Friday Night at the Winchester
For the past couple of days, George had committed himself to being as selfless as possible. Of course, he had his own worries-- the end of term being less than a month away, for example-- but with both Mitchell and Sookie worried about council results, he'd tried his best to keep things pleasant and calm. That meant lots of well-wishing, being as optimistic as possible.
Honestly, it was all a bit knackering, and George would be glad when it was all over and they'd gotten the results, whether or not they were good ones. He didn't see how Anne managed it all the time. But he was convinced that being on the council was the kind of thing that'd be right up Mitchell's alley, even if some voters may have been swayed by Luna sodding Lovegood being ridiculously Ravenclaw about it all. She was a protagonist for God's sake. She was supposed to know better.
But it wasn't as if George hadn't been stressing a bit about it as well, and perhaps he'd channeled some of all that into dinner at the Winchester that night. He'd finally perfected his modified Boeuf Bourguignon recipe, but in the process of preparing it had gotten a bit self-conscious about whether or not he actually had perfected it to his satisfaction, and had ended up preparing large batches of fish and chips as a backup. The result was hours upon hours of cooking and an abundance of food that George was entirely certain wouldn't be completely eaten, even on a Friday night.
[Friday night mealpost at the Winchester! Tag George, tag each other!]
Honestly, it was all a bit knackering, and George would be glad when it was all over and they'd gotten the results, whether or not they were good ones. He didn't see how Anne managed it all the time. But he was convinced that being on the council was the kind of thing that'd be right up Mitchell's alley, even if some voters may have been swayed by Luna sodding Lovegood being ridiculously Ravenclaw about it all. She was a protagonist for God's sake. She was supposed to know better.
But it wasn't as if George hadn't been stressing a bit about it as well, and perhaps he'd channeled some of all that into dinner at the Winchester that night. He'd finally perfected his modified Boeuf Bourguignon recipe, but in the process of preparing it had gotten a bit self-conscious about whether or not he actually had perfected it to his satisfaction, and had ended up preparing large batches of fish and chips as a backup. The result was hours upon hours of cooking and an abundance of food that George was entirely certain wouldn't be completely eaten, even on a Friday night.
[Friday night mealpost at the Winchester! Tag George, tag each other!]