It's Better If You Do

Bellamy drew in a deep breath of air as she sat on the roof with George. They hadn’t said much since they had gotten back, but they had continuously passed the bottle of Firewhiskey between the two of them. They both swayed slightly on the spot; George occasionally mumbling stuff under his breath and Bellamy hiccupping violently. Finally, it seemed that Bellamy grew bored with their little drinking game and stood, wiping her hand over her mouth and standing, leaving her clutch and her shoes behind as she looked down at George.

“I used to be a ballerina, you know,” she said in all seriousness, smiling proudly. George looked up at her and cracked a wide grin.

“Really?” He asked, his voice slurring more than ever. “Can you dance now?” Bellamy smiled even wider and nodded as she handed George the bottle of Firewhiskey. She drew in a deep breath of air, letting out a hiccup before she straightened up her posture, leveling her chin so that it was parallel to the roof, and holding her arms out gracefully in front of her. She glanced to George from the corner of her eyes as she giggled lightly before regaining her poise. Slowly, she began turning on the spot, humming lowly under her breath as she did.

She pushed herself to stand on the tips of her toes, showing remarkable balance for someone who was three sheets to the wind, and continued to spin slowly. All the while, George watched with peaked interest, the half-full bottle forgotten at his side and his mouth slightly agape. He was fascinated with how graceful she was, the way her body seemed to move like it was made to twirl and stand on tip-toe, and how beautiful she was despite the bright pink splotches of color on her cheeks. By now, her eyes we’re closed and she was dancing across the roof gracefully. Bellamy suddenly stopped and gave a loud hiccup, giggling lightly as she looked back at George. Once she saw his expression, her smile slowly fell, fear sobering her up slightly.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” She asked in a hushed voice. George slowly got to his feet, stumbling a bit before finally righting himself. He smiled slightly to her, shaking his head a bit.

“That was beautiful,” he said, still a bit in awe of the girl. She merely shrugged and let out a short sigh.

“It wasn’t proper,” she said, a sad smile curling her lips, “to be so good at muggle dancing. The girls at Beauxbatons looked down on me for it. Still…every summer vacation…I‘d take ballet classes religiously.” George slowly stepped toward her slowly, tripping over himself every so often and swaying a bit on his feet. He gently took her chin in his hand and looked down at her with a warm smile.

“Stuff like that doesn’t matter to me,” he said in a soft voice as Bellamy looked up at him through her lashes, “I’ve never seen something so amazing in my life.” He took a step toward her, standing as close to her as possible, and slowly began to lean forward with the intentions of pressing his lips against hers.

“Oh you,” she sighed, as she gently placed her hand on his cheek and just as gently pushed it away. Now it was her turn to slur. “You think you can just give me those sexy eyes and tell me that I’m beautiful and expect me to want to kiss you…” She gave him a lazy sort of smile as she watched him, cutting her eyes at him playfully. “I know what you’re playing at.” Bellamy poked her finger in his chest, giggling lightly.

“You think I have sexy eyes?” He asked with a crooked grin, slurring his words so much so that Bellamy giggled even louder. Clearly, only the compliment to him had registered in his highly intoxicated mind.

“Just because I say you have sexy eyes doesn’t mean you have sexy…eyes,” she stumbled a bit on her feet, grasping onto the front of George’s shirt for stability. She laughed lightly once she had stopped moving and rested her forehead against his chest. “I’m so drunk right now,” she said in a soft voice through her laughter, looking up at George, who began laughing as well.

“So am I,” he said through a snicker. Bellamy gently pat his cheek, as if she were consoling him before letting go of his shirt and stumbling off. She stared up at the sky for a moment, swaying on the spot. She then turned to George and gave him a wide cheeky grin.

“Je suis femme torpille-pille pille. Je me tortille-tille-tille,*” Bellamy sang loudly and suddenly, loud enough that all of Diagon Alley were sure to hear her as she sang happily, shaking her hips from side to side as she did. George laughed lightly at the girl’s display, yet had no idea what she was singing. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the balcony, entertained for the moment. “En me touchant, faites attention, ou vous recevrez une commotion. C'est fantastique-tique-tique. Je fais des tiques-tiques-tiques!**”

Somewhere in the alley, there was the sharp sound of someone opening up a window followed by a man, who clearly didn’t appreciate Bellamy’s off-tune, drunken singing, yelling, “Oi’! Shut up! Some of us are trying to sleep!” Bellamy grinned even wider and walked over to the balcony. Drawing in a big breath of air, she shot a mischievous glance to George.

“Fuck off, you bastard!” She yelled, her French accent tainting the curse words as George let out an audible gasp before collapsing into laughter. He was surprised that such a proper and innocently looking girl could know such words. Then again, she seemed to have been full of surprises this evening. “I’m having fun!”

“JUST SHUT UP!” The voice bellowed. Bellamy took in another big breath of air but George quickly scrambled over to her and clamped his hand over her mouth, greatly muffling whatever vulgar words were going to come out of her mouth before they both got into trouble. Bellamy spun quickly and looked up at George, glaring at him as she kept yelling, though her words were still being muffled by his hand. Slowly, she began walking towards him, making George take a matching steps backwards. Their legs eventually got tangled up and George fell backwards, taking Bellamy with him.

She let out a surprised squeal, which was muffled by his hand, before they landed on the roof with a loud, resounding thud. They both looked at each other with wide surprised eyes; Bellamy was laying flush against him and her face was remarkably close to his. Suddenly, she glared at him and bit at the hand that still covered her mouth. George let out a startled noise and hurriedly pulled his hand away, inspecting it to see that she hadn’t broken the skin like he thought she had.

“You bit me!” He exclaimed in a surprised tone. Bellamy gave a sigh, her hands splayed out across his chest as she stared down at him.

“I do have teeth, you know,” she said in a matter-of-fact voice, shaking her head a bit. They managed to stare at each other seriously for a few fleeting seconds before collapsing into peals of drunken laughter. George let his head rest back against the roof and Bellamy rested her forehead against his collarbone. Their drunken laughter was short-lived, however, since they both felt the overwhelming urge to close their eyes and go to sleep.

Bellamy looked up at George, blinking sleepily as she let out a large yawn. It almost looked as though she was going to try and get up, but he had unknowingly wrapped his arms around her waist and was not letting go of her anytime soon. Letting out a content sigh, she snuggled closer to him, resting her head on his chest and draping her arm over him as she completely relaxed against him.

“You’re pretty comfortable,” she said in a tired voice as they both let out yawns. George pulled her closer to him as he slowly let his eyes close, giving a small hum in response.

“Feel free to use me as a bed anytime you want,” he said in a half-asleep sort of voice, not caring that his back would be killing him in the morning from sleeping on the roof. Bellamy gave a small, sleepy giggle, closing her eyes as well.

“Goodnight, Sir George,” she breathed, not fighting off the impending need to sleep any longer. It was George’s time to laugh a short, half-drunken, half- fatigued chuckle.

“Goodnight, darling Bellamy,” he replied through a yawn, “sweet dreams.” Bellamy didn’t reply since she had already fallen asleep on top of his chest. It didn’t take much time for George to follow her to sleep.