It's Better If You Do

The couple on the roof slept soundly through the night, which wouldn’t have happened had they not drank heavily and stayed up late the night before. They hadn’t even gotten the least bit cold; which was a result of a mixture of them drinking Firewhiskey and their proximity. They hadn’t even moved from the spots they fell asleep in they were so deeply asleep. But now that the morning sun was beating down on them full force, and the street below them was beginning to wake up and fill with witches and wizards looking to eat at the cafes before heading off to work, it seemed they would be forced to wake soon.

As the sun crept up higher in the sky, it finally hit the two on their faces, causing them the both to stir slowly. Bellamy turned her head and buried her face in George’s chest, letting out a slightly groan of disdain as her head started to pound like there was a whole marching band drumming along on her brain.

“Turn the light out,” George groaned miserably, bringing his hand from it’s spot on Bellamy’s back to rest over his eyes, trying to block the light out.

“You turn the light out,” Bellamy replied in a hoarse, groggy voice, snuggling closer to George. They slowly realized just how loud things were in their flat and how the sound of birds and people seemed to be so close to them. George became aware of a slightly, warm weight on his chest and Bellamy realized that her pillow was warm, rather rigid, and moving up and down slowly. A few quiet moments passed between the two of them before their eyes shot open nearly simultaneously. They stared at each other, trying to remember how exactly they had got on the roof and in the position they were in.

“George, why is your hand on my backside?” Bellamy asked in a low, rough sounding voice, glaring harshly at him. George, realizing that his hand was indeed cupping her bottom, quickly moved his hands and let them rest at his sides. Immediately, they scrambled to get away from one another, but once they righted themselves, they let out simultaneous groans. All the blood had rushed to their heads and it felt like their heads were going to explode from it. Bellamy merely grabbed at her temples and clenched her eyes shut, but George, poor George, felt his stomach give a massive upheaval and he doubled over, retching loudly.

“What kind of gentleman are you?” Bellamy asked, not noticing George was being sick on the roof since her back was to him. “You should have stopped me from drinking so much or at least let me get to my bed before I passed out,” she groaned, running her hands over her face, only smearing her messy makeup even more. By the time George had finished retching, he was on his hands and knees, breathing raggedly. “Though, I bet you wanted me to get drunk, you bast-” She turned to look at him and her voice dropped off, her eyes focusing on the pool of puke and she went very green. George sat back on the roof, looking very pale, and ran his hands over his face before fisting the roots of his hair between his fingers. He hadn’t heard a word that Bellamy had said to him, he just knew that she had been griping with him.

“I need to…” She started in a soft, quivering voice before she turned and clamped a hand over her mouth, shaking her head slowly as she closed her eyes. George gave a tired sigh as he slowly pushed himself off the ground, feeling as though he was going to vomit again, but knew that he hadn’t anything left in his stomach to puke up. Begrudgingly, he leaned over and picked up Bellamy’s clutch and shoes before walking over to her. He gently touched the back of her arm, causing her to give a loud gasp and jump. She turned her harsh, tired, brown eyes to him, obviously back to her grumpy, unpleasant self.

“C’mon then, we need to at least shower up before the shop opens up,” he said in a rough, raspy voice as he handed her things back to her. She snatched them from his hands roughly, not saying a word as she continued to glare at him.

“I really dislike you right now,” she grumbled before looping her arm through his. George merely sent her a tired look in return before they turned on the spot and disapparated with a ‘pop’. They appeared in the quiet flat with another ‘pop’ and the feeling of apparation was enough for George to run to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him as he went in for another round of vomiting. Bellamy gave the closed door a dark look as she hoped to have been the first to get a shower. So, instead she flopped down face-first onto her cot, dropping her clutch and shoes with a loud clatter.

Vaguely, she heard the sounds of movement on the opposite side of the room, but she couldn’t care less. All she could focus on was how much her head and body ached and every tiny noise seemed to be amplified tenfold. Bellamy’s cot sunk slightly with the added weight of someone who sat next to the girl and a hand was gently placed on her back.

“You feeling alright, Bellamy?” Rose asked softly, in a voice thick with sleep since she had been roughly woken by the sound of them apparating back into the room.

“Ugh…stop yelling at me, Rose,” Bellamy groaned into her pillow, feeling absolutely miserable at the moment. Fred, who was listening at the door to make sure that George was alright, gave a slight snicker at Bellamy’s words. Rose let out a sigh and gently ran her hand over Bellamy’s shoulders, knowing that her sister must have been feeling poorly if she thought she was yelling at her.

“George…you doing okay in there, mate?” Fred asked through the wood of the door as quietly as he possibly could while still being able to be heard. He wore a wide, almost cheerful grin at the fact that his brother was currently spewing in the bathroom.

“Shut up,” came the muffled reply from George and from Bellamy into the pillow of her bed. Fred and Rose exchanged a humored look before Bellamy slowly sat up from the bed, clutching her head as she let out a low groan of pain. Meanwhile, Fred could hear the sound of the toilet flushing, then the sound of running water, followed by the sound of someone gargling. Bellamy gave the door another dark look before she knelt and pulled open the lid of her trunk, pulling out something she’d be relatively comfortable in for the day. Finding a simple, white sundress, a think, black belt with a bow accent, a simple pair of golden bird earrings, and, despite the fact that she was aching all over, a pair of brown platform pumps.

The door to the bathroom opened up, revealing a very pale George in the doorway. Bellamy immediately righted herself and stomped past George without so much as a look in his direction. Placing her clothes on the edge of the sink, she turned and pushed George unceremoniously from the bathroom with a grunt. She closed the door as soon as she could, but reopened it only moments later and shoved George’s blazer, which she had kept on all night, at him before shutting the door once more. He looked down at the jacket before shuffling over to his bed on weak, shaky legs and sitting down on it, fisting his hair in his hands.

Fred waited until he heard the sound of the shower running before asking, “How was your date?” George gave a heavy sigh and fell back onto his bed with a loud thump.

“Well…she clearly said that it wasn’t a date before we started drinking. But after a few glasses, she was just so…” He shook his head and let out another sigh. “She was just so carefree and…perfect.” Fred and Rose exchanged another look before looking back at the troubled twin. “Despite the fact that I can’t remember much of what happened last night, I think we had a fantastic time. She’ll probably be completely different with me today.”

Fred shot a look to Rose who gave him a look that didn’t convince him otherwise. She looked back to George and gave a sigh herself.

“Look…I’m sure she’ll settle down once she fixes herself a trusty hangover remedy for the two of you, she’ll straighten up,” Rose offered in a quiet voice as to not disturb the headache that George obviously had.

“Or she’ll just go back to being mean to me,” George said in a hopeless sort of tone. Rose didn’t know what to say to that, since as well as she knew her sister, she could be quite unpredictable at times. She sent a glance to Fred, who was frowning slightly at his brother, then back to George, who was looking up at the ceiling with a thoughtful expression. “Do you think she’ll still cook us breakfast?” Rose scoffed playfully before laughing lightly, shaking her head.

“You are unbelievable, George Weasley,” she said through her soft laughter.