What friends are for PV George Henry Finished

Finnegan flinched at George's bewildered cry, like he'd stepped on a cat's tail. He raised his hands in defense, "I'm sorry, I didn't- I mean- I just thought..." Well that was the problem wasn't it? He hadn't really thought. He'd just assumed and blurted it out before even considering how it might come across. Why was his mouth so dry all of a sudden?

"All right, you're not a cheater," he conceded, "but you are a flirt. You have to be if you've got two other boys going out with you, right?" He hadn't really meant to accuse George of disloyalty, he'd merely observed that the Hufflepuff had been involved in several dates. It was a bit confusing, trying to keep track with all the couplings and uncouplings that George seemed to get sucked into. "Think positively," Finnegan said, channeling some @Alma Stoll energy. "People are queueing up to date you, you'll get to pick whoever you like best." People were probably queueing up to date June too, he thought grimly, but forced the thought away. "Look, if you didn't like kissing @Felix Kolbeck, you should probably break up with him. You're not telling me you like him but don't like kissing him, that makes no sense."

Finnegan covered his mouth with the back of his hand, pretending to brush something off his lips to keep from laughing when George declared his intent of abandoning his love life woes all together. It was probably awful of him to find any hint of entertainment in George's suffering if it was causing the teenager this much distress. But at the same time, it made him feel a little better about his own predicament. Finn's problem was so simple it seemed childish in comparison. There were only two possible outcomes for him while George was trying to navigate his relationships with several different boys that fancied him.

He got up from the football, put it under his arm and joined George on the tree. "You know, you might want to consider losing that broom race before you get even more adoring fans looking for you." He offered a faint, fleeting smile before his face turned serious again. "You're upset because you regret that someone you liked waited for so long while you had already given up on them. I guess there's something for me to learn from that too..." he bounced the ball between his feet before throwing another pensive look at George. "Are you sure you like this Felix more than... whoever else came out to you? Because I don't think you are, you don't seem sure at all." Perhaps it was harsh, but Finnegan thought it was the truth. And telling the truth, even if it hurt, was what friends are for.

"Surely," George agreed. He certainly had not thought. The first time he heard the words was when they came out his mouth... not unlike George. The resentment was quenched somewhat by the charming similarity to his own bad habits. Still, a stern look from George served as a final warning for Finnegan to watch his tongue, lest the fifth year decide that it would look better tied in a pretty pink bow.

"They aren't going out with me! They would like to be, I suspect- well, rather, I basically know, but I don't know why. I had a crush on one of them in my first year and he's only showing interest now and expecting that I've waited around!" His voice was a low hiss, not wanting to alert that boy to his frustrations. These were thoughts best left to his diary, but his diary was not nearly as cathartic to scream at as Finnegan was.

The words 'think positively' seemed to trigger complete bafflement in George. He blinked as though Finnegan had spat the words into his eyes. His brow furrowed - he could tell that Finnegan was channeling someone else. "That's true, I guess. But people don't really like being compared like fruit at the supermarket," George said. He smiled, just a little, and sighed. Even he could find some amusement in the absurdity of his predicament. "I did make a pros and cons list in my third year, though. I ought to refer back."

George rolled his eyes as Finnegan suggested throwing the broom race. "Nobody has ever looked attractive during a broom race," George said... with a momentary sideways glance as he was distracted by one potential exception. "Don't worry, I needn't try to lose. I do it about half the time. Being the best at Hogwarts is hardly being the best in the world."

The older boy slouched low and rested his elbows on his knees, his hands pushing up on his chin as he let out a defeated sigh. Finnegan described the situation as it was - finally seeming to understand that George wasn't just some player spinning boys around for the thrill of it. "Yes, there is a lot for you to learn. You're a lion, don't be patient, pounce!" George sprung up and lunged toward the other boy, as if to demonstrate the technique, before sitting back upright.

...But that final question from Finnegan deflated him once more. George flexed his face to keep from frowning and blinked a bit to get some moisture out of his eyes, not wanting to show the more vulnerable side of himself too much to the younger lad. "No," he said with a helpless shrug. "I suppose we'll see what happens... Felix and I will be spending the afternoon together before my race. Could go poorly and ruin my mood for the race - might make me lose. Two birds with one stone."

Finnegan nodded along and kept his thoughts to himself for a while. He was soon served a three-course meal of frustration, bitterness, and regret. Regret of what could have been, what might have been if his secret admirer hadn't waited for five whole years. George seasoned his remarks with smiles and jokes, but it could not hide the putrid taste of what was being served. The longer they sat in the shade, the more determined Finnegan became that he needed to act soon on his own feelings toward June. He'd already waited for an entire year to find the courage to tell her, he wasn't about to wait four more. As if on cue, George jumped up.

Jolting, he let out a high-pitched yelp, raised his arms in defense expecting some kind of attack-

-but received mercy.

He giggled, though he had been left untouched, but the joy wasn't to last. George slouched on his seat then sighed like a punctured tire and shared what had to be one of his worst ideas yet. Finnegan nudged the sulking teen, "and my head's full o' rocks? You're not all there if you think that's a good idea." Sometimes, when he got worked by something, his mild manners broke down and the Welshman in him stopped hiding. "Advice most needed are the least heeded and all that, but you listen to me now, you're going to risk the race on him? You don't even know if you fancy him! You're going to be a bag a nerves up there if it goes badly like or no, an' that's the trewth. See him after like or it'll be agony."

George smiled at the reaction his pouncing attack had elicited in the little lion. But still, it was a temporary joy, before he settled back into the ambient level of unease that he'd become accustomed to over the past few years. "I may not be all there," he admitted. Finnegan may have expected a follow up, but there wasn't one. It wasn't a set up, just a bit of melodrama. The older boy shut his eyes and leaned back, trying to get slouched in a way that at least looked comfortable to onlookers. With a deep breath, he tried to summon up some advice from his past, looking for other evidence that Finnegan might be right.

Take a deep breath and count to ten, said his mother. Cut the shit, Professor W-D had told him. And now, Finnegan too, wanted him to delay his dramatics for the time being to focus on being healthy and productive. "No," said George, with a sigh, opening his eyes to look at the little Welshman. "It's fine. I've already agreed to see him. It'll become a thing if I change my mind now. "

Very few things weren't things in the world of George Henry. Nonetheless, he did not seem worried. Resigned to his fate, more like. But he gave the young boy a little nod to acknowledge that his advice had been received, considered, and ignored. "Do you want to keep kicking around the ball, or have you gotten all you needed from me? I should start charging for the time I spend as Professor Henry."

"Alright." His answer matched George's in its simple finality. The Hufflepuff's many concerns were clearly weighing down on him and Finnegan rather suspected the boy wished to be alone with his thoughts for a while. Acting on instinct he reached out, his hand hovered over George's shoulder and for a moment remained frozen in mid-air. The pat that followed was quick and light and childish but with all the right intent.

No sooner than he'd withdrawn his small hand, Finnegan got back up to his feet, dusted himself off, collected the ball and settled his gaze on the slouched teen. "Thanks but I'm fine, it's OK, I'll find someone else to play with." He flashed a reassuring smile, turned around and was about to head off when he halted one last time.

"Oh and George," he said, looking over his shoulder. "Not a word." It went both ways. He pressed his finger to his lips and winked. The next moment he'd kicked his ball high up in the air and chased after it like a puppy playing fetch.