When they reached the Leaky Cauldron, Harry and George still didn't have food.
"Blimey, that was fast." George took a gulp of his Firewhisky. "I mean, I knew Ron didn't have endurance but I didn't think that it was-"
"Shut up, George." Ron stomped off to the bar. "Hermione, what do you want?" he shouted over his shoulder.
"Oh, just a butterbeer." She took a seat between George and Harry, hanging her jacket behind her.
"So tell me, Hermione, was that a record for him? I mean, now that I think about it, it's pretty impressive that he-"
"Nothing happened, okay? Stop it, George." For once, Hermione was the red one. "What did you guys get to eat?"
"Shepard's' pie, per request. I don't know why it's taking so long, though."
"We were going to get you two drinks," Harry added, "but we didn't know what you'd want. I mean, we didn't know if you'd be in the mood for something strong."
"It looks like someone was." George gestured over to Ron, who was carrying a large tankard of something black and bubbly. He had Hermione's butterbeer- tiny in comparison- sticking out of a pocket.
"One butterbeer for my lady," he said, setting it down in front of her.
"Ron, what the hell did you get for yourself?" Hermione took out the cork, concern evident on her face.
"Firewhisky, but with a couple shots of something else. I didn't ask what. I just asked for-"
"The strongest thing they'd got? Ron, I know you're not feeling good, but that's not going to make it go away."
"Oh I don't know. There's definitely something to be said for it," George said, draining his tankard.
"Ron, don't listen to George. Take that thing back and ask for a butterbeer, or something."
But it was too late. Ron was already throwing the liquid down his throat with the alacrity of a seasoned alcoholic.
"Hermoione, it's all right." Harry patted her back. "We're here to make sure he doesn't do anything stupid. Let him have some fun."
"All right, but I still don't think-"
"Don't think, Hermione." George rolled his eyes.
Tom the bartender pushed his way into the group, a steaming shepard's pie in his hand.
"Sorry it took so long, boys. We're finally getting our business back, but we lost our old cook in the battle." He was surprisingly nonchalant.
"Right, well thank you, Tom. It's here now."
The old bartender wiped his hands on his shirt, and shuffled away.
"All right, I'm starving." George cut himself a quarter of the pie and shovelled it onto his tin plate.
"George, that's for all of us!"
"Exactly. I took a quarter of it, didn't I? And there's four of us?"
He smiled like a child.
"Personally, I think that George's logic is fairly airtight." Harry imitated George, scooping another quarter of the pie onto his plate.
"Fine, I see how it is. Well…" Hermione pulled the remaining half of the pie towards her and stuck a fork in it. "I guess you're out of luck, Ron."
George snorted, and choked on his pie.