Ragged Things PV November Morsus Closed

November's eyes went wide at this confession, and for a moment, he simply sat there, perfectly still, frozen in processing. "You-... Mean that?" he asked, voice soft, careful, "you, actually want me to help? When there's a school nurse and everything? You don't think it's, weird?" His eyes were glistening, and all movement had stopped but for the faintest tremor in his hands. This was too good to be true. It had to be.

"It-.... Is a bizarrely pleasant flavour, isn't it?" November pondered, chewing. Once over the initial shock of tasting laundry soap in his candy, it mellowed out nicely, not tasting of the harsh chemical flavour that real soap had, but more of the fragrance, with just the tiniest hint of lavender. "I nearly hope I'll get a few more of these..." He chuckled, before looking to the next bean. "Hmm... This one looks very strange, so I don't think it'll be conventional at all. Looks rather a lot like, starling feathers, though I don't know what those taste like... Maybe I'll find out." He laughed.

His laughter died, however, when it came time to play the second half of their little game. "Oh, um-... Dare." The much, much safer bet. He had far too many secrets, and he could tell this sharp-eyed little boy was the sort who could see through a lie far too easily.

"I don't like school nurses," Green blurted, shoulders tightening, fingers tapping faster. "They ask too many questions. And it's... embarrassing," he admitted, teeth gritted, squirming in his seat. "It weakens me. It hurts," he said softly, brow furrowed, body tight.

He breathed quietly for a few moments, held like that, in a wince. Then slowly, he let out a breath. "So really, I would prefer to see what you can do," he said, glancing at November again. "I don't give a flying fig if it's weird or not; it's smart, and it's useful, and I... I want to see what you can do," he declared, sitting up tall again.

Green peered at the iridescent bean, grimacing. "I suppose we must. Hmn. It seems too dark to be fish scales, but it could be scarabs. I hear those taste... earthy," he wrinkled his nose, sticking out his tongue. "Frankly, I'd rather look at them than eat them. Or use them for potions, I suppose."

The corners of Green's lips went straight up. "Dare, hmm? Oh, delicious," he purred, rubbing his hands together. "What shall I have you do...? Hmn," he tilted his head, foot twitching like a cat's tail. "Never been fond of those 'lick the floor' ones. Simply unsanitary, and frankly not all that daring," he rolled his eyes, cradling his chin in one hand. "I could have you imitate your favorite animal. Or sing a song," he suggested. "Oh!" he grinned, eyes wild for a moment. "Or, you could let me draw on your face. Which of those might you prefer?" he asked, excited.

"I-... I would love to help you," November promised, eyes wide, one small, shaky hand reaching out to just gently brush Green's own. He could hardly believe his luck, even here where medical care was so readily available, there was someone who wanted to be (all his) cared for by him. "I'll do anything you ask, I promise..." He beamed, utterly overjoyed.

"Scarabs! Oh, that would be quite interesting to eat, I can't deny, I'm curious. Scarabs are lovely..." Lovely, of course, did not equate to tasting good, but he was still curious all the same. "I do think they're quite pretty to look at, though..." He held his hand out for the bean, to chop it in two so they could solve the mystery.

"I, don't see how it's fair if I get to choose," November giggled, "but... I think I would very much like to sing to you." He blushed a little bit as he thought of his favourite songs. He'd had a little collection back at St. Romuald's, secret like everything else he ever loved. They were beautiful, though, each one a rare treasure carefully hunted down after hearing this or that snatch drift out of a radio, of a window. It seemed strange to share them now, but the thought of it thrilled him.

"Excellent!" Green cheered, brightening considerably. His confidence wavered, and he fidgeted, head tilting this way and that. "So, what... does one do for... unwanted..." he paled, hissed in a breath. "You know, we can talk about that later. It's sure to come up, anyway," he murmured, looking at the candy with dread. "No pun intended...."

"Agreed," said Green, handing the bean over to be cut. "i'd really like to experiment with them a bit. The Egyptians must have been thinking of something when they said scarabs are symbols of eternal life." He took his side and sniffing, small nose wrinkling. "Hmm. A bit like licorice, but strange..." He popped it in, chewed. Gagged. "Augh! God!" he hacked, taking a napkin, spitting it into the thing. "Motor oil!"

After having cleared his throat a few times, he nodded at November, pointed. "See, letting you choose lets you pick the one you're best at," he pointed out, managing a lopsided grin. "I can always draw on your face or have you hoot like a monkey or something later, if I want to see that. But if you choose, you're going to choose something you're good at. Sing me the song you want to sing for me," he ordered, leaning forward, smiling.

"Um, yes, I haven't got all my books and tools right at the moment, and I think it would be rather hard to diagnose and treat without my things..." He smiled, gave an apologetic little chuckle. "But I'll see to the matter as soon as we're all settled in at the new school, alright?" He couldn't wait. He hadn't even the faintest idea what Green's problem even was, all he knew was it would be all his, to poke and prod and experiment with until it was finally done, and he wanted that beyond his wildest dreams.

"Experiment? With scarabs?" His head cocked further, curious, excited. "Oh, that sounds so very fascinating... Do you think... Perhaps... I could watch?" His little hands wrung together, oozing obvious hope. Maybe he wasn't the only one who liked bizarre experiments... This could be the beginning of something very interesting indeed.

"Oh... .Oh dear... Motor oil...." He looked at his own with disgust. Maybe, once they were guessed, he didn't have to eat them. "I-... I don't think any of our guesses were correct, unless you want to go by our both guessing that this wasn't any kind of food, in which case we'd both be right..." He scratched his head, then shrugged, pulling a golden yellow bean with darker brown splotches from the bag, setting it before Green with curiosity. "What do you suppose this one will be?"

"Oh, ha ha, I suppose you're right, I do get to, ah, show off this way...." He blushed, squirming, understanding fully why this was a dare. He'd never so much as let anyone hear him sing before, let alone sing for someone... Gulping, taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes. And in a soft, shaking voice he began: "Precious and fragile things, need special handling, my god, what have we done to you..."

Green let out a sigh, nodding, swallowing. "Thank you. Yes, that sounds like a good idea. Hopefully it doesn't happen on the train," he murmured, glancing towards the Honeyduke's bag again, "But then, the ride can't be that long."

He tilted his head, smiling at November slow and easy as he enthused about the scarabs. "I'd be delighted to have your company," he purred. "You could do more than watch. It always helps to have another set of hands around when working with a cauldron, I find. It's true that too many chefs spoil the pot, but that's why we have soux chefs, hmm?" he grinned. "Never do know when something is going to suddenly decide to boil, particularly when experimenting. That's the fascinating thing about potions, harnessing the hidden energies already inside things, seeing how they react. Theorizing can be very difficult," he murmured, twirling a curl thoughtfully around a finger. "There's always some new exception to the rule you've just posited... it's not an art for anyone with fragile pride," he observed, looking the anxious boy up and down once more.

Green sniffed at the bean curiously, eyes narrowing. 'It'll be either earwax, or banana," he guessed. "But my money's on banana. We're due, don't you think? Yes, but sing for me," he gestured grandly, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes to enjoy the boy's voice. He was unsurprising to find the boy's voice shaky, but its tone was pleasing, and he smiled as he listened, foot twitching to the music.

"Oh, oh dear," November mumbled, "if it does, I promise I'll help you to the best of my ability..." He didn't even know what, exactly, Green's complaint was, except for the fact that it had something to do with the stomach he clutched beneath pale, thin fingers. He wondered what was going on beneath that skin, if the slippery velvet seals of his organs bobbed and rolled and gamboled there, and if his own small hands could soothe them still again.

"You-... You'd actually let me help?" His eyes lit up in pure awe. "I-... I don't want to cause you any undue trouble, as you said, it's very hard, but, if you'd really like me to...." The expression on his face was akin to a man who had just stumbled upon a roomful of gold. "Oh, and-... Did you like the song?" He blushed, fidgeted a little. "It's one of my very favourites..."

November picked up the jellybean and gave it another long look. "So you think banana, which would be a food... I suppose I've got to go with something unconventional, then..." He stared at it as if a sample through a microscope. "It is quite an interesting shade of gold... Not quite like the gold of earwax... Maybe it's paint." He grinned, began to cut open the bean.

"Thank you," Green sighed, relieved. "Frankly, I'm glad Hogwarts provides three meals a day regardless of whether you want them or not. I barely really get hungry, so otherwise, I'd forget to eat. But a half-hour after every meal, things... well... I get... nauseous," he stammered, folding his arms over himself tight. "And it hurts, everything... churning like that. It burns. And I don't want the damned nurse to know, and..." he sighed. "God, I need to stop talking about it," he murmured, waving a hand. "I'm probably scaring you off."

"I'd be delighted if you helped," Green said, smiling at November confidently, instantly looking more himself as the conversation turned to potions. "As I said, more hands. And perhaps we could come up with something together, particularly if you're not shy about testing things," he grinned.

He smiled as November asked about the song, eyes closing again, foot circling, pleased. It had been beautiful, and no one had ever done that before, sing to him. Save for his grandmother, on his birthday, a lifetime ago. Still, somehow, the music evoked a feeling of home."And it was lovely. Much less awkward than a dare really calls for," he tisked, grinning, fingers tapping on his chin. "But well worth spending a turn on. Thank you for the song. You should do that for me again sometime," he encouraged.

"Oh, god. Paint," Green murmured, nose wrinkling. "Let's pray not. I've had to stomach some awful things, but that sounds like one of the worst. Nevertheless..." he popped the bean in his mouth, chewed.

"Oh-... Oh dear-..." But rather than shy away, November leaned forward, placed a hand on Green's stomach, small and soft like a tiny baby bird. He tried to almost feel that dreadful, painful churning, his mind already whirling on what could have caused it to be this way. "I'll get it fixed up right away, alright?" He smiled, hopeful, reassuring.

"I... Suppose I would like to sing to you again, though, it's odd. I've always enjoyed singing, but I've never, done it where anyone could, hear...." his halting words trailed off, a blush upon his cheeks.

"I think paint would taste rather a lot better than earwax, though you might know better than I...." Screwing up his face in anticipation and dread, he lifted the bean to his lips and chewed a while, before the expression of fear and anguish eased to one of surprise and delight. "Curry!" He sighed, savouring the spicy flavour for a moment, before turning back to Green. "Well, I suppose curry's a lot closer to banana than it is to paint, so you win again." He chuckled. "Will you have me sing another time?" He might actually come to really love this game.

Green sucked in a breath, frozen, as the other boy leaned in to place a hand on his belly. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had done something like that - lay a hand on him with care, with concern, with gentleness. He had been gripped, shook, even hugged by his adoptive father, but never gently, and never for his sake. Never because his father cared what he was gripping, any more than he would care about a pillow or a doll. Never like this.

The heat rushed to his cheeks, and he stayed very still, staring at November slightly slackjawed before the boy's words registered; touching the back of November's hand gently, he swallowed, nodded at him. "Alright," he said softly, looking down, suddenly shy. "Thank you. And... yes," he said suddenly, forcing confidence again, sitting up as he looked into November's eyes. "You should sing for me. ... Curry, who would have thought curry?" he interrupted himself suddenly, hands curling, afraid. "I wouldn't even have recognized it if not for you. Never had the stuff," he said softly, looking away.

He looked back at him. "Yes. Sing for me. Sing me something about you, something about your life. It can be in code or symbolic or anything, it's not a truth, I don't need details. But be honest with me," he bid, looking at him intensely.