George managed to sneak some kind of Muggle contraption into his dorm. He got it when the both of you visited a thrift store in the summer.

A radio.

Hey, and the first thing he played? The Smiths.

Man of culture, he was.

The both of you laid on his bed, his head on your chest as he played with your hands. He left kisses on your knuckles, then your cheeks, grinning at you. It was a chill day. Maybe it was because it was raining outside, and it was relaxing to lay in the dormitory. He leaned up to peck your forehead. He was oddly sweet today, singing along to the song currently playing.