Angels Brought Me Here (George Weasley)

Whenever You Come Around

Ninety-Three Diagon Alley

George lay on his bed, no energy to remove his clothes or his shoes. He hadn't drank too much tonight, and he had the barmaid to thank for that. She seemed too friendly, too outgoing, and he didn't feel like talking to her. And so he had spent the entire night avoiding the bar whenever she was around, which was a difficult task, as she never seemed to take a break.

And then, Ron had walked into the bar. Looking for him, seemingly. And it appears the barmaid had known him, as they spoke for quite a while, and though George had strained his ears to hear the conversation, he couldn't. It was too far from his dusty corner booth, and the place was too noisy.

But George couldn't risk being spotted by his family, they would make him face reality, and reality wasn't where he wanted to go just now. He certainly couldn't speak to that barmaid again, it was obvious she knew Ron, and though George looked slightly different, he still looked like a Weasley. The barmaid would recognise him immediately, if she hadn't already.

Though, Ron hadn't searched every inch of the bar for him, so it seemed she had sent him away. Perhaps she didn't recognise George?

George pondered the girl for a moment, trying to remember her face, and trying to relive the feeling he had when he was with her.

It was a foreign feeling to him, but he could have sworn whenever he watched her through the night, there were butterflies swarming his stomach. That seemed right, he had been unable to feel anything other than sadness and anger and misery for four months but as soon as a pretty girl pops up, he's feeling other emotions.

But it was different than just finding her attractive, it was more than that. He felt comforted, in a strange way, just by her presence. As if nothing bad could ever happen again, as long as he had stayed in that bar, watching that pretty barmaid laughing, smiling, joking, pouring the pints. She was blissfully unaware that he was completely mesmerised by her.

He didn't recognise her from school, and he wondered why. Maybe she had gone to a foreign magical school? Not every witch or wizard went to Hogwarts. George was unsure, but he felt a need to find out. Another foreign feeling to him, for he hadn't felt the urge to do anything other than sleep or drink since May.

Unfamiliar nerves swarmed his body as he contemplated whether he should attempt to start a conversation with the girl the following night, if he could muster the courage. Find out why he didn't recognise her, suss out whether she had recognised him. Surely, making some small talk with a stranger wouldn't hurt him?