Tidal Wave [george weasley post war]

11. Opening Up

"Friends."

Aurora beamed up at George as she repeated the word he had spoken to her moments before. "Right, well, friends drink together, yeah? I find myself in need of some hard liquor now that you've made me sober up." She groaned, pulling her hand out of his grasp a little too slowly. She enjoyed the feeling of his fingertips brushing against the palm of her hand as she pulled away. The feeling sent sparks in her lower belly and a shiver down her spine.

"Yes, friends drink. Leaky Cauldron?" George had already moved, ignoring the look Aurora was giving him as she held her hand, that he had just been shaking, closing to her chest.

"Yes, that would work best for me. That way I can sneak on out through the back and get home." She told him, tucking her hands now into her pockets again.

George asked if Verity could close up the shop, to which she agreed to, a smirk on her lips as she watched George head out of the shop with Aurora by his side. They made it to the Leaky Cauldron in record time, finding a small booth in the back before George had gone up to the bar and grabbed them both two glasses each of some fire whiskey.

"Beautiful." Aurora grinned as she quickly grabbed one of the glasses from George's hands, gulping back half of what the glass was filled with.

Aurora knew she shouldn't be drinking as much as she was – recently she had been doing pretty well with her intake of alcohol. She had cut back tremendously since spending time with Ginny and the rest of the gang.

"Any particular reason you are so adamant about getting drunk tonight, Aurora?" George smirked, eyeing her from over the rim of his glass as he finished the first one. "Boy troubles?" He joked.

Groaning and throwing her head back so it hit the back of the bench – lucky for her, it was cushioned, so she didn't hurt herself too much. She squeezed her eyes shut before lifting her head and glaring over at George. "Bugger off, George!" She laughed, her fingers back to playing with the strings of her pullover. "But, yes, fine. How could you tell? Do I really just reek of pathetic desperation and loneliness?"

George sighed and shook his head, "No, you don't. I mean, maybe just a little bit." He moved his thumb and index finger closer together to mimic "a little bit". He let out a laugh and then a grunt as Aurora had kicked his chin. "You're not making this any better, friend." She told him with a pout, another gulp of fire whiskey running down her throat before she sunk down into the bench a bit more.

"I tried things out with Oliver," She began, knowing that she wanted to get these things off her chest and Ginny had already heard the story. But as her best friend, Ginny was obviously saying whatever she could to make Aurora feel better. She needed another opinion. She wasn't sure if she would be happy with what George had to say, but if they were going to really try out this whole being friends thing, she wanted to put forth the effort.

"It obviously didn't pan out the way I was hoping. He really is a very sweet man, don't get me wrong. But," She cleared her throat, glancing up at George – who was leaning forward with his chin resting on both palms. He truly looked interested, but Aurora knew it was killing him to not make jokes at her expense. "I used him for comfort after the war. It was purely physical, and Merlin I was young... I don't think either of us knew what we were doing was wrong on many levels. I had just left the grounds of Hogwarts, a place that was supposed to be a second home, someplace safe. And after leaving my brothers dead body in the Great Hall, I felt so lost." She sighed, chewing on her lower lip now. "Oliver took me back to his place, let me shower, gave me clean clothes to change into. And well, before I knew it, I was practically begging him to shag me... I just wanted to feel something other than sadness."

George remained silent. He knew the feeling all too well. He had his fair share of reckless nights with random women. The morning after he never felt better as he had always hoped. His eyes focused on her face, watching her further explain that there was no spark, no true connection other than the pain that the war had caused. "A smart, yet annoying witch once told me we all grieve in different ways." He began, a small smile finding its way on his lips as he took a small sip of the second glass of whiskey.