"You've only snogged me the once. But you've waned to loads of times. I can tell. You're always wearing things tight and trying to get me to notice you leaning over the counter. Tarty shopgirl that you are," George answered, grunting a bit as he was pushed. He'd be happier if Roger kept his paws to himself. He'd rather not own up to the fact that he was possibly slightly attracted, and might possibly have liked the kiss. Not that he had. Much. Maybe.
Anyway, that was easier to keep to if Roger was out of touching distance. "I try to get everyone into a skirt. It's not like you're special. I just like skirts. I tried to get Flitwick to wear one, once." Which was both true, and not at all because he thought Flitwick would wear it well, but involved lots of firewhiskey, and a very ill-advised bet.
George groaned. "I have no bloody idea. We needed ONE box and got a million. Someone mucked up the orders. Was that you, because you were busy imagining snogging me?"