a way that she didn't have to lie to Ginny, or pretend that he didn't have a hand on her back just now, trailing the hem of her shirt and touching the skin underneath.

Eleanor shifts in her seat, sinking into the couch behind her to cause George's hand to fall. "I'm just tired." She says simply, and Fred scoffs from the other side of her.

"Tired?" He muses, reaching for the bottle of whiskey. "You can't be tired. You haven't even finished your glass."

Fred was perhaps the worst influence of them all. He was always the one to insist on having one more drink, or to stay up for one more hour even as dawn broke in the sky... But he and George were the two that made each situation all the more fun, even when all that was going on was a game of Wizard's Chess, which Eleanor didn't quite care for.

"Then let's do something." She insists, gesturing to the glass in her hand with a nod. "A drinking game, so that I can finish this."

Ron tuts, shaking his head as he leans against the coffee table. "Anything but truth or drink. Please." He murmurs, and Eleanor chuckles.

"What's wrong with it? I think it's fun." She teases, although, she had been lying through her teeth.

It was a typical party game in the wizarding world, and one that oftentimes, never ended well. Eleanor had played it a few times back in France, and there were many instances that when under the influence of Veritaserum, she had given answers that not even she expected. It worried her to think of what questions might be asked here, and just how she might respond if she were to choose to drink the truth serum.