Zel slowly walked into his dormitory—silently thinking about what exactly just happened. Did he just get a date to the Yule Ball, or was he just dreaming? Winifred had asked him to the ball, or rather, she had cleverly manipulated him into asking her, but he wasn’t really sure if that had happened or not. Zel didn’t feel particularly winsome, but maybe Winifred seemed to like the chronically-frightened type. Or maybe her perception of him was totally different  than his own self-perception, which was also worrying. Did she expect him to be a big, manly werewolf who’d kick people’s teeth in to protect her? He hoped not.

The prefect sat down on his bed carefully. Figaro was already in the room, and things between them had been polite ever since the burritoing in the bathroom incident. He stared at Figaro with large puppy-dog eyes.

“Figaro. punch me.” He said in all seriousness, but then he quickly added, “B-b-but not too hard! I just can’t t-tell if I’m dreaming or.. Or what.” Zel paused, and solemnly whispered, “I think I’m having a reality crisis. My life is too good right now.” Was that what it was? He supposed going to the ball with Winnie was a good thing. She had always seemed like a nice person who just had a lot of feelings to express. She also owned a cat, which was a plus-- Zel loved cats, and they usually didn't seem to mind that he was a werewolf. He wondered if going to the ball with Winnie meant that he had kitty cuddle privileges from Lord Fluffybutt.

Figaro was peeling off his shirt when Zel came in quietly - as he always did.  It was pretty late and Fig was getting ready to turn in.  That is, stay up reading by wandlight until he passed out in his Quidditch magazine.    He pretty much left Zel alone now, so everything was back to normal.  Back to not talking to each other very much at all.  It was nice.  Not that Figaro didn't like Zel, Figaro had just learned that Zel was a little bit crazy and knew how to use those long limbs.

So when Figaro and Zel made eye contact, Zel looking over at him from his bed with big, needy eyes, Figaro froze.  One arm in a sleeve and the other out.

"Figaro. Punch me."

Figaro stayed frozen until Zel stopped talking and then he put his white t-shirt back on, reversing the process he'd begun.  Then he said slowly.

"No, I think..."  Figaro had more or less ruined Zel Trumble's life two months ago and he'd been working very hard to make up for that.  And while that might mean doing Zel favors when he asked, it couldn't mean that punching him was okay in any situation. But it was confusing.  Because it would be a favor.

He sat down on his own bed.  (Crunch went a bag of crisps that must have been under the wadded up duvet.)  He kept his motions slow and his voice low, as if Zel could crack at any moment.  He chose his words carefully.

"You are... saying... crazy things..."

“No. I am not saying crazy things. Punch me. In the gut.” Zel motioned towards his stomach. “Please. I am having a reality crisis. Life is good. Life. Is. Good.” He began to pace across the room, back and forth. He had a date to the ball. People were no longer giving him strange looks in the hallway, and people had accepted the fact that he was a werewolf. He had Sophie and Raine as strong support, and Figaro was even someone that Zel was growing to be comfortable with, despite the fact that kid was such a blabbermouth.

“C’mon Fig! Punch me! I won’t wrap you up in blankets or anything, I swear!” He said earnestly, turning to face his housemate dramatically. He finally sighed and sat down next to him. “I have a date. I have a date to the ball. Punch me. This isn’t real.” It couldn’t be real. Zel didn’t consider himself to be winsome—he was tall, gangly, and pasty. He felt like he had a horrible case of llama-face, but Winifred didn’t seem to think so. She seemed to find him nice enough to go to a prestigious event with.

This was more than Zel had said to him all in a row in a month or more and now he was sitting next to him on his messy bed.  Figaro inched away a bit, away from the tall, pale, werewolf person who was still asking for punching. 

A faint smile flickered on Figaro's face.  "You have a date?" he echoed.  "You serious? Zel that's a good thing.  This is not an occasion for punching.  Or any other type of violence, for that matter.  This is normal.  Welcome to normal, Zelig.  Happy to educate you further, but lesson one - good things happen? Punching not required, alright?"

Figaro stood up, letting Zel have his bed for the moment.  Standing across the way from him, leaning on the bed post, Fig's smile came more easily now.  "So come on, who is it? Who'd you ask? Or did someone ask you?"

Fig had never seen Zel express any interest in anyone - boy or girl - so he really had no idea who to expect.

Weirdly enough, Figaro’s words had calmed the gentle giant. Normal. This was normal. Good things happen sometimes, and it doesn’t always mean bad things were to follow. Zel didn’t even consider that what he thought was good news, may have been [i[interesting[/i] news for Figaro. “I’m not sure if I asked her, or if she made me ask her.” Zel said quietly. But either way, she said yes. Winnie had been hinting at wanting a date so heavily that it would take more than Zel’s general obliviousness to overlook it. He took a deep breath. Now, he was glad that Figaro hadn’t punched him. Good things could happen and it didn’t mean that it was mandatory for someone to inflict pain to ensure that it wasn’t a dream.

“She’s in our house. It’s Winifred Oliver.” He shook his head, “I don’t know how to deal with this! What am I supposed to do at the ball? What do girls like?” He frowned, “I hope she doesn’t expect me to talk or anything.” Little did he know that all he had to do is stand there and listen to her babble on for her to be content. Zel wouldn’t mind talking to Winnie, but he wasn’t keen on the idea of being pressured to talk. It was part of why he was so quiet-- it wasn’t that he had nothing to say, it was because the pressure of people expecting him to speak was so nerve-wracking that he couldn’t get his words out.

Figaro's smile faltered.  Like how a moose falters whenst walking upon a frozen lake.  All knees and skidderly slipping.  A trainwreck.  Yes, Figaro's smile came to a slamming, shuddering stop and he was left blank-faced at this new detail.

"Winnie...?" he echoed as Zel began to express his many anxieties now that Good Thing had happened to him.  Not Winnie!  Figaro quickly began to take tally of whether or not he'd ruined Zel's life again by having accidentally turned Madam CrazyFace onto Zelig.[1]  Hadn't he specifically told her not to bother Zel?  But no - he had to stick to the party line.  This Was A Good Thing.

"No no no no no," he cooed as he came over to sit next to Zel, turning to him squarely.  "You gotta quit kind of thinking.  Just quit that.  There's no thing you have to do.  There's no secret to girls.  You've got to figure each of them out on their own."

And Dear Merlin Bones and Belfries.  Zel had to figure out Winnie.  Poor sod.

"So.  What do you know about her?"  Fig asked.

1.	Dec 5 Where Is She, Winnie?

Zel did not notice Figaro’s faltering smile. That was probably for the best. And the Hufflepuff had surprisingly good advice-- figure each of them out individually. That made sense. For example, Winnie was probably very, very different than Raine when it came to going to balls and spending time with members of the opposite gender.

So what did he know about Winnie?

He frowned.

“I know she’s a Hufflepuff.  She has an obese cat that wears sweaters. And that she’s loud and talks a lot. Kinda like you.” Zel’s eyes widened and he shifted away from Figaro. Oh god. Was he going to the ball with a female Figaro?! He imagined Figaro in a giant, turquoise puffy dress and heels, and it was uncomfortable. He had to find a difference between the two! He was sure there were many! Figaro didn’t have an overweight cat, that was one!

"“Um. Figaro. Do you... Read romance novels?"

Zel was looking at him strangely and for a moment he feared the 6 and a half foot tall werewolf was going to burrito him again.

"Romance novels?[1] Ew! No!" Figaro in turn held himself back from Zel.  But he did remember Winnie mentioning those.  Right.  She liked that kind of romantic crap.  He furrowed his brow.

"I dunno.  Maybe get her a present.  Like something nice.  But not, like, a friend present - a girlfriend kind of present.  Flowers or something." 

It felt well bizarre to suggest it, but it's what Winnie had said he should do for Sophie.  So maybe that's what Figaro would want her date to do as well.

"And tell her you like her clothes.  And hair.   Are you going to kiss her?"  he asked suddenly.  It just occurred to him.  Winnie was only in fourth year and Zelig was nine feet tall. Something about it seemed... unnatural. 

1.	"That sounds like torture.  I'm not going to bloody act out some ... mushy sex novel!  We're not like that." -- here

His relief over Figaro not being a romance-novel enthusiast didn’t last for long. Presents were easy, but now he was asking if he intended to kiss her! Oh god. What? Kiss her?! Zel wasn’t ready for that, he hardly knew the girl! Hell, he had just been panicking because he somehow got the notion in his head (even for a second!) that Winnie might have been a female Figaro. It was irrational, Zel knew, but he also felt like it was a sign that he was simply not a rational enough person to engage in kissing. And she was a younger year! It would be inappropriate. he didn’t want people to think he was some sort of lecherous creep!

“B-bu-sppppft.” Zel sputtered, “Kiss her? I don’t know!” He threw his hands up in defeat. “She doesn’t expect me to kiss her, does she?” They weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend, just two people going to the ball together. Winnie seemed like a great, sweet person and all, but in no way did Zel feel like he knew her well enough to be romantically involved.  “I can get her a present and compliment her hair, but-but... Kissing her? She’s so short and I’m... Not! I could squish her and kill her and-- I’m not a pervert!”

Merlin's bones, is that what spontaneous combustion looked like?  Zel was mortified and Figaro had to choke back a laugh.  Poor Zel Trumble and his millions of troubles.  But he had to reassure him.

"I shouldn't have said that! Of course you're not a pervert.  You're not.  Just don't.  Unless she does, in which case - don't either.  I shouldn't have said.  No kissing is better.  Yea, way better.  But don't worry man," he paused long enough to clap him on the back.  "It's just Winnie.  She's a weirdo.  You're a weirdo.  It's meant to be."

He shouldn't have said that either. 

"No! It'll be fine. It's just the Yule Ball.  Yea, give her a present, say her hair looks good, and don't kiss her.  Easy.  It'll be fun.  And me and Sophie'll be there too.  So, it'll be just like old.  All four of hanging out like we... always...do."

Never, in Figaro's recollection had any three of the four of them done anything resembling hanging out.  Advice is hard, damnit.

He was a weirdo. She was a weirdo. They were meant to be. That was comforting. Wait. No. No it wasn’t! “Meant to be?!” Zel sputtered,. but Figaro backtracked and Zel relaxed. Okay. Good. They weren't meant to be! Not that it would have been a problem, but Zel felt like he was too young to worry about whether or not he was meant to be in a relationship with someone. They weren’t even in a relationship! They just were Yule Ball dates. You didn’t have to be someone's boyfriend to go to the Yule Ball, right?

“I’ll get her a bracelet or something?” What did Winnie even like? he might just get her one of those flower bracelet things to match her dress. It was yellow, if he remembered correctly. “And...” he smiled weakly, “I will try not to kiss her.” As if that would be hard. Zel had difficulties when it came to displaying affection, especially to girls!

And they could hang out with him and Sophie. That was great! Except... Figaro seemed to think they had all hung out together before. “Are you feeling alright, Fig?” Zel asked cautiously, “Because I don’t remember us ever spending time together, the four of us.”

Damn it, Zel, and his need to say accurate things.  Figaro got up and waved his hand, as if to vanish the whole awkward situation to some hidden place.  "Fantastic.  Just - don't worry about it."

He crossed his arms like some leader of men standing before his comrades.  "Look.  It's just a date to the ball.  Bracelet or flowers. Be nice.  And compliment what she's wearing.  It's a fool-proof potion for success.  And honestly, Winnie is sort of hilarious, so it should be fun."

Figaro shrugged.  He could think of worse dates, easily. How much worse would it have been for Zel to be scrambling for a date at the last minute? It sucked not finding a date.  Sure, Figaro had gone stag to Hogwarts school dances loads of times and he'd had a blast with his mates, but dates were way better.

"I'm telling you, it isn't hard.  This is among the best possible scenarios."