5 December 2009
Saturday
3:15pm

The enchanted cieling of the Great Hall showed a grey sky with whorling, whirling clouds.  Just looking at them could give one a chill, but the Great Hall was warmly heated with fires in the boar-borne braziers and candles on the long tables.  Figaro paused in the doorway and searched for the familiar brunnette head of his significant other, the fury to his sound, the sturm to his drang.  Where was Sophie?  Damn.

Not spotting her, he made his way in anyway, honing in on the next best thing.  Winifred the Weird of Hufflepuff was one of Sophie's girlfriends and if Figaro couldn't find Sophie, then maybe Winnie could.

He was almost to the table where she sat when he stopped.  "Oh hell, what is that?"  He sidled up next to her, horning into what she was doing with his elbows on the table.  Fig and Winnie didn't hang out as much as one might think considering they were often compared to each other.  Figaro didn't make a habit of being chummy with the younger kids (not until recently) and being Sophie's close ally, it seemed dangerous. 

Winifred had all of Lord Fluffybutt's clothes spread out across the Hufflepuff table in the great hall. Her cat- who was growing ever fatter- had out grown all of the outfits she had bought him. Winifred was currently trying to enlarge them. She had practiced the spell enough to feel safe doing it. Funny how far her wand work had come since the beginning of the school year.

She looked up when she heard Figaro's voice, and offered him a smile. "It's Lord Fluffybutt's wardrobe," Winnie explained to Figaro. "He's gotten to fat for them all, so I'm enlarging them. That way they still fit." She held up his little cat tuxedo. "I got this for his wedding with Duchess." Duchess being her friend Imogen's cat.

"What are you doing in here?" Winnie asked. "It's not dinner time yet." She prodded the tuxedo with her wand, but instead of the whole outfit enlarging- only the little cat bow-tie did.

Figaro just gaped with awe and a strange sense of admiration for such a bizarre afternoon craft activity.  He'd seen that cat around Hufflepuff and he was sizable - but he hadn't seen his wardrobe.  He touched what looked like a sailor's outfit and looked over at Winnie again. 

"I was looking for Sophie," he answered quickly to get that out of the way, but then pressed to more important issues. 
"But can I say again - what?"

He held up the sailor shirt with the blue and white tied scarf collar and leaned around to get in her eyeline.  He held up the outfit like it was damning evidence of her break with reality, but the grin on his face told the tale: he was entertained.

"Sophie's not here," Winifred told him. Duh. IF she had been in the Great Hall, Figaro likely would have noticed her by now. So would Winnie. And she would have tried to weasel Sophie into helping her with this task before she ruined half of Fluffybutt's wardrobe. She'd been doing an alright job of it so far, though. She looked at the sailor shirt that Figaro held up, and grinned. "That's one of my favorites!" she said to Figaro. "My Aunt Leola bought that for Fluffybutt over the summer. She said it made him look dapper." Whatever that had meant.

She prodded the tuxedo with her wand again, doing her best to ignore Figaro and focus on the task at hand. But her concentration was broken, and doing magic in front of people was exponentially harder. The bow-tie just continued to grow bigger while the rest of the tuxedo remained the same size. She groaned a little, and shifted her annoyed gaze to Figaro.

"Are you going to help me or just make fun of my cat's clothes?" she asked. "Because now that you're here I can't seem to make this thing enlarge properly. And I really wanted to get it finished by dinner. That way I can take them all back to the common room and try them on Fluffy to make sure they fit right." Winifred picked up a particularly hideous sweater and showed it to Figaro. "This one fits him with a little room to spare, so I'm trying to make everything about that size." The few outfits she had already finished were actually about right.

Who was this witch?  To be honest, Figaro had mostly ignored the younger years except to say something insensitive, and so he'd never had the opportunity to appreciate the wonder that was Winifred Oliver. She was still on about the cat clothes and he found he couldn't look away.  It was like a bizarre mid-air broom marathon collision.  You had to watch.

And now she was insisting he help her. 

"Course not!" he said with good-natured disgust, and gingerly set down the feline naval uniform.  "You're on your own, Madam Meowkin.  I'm barmy but not so much as this..."  He looked over his shoulder.  Was anyone audience to this?

He laughed to himself and shook his head.  "So where's Sophie?  I have to get this Yule Ball thing figured out."

Figaro was kind of hot stuff these days.  Being a Champion of Hogwarts and all.  And he was also doing his best to be a proper boyfriend and the Yule Ball was a big part of that.  Nice clothes, proper invitations, dancing, flowers, combed hair, etc. 

Winnie frowned a little. She had hoped Figaro might be convinced to help her. Oh well. She could probably get Cy or Juni to help out. They might make fun of her, but they could likely be persuaded to put their wands to use. "Just cause you can't do it," Winnie grunted. She picked up the naval uniform Figaro had put down. She gathered up the un-enlarged clothing, and that which she had finished, and stowed it away. If Fig was going to make fun of her, she'd just do it later in the privacy of her own home.

"I don't know where Sophie is," she said. "Why should I know? We're just friends. You're her boyfriend. A good boyfriend always knows where his girlfriend is located. That way if she is in dire need of him, he can come swiftly to her aid. That's how it always happens in romance novels. The girl is in trouble... Like an acromantula is about to snack on her, and then he swoops in wand blazing to save her life and then..." Winifred paused, and blushed. That kind of scene usually ended in the two making love. But she couldn't talk to Figaro about that it would be awkward. "Then good things happen," she finished.

"So I guess if you can't find her, then that means you must be a bad boyfriend. Especially if you haven't already asked her to the Yule Ball. Since you're a champion it's super important that you go with her," Winnie stated. "Because even though there will be lots of girls chasing you, then you can't let them. You have to be like 'I have a girlfriend'. And stuff." Winnie nodded. Clearly she was the relationship master. "And if you break Sophie's heart, then I'll be very cross with you."

"Calm down," he said good-naturedly as she put her cat clothing away in a little huff.  He hadn't meant to hurt her feelings.  But Winnie wasn't done.  As Figaro arranged himself on the bench so that he was leaning back against the table, his legs out into the aisle, Winnie started in about him being a bad boyfriend and a crazy narrative about rescuing Sophie from Acromantulas...

Figaro wouldn't admit that he was kind of worried about all that.  Not the Acromantula so much, but that his efforts to woo Sophie properly were falling short.  But he wasn't really sure how to go about it.  And here was Winnie laying in about it.  Ugh.  But Figaro didn't get up to leave.  Instead he seemed to have more or less settled in at Hufflepuff Table.

But something she's said he immediately had to contradict.  "What are you talking about, girls don't chase me," he told her with a Dennis Creevey half-smile.   Figaro's reputation as Hogwarts' annoying middle child wasn't a secret, and certainly he wasn't some Fayette Adonis.  Sophie was only his second real girlfriend, after Kari Strong. 

"I am calm," Winnie said to Figaro. And she was- for the most part. Winnie just tended to have her emotions in extremes. Most people were used to that by now. Figaro would be used to it if he was in her year or had spent any time around her. But he didn't say anything else, and Winnie let it go. She could worry about the cat stuff later.

She scrunched up her nose when he proclaimed girls didn't chase him. "Of course they don't right now. You're Sophie's boyfriend! But if you don't ask her to the dance then that means you want to break up with her. And if you two break up or if girls think you are going to break up, then they will flock to you. That way they can be there when you need a new girl." It all made sense to Winifred.

"You're a Champion now, Figaro! That makes everything different," she nodded- quite serious in her statement. "That automatically makes you the guy that girls want to go out with. Or at least go to the dance with. I hear people chattering a lot about wanting to be seen at the ball with a champion." Winnie wouldn't mind that herself. But there weren't any champions Winnie found to be particularly attractive.

"Besides, most boys are oblivious to girls flirting with them." At least in her experience. "So they probably chase you and you don't even know it."

Figaro watched in genuine interest as the animated, dimple-cheeked Winifred Oliver told him all about his appeal and responsibilities and she did it with convincing fervor.  Most of it was new information for Fig.  The Ball was in two weeks, and he hadn't noticed this frenzy that was apparently going on, where those lucky enough to have been chosen by the Goblet of Fire to represent their school in the Tournament were being sought after.  Yearned for.  Swooned over. 

"Really?" he asked the younger girl, skeptically.  He hadn't been dating Sophie for that long, and he had never felt like they were flocking to him now or ever.   He seemed to recall more than one occasion of shrieking at his shocking nudity and going to the dances with a small herd of other boys... He wasn't going to get all weepy about it, though.  It wasn't that big a deal.  He was with Sophie. 

He grinned and shrugged.

"Don't worry - I'm going to ask her.  I just have to do it right.  I'll figure something out.  Ah damn!  I'll bet she's in Hogsmeade...!"  he straightened up at the sudden brainwave.  It was Hogsmeade Weekend and that's where a bunch of people probably were this afternoon.  He'd gone yesterday and spent all his money on food.  He sat back, having no plans to race out into the cold to chance that she'd be in the nearby village. 

But unable to get Winnie's strange evaluation of his desirability out of his head he looked over at her. 

"You honestly think there are girls - at Hogwarts - who are chasing me?  Like who? Name one," he prodded, fully expecting her to be full of it, but half curious if he was some kind of undiscovered man resource.

Winifred blushed when Figaro told her to name a single girl who was chasing him. "I can't name names!" she insisted. "Cause that would be super duper rude of me. Girls tell each other stuff like that in confidence. But there have been lots of girls giggling about you!" Not entirely true. But since Winnie had always thought Figaro was kind of cute, and if he was dating Sophie had to be a good guy, she assumed all the other girls thought the same kind of thing about him.

"There is a fifth year girl my brother likes. And he told me that she's got a huge crush on you and that when he helps her study she talks about it a lot." That part was true, though. "He says it bums him out." He'd also said some not very nice things about Figaro... Winnie wasn't going to repeat them.

She fluffed out her skirt a little and leaned forward. "You are a cute guy. But I'm not one to ask. I think lots of boys are cute." Yup, Winnie was boy crazy.

"So how are you going to ask her?" Winifred prodded. "Is it going to be ROMANTIC? I happen to know quite a bit about romance if you need any help with it. I read lots of romance novels. And girls always wish that kind of stuff was actually true. You just gotta say really romantic stuff and compliment her a lot. And buy her a present."

Figaro was laughing as soon as the look of shock came over Winnie's face.  "I knew it!" he blurted when she said she couldn't name names.

"Right, sure," he said, not believing her about all the girls giggling about him in the ladies' room.  Why didn't people just say what was on their mind instead of keeping it some secret social world he had to figure out.  You needed a Seer to rifle through all the innuendo and secret glances.

Even though he'd looked away to gaze around the room, he snapped his eyes back when the fourteen-year-old said he was cute.  He didn't know how to feel about that.  The distance between fourth and sixth year was a chasm.  At least Winnie said what she was thinking... he looked away again and took a deep breath.

She had opinions about how he should ask Sophie.  Of course she did.  He made a face.  "That sounds like torture.  I'm not going to bloody act out some ... mushy sex novel!  We're not like that."

Then he frowned.  "Wait, is she like that?  Did she tell you that's what she wants?"

Fig thought Sophie was great.  He loved that she was bold and opinionated and the clothes she wore were so...her.  He liked that she was different.  But all that romance novel stuff - that seemed... weird.

"It's not a sex novel, Figaro," Winifred chided. "It's a romance novel. They aren't all about doing that." That happened in a lot of them, but most of the novels her aunt sent her weren't graphic. More the fade to black kind of stuff. She was only fifteen after all.

Winifred sighed dramatically when Figaro asked if Sophie told her that was what she wanted. "Sophie and I don't talk very much about you," she stated. "But all girls like to be wooed. Do you know how to woo a lady?" Winnie asked. "Or did you just get Sophie from dumb luck?" Probably the latter. Winnie liked Fig well enough, but she didn't understand how he'd ended up with Sophie. Sophie was the sort of girl who dated handsome seventh year boys like the Fayettes had been.

"You don't have to drag her to Madame Pudifoots or anything! You could just take her to the Three Broomsticks, buy her some flowers, and ask her like that. Little things, you know, make a girl feel really special! You don't have to do stuff that makes you feel weird if you don't want to. You don't gotta be mushy."

Figaro crossed his arms, in exaggerated defensiveness when Winnie said he'd only gotten with Sophie because of luck.  As if she knew anything about mature, adult relationships like he had with the lovely Miss Flickwick, but he opted to let her think whatever she wanted.

But he shrugged with acceptance at her suggestion about Broomsticks and flowers.  That sounded pretty painless.  Maybe he could.  Maybe Winnie had the right idea after all. 

But then - "And what about you, Winifred Oliver - who are you going with?"  He elbowed her and raised his eyebrows suggestively.  Anything to try and get her to blush again.  Winnie was pretty enough, although she didn't dress it up like a lot of other girls at Hogwarts. 

"That derpy Gryffindor - what's his name? You going with him?"  He elbowed her again. 

Winifred did blush again, when he elbowed- asking about Ambrose. "I am most certainly not going to the ball with Ambrose!" she protested. "And he isn't derpy. It's not nice to call him that! Ambrose is my best friend. If anybody at Hogwarts is derpy, it's you Figaro! But I don't like him in that way. Besides, I'm fifteen and a half. He's too young for me. I should be going with older boys."

"You know last year Dax Fayette told me I was cute for a third year and he kissed me." On the cheek, but whatever- it counted. "And boys my age aren't good kissers. I've kissed a couple and both times it was awful." Of course, she had practiced on Ambrose and it had been awkward. When Winnie had kissed Blake, she'd caught him totally off guard. "Older boys are much better." At least, she assumed they were. Winifred hadn't properly kissed anyone older than her.

"I'd rather go to the ball alone than go with another fourth year. Unless it was a foreign fourth year who asked me. A cute boy from Salem or something." She really liked the appeal of the American boys. It was a shame she didn't have a chance to get to know very many of them. "Some of the Beauxbatons guys are really good looking, too. But they're like super fancy. And I'm lots of awesome things- but definitely not fancy."

Ambrose, right. 

"Don't go alone, loser," he said, barely able to get a word in.  She was rambling about kissing Dax - gross, by the way - and about older boys and the sexy Beauxbatons lads and Merlin.  She talked nearly as much as Sophie.  Not that he wasn't also a verbose young gentlewizard, but c'mon!

"I've been to plenty of dances on my own, so believe you me, Miss Oliver," he elucidated with more class in his voice than the content of his words might warrant.  "I can tell you, it's way more worthwhile when one is not pathetically going stag."  He could say such things, now that he was with Sophie.  Had he himself been single, he might have sung a different tune.  About independence and tomfoolery.

"So just suck it up and go with der- Ambrose.  Or someone.  You'll have fun."  Fig almost sounded encouraging. 

He stuck his thumb in his mouth and bit off little bit of his thumbnail that was ragged, then he glanced back at Winnie and nodded with sage, sixth-year wisdom.