"Well, it's a process," George said, nodding and reaching for the glass. "See, first you snog. Then you talk about how well-hung Weasleys are. And I explain," he continued, pausing only to drain the drink, "that a Weasley, my dear..." He dropped his voice to a whispery sort of slur. "...could... you know... from across the room." He nodded, satisfied, then reached for the bottle again.
He gave the parchment another glance, then took a drink right from the bottle.
"Percy. He's okay. Organized the crap out of my books. No idea why."