Ragged Things PV November Morsus Closed

Unknowingly, Green let out a silent sigh of relief as the taller boy's fear fell away, his shoulders untensing, brow unknotting. "Well, I suppose," he admitted, as if the idea of his head being smashed apart like a watermelon at a Gallagher concert were only a minor snag. "But it's my wheel. That means it's my responsibility... and anyway, anything a train does would probably be better than what my uncle does," he sighed into the cool autumn wind, the sound around them strangely hushed by the sound of voices and footsteps around them. Somewhere, a train dinged quietly, chugged off from its place with a healthy mechanical heartbeat, taking its load of travelers and business people off to who-cared-where.

Green let out a sigh, looking at the wheel again. "Probably pointless getting it back even so. The damn thing's been broken so many times that one more probably won't last," he breathed, feeling the emptiness of his wallet clench tighter than the emptiness of his stomach. The wind ruffled past, and his teeth chattered, making him pull his cloak around him tighter again. "Maybe it would be best just to get to the platform. It wouldn't kill me to build some muscle and carry the thing, anyway,"he said, looking up at November oblivious to what was going on in his head.

"I-, I'll get you a new wheel, I promise," November urged, one slender little hand reaching just the tiniest bit forward towards the other, but then snatching back at the last instant, as if catching himself. "I'll carry your bag too, just, don't get squished by a train....." his little brows were knitted together with terror and concern, and once again he looked like he was holding back tears.

He sighed, looked around, his big brown eyes taking in the busy station, the empty wall where their platform was supposed to be and simply, wasn't. "Um," he began, looking from the wall to the other boy and back again, "do you know how to get to the right platform? That is where you're going, right? Nine and three quarters?" His head cocked as he took in his companion, dressed in the same dark robes as he was, with the same archaic traveling trunk, if somewhat worse for wear. "The nice fellow that took me to the shops told me how, but, now I think I must not have heard him right..." He scratched his head, staring at that wall. It looked as solid as anything else in the room, though then again, so had those bricks that slid open to reveal Diagon Alley.

Green turned to look up at November's hand as it came towards him, eyes strangely soft, softer than the the taller boy had seen on him so far; when November snatched it back, he swallowed, eyes falling a little, looking sad. His fingers twitched.

Then he took a breath, tilted his head high, and stretched his neck from side to side. "Nonsense. I'm not going to get squished. I'm made of sterner stuff than that - the train would crumple around me like a paper bag," He grinned at November, all bravado. "But anyway, we can try to figure out how to transfigure some junk into a new one," he patted the boy on the back, squeezing his elbow (though he had been aiming for his shoulder.)

"Yes, that's where I'm going, too," sighed Green. "Where ever /that/ is. My father told me I had to just close my eyes and run through the wall halfway between platforms 9 and 10, but frankly, I suspect he's playing a joke," he muttered, eyeing the platforms darkly. "I don't even see any walls, just large pillars." He looked up at November, head tilted, soft hair falling to one side. "Are you really going to help me?" he asked wonderingly.

"I-... I don't think that's how trains work," November mumbled, suppressing a giggle, "but I'll just get you a new one, it'll be alright..." He smiled a little, the expression slightly awkward and out of place on his face. The gentle pat on his back and elbow made him startle a bit, his body clearly not used to kind and gentle touch, but he swiftly straightened out, smoothed down his clothing as if the reaction hadn't happened at all. He didn't want to upset the other again so soon, after all.

His eyes went wide as the boy regaled him with the same tall tale the teacher had told November, apparently this time from the other boy's father. "Wait, really? But that's the same thing the other fellow just told me..." He shook his head, his little hand reaching up to grip his chin as he pondered this oddity. "So if they both told us the same story, either they're conspiring against us, or it's actually right... I don't think they would conspire against us, I doubt they'd ever even met, don't you think?" he looked back to the other for confirmation. After all, he wouldn't have known himself, having just gotten to this strange wizarding world.

Green smiled a little wider as November, giggled, eyes glinting. "Yeah, it'll be alright," he agreed, squeezing November's arm gently, rolling his shoulders back. The boy smiled as if he were afraid that doing so might invoke disaster, but that made the smile all the more worthy; it was brave. Green liked brave.

Green hummed, brow furrowing at November's analysis. "You're right, that doesn't make sense. Each telling tales on their own, sure, that could happen. But both telling the same tale? Wouldn't happen unless it was something like a school tradition, right?" he asked, looking at November. "Like telling kids about Santa Claus and then laughing when they don't get any presents, or something like that. But it's mostly other kids who do pranks like that, isn't it?" he hummed. Putting his hand on his hips, he scanned left and right, thin lips screwing up into an expression of intense scrutiny. "I suppose we could test the walls..." He scanned over the platform, taking a few steps forward. "Tap on the brick, see it there are wheel markings leading up to any. You wouldn't know anything about tracking, would you?" he asked, looking up at November as if the young man might be hiding a wilderness survival guide in his pocket.

"I suppose you could be right," November said, his little brow creasing with heavy thought, "and it's some sort of story they tell every new student... But then, it's rather a nasty joke, isn't it? I mean, what if someone ran in headfirst? They might get really hurt...." All the same, it was better to approach with the idea that it was a trick in mind, even if they were wrong, it was better than rushing in with the idea that it wasn't.

He nodded at the other boy as he spoke up, let another small smile slip through. "Yes, that's, that's very clever... I've never tracked anything before, but, that's okay, like you said, just look for the scratches on the ground, right?" He tugged his massive trunk closer to the divide, then bent down onto his knees to search for any markings on the ground. "I thought maybe there was a brick to press like the way you get inside the alley, do you see any bricks that look funny or odd?" He looked up to Green in the midst of his searching, directed a pleading glance first at him, then towards the wall, before going back to hunting for scratch marks.

Green furrowed his brow, nodding to himself as he listened to November's analysis. "Yes, I think you're on the right track there. If students began arriving at Hogwarts with head injuries, there would be talk about it somewhere. I mean, look at all the articles about Rugby. No one listens to them, mind, but they're out there," he gestured grandly, staring out at the train station as if it were the great beyond. "Reassuring the injured that the world knows of their plight; comforting the scholarly who would like school to prioritize education over brain damage. But ah, what poor sports we would be if we were to deny the masses a spectacle," he murmured, kicking gently at the wall. "... Maybe that's it. Maybe we needed magical spectacles, and nobody told us. ... Nah, they'd have jumped at the chance to sell them," he muttered.

"Hmn," he hummed as he tapped a hand on the bricks, inspecting them. "No individual brick looks funny here, no. My father did say it was necessary to close your eyes," he said, trying that. His hand searched along the wall up and down, eventually coming down to pat November's head gently. "... You know, you have remarkably silky hair," he murmured, deadpan, before returning his fingers to the wall, searching.

As the other boy went on and on, November's small, skittish smile began to grow and grow and grow, until he was grinning widely, letting loose tiny gales of fluttering laughter. He thought maybe he liked this strange angry little boy, thought maybe he liked him a whole lot. Yes, he was rather scary and unpredictable at first, but now he was positively delightful. November thought that perhaps he'd like to listen to his strange little stories and rambles for quite a long time.

His little hands scratched across the cold tile floors beneath their feet, carefully scrutinizing each individual tile before, yes. There were scratch marks, scratch marks that looked like wheels. They raced right up into the center of the wall, and-.... Gone. "I did it!" he beamed, "I found the tracks that go into the-.... Oh-.... Oh my....." November's eyes went wide as he felt the other boy's hand on his hair, stroking him like one would the head of a cat, and heard the words that accompanied this. "I-.... Um-.... Thank you...." He felt his face heating up, and was sure he had turned red as a beet. "Maybe... Um... Maybe we should try, kicking it with our eyes closed...."

Green grinned as the boy started laughing, a surge of victory rising in his chest. Yes, this strange, awkward giant appeared capable of laughter after all; his sharp green eyes glittered at November in a mixture of merriment and smug pseudo-victory as he looked down at him. On a whim, he winked at the boy, smiling wider. Let's see how he took that.

"Ah, but yes," he said, looking immediately back at the scuffed red-brick wall as he dragged a hand through thick brown curls. "I think you're onto something there. Those marks couldn't possibly extend that far without going through the wall itself... and here, look, scratches from carts that did bounce off," he pointed out, gesturing at a few hook-shaped scratches. "Should I start first, Silky? I'd have less distance to fall if I do tumble over. And you'd probably be better able to catch me than I would be at catching you. Just imagine that, tumbling down to the pavement with a crack, splitting your skull and all that blood," he tisked his tongue, shaking his head. He didn't know why he wanted to get this awkward fellow's goat, but he did. Every time he could make the boy stammer instead of having it happen without his permission was a small victory.

November went quite red indeed at that wink, his dark eyes growing wide as dinner plates as the other boy lifted the floodgates on a torrent of unfamiliar and forbidden feelings. "I-...." he stammered, rearing back a little as if the little boy might bite him, but then he managed an awkward, wavery smile.

He shifted back onto his feet then, once more towering over the other. "But, um, yes. The bricks. Right." Trying to cool the flames of awkwardness that had erupted within him, he shifted, fidgeted, straightened his clothing. "Yes, maybe you should sta-.... Silky-...." And so soon after he had only just regained his composure, too. Slowly, his cheeks began to heat like a teakettle left on the stove, his body utterly still as it attempted to process and simply wound up overclocking instead.

"Um-.... My name's-.... My name's November," he mumbled at last, finally figuring out why the other boy had so immediately shifted into mortifying pet names, "I'm sorry I didn't introduce myself earlier, I just, well, you know...." He sighed, shifted, couldn't quite look the other in the eye. "What's your name?" he finished at last, daring himself to look the other in the eye already and get the whole awkward exchange over with.