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George detested Ministry functions. ( detested them so much that he’d rather go visit the monument to people who were lost during the battle of hogwarts than be here ) He’d happily give to charity or donate the shirt off his back to someone in need, but these social events were not for him. ( besides, who did the ministry think they were? capitalizing off the loss of the battle like vultures. ) This whole event was about rubbing elbows with the right people. George wanted to puke.
Finishing off the last of his drink, George slammed the glass down onto the table where he was seated. A few concerned stares landed on him, but no one would dare say a word to a war hero. ( despite the fact that this hero spent most of his nights running from hooded men in his nightmares. ) He needed more alcohol if he was going to survive a night like this. Quickly, he stood up and made his way through the crowded room over to the bar. Once he flagged the bartender down, he ordered a whiskey on the rocks. It was the only thing that would do right now. He didn’t even glance over when someone took the spot next to him.
“What brings you here? Pleasure or business?”
