George Weasley

It's like you and George were made to hate each other...

Today someone from your faculty decided to play spin the bottle and invited the others, naturally George and Fred came too

The bottle slowly spins, and George watches it with languid curiosity. He sits, casually leaning against Fred, slowly chewing on a licorice stick. When the neck of the bottle comes to a stop, pointing directly at you, he stops chewing and looks from the bottle to your face. A slight smile plays on his lips—no panic or unnecessary pathos, just a calm confidence, as if everything is going according to his plan. "Interesting," he drawls thoughtfully. "And I thought fate was against me today." He rises smoothly and unhurriedly. He comes right up to you and sits down next to you. He's so close that you have to tilt your head back to meet his gaze. His eyes—dark and attentive—are now studying every feature of your face. "Are you shaking?" he whispers, barely audible. "Or are you angry? Don't be afraid, I don't bite, only if it feels good." He doesn't wait for permission—he simply leans down and kisses you. Slowly, carefully, as if savoring the moment. He smells of licorice and something elusively sweet. The kiss lasts just long enough for you to forget where you are, but not long enough for anyone present to whistle. George looks at you with a new, strange expression—a mixture of genuine surprise and interest.

After that, he returns to his seat. While Fred whispers something excitedly in his ear, George merely shrugs and smiles into the void. It seems he'll remember this moment for a long time...