Closed What's that Smell? PV George Henry

Word travels fast at Hogwarts - particularly when something as dramatic as Bloom's clothes-burning happens. Despite normally having his finger on the pulse of gossip, ready to slurp it down like a gossip vampire with an unquenchable gossip-thirst, George had been enjoying his time alone this summer. That's why he had not been at all expecting that someone yelling "stupid bitch" into the ether would be the thing to bring him out of his concentration. He'd been reading "Caring for your Nimbus," a pocket guide to broom care that had come with his recently purchased broom. Suspecting that the screaming teenager would be an entertaining diversion, he shut his book and tucked it under his arm, walking down to the edge of the water.

George was wearing an oversized white t-shirt that sagged down over his scrawny body, giving him the appearance of a someone in a summer-casual version of a ghost costume. A pair of grass-stained cargo shorts made it clear that he had been sitting in the grass all afternoon. The boy paused, hesitating when he saw just who it was. He could easily recognize Bloom after the big stink that she kicked up when she was the victim of a small prank.

"Have you met a particularly rude mermaid?" asked George. He was quite unsympathetic to her plight, not being aware of its severity. He knew only that it was very dramatic, and very disruptive to reading. Remembering that Bloom was a particularly tightly-wound Ravenclaw, he helpfully inquired as to the most likely culprit of her upset. "Are you having a mental breakdown?"

@George Henry

One of the worst things to hear is a question that had an obvious question. It was more than obvious that Bloom was going through a breakdown. It was always worse when a male asked a girl if they were on their period because they were upset, or, if they take medication, asking them if they took their meds because they were confused or uptight.

Staring at the waters, she looked over at the person who dared to ask such a question. It was a student that looked oddly familiar. She stared at him for a second only to remember who he was. Her mental breakdown lessened when she remembered that this was the first year student so many years ago that had quite the stench. She had to be sure though.

"You're that first year that wreaked, weren't you?" she asked, a smirk appeared on her face. Bloom wiped the tears from her eyes and her eyebrows perked up. "I wondered what that smell was," she said, laughing. She had no idea how the Hufflepuff would take such a three year "joke" but she was willing to say or do anything to get her mind off of what had just happened earlier in the day.

"By the way, to answer your question, yes, I am having a mental breakdown. You've probably already heard," she said, shrugging it off. "Doesn't matter now," she whispered aloud to herself.

George would, of course, never presume that her breakdown stemmed from Bloom's gender or how medicated she was. He would assume it was because she was in Ravenclaw. Or at least, he would normally. The Ravenclaws usually had their breakdowns in similar cycles to George, scheduling them for early June when the dread of final exams really started to set in and he realized he was truly doomed to fail. Then he'd pass and spend the whole summer forgetting about it so he could do it again next year. A breakdown in August was unprecedented and not remotely justifiable.

"I'm actually the fourth year who reeks now," George said, raising an eyebrow at the girl. He wrinkled his nose, quite annoyed that she had turned around the conversation so soon after she'd been screaming at water. Still, George was more self-conscious than he had been back then, so he checked his scent with a deep breath through his nose. He was more than fine! He smelled vaguely of watermelon from the hair products he'd had purchased before summer camp. Money well spent to ensure he would not reek again.

"Did something bad happen?" George asked without malice. He folded his arms, peering suspiciously at the older girl. There was no reason that he could see to be having a breakdown, least of all in one's swimsuit. Maybe she thought it made her look fat or something. "What cause do you have to be breaking down? Is something happening with the Hexwizard?"

@George Henry

Although her eyes were red and her face was wet from her tears, she couldn't help but to laugh at his comment of continuing to smell into his fourth year. She knew that when they were younger, they really did not like each other. In retrospect, Bloom did not really like him, but who knew how someone changes over the years. She sure has changed over the years herself.

Her mind went straight back to the event that had just occurred at his question and she took a deep breath to prevent herself from crying or freaking out even more than she already was. "It has nothing to do with the Hexwizard tournament," she said, now thinking about the stress of that event which should be starting her sixth year at Hogwarts. "Someone burnt all my stuff as a prank. But it's all I have," she said, her voice shaky in the end. All she had was her dark blue one-piece bathing suit that she was wearing. That was it. Bloom was both hurt, appalled and depressed that someone would do such a thing as a prank. She had no means of money to pay for more clothing for herself and she wasn't going to tell that to new boyfriend or anyone else.

"I'm not going to say who it is, but I hope they feel the regret," she said, beating George to the punch in case he was about to ask who. Bloom was not the type of girl who liked to gossip. Although she always liked to hear it. The last thing she wanted to do was be a source. If he wanted to know, he could ask Howard or anyone else from their chaotic tent.

Bloom looked at the fourth year-to-be and wiped her tears from her face. "Enough about me. How has your summer been? Hopefully you've at least taken one shower..." she said, keeping up with the smelly jokes. It was, at least, the only thing they had in common for now.

George had always sort of ignored Bloom. This was quite easily done, since they shared neither a house nor a year, and they most often crossed paths in the library where silence was mandatory. He'd made the occasional plan to bother her again, but other things took precedence, and the grudge had had carefully nurtured shriveled away and died. Now, again, she was a stranger.

But she was a very interesting stranger. Screaming at the lake in her swimsuit. But why? "No?" George said curiously as Bloom explained that it had no relation to the upcoming tournament. While he had never voiced the thought, he was quite certain that Hogwarts would be an international embarrassment if their Hufflepuff champion failed. Hufflepuff would be the worst embarrassed of all, which definitely is not what they needed.

George's eyes opened wide in shock. "Whose idea of a prank is that? How is that a prank?" he wondered. He shook his head, looking over the sad sight of Bloom in her bathing suit, wailing her anguish out at the lake. "A farting gnome is a prank. I'm pretty sure setting all your things on fire is, like, criminal."

Unbelievably, Bloom's pathetic tale had actually earned her quite a bit of sympathy with George. He would be devastated if someone burned his clothes. While it wasn't all he had, it was all he had that was decent - if he lost his brand new robes, he'd be back in his dad's hand me downs like every other muggle-born plucked out of the middle of nowhere.

"You're not going to say who it is?" George repeated incredulously. Did she not want people to know who the clothes-burning maniac at camp was? He was just about to ask, and he must have been wearing his curiosity on his face. People always seemed to know just what he was thinking. He blamed his eyebrows. "Have you really not got any clothes? Are you going to set their stuff on fire?"

George contained many of the classic Hufflepuff traits like justice, but they were mutated slightly. Vengeance was not justice, but it would do until the justice got here. "Enough about you? Oh, please. Like I'm the one having an interesting summer," George teased. Still, he would humor her with a bit of conversation that wasn't all about her. "I've been bathing regularly, studying every day, and preparing for the broom race. I'm the captain of the Hufflepuff racing team now, did you know that?"

There was a pause. George knew that if anyone offered this to him, he'd be offended. He hated being treated like a charity case, as much as he enjoyed receiving gifts. If they were given with the pretense of 'because you couldn't afford it on your own', he would refuse even the most thoughtful gesture. He could do anything on his own. But maybe Bloom wasn't so proud. "I can... ask around with some of my friends if they might have any clothes that would fit you. Or... you know, it's summer camp. You could just go into anyone's tent and steal them. Security is awful."

@George Henry

It was one thing to listen to drama, and another to actually be a part of it. Bloom assumed that to George, it was a mystery novel more than something that he would take personally. She did not feel like it was the end of the world, but she did feel stuck in her world and did not know what to do or where to go next. The last thing she wanted to do was to provide heat for a drama that she was involuntarily sucked into. "No, I'm not saying who it is," she said, shaking her head. She did not need everyone to know who it was and for the person to get angry. Who knew what else was up this person's sleeve.

Bloom gave out a small chuckle at his question about her clothes. It was true. She had nothing. Everything she owned: three uniform outfits, 4 casual tees, 2 jeans, 1 jean shorts, socks, underwear and tennis shoes, were all in that suitcase. She was literally stuck with her bathing suit and for how long? A couple more weeks? How was she even going to wash it on occasion? Maybe at night when everyone is asleep, she would go into the water and wash the important parts of her suit? Maybe even in the shower she would bring it in with her? But she needed to wear it right after and it would be extremely uncomfortable. Nonetheless, she had nothing and she did not know how to explain it to George.

"I'm not going to set their stuff on fire, although, they could possibly afford buying ten times as many outfits as I could," she paused and looked down at the dirt between her legs. "My family can't afford much the same way as many people here," she said, realizing that she could come up with a way to explain her situation. "All my clothes are hand-me-downs. Nothing was new because my parents can't really afford it. I have my sister's clothes, and my younger sister has my old clothes. My brother even wears my younger sister's old clothing. Every once in awhile do we get something new, but it's really only during Christmas or our birthdays," she said, shrugging. Bloom took a deep breath in and smiled. "You're too kind to think about that. I would be incredibly embarrassed."

The minute he said Broom Racing, Bloom shot a look back at him with a smirk. "Oh, I don't think I knew. I didn't join the team until we were up against Gryffindor-- which we won," she said, a bright grin taking over her saddened face. "When we play Hufflepuff again, with me on the team, your undefeated streak will stink...," she paused, "Like you!" she said, laughing. She needed the laugh right about now.

"Alright, well... I'm sure someone else will," George said, shrugging. If it was as big of a deal as she seemed to be making it, George would hear the sorted story from about fifty different mouths before the night was over. It was just a fact of life - the boy knew where to look when he needed to find drama. Perhaps she thought not revealing the identity of the perpetrator made her the bigger person. But what good was being the bigger person now? All it did was make it harder to find clothes that fit her.

He rolled his eyes and groaned when Bloom mentioned how many times over the perpetrator could afford her whole wardrobe. Some rich snob burning every last thing Bloom owned? There was no greater injustice. But it wasn't his revenge to take, so he would have to let it go if she did. If she'd been closer to him he might have taken it as a slight against himself, too, but she wasn't close. She wasn't even a Hufflepuff.

"Sounds like you could have ten times as much fire," George chimed in with a pleasant smile. A bonfire... or just ten fires of equal size, spread evenly through the year. Depended on whether you liked your revenge in moderation. He listened to Bloom and nodded in understanding. He didn't feel like detailing his own family's situation, but he just reached down and tugged on the hem of his over-large white shirt. "This was my dad's."

He glanced up and down over Bloom, raising an eyebrow. She'd be embarrassed about borrowing clothes, would she? "Not going to be embarrassed in your one-piece for the remainder of the summer, then?" George asked. It was a little cruel to remind her, but clearly she wasn't aware of just what she was signing up for. It was early in the summer to decide you were all good with never changing your undies again. "If you engorgio this shirt it could be a dress. You could leave it as-is and it would look like a dress, really, it's bloody huge."

George shook his head and narrowed his eyes at Bloom. All that sympathy was put on hold to begin proper inter-house sports team trash talk. "Is that right? I think you and the rest of the birds might still need to learn to fly," he said, with an airy sigh. "But I suppose you'll need to see how you fare against the snakes firsts. I'm not too concerned with Gryffindor."

@George Henry

A small smile escaped Bloom's lips. It was nice to see that someone else understood what hand-me-downs were and was wearing just that. Perhaps she was not alone in that department, but he probably had more clothes that were bought for him than passed down from his dad.

Bloom opened her mouth ready to fight back when she then closed it. She looked down at her one piece. It was old as it was, and for her to wear it for a month straight meant that something could happen to it, whether it would be a tear of the seam or thin out. There was no way she could actually stay in the swimsuit for long. "You're right. I guess wearing just this would be embarrassing. I just don't want to ask around for clothing from people. I didn't even want to ask Howard although I know he would share his clothing with me in a heartbeat. But seeing as he is very close to the situation, it was just too overwhelming," she said, accidentally giving a clue to the Hufflepuff on who it might be that lit her stuff on fire.

"I don't want to take a shirt from you that was from your dad. Don't you have some attachment to it?" she asked. A lot of her clothes she had emotional attachment to, but perhaps it was because it was all she had and she cared for them.

She was glad that he was just as playful as her. Some people might have gotten off the rocks when talking about sports. "Psh! We are one with the current!" she blurted back. "Also, I'm confident in Ari's ability to get us through. Although really young, he's pretty good at strategy and gets us to the top well," she said, thinking of the little second year knowing so much about stats and strategy. She wouldn't put it past him to be a coach for some sport in his future. Bloom thought about all the times that she got injured from the game. "Thank goodness, though, that we have magic to heal all those injuries. The amount of scarring my leg would have would be unbelievable," she joked, wondering if it would be the same for him.

"You don't have to ask. I can, too. Maybe I can get my mum to get some of her old clothing if I write an owl back to her... that could be days, though. And Cadmus won't be able to haul much of a wardrobe all the way from Walkerburn," he lamented. He could hardly haul much of anything, even though he was quite a hardy owl. Just too uppity to put in any real work. Undeterred, he grabbed his shirt and started to pull it off over his head.

He looked to the water, debating whether he should go for a swim himself. But he still had his book with him, no towels, and didn't want to be seen swimming with Bloom Silverton. "Just use enlarging and shrinking charms on it 'til it fits how you like. It should cover you up, anyway," George said, balling up the shirt and tossing it in Bloom's direction. "I don't really feel attached to the shirt, no... it's a shirt. You're not getting my kilt, though. But this shirt's been through me, my dad, my brother... I want to get rid of it. I've got my own clothes these days... but nobody wears robes at summer camp because it's too hot."

George could only shrug at the talk about Ari. He crossed his arms over his chest, slouching a bit and shrinking away as he realized how naked he felt without that shirt. I mean, physically, he was half-naked, but emotionally, it rounded up to full starkers. "I don't know Ari," George said. But if he was young, fast, and good at strategy, it did not bode well for Hufflepuff. Their new captain was young, dumb, and while talented at flying, was never talented at practicing his skills without the bugging of Jack to motivate him.

George smirked, glancing down at himself and remembering a particular scar at his shoulder, which he moved his hand to cover. He gave a pointed look to Bloom - if she had seen it, she would know full well he did not want to talk about it. If she hadn't seen it she might just think he was a little wacky. "I've been quite lucky with not getting scarred up so far. As long as I don't end up with a face like Jack I won't be fussed. He's got a big nasty scar." That scar suited him, though. Unlike George's. "One like that might give you a bit more edge, though. Considering you're a bit of a goody-two-shoes Ravenclaw who won't even tell me who set her clothes on fire."