August 24th, 2022

In three years, George had never missed sending a birthday card and gift over to the Morris household during August. While he hadn't had the chance to visit in person - he lived quite far away and didn't have any Floo powder or anything - there was always a nice handmade card and a little gift picked up form the shops in London. Of course, it didn't seem appropriate to do something for someone who wasn't your friend. But Jake had to be his friend. If he wasn't than who would be?

George wiped the tears from his eyes, leaning back to make sure none of them fell onto the parchment he was scribbling on with his crayons. He'd asked his father to pick up the 'ultimate' set, containing every color of crayon available, as gift material. Of course, George had already opened it and started using them. He needed some way to make the card, after all. Jake liked crayons, and drawings, and other childish things like that. He had to give Jake something he liked so that he would like him again.

In truth, he had hoped that they could remain enemies for a little longer. It was the broom race that had broken him. Lining up with Jack and looking out into the audience to see that his little badger buddy wasn't there to cheer him on had gutted him. The worst part of it all was that he knew he deserved it. If he had just been nice to Jake he could have invited him to stay in a tent with him, and he wouldn't be stuck with Marion and the others all summer. But he was a bad friend and a bully just like Jake had told him.

He put the black crayon back into the box and shut it again. This would probably be a heavy burden for Cadmus, he wagered, as he tested the weight of it in his hand. Maybe he ought to send some treats along for him to give Cadmus. That was a good idea. He dug around in his bag until he found some, sprinkling them in among the crayons before sealing the box again with a spell.

Reducio

Well, that looked absolutely awful. He'd never claimed to have any talent with art - that was Jake's domain, and he had never even bothered giving it a try. His niche was academia. Sitting there, sniffling, hidden away behind a tree on the outskirts of camp, he admired his handiwork, wondering if he should write something more - a proper apology, maybe. But how could he do it? What could he say that would be enough? Besides, he would hardly have enough time. He was about to be noticed.

@Jack Burnett
@Jake Morris

A Welsh boy squinted into the distance at the threshold of his tent, tying the laces of his sneakers, as he thought he saw someone sitting alone and doing something under a tree at the edge of summer camp. As usual, curiosity got the better of him and encouraged him to step beyond the boundaries of minding his own business. He had been wondering what he should do with himself anyway, so with his sights set on the figure, he decided to investigate.

As he drew closer, he thought he noticed the person brushing at their eyes like they were wiping away tears. Jack frowned and walked a little faster. Was something wrong? It wasn't until he was almost right next to the other kid that he realized he knew him, however - George Henry, one of Jake's best friends. Jake was nowhere in sight, however, and Jack found himself wondering if the Hufflepuff had even decided to come to summer camp that year. Could George have been crying because he'd been lonely?

It was then that his gaze fell upon the birthday card drawn on with crayon, the apology written before it, and the box beside it all. "Whoa," he muttered, noticing the number of crayons that the box boasted. "That's a lot of crayons."

He crouched down beside his peer, balancing on the tips of his toes as his elbows rested on each of his knees. "Hey, Henry," he greeted with a small smile. "Something the matter?"

Something certainly seemed to be if there were tears involved and George had felt the need to apologize. He had guessed, due to the date, that the card was meant for Jake, but he still had no inkling what George felt he needed to apologize to Jake for. Had something happened?

@George Henry

George looked up from his letter as he heard footsteps approaching, blinking the tears from his eyes and letting out a sigh at the sight of Jack Burnett. It was a mix of dread and relief. While he loathed to be spotted, it could have been by someone worse. Considering it further, Jack was really the perfect person to find him - he was distant enough that his opinion wasn't important, but close enough that he could give a little comfort, if he wasn't going to be a jerk about the whole thing.

"No," he replied swiftly. He sniffled before he continued speaking. "No, nothing is the matter. I just find when I'm writing letters it makes them turn out better if I cry into the parchment, so I'm just having a little cry. A pragmatic sort of cry," he said, rambling to avoid sniffling or sobbing again.

Composing himself quickly, George wiped away his eyes and then swiped his fingers through his hair a few times until it fell into its proper shape. A compulsion toward self-grooming when he was stressed had appeared ever since he bought his enchanted compact, but he resisted the urge to check himself in the mirror. His attention was fully on the boy who had interrupted his crying session.

"Yeah," he murmured, looking back at the box of crayon and wiping his nose. It had obviously been opened and resealed, and there was a sprinkle of owl treats around it on the ground. George laughed softly at the sight. Poor Jack would think he had gone mad.

"Hi, Jack," he replied, pressing his lips together when the other boy smiled at him. He tried to smile back, but couldn't manage it for long, and needed to bring his sleeve over his eyes to dry them before more tears fell.

"I've just messed things up with Jake," he said. It felt good to tell somebody that he'd done it wrong, that it was his fault... "I've messed everything up, irreparably, but I thought maybe that crayons would be a good start. It's got every color they sell, I think. He'll like that..."

Still, the task of telling Jake felt daunting. Even writing it made his cheeks burn and his chest feel tight. Delivering his apology (and crayons) face-to-face was unthinkable without the influence of a calming draught and several bravery charms at least, and even those might just make him act his normal, cruel self. He tried to think of some way he could sum up the fight that wouldn't make Jack think less of him, but it was impossible. "I don't know. We had a fight. I miss him."

Jack had to make a desperate effort not to laugh when George told him sarcastically that writing letters turned out better if he cried into the parchment. The corners of his small smile twitched, but to his credit, he managed not to do any more than that. Allowing George a moment to recompose himself, Jack sat back on the ground and crisscrossed his legs, his elbows then balancing on his knees to prop up his head in his hands. He followed George's gaze to the crayon box again and then on the scattered owl treats, but said nothing of them, waiting patiently for the other boy to take the time he needed to explain his situation.

It took a little more time, but after returning Jack's greeting and a taxing attempt to return his smile, he talked about messing things up with Jake. Jack's eyes widened a little with the surprise that anyone could mess things up with Jake of all people, let alone one of his best friends, but he listened silently until George seemed finished.

"That's a good start," Jack agreed, recalling Jake's love of drawing, "But...do you mind me asking what happened that made you think you messed things up with him? Surely it can't be irreparable, especially since you two are such good friends." Of course, if anyone knew the fear of losing friends, it was Jack, but he had trouble beliving Jake would let go of someone who felt this badly about upsetting him. The question was, did Jake know George felt this badly? Maybe with the gift and card he would get a hint, but to make up completely, it was likely the two boys would have to confront each other in person. That must have been difficult for George to think about; intimidating, even.

"Were you going to give him these in person?" he inquired, gesturing toward the crayons and card. But then he saw the owl treats again and realized those were probably for Cadmus, George's owl. Maybe seeing Jake in person was too much for George just then.

"I'm sure he misses you too," Jack told George sincerely. "If...you don't mind me asking...what did you two have a fight about?"

Jack agreed that it was a good start, at least. Good. George rarely put much thought into birthday gifts, usually sending along candy or something he owned but no longer wanted. Though the bar was low, George was still proud that he had outdone himself with the ultimate crayon box. He took in a deep breath when Jack asked about what happened, shutting his eyes tight. The words were still ringing in his head. He was a bully to Jake, his best friend. The anger was so intense and vivid, still, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out why he had been so angry.

"We just- we had a fight," George said, rubbing his eyes and sniffling again. He couldn't bear to look up at Jack, but he couldn't look at his drawing either, knowing how pathetic it was. Jake would probably rip it up and send back the crayons, refusing to be so easily bribed by his ex-best friend. He looked up when Jack asked if he'd deliver them in person. The suggestion felt like a punch in the stomach. George bowed his head even lower, covering his face in shame. To think he thought that he was cut out for Gryffindor when he wasn't even able to be a good Hufflepuff. He felt his hands getting wet again where he was covering his eyes, tears streaming out silently.

"I don't think so," George mumbled, at the suggestion that Jake missed him too. No, he didn't. He didn't even come by the tent to hang out with Jack, at least not while George was around. Everything he had was ruined, and he was dreading having to go back to school and sleep above Jake for four more years. Maybe he could ask to trade bunks with Julian... "I can't give it in person. He won't want to see me. I promise you that."

But you can't just say that and not explain why. With a deep breath, George steeled himself, trying to maintain a placid expression despite his puffy red eyes and trembling lip. He was surprised he did not feel embarrassed. Maybe he was already too full of shame to feel any more.

"I- I got mad at him because... I thought he lost my writing quill and my journal... and because he always- like, he always gets mad at me when I am like... babysitting him," George said, putting a bit more force behind his words as he vented the little things which had made Jake irritating leading up to the fight. It made it easier to remember, now that he had to explain it, why he had been angry. "But I still had to. It's like he- he still wanted me to do everything but he just didn't want me to notice that I do like, everything. And he did lose my other lucky quill."

At least that was a point in his favor. Jake hadn't wronged him intentionally, but he still packed the powder in the keg. All George did was light the fuse! "And he threw all my stuff on the ground, and- I haven't seen him since then." George paused, and the steely facade broke, letting out another round of waterworks. He turned away and covered his face with his sleeve, shoulders bouncing with his heavy, silent sobs. "I don't care about that stuff anymore. I just wish- I wish things were normal again."

When George's head drooped even lower and he covered his face with his hands, Jack silently cursed himself and his big mouth. He should have thought about what he was going to say and how it would have made George feel before he'd said it. He knew he wasn't the best at comforting people, but that had been a stupid mistake. Jack had to move closer to hear what George mumbled through his hands - that he didn't think Jake missed him. And then that he couldn't give his gift in person because he wouldn't want to see him.

Jack sighed softly. From having argued with Jake on a previous occasion, Jack had gotten the impression that the other boy was a rather stubborn individual. He still had some difficulty imagining Jake actually being angry, but if Jake's and George's fight had really been that bad, there was a chance that Jake would have pretended not to miss George even if he really did. George seemed pretty stubborn too, though, so if he was certain enough to promise Jake wouldn't have wanted to see him, Jack doubted anything he said could have convinced him otherwise.

Jack guessed he didn't matter enough to George that George didn't care if he cried in front of him or not, but the Slytherin still felt like trying to comfort him anyway if he could. He scooted a little closer and gently put an arm around George's back as the miserable Hufflepuff tried to elaborate on what the fight had been about. The redhead nodded in sympathy when his peer described what it felt like for him to try to look after his friend. Jack could only imagine. He thought well of Jake for the most part, but he knew everyone had their flaws and that Jake was likely no exception. Besides, living with people tended to test even the strongest of friendships as Jack had discovered when Ruka had become his new adopted sibling.

Eventually, George began to weep again and Jack gently patted his back while George turned away. If Jake had been upset enough to throw his friend's things on the floor, he must have been furious indeed. However, Jack still felt optimistic about things.

"Henry," Jack prompted gently, "This isn't the first time you two have fought, have you? Fights like this happen all the time, especially between close friends. You two are like brothers so it makes sense you would get on each other's nerves sometimes. I think I've learned the hard way that it's a natural thing that brothers do. But it just means you're close enough to even feel that strongly toward each other."

He paused a while before continuing, studying the drawing George had made. "If you've cooled down enough to not care anymore about what made you angry before, I'll bet Jake has, too. Maybe he's too afraid to talk to you because he's worried you won't want to see or listen to him, either. To know for sure, though, one of you has to be brave enough to try to approach the other sometime, right?"

George lifted his head to look at Jack when the other boy put an arm around him. His brow furrowed, and he blinked away tears to get a better look. He wasn't sure what to make of Jack Burnett. Their interactions were few and far between, usually coloured by one scheme or another. The last person George expected to be comforting him right now was a Slytherin that was still half a stranger to him. Still, he leaned into Jack slightly, relieved that he wasn't alone.

"You're nicer than I thought you were," he said after some thought. It was the George Henry equivalent of a compliment. Maybe this was just the set up to some cruel joke, but it still felt good to have a friend for the moment, even if it was just pretend.

No, it wasn't the first time they had fought. Far from it. Generally, they had to pause one argument or another before bed, with George writing down the gist of it in his diary so that they could begin anew when the conversation got stale the next day. But that was over things like whether erumpents were cute, or whether Cadmus enjoyed eating cute bunny rabbits, or whether there really was a secret Hufflepuff society controlling everything at Hogwarts. (Of course there was.)

"We've never fought like that," George murmured. Three months was probably the longest that George had ever gone without talking to Jake in his life, not counting the eleven years before Hogwarts. The Hufflepuff drew his hand to his chest, feeling a horrible pain in his heart when Jack compared them to brothers. He remembered the fights his brother and him used to get into at home - his first magic appeared during one of those times. It had been a long time since he spoke to Sam, too...

Following Jack's gaze to his drawing, George smirked, seeing the amateur rendition of Freddie surrounded by a scrawled, tear-stained apology. "Don't say anything about it," he cautioned Jack. "Or I'll scream."

Listening to Jack's words, George had to agree. Jake was always nicer than George, and certainly less apt to hold a grudge. Though he doubted Jake would be happy to see him as he was now, he was probably wishing that things were the way they were before. He just had to be brave-

"Hang on," George said, narrowing his eyes at Jack. "You're tricking me."

He was very familiar with this technique. His mother had used it hundreds of times to calm things down between George and his brother at home. If he shared his toys, he was generous. If he forgave Sam for breaking his stuff, he was the bigger person. And now, to end his fight with Jake, he had to be brave. Somehow, she always knew just how George wanted to see himself, and used it to sucker him into being a good person. Now Jack was doing the same thing. George couldn't keep himself from smiling, wiping his tears with his sleeve as he looked at the other boy.

"..." George... uh... said. Or rather did not say. He had opened his mouth a little, but couldn't summon the words to speak. Despite his expertise in writing, it was still hard sometimes - translating your thoughts into words in the moment. At least, when you were telling the truth. After a few moments of staring dully at Jack, he leaned into the other boy, shrinking up under his arm in a one-sided version of a hug. "You're right. Thanks... I guess I can get rid of the drawing, then."

At George's 'compliment', Jack blinked, glancing at the other boy. Then he smirked. "Just don't go around telling everyone or my hard-earned reputation will be ruined." Jack Burnett didn't do friends, or so he told everyone, but that didn't mean he couldn't be nice when he felt someone needed it.

He frowned when he was told they had never fought like that before, but then he said, "The worse the fight, the closer you'll be when you make up. At least that's what I think. And I know you two will make up." These were difficult times for them all with everyone growing and changing both inside and out. It made sense they might have found more things to fight about or that fights could potentially get worse, but that just meant bonds could get stronger, too.

Snorting loudly when he was warned not to say anything about George's drawing, Jack put up a hand in a placating gesture. "Alright, alright. You don't say anything about me being nice and I won't say anything about your drawing," he teased.

All of a sudden, Jack found himself being accused of tricking George. The redhead blinked in bewilderment, wondering what George could have meant. He had done his fair share of pranking and tricks, sure, but he couldn't see what he could have possibly been blamed for this time. "What? How?" But the brown-eyed boy was already smiling as he wiped his remaining tears with his sleeve.

Jack waited for the brunet to speak again when it became apparent he needed a second to collect his thoughts. Then, to the Slytherin's surprise, George leaned into him in a one-armed half-hug.

"No, wait! Don't get rid of it!" Jack cried, snatching for the card to keep its creator from doing anything to it. "Bring it to him when you bring the crayons. I'm sure he'll appreciate the time and effort put into it." Not to mention the tears, which Jack was sure a boy as observant as Jake would notice. If he had any doubts that George was actually sorry about their fight, surely the tear-stained card would obliterate them in a way no spoken words could.

George rolled his eyes, which were no longer producing a steady stream of tears. Where it had been going down his face, there was a barely perceptible smudge where it had cut through his blush. The boy was wearing makeup. Even now. "I won't tell anyone," he assured Jack. He laughed, his voice a bit hoarse. Crying really wore a person out.

It was cozy, being all curled up with someone out in the grass. George's mind was still on Jake, and the closeness reminded him of all the hugs he hadn't gotten over the summer, and all the times he had missed out on tucking Jake in again after bad dreams had woken him up. Why had that seemed so annoying? He'd give anything to get a hug from Jake, now.

Maybe Jack Burnett knew better about how friendships ended up after you had a fight. He seemed the sort to start more fights, at the least. "Yeah," George said. The weight of hopelessness had rolled off his shoulders with Jack's words. Of course they would be alright - they were bunk buddies, they were the Scamander Squad. It was only one little fight. They were brothers, and George and his own brother had done substantially worse things to each other and still got along afterward.

There was a temporary peace as a smiley George Henry leaned on Other Jack, grinning and letting out an amused giggle at his confusion. The trick was unintentional, obviously. "You're getting me to be nice... I'm onto you," George said. Hardly a trick to give good advice, but still, there was a trick to getting people to listen to you. George knew that as well as Jack must've. "Don't worry, I'll be brave. One of us has to."

All the relaxation going on came to a sudden halt when Jack got his hands on the letter. George clenched his jaw, sitting upright and slipping out of his half-hug with Jack, ready to pounce on the other boy to get his letter back. "I SWEAR TO GOD JACK, I-" George half-shouted, giving it all he could with his worn-out voice. "O-okay. Okay, that's a good idea. Sorry for yelling at you."

George settled back down and tried not to look too pleased with himself for apologizing. "I'll bring Cadmus too so that he can give him treats... Jake likes Cadmus," George murmured, fidgeting with the edge of his t-shirt, tugging at a loose thread that was only getting worse the more he played with it. He rocked a bit on the grass, trying to get comfortable again, sort of missing that half of a hug. He wasn't about to initiate any sort of physical contact, however. Just being this vulnerable verbally was enough to have him on edge.

"Thanks," George said again. "Um... did anyone else... hear me crying? Or just you? Just wondering if I should find a new route to sneak back to my tent, or if you'll keep my secret. To the grave."

Jack's smile returned when George laughed, even if it was slightly hoarse. At least he seemed to have successfully been able to cheer him up some. He enjoyed their physical intimacy as well as they remained in their half embrace and it reminded Jack of the times he had cuddled with Flash, whether in their dorm room or in the Room of Requirement. It was a shame so few people seemed comfortable with cuddling and hugging on a regular basis. It was nice. Even if it was hard to allow oneself to be vulnerable enough to do it in the first place.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Jack told George when he claimed Jack was getting him to be nice. "The last thing I need is for more people to be going around killing each other with kindness. That stuff is brutal," he said with a mock shudder. But then George divulged a little more about what he meant using the same term 'brave' as he had and Jack grinned. Oh. That.

Face lighting up with mischievous delight, Jack couldn't help but be amused by George's 'swearing to god' as loud as he could manage until he eventually gave in and apologized for yelling. Shaking his head, the Welsh boy pressed the card back against the chest of the Scottish one, now reasonably certain he wouldn't harm it. "Yell at me all you want. I thrive on it," he said with a wink.

"Oh, yes...Jake likes Cadmus," Jack repeated with unease. Enough so that Jake had brought the owl to the breakfast table that one morning without giving thought to how the bird of prey might have reacted to all the food laid out. Well, he probably gave thought to it, but he trusted Cadmus. A little too much, in Jack's opinion.

And then George thanked him. "Anytime," he answered, beaming back at the other boy. "And I don't think anyone heard you. I didn't even know you were crying until I got close enough to see." He smirked. So George did worry about people knowing if he cried after all. "I can keep a secret," he assured George, getting back up on his feet and offering to give his fellow student a hand up. "You'll just owe me a favor is all."