A/N: PixiePatronus13675 I know what you mean. People always just glance over what happened in the war, but I'm glad you liked it! I wasn't sure if it was too much or not.

Angelina taps her fingers against the table as she waits for George to get back with their drinks. The thought of George at the moment makes her stomach curl just a bit. It's new and strange; the feeling she has for George. George has been one of her best friends since forever, but after that kiss in the alley, nothing has been the same between them.

It's not really good and it's not really bad. It is a nervous humming energy that bounces off the walls whenever they are both in the same room. It is the electric current that runs through their veins whenever they touch. It is the heated looks that they share when they are absolutely positive no one is watching them.

"Here you are, Angie-Lina," he greets her as he sits her drink down in front of her.

"I see what you did there," she mutters as she sips her drink.

"What's that?" he replies innocently.

"That name," she answers. "You used to call me that when I couldn't tell the difference between you and Fred. It was sweet."

George snorts. "What can I say? I'm a pushover for a girl with braids." He glances at her. "Why aren't you wearing them tonight?"

"I took them out a couple days ago," she tells him. "It takes almost two hours to do my whole head and I didn't feel like messing with them."

"Well, your hair still looks pretty," he compliments her. "Don't know if I like it better this way or not."

Shock pours into Angelina's body as her mind registers the meaning of his words. She has never known George to compliment her unless it was entirely sarcastic. Of course, she never thought George would kiss her either. Yet, here they were, sitting in a bar with a ton of sexual tension between them.

Then again, they aren't actually in a bar. Not the friendly kind that Angelina is used to. This one is much more formal. It has circular booths with dim lightly all the way around. There isn't a dance floor and if Angelina hadn't known better, she would say that people came here just for the whiskey and the snogging. The couple across from them could be having sex and they wouldn't even know it because of the lighting.

"George?" Angelina asks.

"Hmm?"

"Why did you bring me here?"

"What do you mean?" he inquires.

"Exactly what I said," she answers. "Why did you bring me here?"

"Because I thought you could use a night out?" he says, but it sounds more like a question.

"No," Angelina rebukes him. "What's the real reason you brought me here?"

George shifts in his seat as Angelina watches him closely. She doesn't want to take her eyes off of him, in case she misses some kind of signal that he's lying or not tell the truth. However, when his eyes meet hers, she gets nothing, but the honest truth. Red hot desire courses through the those hazel eyes and they clearly spell out how much he wants her.

"Thought so," she mumbles, before throwing her leg over his waist. He seems shocked, but she doesn't allow too much room for that. Instead, she takes his face into her hands and kisses him roughly, nipping at his bottom lip. A shocked breath of air flies into her mouth, but she doesn't mind. Now she has access to his mouth she can explore it thoroughly like she has wanted to for the past few months.

George's hands find her hips and yank them forward so she can feel him pressing against her center. She really wishes she hadn't worn pants today. Her hips start to rock against him of their own accord, like she know has no control over her body and it he who decides what to do with it. With the way things are going, Angelina wouldn't mind that at all.

"Angelina," he sighs into her mouth. The sound of her name thrills her. It makes this much more real, especially since he used her full name. George hardly ever uses her full name. It is always 'Ange' or if she is upset or they are overly happy 'Angie'. 'Angelina' is saved for serious occasions or when he is trying to convince her of something. Apparently, having her grind against him is a very serious matter.

Finally, her lips break away from his to gasp as he pulls her hips sharply against his hardened member. She wants to reach into his pants and feel just how hard he is for her. The only thing that stops her is that they are in public. So she settles for rocking into him with such force that she's afraid she might grind him into the wall. That doesn't stop her though.

"More," she moans, her fingers tightening on his red locks. He obligates her. His hips snap up to hers causing such glorious friction that she thinks she might cry. This is perfect. This friction, the way her fingers curl into his hair, George himself, all of it. So when she presses down hard on him, she isn't surprised when she starts to come undone. It only takes a few more hard thrusts downward for her to finish.

"Angelina," George mutters, still clinging to her and pressing his hips up into her clothed center. Angelina does her best to meet his thrusts, but she knows that they are weak. However, they must give George what he needs, because he's burying his face in her neck and groaning, not two minutes later.

Afterward, both of them sit there, a little shocked from what they've just done. Suddenly, Angelina laughs.

"What?" George asks, pulling away to look at her.

"We're in public," she gasps. "My mother would have a cow if she knew what I just did."

Slowly, George starts to laugh, too.