Outfit

It was Friday, and Quinn went straight from her final lesson to the Quidditch pitch. No matter how many times she'd argued with members of staff, she was not allowed to try out for the team, and visiting the familiar sporting ground always gave the Gryffindor a pang of regret. Less partying and more schoolwork would've seen her on a broomstick playing for the scarlet and gold flag, but alas, priorities weren't important as a teenager. No, she'd not come to muse about Quidditch, but to meet her best mate: it'd been some time since she'd caught up with Lou.

Taking a familiar seat on the bleachers, Quinn dumped down her bag next to her and rested her chin on her hands. It was odd to see somebody like her looking glum; Quinn was usually too cheerful, too optimistic and too breezy. The last time she'd been seen looking so miserable was during the whole John fiasco, and even though that ship had sailed, she often found herself thinking 'what if'. What if things had gone well? What if there'd been no arguments, no tears, no conflict? Well, things might've been different with Sophie, and Ruby. She'd sent the youngest of the Flickwick sisters a letter, and a gift, of commemoration. Quinn couldn't even imagine losing her own mother, and it was an ordeal that commanded something greater than comprehension. And Quinn had received no reply - she didn't expect anything else.

Of course, it was normal for somebody to feel down in the dumps, but Quinn was becoming increasingly frustrated. People were disappearing. Soon enough, there'd be graduates - and what then? Would she just become a full-time party girl like Clarissa, or could this Quidditch journalism really go places if she put her mind to it? Would all of the regulars like Lou, and Grace, and Fir, still be around? Or would they drift apart like so many do after school? The questions unnerved her, and what was even more distressing was the lack of answers.

And so, who else better to hang out with then Lou Carter? The pair had something undeniably silly about them - there were no pretensions, and the judgemental whispers aimed at Quinn from random students were non-existent. Fir was always busy being fabulous, and Quinn couldn't blame him for his lack of time, and Grace, well, she was always studying, doing something great for the world. And again, Quinn couldn't even complain about it - the two were doing a lot more than she ever would even attempt to do. Staring at the green blades of grass that edged the line of the pitch, she sighed, slumping back.

Bring on summer. Bring on sunshine and laughs and parties and the seaside. It was always a better time of the year, and the March weather hinted at a possible but rare British heatwave. No matter what her problems were, Quinn always managed to push them to the back of her mind, but recently, it had been a little more difficult. Burying your head in the sand and trotting off to the next party was fun, and sure it postponed tackling these issues head on, but they'd caught up with her. Quinn just didn't even know what to do with herself.

Emmylou's mood music | outfit

Lou may or may not have skipped out early from her last class of the day. She'd eyed Quinn meaningfully, knowing in that friend-type silence that she would be seeing more of her partner in crime quite shortly, and excused herself to the loo some fifteen minutes before the clock struck freedom, never to return. Surely the professor would understand! Phantom girl-time-of-the-month and all that unprettiness that usually made even the most educated of male professors cower with chalk in their hands and stiff nods on their sweat-beaded foreheads.

In that quarter hour span, the Carter girl had traipsed down to the kitchens for a picnic of nourishing nosh. The pipsqueak elves had been more than thrilled to oblige. Her bag was bursting to the brim with pumpkin cakes, miniature meat pies, and chilly bottles of butterfeer-- or might have been, if Lou wasn't the sort of girl to carry around a double-charmed schoolbag. She spotted her friend from far off, the wild mane of gold-wheat tangles and their faint shimmer of last night's glitter. She didn't wave; there was an unspoken understanding between Emmylou Carter and Quinn McAvoy. It was a Friday  tradition, one unimpeded by hand signals and echoing voices that might bring unwanted attention to their wide-open hideout.

Still in her school skirt and knee socks, Lou clambered up the bleachers and plopped down beside Quinn. She started to unload the snacks onto starchy, Hogwarts-crest embroidered napkins, and magicked the bottle tops off the butterbeers. Clinking her own bottle against the one she'd brought for Quinn, the bright-eyed rebel took a swig in silent cheers. Only when she pulled the brim from her puckered lips did she smile and speak. "Happy Friday, mate. Another week survived. What's on your mind, Quinny? Nothing a little spiking sauce and tipsy one-on-one Quidditch can't fix, no?" She tilted her head, appraising her colorful friend, and then leaned her own wild locks against Quinn's shoulder, sighing contentedly. In the whirlwind of happenings, this felt entirely right, normal, safe. They were girls again, and would soon be free-- the same girls, only... adults. "You know they don't blame you for any of it, right?" She added softly, speaking of the Flickwicks. Quinn's qualms with Johnny had nothing to do with the terrible tragedy that had befallen the family. The other Gryffindor had to know that. But people did weird things when other people died.

Quinn gave a faint smile as Lou clambered up the bleachers to take a pew, and even though she was trying to look normal, her expression of disappointment was unmistakable. Taking a bottle of Butterbeer, she clicked it against Emmylou's, albeit with less enthusiasm, taking a swig and sighing with relief as that familiar taste of warmth spread over her tongue. Taking a glance at the snacks, Quinn gave her friend an affectionate arm around the shoulder.
"You absolute legend, I'm starving..." she mumbled with a grin, taking a sausage roll and biting into it ravenously. Quinn, although not the thinnest girl in the world, carried her curves with vigour, and had the appetite of a troll. "Diets can choke, as far as I'm concerned."

At the mention of the Flickwicks, Quinn's vague smile faded once more. Sighing, she leaned forward slightly, staring out onto the pitch.
"I know, I know..." she replied quietly, her voice shy and retiring and very uncharacteristic for someone like Quinn McAvoy. "I'm just in a strange place right now. Sophie hasn't written back to me, and I know that all three of them think I'm some massive slag. I'm probably the last person they'd want to see." Her eyes fell to the floor, and she shuffled uneasily in her seat, reluctant to really weigh Lou down with all her current problems and issues. Quinn wasn't the type of girl that usually had a truckload of emotional baggage, and she rarely ever spoke to anyone other than Lou about how she was feeling. The Gryffindor party girl liked to keep up her reputation as being brashly optimistic, and her lapses into the maudlin were momentary.

But, Quinn just couldn't help herself: she needed to speak to somebody.

"I feel like I'm getting left behind, Em," the blonde finally uttered, still staring at her feet. She parted her lips to speak, but it was a moment before the words could escape her lips. "Everybody and everything is changing, and I'm just stuck in a rut doing the same old bollocks I was doing three years ago. I mean, Fir has so many friends, and Grace is going to do so well at the end of this year. We all know George is going to be end up playing Quidditch professionally, and Fauna will be with Dev forever. And you, you've got Edmund now, and..." Quinn sighed once more, biting her bottom lip. "And Ruby. I just feel like I'm getting left behind - I mean, we all know I'm going to do terribly in exams, and I have no prospects whatsoever. What the hell am I going to do with my life, Lou? I'll end up being so unqualified, unemployed bum with nothing but a hangover to show for their time at Hogwarts." She sat back once more, and shook her head, laughing a little in disappointment at her own self. "I mean, I'm still head over heels with the same guy after all this time, and he's probably forgotten I even exist."

She looked at Lou, staring her best friend in the eye for the first time since they'd met at the side of the Quidditch pitch, and Quinn looked utterly lost. "I'm a mess, Em. And it's too late to even do anything about it."

"That's the spirit." Emmylou grabbed a pumpkin pastie (desert before dinner, her mum would be so proud), but not until she'd had several cool swigs of butterbeer to begin her weekend, that little slice of freedom in a terribly packed final semester. The Carter never worried about diets, either. She loved her veggies fine enough, but she didn't obsess over clean eating habits. Her love of sport kept her in shape, and her genes did the rest. And if one day they didn't, well, she wasn't going to cry about it. Boys had never complained.

The heart of the cake filling the void that was her mouth, she pensively considered Quinn's confession, nodding and making a strange noise of affirmation as she chewed. She swallowed the delightful (and over-sized) bite before offering a real word. "Give her time, Quinn. Soph has a lot on her plate. O.W.L.s are almost as bad as N.E.W.T.s, we should know that as well as anyone... and I'd bet all my galleons their minds are on their mum and not their brother's love life. Death, it... it puts things in perspective." Lou frowned a bit even as she smiled. It was an awful thing to think, but it was also true. When nightmares like this one took hold of their lives, schoolgirl quarrels weren't so important. "And you're my massive slag, don't you forget it." Emmy slung an arm around her friend, daring the other girl to deny it. (Of course, she didn't think such a thing about Quinn, but if anyone was about to take ownership of the insult, it was Lou. She'd turn it into a badge of honor, something more cheery for the confident queen of glitter.) Quinn didn't need to be leaned on, she realized. She needed a hug. "Nodbody'll call you that without getting a hex square to the lip."

She thought of her dad's funeral, and all the people who had sent cards or shown up to whisper kind words with their hands folded awkwardly in front of them. "And honestly? They'd just want company who could speak the truth and keep their mum's spirit alive. Quinn McAvoy, you're loud, you're proud, and you're one hell of a dancer, drunk or sober. I think they'd love to have your company. And if they don't... like I said, give them time."

Her face crumbled at Quinn's second confession. She'd felt the same thing once or twice in her life. Fleeting moments of panic made it true even in the present. She'd broken it off with Edmund a week ago, and she still couldn't talk about it.

She looked at the sky, took another long swig of butterbeer, and closed her eyes. "Who says a transcript is the measure of man?" She asked suddenly, studying the neon-and-pastel dots behind her eyelids. She felt a surge of energy, an anger, a fire. She wanted to growl at Quinn for being so silly; more, though, she wanted to bark at the world for making such a fantastic person feel that way. "People are good all sorts of things-- all different things. Some people learn them in text books or in lecture halls." Like that brown-noser and boyfriend seducer, Nolan. "Or on muddy pitches," She affirmed. "But it doesn't make one better than the next, does it? There's no law that says you have to know what you want to do and how to do it by the time you turn 18, and if you don't, well, it's your problem and sod off to the mountains with the trolls. If that were true, George'd already be out of here," she laughed. "Besides, if anyone's going to shock us, it's you. And if you don't, that's when you worry about being a mess." She opened her eyes and turned her head to Quinn, reaching around with her other hand to pluck another thieved foodstuff from her bag. "When you're one hundred-eighteen and there isn't a procession as long as this field queuing for Quinn McAvoy's autograph, that's when you hunt me down and tell me you told me so. Deal?"

Spreading her elbows back into the empty seats behind them, Lou sighed her own confession. "I broke up with Edmund last Friday. And I'd never leave you behind." She felt a blush rise in her cheeks, despite the Gryffindor colors swathing her leisurely body. What about Ruby? She wanted to ask, but she didn't. Quinn somehow knew Lou was becoming... confused, she thought, but she wasn't going to say anything unless the other girl did first. "And what about Ruby... 's brother? There are so many owls in the sky, Quinn. This castle is way smaller than we think. Once we're out there..." Maybe it would be easier to forget about a semester of snogging a cheeky Ravenclaw in broom cupboards and stowing his gifts in the jewelry box hidden under her bed. Or wearing daisy chain rings and dipping her feet into the lake on a pretty day with a pretty girl. Or maybe Quinn had it all right, and they were doomed from here until forever. But Lou couldn't let herself say so, not when her friend seemed to be doubting everything.

As Lou proclaimed how Quinn was 'her' massive slag, the blonde smirked giving her mate a playful dig in the ribs with an elbow. "Cheeky cow," she mumbled jokingly, remnants of the pastie still firm on her tongue. Her mischievous grin was short-lived however, and Quinn immediately felt incredibly selfish; of course she wasn't going to be at the forefront of the Flickwick's thoughts. They had more important, more pressing, more tragic issues to mull over. All she wanted was for Sophie to know that she was still there, available as a confidante, and most importantly, as a friend.

She listened intently to Lou's words of advice, the two girls sat in close proximity, soldiers in arms against the common enemy of adolescent troubles and insecurities. Everything that was said was true: she might've been silly, but Lou had a clever head on her shoulders. If it wasn't for her, Quinn would get the majority of her advice from Fir and Clarissa, and whilst they were brilliant friends, their outlook in life was a little haphazard. "Deal..." she quietly murmured in agreement, that familiar toothy grin appearing once more on Quinn's freckled face. The mention of George made her momentarily fidget, still unsure about tackling that subject with Lou. An entire family had thrown McAvoy into exile after she crept into the realms of dating with their brother, and even though her crush on George was flyaway and light-hearted at best, she couldn't even contemplate Lou falling out with her about it. Perhaps it was better to keep things quiet.

Quinn's thoughts came to an immediate halt however with the mention of Edmund. She quickly turned to Lou, mouth widened with eyes to match. "Shit, really?" she asked, a hand falling on Lou's shoulder in comfort. "Why? How? Are you okay?" It was a surprise to say the least. It looked like a definite that the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw power couple would make it through their final year: they were the envy of almost every Hogwarts pupil in some way. "How did he take it?"

Lou's 'plenty of fish in the sea' line was one that Quinn had encountered a million times in regards to John. Of course, her best friend meant well, but it didn't exactly make her feel any better. He was that one itch that she couldn't quite scratch, and it was enough to drive any eighteen year old insane. "I just don't know why he's got that hold over me," Quinn confessed, running a hand through her long blonde waves. "It's like, out of all the boys I've ever had a fling with, why is it him that drives me mental?" She sighed with frustration, giving Lou a smirk. "I need a slap in the face!"

Lou wore the name like a badge, nudging Quinn gently, and laughing in the way she usually did with the McAvoy girl. She was determined to be the shoulder upon whom Quinn could lean this time, but she supposed could at least push her friend toward the light. Everyone could use a good laugh at this time of the year.

The quiet that overtook them was rare for the pair of Gryffindors, but it wasn't awkward; it had happened before, usually when they were tipsy and philosophical, and it was always a peaceful feeling. Now it was less so... now it was more of the 'unknown,' and not the cheerful kind. But maybe they had dig past the hard parts to get there. She had promised after all, that her friend until triple digits to get her life in order. It was an adventure waiting to happen!

"I'm fine," she lied, brushing it off with a smile. In truth, she'd pinned herself for the greatest liar who ever lived after having told Edmund they'd be better apart. She half expected to find herself sleepwalking to Ravenclaw Tower when the depths of her conscience took over and her heart could no longer hide. So far, no such luck. She'd been dodging Edmund like a first year wary of trolls in the night. "I... he... we grew apart," she decided. It was the easiest excuse. Also a lie. Which Quinn probably new. Hanging her head, she ran her thumbs over her legs and shook her head slowly. "No, we didn't," she admitted. "The funny thing is... even though he could be a prat like any boy... I don't know why I broke up with him, Quinn. I think I was just scared. What if I'd taken his side over George's, or... or hexed Nolan out of a window," she murmured, smiling at her knees, finally looking up. It was a terrifying and tempting thought. "Nobody should like anyone that much."

Being a lion was a double-edged sword, and the pesky, clumsy paws and overzealous roar were there, even when one felt like a mouse. "He--" She stopped, her eyes returning to her legs, closing just a bit as she thought it over. She could tell the truth and betray Edmund after she'd broken his heart, or she could lie to Quinn and be a less than authentic. But which would have more consequence?

She thought of her father; he would have asked that question of her. Lou twitched, sitting up, and pinned her elbows on the level of benches behind them, falling into the familiar, lazy pose again. "He wasn't thrilled," she decided, being vague about it. He'd cried, and Lou wouldn't tell anyone, not even a best friend. "But we're young. Like I said, there's a lot of people out there... he'll find someone better for him." Or just better. What would she do when that happened? Would she cry, too?

She'd done enough of that while alone at night, and twice in the loo when she was supposed to be having a break from Charms or Transfiguration. But her pillow was a sorry imitation of Edmund, and the loo always smelled like cleaning solution or less pleasant things.

Turning the subject back to John, she tried to reinforce her encouragement. "You don't need a slap. You're human. Tough as nails, but still... I'd be more worried about you if you didn't care, Quinn. Having a sociopath for a best mate must get old fast. So far, you're still brilliant." She winked, and grabbed a handful of chocolate, throwing it up in the air like fireworks, letting it rain down like a wonderful shower after a big win. She picked one from Quinn's hair, snapped the little thing in half, and offered a bit to her friend. "Mmm, if you want, we could make sure he's the one who ends up in the nuthouse. Crazy over you."

She licked a finger and looked conspiratorially at the sunset.

Quinn sat silently as Lou reasoned her break-up with Edmund: turned out there wasn't much in the way of logic when it came to teenage girls and Hogwarts heartbreakers. She flashed back to her days with John, and flicked her eyes out towards the Quidditch pitch. It'd been a feeling Quinn had suffered before. There had been an abundance of dramatic, flaming rows, and on more than one occasion, she'd commanded John to never speak to her again, to leave her life for good. And she'd never meant it, not really - not when there were nights feeling restless and lonely and wishing she could take it all back. Sometimes, there were no words or explanation behind the things people did.

"Liking somebody a great deal is normal, dude," Quinn finally said, her voice light and full of friendly promise. "If it was getting serious, and you were feeling smothered or whatever, then fine, maybe ending it was the right thing." Glancing at her best mate, the blonde gave a familiar, omniscient smirk that the two had perfected over the years of their friendship. Sometimes, they could explain something without even having to say anything. "But I know you were happy with Klint, Lou. Everybody looks for mistakes in something perfect, it's human nature, but if the mistakes you find can be easily fixed, then maybe you should reconsider?" Quinn was an unusual character; for the most part, she was all guns blazing, screaming, glitter and glugging wine straight from the bottle, but in an instant, the girl had an ability to really hit the nail on the head. Despite her rather tragic OWLs result paper, there was an intelligence there after all.

"And, as for George, I wouldn't worry too much," Quinn replied honestly, giving a sigh. She knew exactly what Lou's cousin was like. Gorgeous, charming, fearless - and extremely stubborn. "I was saying to him the other day that he shouldn't argue with Klint so much, for your sake. You know deep down him and Edmund could patch things up. Not saying they're going to be best friends," she laughed mid-sentence, an image of the two at the Three Broomsticks together sharing a pint seeming hilarious, "but it's no Montague-Capulet fiasco. There'll be no curses or hexes or bloody noses. Not whilst I'm about anyway!" Quinn had a zero-tolerance on wizarding violence, and she was no strange to breaking up a brawl.

The mention of Waker brought out a comic glare of despondency however, and she rolled her eyes almost automatically. The Head Girl's name usually came with a groan from Quinn. "Please, do hex her out of a window at some point," the Gryffindor snorted, crossing one leg over the other. "She might chill out a little and stop making me look like a troll-brained, foul-mouthed wench." Again, Quinn smirked at Lou - there was no reason to delve into the source of contention between Nolan and McAvoy. In basic terms, they were as similar as chalk and cheese, and Quinn would be lying if she said jealousy had no part to play. Waker was demure, beautiful, and highly intelligent, with a boyfriend that wasn't so bad either... Quinn on the other hand would never be as sweet as Honeydukes with a face to rival Dolly St. James - she was more associated with a more tribal sense of fun. C'est la vie.

The handful of air-borne chocolates made Quinn look up, giving a gasp of surprise. Sugary treats tumbled down, a few hitting the bench and the floor around them, and she toothily beamed at Lou. Confectionery was a necessity during these uncharacteristically girly exchanges, and Quinn took the piece with gusto and a returning wink. "No need, of course he's just simply crazy over me," she joked, putting on a fake voice to rival the likes of Maeve Whitman. Opening her jacket and giving a flick of the hair, she simply replied: "How could anyone resist anything this fabulous?!" She broke into a few giggles, her ripped tights tinged with mud and her hair in desperate need of a brush. "He'll come crawling back, but I'll be engaged to some up-and-coming Quidditch star from Durmstrang with a gravelly accent and arms to die for. Then who'll be laughing, hmmm?"

Lou always managed to make Quinn feel like her old normal self. That was probably why she adored her fellow Gryffindor so much.

Lou shrugged. "Normal, maybe. A pain in the arse? Definitely." She wasn't ready for it; it was so... real. If truth be told, the only man Emmylou had loved had been her father, and his life had ended prematurely, disastrously, the rug pulled out from right beneath him with Lou, her sisters, and their mother there to see the horrific event unfold. And still, there had been no vengeance, no rest Leon's soul. Still, his killer was at large-- and had also stolen the life of the boy who had been framed for everything, Quinn's and Lou's housemate Kyle.

As much as she wanted to get out into the world, to be free to bask in the rebellion that had doubled since her father's death, so was also terrified of growing up, of making it official. And admitting more-than-hormonal feelings for a boy who had started as a schoolyard snog? That was a bit daunting.

"He didn't smother me, he just..." She couldn't find the right words. "For some reason, when I was mad at him, it was worse than if I was mad at anyone else for the same reasons. Silly things. But I think I took it more to heart... and I don't want to be that girl, Quinn. That's too intense. I just want to get out of this place, you know?" Of course she knew. They both wanted it, both feared it, both... needed it to happen. At least they'd have each other through all the change; Lou didn't plan on running off with some boy and leaving her friends in the dust. When she told herself that, it had made the whole breakup a little easier.

Reconsidering wasn't an option, not right now. That would mean admitting being 100% wrong, and Lou was more than a little too lionish, more than a little too willful, strong-headed, cool-eyed to do such a thing so soon.

Lou couldn't help smirking. She shook her head. "Look at you, playing Healer to my family. And you think you're lost? You might be tapping into some hidden Pensieve there, Quinn. A post- postmodern therapy empire for wayward witches and immature cousins." But maybe focusing on the problems of others was a convenient way to neglect her own problems; it was always easier to help another person rather than helping one's self. Other people had a way of not seeing themselves as the emotional maps they were-- but plainly unfolding in front of everyone about them. Maybe that was why Quinn didn't see how brilliant she was... she was too busy worrying after others' lives or looking at herself in more tangled dimensions than human beings could count. She hadn't found the key to her own map.

Rolling her eyes, Lou bit lavishly into a biscuit. "Please. She makes you look like a rock star." It was all a matter of perspective. George's ex was a little too vanilla for Emmylou. She'd rather a wild, dirty, glitter-clad girl than... whatever that was.

Rule-bending conspiracy was more like them: as long as no one got seriously hurt, Lou was in it for the fun. And the triumph. If it put a smile on Quinn's face, and took her mind off Edmund, why not? Besides, she'd dipped her toes in first. "Hmmm," she hummed elaborately, as if her mind was busy dancing its fingertips together in evil rhythm. "I bet we could find out where Dominik Wieman lives. I'd have to dig through George's drawers, but I could probably get an address if I begged it off one of his friends while pretending I was George." It would be a good payback to her dear cousin, too. "Or we could just stalk him after a Falcons game." Easier, more effective.

Quinn threw an arm around Lou's shoulders, giving a deep and friendly sigh. She shook her head, glancing at the other Gryffindor with the omniscient eyes of a mother well-versed in the world of teenage boys and hormonal heartbreak. This specific tale of star-crossed lovers was dramatic, all-consuming and ultimately confusing -  as all good romances should be. "So, every time you meet a guy that causes unknown feelings, you're going to get rid?" Quinn's raised eyebrows clearly indicated that it was a rhetorical question, and that smug motherly expression wouldn't leave her face. "By all means, let's go out, have fun, lead boys on, do all the things we're supposed to do, but don't count Edmund out just yet. It's not everyday you've got Ravenclaw's biggest beauty at your feet." She smirked, keen to dilute the air with something less serious. Everybody knew that Lou's now ex-boyfriend had quite a reputation with the ladies, and Quinn thought it hilarious how so many fifth-year girls looked like they'd seen a unicorn whenever he passed; dreamily doe-eyed and jaws that almost dropped to the floor.

The mention of Quinn becoming a therapeutic healer caused the blonde to keel over in a snort of laughter: the idea was preposterous. "Oh yeah," she began sarcastically, "I appear to have a distinct problem at sorting my own life out, never mind you crazy Carters!" It was this insanity that drew Quinn to Lou and George however; they were proud, fun individuals that truly brought the best out of Miss McAvoy. Their exchange at the side of the Quidditch Pitch was another invaluable example of how true this was; even in desperate times of woe and hopelessness, Lou could reel Quinn straight back into the realm of sarcasm, giggles and heart-to-hearts. In short, Gryffindor would've been an entirely different place for Quinn if the Carters had never barged their way into her Hogwartian journey.

Dominik Wiedman's name was met with hungry eyes and a lopsided tongue from Quinn, leaning on her chair as a mane of blonde hair slipped down her back. "Seriously, that man is god. I think it's the whole bad-boy thing he's got going on, the kind of guy who wouldn't be afraid to do anything..." As her rather sordid imagination began to fantasise over the Quidditch ace, Quinn shook herself out of it gradually, giving her companion another toothy grin. "Tell you what, for my birthday, smuggle him into my dorms," she tittered, crossing one leg over the other. "And make yourself scarce for the evening." Quinn winked, her left eye brimming with Cockney cheek and charm.

George's connections with all things magnificent (i.e: the world of Quidditch) was a magnetic force for Quinn, or at least she liked to blame the attraction upon these... connections he possessed. Gazing out onto the pitch, she scratched her head absent-mindedly, verbs, nouns and descriptives dancing off her tongue without thought. "We should hang out with George more often." Quinn's index finger found its way in between her teeth, and she bit down lightly at her own foolishness. This whole thing with Lou's brother-from-another-mother was childish, and meant nothing... but still, wasn't worth giving her best mate any inkling that she held such mild affections for a male member of her clan. No way could she handle another Flickwick incident, especially not with Lou. Now that would really would be the end of the world.

Lou looked down with a shrug, trying to keep her smile. “It’s not that, Quinn...” She wasn’t sure how to word it, really. Deep down, she thought she knew what might be driving her silly decisions, but she wasn’t bold enough to say. Not even the lion in Lou could roar that truth. She missed her dad; she was in a house full of women now, with no revenge of which to speak, and the longer the justice evaded them all, the more useless, helpless, and betrayed Lou felt. Not that it was her dad’s fault! He’d been brave, braver than any man she’d ever known. But having lost him at such a pivotal time in her life, being absolutely unable to do anything about it, she felt like an overgrown cub pacing its cage. What if she and Edmund had continued straight through school? What if Lou was finally let out of her cage, and things went terribly? She scared herself wondering what she might do, then.

Crazy Carters indeed.

She was glad to have someone else to talk about, one Dominik Wiedman. He was an easier target, if only because he was so far removed from their little world behind the castle walls. “I hear his sister is a potions maker, so maybe smuggling him will be manageable.” A dose of weak poison to knock him out for a few... Only a girl like Emmylou would seriously consider it. Even if she was joking. “But I see how it is,” she added, with a scoff. “Get the guy, get rid of the friend. So much for a thanks!”

In all actuality, if anything of the sort happened, Lou would flee the scene faster than a snitch. Only because she knew Quinn would tell her every detail while they feasted on birthday cake in the kitchens after curfew. Such was their friendship.

But...

“What?” She quirked a brow, her ice-hued eyes narrowing with perplexity. George was one of Lou’s best friend-- they’d grown up together, and at times they were the male and female mirror of one another, both in looks and spirit. But the expression on Quinn’s face... Her lips crumpling into a confused-but-not-confused-enough frown, she closed her mouth, swallowed, and opened it again. “If you knew how much time I spent with George every waking hour of every summer, you’d run in the other direction,” she laughed, trying to lighten the situation. Perhaps she was overreacting. But then, more soberly, more... unsure: “You don’t mean... Quinny, I love you, and I love that my brilliant sod of a cousin, too. You know that. But, he’s like... a brother.” She shivered, showing the awkwardness. “That...” It couldn’t happen. When your two best friends dated each other, where did that leave you? Besides, Lou had delighted in talking dirt about every one of George’s girls since they’d hit puberty. It was sort of a I-can-insult-him-but-you-can’t thing, a he’s-not-good-enough-for-you-but-I-won’t-let-him-know-it sourness toward every little sleaze in a skirt who had ever followed him around like a lost puppy. Underneath the tough exterior and sour comments, she knew she did it because she was protective of George and didn’t like seeing him settle. And settling for a friend... She pursed her lips and reached for a cake, hoping that might give her an easier bite to swallow. “He never lasts with any of his birds,” she explained, nearly cooing the word in mockery. She didn’t want to see that happen to Quinn, or to George. “And he’s a mess right now.” What sort of spot would that put her in, if they got into it and then rowed? Maybe Lou was being selfish. A sister and a mother before a friend. It was stupid. She bit into the cake and shook her head, swallowing the sugar hard. “Aaaah, I sound like a wench.”

Quinn couldn't help but laugh at the comments regarding Dominik Weidman, and took the hint that perhaps Edmund Klint was a little too fresh in Lou's mind to pursue. Knowing how much boys could hurt, Quinn was keen to progress the conversation in another direction. If that meant talking about the hottest bloke to ever grace Quidditch then the girl was more than happy to indulge. "Well, you could stay if you wanted," she giggled with a shrug, one leg crossing over the other, "but I doubt you'd be able to look me in the eye ever again!" It was yet another unbelievably crass statement from Quinn, but it was all in jest - she did retain some standards, and hooking up with guys in front of best friends was a little too feral, even for McAvoy.

The reaction on the whole George subject was a little less light-hearted, however. It was definitely not the reaction Quinn had banked on. The widened-eyes and high-speed reasoning on Lou's part screamed that the blonde had made another error on the boy front. It was true: family members were always going to be off-limits. Who said George was interested anyway? It was obvious that he was still torn about Waker, which was only confirmed by his cousin's explanation. Of course he was a mess. Despite disliking her immensely, it was undeniable that the Head Girl was unbelievably beautiful. Preened, polite and ever-so-perfect - Quinn could slap herself for even thinking she could contend with that.

"I never even meant it like that..." she lied, rolling her eyes and pretending to be so above a crush on George Carter. And Quinn was a terrible lair. "I just meant, he must still be in a real state about Waker, it'd be good for him to party out with the people who do it best." She flashed Lou a warm smirk, something a little more real. "Seriously, it's no big deal. I just -" Quinn broke off her sentence: what was the right answer? Could she even justify falling in lust for Lou's cousin? Apparently not. "I appreciate good genes!" Quinn sniggered once more, throwing an arm over her best friend's shoulder. It was no use - she would never be able to explain her choices of boy, so it was better to leave it at the door.

It'd all be a fleeting moment of a hormone-fuelled heartbreak: he'd be a thing of the past in a week's time. Wouldn't he?

"Well, you could stay if you wanted, but I doubt you'd be able to look me in the eye ever again!"

“You obviously underestimate Quinn!” Lou scoffed, slipping a dramatic hand over her head. She played her fingers, painted crimson with tiny lions heads roaring lazily. They were chipped in some places, with one lying missing an eye, another a great chunk of mane. “Roar, roar, Gryffindor.”

But some boys were easily to swallow. In Dominik Weidman’s case, some men. George, however... Lou’s cousin was more of a brother, and despite being a best friend with whom she’d grown, he was also someone whose love life Emmylou had frowned over, poked and prodded for years. It was easier to make fun of George than to watch him snog some girl, friend or foe. That was just too close for comfort.

Perhaps Lou had jumped the wand. She tended to do that, to open her big mouth and speak her mind without really considering things in perspective. It was the flip side to bravery. Brashness.

"I never even meant it like that..."

Lou winced, her lips twitching into a crooked frown, which then became a pensive expression. “I--” She started, but quieted to let Quinn finish. “Think George will do just fine where parties are concerned. But yeah, I guess we could push him in the right direction...” It had been too long since they’d tried to get themselves expelled. One for old time’s sake?

“Good genes,” she echoed, rolling her eyes. She couldn’t be mad! People often compared them, George and Lou, Lou and George. They had the same smile, nearly. But how it worked on girls and boys... Well, Lou would sooner not. She hugged Quinn back, eyes pleasantly sore as they studied the sunset. Rocking vaguely, like a comfy chair, she reached into her bag and pulled out a handful of wiggling gummy worms. Some were sour, others sweet. Lou tore off a head, and let it tickle its way down her throat. This was what the end of the day was supposed to feel like, sweet and sour and warm and heady.