Closed Fit As A Fiddle PV George Henry

The sight of Alma falling out of the sky was spectacular. Which was to say it was a spectacle, in the same way that a car crash or a house fire might be. For a moment, she was the star of the show. Every Hufflepuff in the stands gritted their teeth and shared in Alma's pain as she impacted the ground like a falling star, or a sack of flour falling from the top shelf. Maybe getting hit with a bewitched ball of iron wasn't quite as painless as George had made it out to be in the beginning.

George had completely forgotten what he'd done to himself until he saw the school nurse pause in his paperwork to gaze quizzically at George's face. He'd almost made it all the way to Alma's bed before he stopped, aghast at his own reflection. Shimmering gold and dark reds complemented each other on his eyelids, while the rest of his face was done up with whiskers. He was a lion. Same as the ones who had just sent poor little Alma to the hospital wing to sleep off her new head injuries.

The boy immediately started smearing his hand around his face, ruining his makeup and leaving him with a shimmering, dark-red face with black streaks that looked like something out of a horror movie. There was no time to make himself presentable this time. At least he had abandoned his "Go Finn!" sign at the stands, so there was some plausible deniability about the fact that he had absolutely been cheering for the enemy.

"Alma!" George said, turning on his heel and marching up to her like a wind-up toy, propelled by an obligation to follow up with the fallen badger. He had promised, after all. Much to his relief, the girl did not seem to be angry at him... although she may not have spotted what was on his face until he stepped into the light, the sun's rays catching beautifully in the golden glitter around his brow. Very regal.

He didn't hesitate to lean in and wrap his arms around her, giving her a warm squeeze before carefully pulling back. Little Hufflepuffs loved hugs - they made everything better. "So... I was right, I guess? I told you you'd be glad you signed up! Er, well... glad you got signed up," he clarified with a sheepish smile. George's scheme to get Hufflepuff a new chaser was partly a mean-spirited prank, and part a genuine act of kindness. It was a strange thing to be a friend of George Henry. "Your teeth all look in order. That's good. You looked like a pancake when you hit the pitch. Can you eat?"

George was already opening his satchel up and pulling out a box of something, holding it up to the battered baby badger. He held the box inches from her face, sure that her vision was out of focus from her big tumble... even if that wasn't the case. "Marshmallow biscuits," he said excitedly, laying the box down on top of her to enjoy at her leisure. "If you can eat." (At the nurse's desk, Polonius mumbled something and nodded. Yes, she could eat.)

She happily accepted the hug, ecstatic to have some company after a seemingly long night. Or at least that’s what she assumed; she wasn’t exactly awake for all of it.

When the fourth year came closer, she noticed the smeared makeup on his face but didn’t think much of it - perhaps leftover Hufflepuff facepaint from last night.

“I guess you could say that!” she giggled. Glad to have been signed up? Yes! Glad to have gotten a bludger to the side that supposedly “wouldn't hurt”? no.

“Yeah, I can eat.” In fact, she was quite hungry. She hadn’t had a single bite of food since yesterday before the match. She smiled excitedly when George handed her a box of Marshmallow Biscuits. She quickly grabbed one out of the box and took a bite, flooded with relief from the snack.

When she looked up to thank him, she noticed something…off. She saw no Huffle yellows in the smeared makeup, but red hues and golden glitter. Was he…? No, it couldn’t be! He couldn’t possibly have cheered for Gryffindoor.

“What’s that on your face?” she asked, a puzzled frown taking residence on her own. Could never be too careful. She leaned closer and inspected him even more. Sure enough, it didn’t matter that he tried to hide it; she could see the faint outline of lion facepaint under all the smearing.

“Oh…um…you cheered for Gryffindoor.” Hurt was evident in her voice but she cleared her throat to try and hide it, setting the box of biscuits down gently next to her. She had lost her appetite. “W-Who do you know on the Gryffindoor team?”

She felt her face get hot as tears pricked at her eyes. She quickly used her sleeve to wipe them before they could fall - it wasn’t George’s fault, he probably had friends in Gryffindoor but…to sign her up and not even cheer her on at her first game? Brutal. Besides, definitely not the best showcase moment for George’s house pride. She could only imagine the looks he received from other Huffles in the stands.

She decided to change the subject; her downward spiral of thoughts could be saved for later. “Uh, it was my birthday yesterday!” she sniffled.

That didn’t exactly help her either, the reminder of one of the top three worst birthdays she’s ever had coming back in full swing. She got hit, had to play against one of her friends, and didn’t even stay in the game long enough to see her team win or lose. Plus, first birthday without being with your parents has got to be hard.

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wc - 434
@George Henry
mentioning: N/A

George thought he was in the clear when Alma started chomping down a marshmallow biscuit. Of course, nothing was ever that easy. His sheepish smile disappeared from his face as the girl asked him what he had painted on him. The lion underneath the smeared mess was still clear. The traitor George Henry was exposed.

"U-um... yeah," George said with a shrug. It was only a game, right? Did it matter that much to Alma whether he was there to cheer or not? Perhaps that had been a stupid idea. He knew how important it was to him when Jake didn't show up to cheer him on at the broom race over the summer, and now he'd done that to Alma. But it was either that, or do it to Finn, who had been much less forgiving than Alma in the past. "I, um... Finnegan Conner, the little fella. I'm friends with him and I wanted to cheer him on 'cause I sort of almost got him killed by Pixies last time I saw him."

No further context to provide there. George let out a sigh and shut his eyes as he saw the beginnings of tears in Alma's eyes, reaching up to rub the bridge of his nose. Why was it that everyone was so prone to crying when he did anything? He turned back and looked over his shoulder at the nurse, who did not seem to have noticed that his patient's visitor was making the girl cry.

"You're just a walking tragedy today, aren't you?" George said, with a pitiful shake of his head at the revelation that Alma had been betrayed on her birthday of all days. It wasn't meant to come out so harsh - but it was hard not to feel sad for the crying girl all curled up in the hospital getting visited by George. "You should have told me it was your birthday - I would've cheered for you on your own bloody birthday. I only put on the Gryffindor makeup because I figured that... well, I figured you wouldn't need cheering up since we were going to win anyway..."

Clearly he'd misread the forecast. Whether Hufflepuff won or not, George expected that Alma would be bludged off her broom within the first few minutes. "Hold on... did you still have fun, though?" George asked, digging through his satchel for anything that could count as a birthday gift. Nothing appropriate came up - he didn't expect any makeup to cheer her up right now... "Sorry... I'll have to get you something next time I go to Hogsmeade, I haven't got a gift for you..."

Glancing back at the door, then back down at her, he frowned. Why did he bother with bothering the first-years so much? He let out a resigned sigh. "Should I leave?"

Alma was even more hurt that he didn’t seem to understand why she cared so much about it. More hurt because that meant that it was just a silly insecurity of hers, that she was being too dramatic, that he could potentially get upset at her for keeping him from cheering for his friends. This, of course, did nothing to help her steadily crumbling facade of being unbothered - not that it wasn’t already totally noticeable.

The mention of Finnegan should have cheered her up. At least he didn’t ditch her for just the sake of cheering for the other team, he actually knew someone. It should have cheered her up, but unfortunately her brain seemed dead set on continuing its downward spiral and it made her feel even worse for crying. Why was she upset? George was not only cheering on one of his friends, but also as an apology gift for almost killing him! She should be happy for the both of them, but poor little Alma couldn’t seem to get out of her own head.

She winced as George called her a walking tragedy, wiping another tear from her eyes. They were starting to fall faster now and it was getting increasingly difficult to stop them. “I’m sorry,” she apologized with a sharp inhale. For what, she didn’t know, but she felt like she probably should. “I’m sorry, It’s stupid to cry. You’re right, we were going to win anyway…”

“Y-Yeah, I had fun…” She said half-heartedly, watching as he pitifully tried searching for a late birthday present in his small satchel. It was a sweet gesture, but if she was being honest she really didn’t need nor want a pity gift right now. “No- no, George, it’s fine really! I’m okay,” she assured, despite clearly feeling the opposite.

Her head snapped up in an instant when he offered to leave. No, no no no that was not what she wanted. In fact, being left alone in the nearly empty Hospital Wing with her best friend sound asleep and a socially inept school nurse was definitely last on her list of wants. “No, no please! I’m sorry, please don’t go, i’m so sorry i’ll stop crying!”

She furiously wiped her eyes until her face felt raw and tried her absolute hardest to stop the flowing tears. “Don’t worry about me! I-I don’t need a birthday gift, I can take care of myself. It’s just another rough morning. What’s new with you?”

She tried changing the subject, putting on a pathetic and rather desperate attempt at a smile, despite her face still being red and wet. She wrapped her arms around herself , being careful not to press too hard into her sore ribs, and began rocking back and forth to calm down - another nervous tick developed during her early childhood stages.

It was a little sad that even now with this new addition, she has still never had an interaction with George that didn’t involve/end in anxiety, tears, or a seriously dangerous situation.

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wc - 507
@George Henry
mentioning: N/A

George had absolutely no illusions that Alma was unbothered by his treachery. Quite the opposite, in fact, he was certain he had once again botched it with the first years, adding another to the growing army of not-quite toddlers that would one day band together and depose him, perhaps by drowning him in the lake. He took comfort in the fact that Alma, at least, would likely apologize to his ghost as her and the other children were hiding his body in the forbidden forest. George glanced back at the nurse, looking for some kind of help, but the man was completely unbothered by what was occurring. He had a candy bowl somewhere, George knew, but it was obvious that sweets would not fix this if marshmallow biscuits had failed.

"I didn't say it was stupid to cry," George said, hastily defending himself. People always thought he was calling them stupid, or thinking they were stupid. Rarely did he actually disagree, but it would be nice for someone to at least think he wasn't judging them for once. His clear frustration at the situation did him no favors. Perhaps he was mad that she was being so stupid and crying? That was probably why he looked so stressed, under all the cat makeup.

"Well, I'm glad you had fun, at least. I'm sorry you got knocked off your broom. We can work more on dodging next time we practice," George suggested, before realizing that would not be necessary. She had a team, now, and could practice without him. "Er- well, you know, next time you practice. I'm sure there are several members of your team willing to toss bludgers at you in practice... just don't let Quinn do it."

George tried to conjure a hopeful smile. A horrible grimace appeared on his face. He was unable to stop the sympathy pain, knowing that his presence there was just making her more embarrassed and upset by the moment, but he could not leave, for she had asked him not to. If she'd known what was good for her she would have had him kicked out already.

"You can... take care of yourself? Alma, nobody in Hufflepuff takes care of themselves, least of all on their birthday. Don't try and be so sad," George said. He had still not learned his lesson from Finnegan than demanding that someone stop crying never, ever worked. George repeated her question in disbelief. "What's... new with me?"

Did she really want to talk about that? Not a chance. George sighed and looked around, finding a chair to pull over to her bedside to sit beside her. It took George a few moments to think of anything other than the quidditch match. "The Hexwizard is next week... I'm nervous. I hope nothing bad happens... and that we win. I don't think anything bad will happen, don't worry. I just don't want Alan or anyone to like, get steamrolled by the Russian kids. I don't know what they're like."

Alma’s eyes lit up with hope and she smiled her first genuine smile since he had come in when George mentioned practicing together again. That soon disappeared, however, when he immediately deflected. He’s right, she wouldn’t be needing to practice with him anymore, she had a team. He had gotten what he wanted, and this was his last stop before he would never have to talk to her again.

“Well i’m fine, and I can take care of myself!” she assured. “I don’t want you worrying about me.” That was a lie.

“Ye-eah, what’s new with you?” she said, sniffling as her voice broke halfway through. God, she was a mess. He started talking about the Hexwizard tournament and she couldn’t help but get lost in her thoughts as she zoned out.

Do you think he’ll still want to talk to you after this?
Why did you cry like that, you’re too sensitive!
Now he just thinks you’re annoying.
God, you’re such a drama queen!
Snap out of it.

When she realized he was finished talking, she snapped back to attention. What was he saying? Oh right! Hexwizard. “Yeah, i’m pretty excited for that! I’ve never seen a Hexwizard match before. I heard it’s dangerous, I wouldn’t want to be on the team.”

She glanced back over at Avery, possibly looking for some assistance, only to be disappointed that she was still sound asleep. Boy, she really needed her best friend right now. “So, uhh…” She tried to find proper topic so that she didn’t make this more awkward than it already was. “Tell me more about Finn! I’m uh, i’m friends with Finn, I didn’t know you two were so close! How do you know him?”

Maybe that was the wrong topic. She didn’t want to make it seem like she was too hung up on the whole thing, (even though she totally and noticeably was). But, she had run out of things to keep George here. She didn’t want him running off on account of being too bored with her.

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wc - 342
@George Henry

"Alright, I won't worry then" said George with a shrug, defeated by her insistence that he not worry. It was a very sad sight, the little badger assuring him that there was nothing to worry about. It seemed that he ought to be quite sorry, considering that she was enduring her birthday under these circumstances.

The boy couldn't stop his eyebrows from raising when he heard that crack in her voice. She was trying to pretend she was okay while still actively crying. Hufflepuff really gave you every part of the older sibling experience whether you wanted it or not - he could see a bit of himself in the way she was trying to stop herself from crying to look tough in front of him. Even if it was probably the most fragile facade he had seen at Hogwarts, and he had met Finnegan.

He talked to her about the Hexwizard. Or more accurately, he talked at her. It was like every ounce of effort was being put into not crying... or maybe her medication had just kicked in, or something. George was about to lift his hand up and wave it in front of her eyes, but she seemed to snap out of it faster than he could lift his hand. He wrinkled his nose a bit and leaned back as he assessed her, maybe wondering if whatever was causing her to act like this was contagious.

"Oh, I met him over the summer," George said, a bit of slack returning to his shoulders as he thought of Finn. His eyes wander a bit as he flipped through the mental catalogue of their memories. Getting hit in the head. Lying in the grass. Going to Hogsmeade... him running off crying. Coming out to him... him running off crying. Pixie business... hospital wing business. At least that new nurse wasn't bugging him about his hair this time. "He's quite funny, I like him. He's a bit dramatic, though. He keeps running off on me... unfortunately, I don't believe they wheeled him in here, so wherever he is I'll have to congratulate him later. On, er... his loss. Console him later, I suppose, and try not to rub his nose in it."

George stuck his tongue out and rolled his eyes. "Else he might cry again," George said, with a conspiratorial wink. "But don't tell him I said that or we'll be starting all over again. Do you want me to bring you anything from the kitchen or something? Or like... get anyone else to come visit you?"

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She finally let out a genuine giggle at the way George talked about Finn. The two seemed to have a complicated relationship, but there still seemed to be an element of wholesomeness in there that made her happy. They were the type of people that you just love being in a room with - they made rooms good. The perfect duo, if you asked her.

Finally, the question came and Alma’s smile dropped. If he really wanted to leave, she’d have to let him. He’d come back…right? “Um…a snack sounds good, sure. I don’t really, uh, have anyone else visiting me I don’t think so i’m all good there.

She smiled at him, tears gone by now but the dried streaks still there, making her quite a pathetic sight. Gosh, the next time her and George interacted she sure wished it’d be under good circumstances for once. She didn’t know if she could handle another embarrassing crying session.

It was then that she remembered the biscuits that he had brought in. She wasn’t hungry. At all. She didn’t even know why she asked for a snack, but she didn’t want to seem rude so she leaned forward and began to nibble on the already half-eaten biscuit, avoiding eye contact with the fourth-year now. Right now she kind of just wanted to melt into the floor and never come back out of sheer embarrassment.

A laugh! That was a good sign. There had to be more than that. If he could make her cry, he could make her laugh, surely? And after both of that was done, it would net out to zero, and he wouldn't feel like such a bastard for going into the hospital and making the children there cry like he was the chairman of the Break-A-Heart Foundation.

"...Do you not want a snack? You seemed really sad when I said I'd go to the kitchen- I don't have to go... you can just eat the biscuits if you're hungry," he suggested, gesturing to the gift he had brought which had gone ignored. She nibbled a bit at it, though reluctantly, and George wrinkled his nose in distaste. "I mean, you haven't got to eat it, Alma, just because I brought it."

George glanced around the other beds, humming softly as he thought of what to make talk with. Alma had laughed a bit at his impression of Finn, but he was struggling to come up with another first-year he could make fun of. Who else would Alma even know that he knew? "Have you met any of the international kids? Did you go to camp over the summer?" he wondered. "I never met any of them at camp, but they all turned up for Hexwizard. There's a handful of decent ones near your age. Just not the Durmstrangers."