"Remind me why we're lying on this rug?" George says to Angelina as they lie side by side.
Angelina shrugs. "Why not?"
"Because it's dirty."
"Are you afraid of a little bit of dirt?"
George snorts. "Wouldn't be much of a Gryffindor if I was."
Angelina nods as she holds up her glass. George begins to pour her some more whiskey.
"That would be enough," she tells him when it's about a quarter full. However, she doesn't take a sip of it. She lets it sit next to her, while she contemplates how they got here.
"He would think we're pathetic, wouldn't he?" she finally mumbles.
"Pathetic doesn't even cover it," George replies grimly.
Angelina takes a sip of her drink. "That's probably true. I mean how many people would lie on the floor drinking whiskey when there's a memorial serve going on to honor those who died trying to make the world a better place? Honestly, though, I can't stand to be around all those people, especially not today. If someone else wants to go, fine, but don't expect me to be there."
"What's your mum going to say when you don't show?" he inquires.
She shrugs. "I don't know. Probably gripe about how I was supposed to be there and that I should show more respect toward those who died for us. Well, fuck her. I don't live under her roof anymore and she can't boss me around like a child. I am a grown ass woman and I will do as I damn well please."
"I'll drink to that," George agrees, as he refills both of their glasses. "What do you say we get pissed off our rockers and let our parents find us in the morning? Then we can wallow in our shame together."
"Sounds like a plan to me," she nods before downing her drink.