Good Girl || George Weasley

33

I wake up with a feeling of optimism that I haven't felt in months.

I resist the urge to reach for my mirror - which is tucked away in the drawer of my nightstand - and wake up George.

Instead, as I get dressed, I think back to last night and how we danced together, stepping on each other's toes and laughing and kissing until finally, I had to pull myself away from him and leave, and even though he pouted and asked me to stay just a few more minutes, we both knew I had to go before Fred and Lee got back.

Once I'm dressed in a new jumper from Mrs. Weasley, jeans (my mirror tucked away in one of my pockets), and my favorite boots, I know just where I need to go, despite it being about six-thirty in the morning:

Roger.

George ended up telling me that if I wanted to tell Roger, I could - just that he needs to keep his mouth shut about it until George and Fred talk, which I have no clue when that will be.

I knock on Roger's door for a few minutes until it opens, and thankfully, it's him, instead of one of his roommates.

"What the hell," he groans, rubbing his face once he sees that it's me, "are you doing at my door right now? What time is it?"

I start to grin at him, bouncing up and down on my toes, and through his exhaustion, he seems to finally register my excitement, because he stands up a little straighter.

"What?" he asks, "What happened? I haven't seen you in this good of a mood in weeks. Did-"

"He's a good kisser," I interrupt, and Roger's jaw drops, "He's a really good kisser."

"Shut up," Roger says, way more loudly now, earning a shhh from one of his roommates. He steps out of the doorway, shutting the door behind him, and doesn't hesitate to grab my shoulders and steer me in the direction of the common room.

"Shut up," he repeats, as we walk, "Tell me everything."

And so I do.

Roger is an active listener, sitting next to me on the couch, matching my excited energy as I tell him about our fight on the Quidditch pitch, which led to George's confessions, me kissing him, our exchanged "I love you"'s, and everything that followed, though I leave out the extreme details of our, er, private time together.

Roger is speechless once I finish, but he pulls me into a tight hug, and I bury my face into his shoulder, once again thankful that I'm able to call him my best friend.

"I knew it," he says, "I fucking knew it all along. That wanker-"

"Don't you call my boyfriend a wanker," I tease, mostly just to be able to call George my boyfriend out loud. I grin, and Roger grins, too.

"I can't believe it," he says, fake-wiping away a tear, "You're all grown up."

"Shut it," I reply, hitting his arm, and as he laughs, I ask, "So? Your turn now. You 'n Fleur?"

Roger runs a hand through his already messy hair, shrugging.

"Nothing nearly as exciting as you. Let's see, we hung out with Fred and Lee and Alicia and Angie for a while, oh, and Bell was there, too, but she was pouting the whole time while you were off with your tongue down her date's throat-" I roll my eyes, smiling, as he continues, "But, let's see, Fleur wanted to leave early, so I was going to walk her back to the Beauxbatons carriages, but we ended up snogging behind a bush for a while. I touched her tits, too."

"Wow," I say, somewhat sarcastically, "I'm proud of you."

Roger snorts. "Thanks, Goldie. But back to you. Does Fred know yet?"