It's Better If You Do

George stepped out into the brisk night air, nervously shoving his hands into the pockets of his blazer. The streetlamps had been lit and the alleyway was less crowded than it was during the day. It still didn’t mean that people weren’t out and walking the well lit street. George only knew it was because they were still under the impression that You-Know-Who hadn’t returned, under the word of delusional Fudge and his grip on the Prophet. George knew Harry Potter had not been lying at the end of the Twiwizard Tournament; He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had returned.

Pushing that horrible thought from his mind, he continued on to the Magical Menagerie, running through ways to get the kitten to the shop, but also to get back to Bellamy. He didn’t know why he wanted to get back to her so quickly. She had clearly stated that she didn’t consider their dinner a date, but…he liked her and he didn’t quite trust her with a few of the men there. After all, she had ordered two bottles of Firewhiskey and she would no doubt be getting tipsy, if not drunk, this evening. As he neared the Magical Menagerie, he noticed the owner was putting the lights out. He rushed to the door and tugged on it but it was locked.

He frantically knocked on the door, catching the attention of the owner. She frowned a bit as he waved her over to the door, smiling sheepishly. Slowly walking over to door and unlocking it, she cracked the door open and looked at him expectantly.

“I’m just closing up, Mr. Weasley,” she said softly. George winced and nodded a bit.

“I know,” he said quickly, “I just haven’t gotten a chance to get out today. Do you still have that kitten we were talking about the other day? I’m interested in purchasing it.” The woman looked at him hesitantly before pursing her lips a bit and nodding.

“C’mon in then,” she said in a soft voice that hinted she would rather have just closed up the shop and gotten to her dinner. She opened the door a bit wider and let George in as she hurried behind the counter getting out a box that had a few holes cut in the sides. George walked over to the small pin the kittens were in and lifted up the white and orange and black speckled runt with a smile. He then walked over to the counter and placed the kitten in the box.

“Thank you so much,” he said earnestly, diving into his pocket to retrieve the seven galleons the kitten cost. The woman regarded him with a look over the tops of her glasses before a warm smile curled her lips.

“It’s no problem really,” she said softly, “just make sure you get in here before I want to close up next time, will you?” George let out a bashful laugh as she folded the top of the box and he handed over the galleons.

“I will make note of that,” he said with a nod as he took the box gently, looking into one of the holes at the mewling, but content kitten. “Thank you again.” The woman merely gave a nod as he began to walk out of the store. He had just gotten out of the door and he heard it lock securely behind him. He took one step into the alleyway and was nearly run into by a small child.

“Whoa there, careful now,” he said, looking down and immediately recognizing the child as a regular at the shop. If George didn’t recognize his red hair, similar to his own, it would have been his vibrant green eyes and the strip of freckles across his nose. His parents owned Quality Quidditch Supplies, so he was often left to roam Diagon Alley without supervision. He was a good kid, never caused Fred or George any trouble at the shop, and was always fascinated with the way the brothers had accomplished some of the things they did. “Hello Thomas,” George said with a smile, “how are you?” The small child, who was missing both of his front teeth at the moment, looked up at him and grinned widely.

“I’m doing alright, sir,” he said in a soft, cheerful voice, “how about yourself?” George nodded a bit.

“The same,” he said and the kitten gave an extra loud meow within the box. Thomas’ eyes widened as he stared curiously. George suddenly got a fantastic idea and crouched down to Thomas’ level. “Do you want to do me a favor, Thomas?” The boy nodded excitedly, his eyes widened even more. “Could you take this to the shop for me and give the kitten to a pretty, blonde woman there named Rose? Could you tell her that George is extremely sorry for selling her pet and that he hopes this will make up for it?” He asked, holding out the box to Thomas, who gently took the box, recognizing how important this was.

“Give the box to Rose, who’s blonde, and tell her that George is sorry and hopes this makes up for it,” Thomas repeated obediently. George nodded and gave his hair an affectionate ruffle.

“Exactly,” he said, “and while you’re there tell Fred that I said you can have anything in the store for your troubles.” Thomas’ jaw dropped as he stared up at George.

“Even the Fifteen Minute Daydream?” He asked in awe. George gave a laugh and shook his head, finding that the boy was remarkably both like and unlike him when he was a child. George had a knack for wanting things he knew he couldn’t or shouldn’t have, but he was in no way as polite as Thomas. He had manners, but he was as much a trouble maker then as he was now, if not more so.

“No…not that, but anything else is yours, okay?” He replied with a wry smirk. Thomas nodded once in understand, clearly not disappointed that he’d be able to get whatever he wanted from the shop for delivering the kitten. “Now go on and be careful with the box for me.” Thomas grinned his child-like grin once more and gave another nod.

“Yes, sir!” He said happily before marching off toward the shop, stepping gingerly and keeping a firm grip on the box in his hands. George watched him for a few moments, to make sure that he had chosen the right kid for the job, before nodding and beginning to make his way back to the Leaky Cauldron.

It didn’t take him long to get back and when he did, he noticed that their food had arrived as well as the two bottle of Firewhiskey she had asked for. One of them remained untouched, but the other had been opened and a bit of the liquid had been poured out into glass tumblers. Bellamy was glancing around the pub with a slightly sour, slightly bored expression as she cradled her chin in her hand. Heaving a great sigh, not noticing that George was making his way across the room, she lifted her tumbler to her lips and downed the amber liquid. As she gave a great swallow, she winced as the Firewhiskey burned all the way down, leaving a content numb, tingly feeling in it’s stead.

George lowered himself into his seat as Bellamy placed her glass down with a resounding thud, giving another sigh as she stared up at him. They remained quiet for a while as Bellamy poured herself more Firewhiskey, keeping her expression stoic. George racked his brain for something to talk about and glanced down at their plates, noticing she had ordered the same thing as him.

“You didn’t find anything else you wanted to order?” He asked softly. Bellamy gave an indifferent shrug, pursing her lips a little bit.

“I figured that I trusted your judgment and would give the roast beef a try,” she said softly watching as George’s expression changed to one of confusion. She trusted his judgment? That seemed a bit odd. Raising a brow a him, she gave him a particularly annoyed look. “Last time I ate here I had the pea soup,” she explained in a lofty sort of voice. George suddenly nodded in understanding. Anyone who had attempted to eat the pea soup, like George had once, would feel sympathetic.

“Its an unpleasant experience, isn’t it?” He asked through his wince. Bellamy mirrored his expression and nodded slowly before lifting her glass to her lips and taking another drink of it. Her wince only intensified as she swallowed before she placed the half-empty class down. She stared over at George before sighing lightly.

“Well then…let’s eat before it gets cold,” she said softly, picking up her knife and fork and beginning to cut up a bit of the roast beef.

The cordial conversation between the two of them had gone quiet as they ate and they both partook of the Firewhiskey that was set out for them. However, the more their glasses were refilled, the more they began to talk and the more a warm, pleasant numbness spread through them, the more Bellamy forgot her disdain for the situation, and the more George found his cheeks hurting from grinning broadly at the beautiful girl before him.