Talking with Neely was to be done with a grain of salt. In the sense that you had to really look through what she said and find the truth. Still… she was interesting to listen to, fun to talk with, and a riot to wind up. So when he questioned her about her little nervous boyfriend, Sasha, it had been with enjoyment he’d seen her feather get ruffled, so to speak. And it quickly came to his attention that maybe though he joked about it, maybe Neely actually had been with the little guy.

And since he had yet to wear a dress or heels for her… he figured he could go and talk to Stuttering Sasha. He recalled the little guy from Divinations. George had sent a younger student to fetch the Ravenclaw, to draw him closer to where George rested, leaned up against the castle wall outside the girls’ lavatory. If Neely liked him enough to act petty and immature, well… George could a bit of his precious time and help the boy out.

He told Waker he’d catch up for a study session later, and he intended to make well on that. Smirking to himself, he glanced down at his sweater, dusting off some random fuzz, blowing it away. She had done a good job of increasing his ego... He nodded to a couple guys passing by, but didn’t head off to hang out or joke around. He was on a mission, for poor, defenseless shoe hoarding Neely. A chuckle escaped him, and he pulled the worn down quill from behind his ear, chewing on the tip for something to do.

Then he saw the blonde haired boy genius. Rolling his eyes, he finally slid the quill back behind his ear, pushing off the wall into his way. “Hey, you’re Sasha right?” Not really waiting for a response, he took the boy’s arm and tugged him into the girls’ lavatory. He winked at a couple second year girls who were giggling until they saw them—a surprised yelp escaped one as they scrambled from the sinks. “Perfect…” Finally letting the boy go, he leaned against the sink, motioning to one nearby.

Screwing up his face a little, George shook his head. Her taste was different... “So you’re the frustrating and eye catching boy…” Neely had an interesting way with words.

The second year hadn't given any concrete details but had made it very clear whatever was happening on the fourth floor was a prefect issue.  Hopefully, whatever it was didn't involve the classroom they'd been using for the Muggle Appreciation Club - or the library.  Even if that second location had dropped a few notches on Sasha's list of destinations of choices on account of the new librarian. 

Despite the lack of details, Sasha didn't hesitate to hurry down from the Ravenclaw tower to investigate.  If he didn't, he was sure Headmistress Snark would accuse him, again, of shirking his duties.  Somehow, being in the wrong place at the wrong time seemed to be his plague when it came to Snark. 

He didn't give much thought to the various students he passed in the hall.  All of them appeared to be in various stages of casual studying or conversation - nothing that warranted his attention.  In fact, nothing seemed especially noteworthy until he heard someone call out his name.  "I ... yeah.  I'm Sa-  Hey!"  Sasha had barely turned towards the oncoming student, let along, gotten the rest of his answer out before the student had grasped his arm and dragged across the hall. 

There wasn't time to give much thought to where he was or where the older student might be dragging him to.  Sasha cringed and closed his eyes, his first and only thought was this was some older Slytherin dragging him off to some empty classroom to explain (with fists or, more likely, hexes more than words) how much he disapproved of something about Sasha. 

He heard the creak and fwoosh of a door swinging up in front of them and shut behind them.  Which was strange.  Most classroom doors didn't swing.  Only ... oh ... oh no.  Oh, Merlin, no.  Sasha froze, stiffening under the older kid's grasp, his stomach plummeting.  A toilet flushed - the gurgling loud enough to confirm Sasha's fear.  But - he hadn't been anywhere near the boy's bathroom....

"Was zum teufel!"  Sasha called out, an edge of panic clear in his voice.  Simultaneously, Sasha's eyes flew open and he pushed out with both arms, shoving himself away from whoever had a hold of him with all his strength.  He scurried back, only pausing to take count of where he was and who was with, when he'd backed into one of the stall doors, well out of arm's reach. 

"I'm ... I'm what?"  He asked, his voice heavy with confusion, between heavy breaths.  "I ... I'm not..."  But, it was George Carter, not some bored Slytherin that leaned against a sink.  He'd never had troubles with the Gryffindor before - though he'd always questioned the older students academic dedication (or obvious lack there of).  But, perhaps, Sasha had managed to do something to offend even him.  But, it  also wasn't the boy's bathroom he'd been dragged into.  "What's ... what's going on?"  Sasha asked, suspiciously, looking around the room, blanching as the second years scurried out of the room.  "I ... I'm not ... homework," he muttered, edging towards the door, keeping a weary eye on George.

It was cute, in a girly way, how Sasha stumbled over his words. George merely rolled his eyes at the boy’s surprise while tugging him into the lavatory. It was silly the way the younger boy was acting, really. George would have gone with it, but the boy was putting up a bit of a struggle. Perhaps George would have resisted being suddenly tugged into somewhere unknown, though. Depended on who it was, really… And after glancing back and seeing the younger man with his eyes shut tight… George merely rolled his eyes.

Hearing something odd, some other language, George grimaced. He allowed the boy to push away, smirking a little while watching him nearly stumble into the stall. Putting his hands up, he raised an eyebrow. “Calm down there, killer.”

“I’m … I’m what?”

Rolling his eyes, George shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest, easily crossing his legs at the ankles. It was a comfortable stance, now in the lavatory. “Don’t make me repeat it, please.” Neely was such a girl. He was surprised he’d even repeated that much. Sasha had worked himself into quite a frenzy, hadn’t he? A half grin came to his lips as he rubbed his chin; interesting, the type of guy Neely went after. A girly guy for a girly girl?

“I … I’m not…”

George shrugged at that. “I don’t think you’re particularly eye-catching, Sasha. Don’t worry.” The girl who had flushed the loo peaked her head out, obviously worried by the noise of boys voices in an area that she wasn’t used to hearing the deeper noise. George waved at her, giving her a friendly wink as her eyes widened. She scurried to the sinks, quickly washing her hands before running past both, something under her breath about troublesome boys and something about privacy.

“What’s … what’s going on?”

Frowning just slightly, George glanced around the quickly emptying girl’s lavatory, finally settling on Sasha once again. “A friendly chat.” Certainly he didn’t think George would do anything to him? He was known to get a little rough on the field, perhaps, but other than playful messing around, he didn’t have a reputation for bullying. And he wasn’t about to start now that he was almost out. It didn’t make sense.

“I … I’m not … homework.”

His eyebrow rose higher in disbelief before he motioned for the boy to come back. “I didn’t just drag you in here so you could leave again. Coursework can wait.” If Sasha made him get off his comfortable spot of leaning on the sink… a head dip in the toilet was going to be the least of his worries. “You seem a bit green when it comes to girls, buttercup. What’s with you and Neely?” He could act like the protective big brother now.

Pressing his back against the stall door behind him, Sasha's breaths came shallow and fast, his eyes wide in a full defensive panic.  His eyes darted to the side and back as a toilet flushed.  This was his worst nightmare come true - caught, dragged and cornered in the girl's bathroom.  It was only as his panic started to settle that Sasha registered it usually wasn't the school's prime underachiever who usually committed the offense in his nightmares.  Nor was the person telling him to calm down or, more importantly, calling him killer. 

George was relaxing along the opposite side of the lavatory - his face held none of the agitated glee that bullies usually wore.  Using sheer will, Sasha forced his lips to part and his chest to expand, taking a deep, full, calming breath.  Or as calming a breath as he could manage - how calm did one expect him to get in the girl's lavatory?

"I'm ... I'm sorry," he offered the miffed girl as she muttered past them.  Okay - even he was questioning why, exactly, he was apologizing.  Being here wasn't his idea and had hardly been his choice.  He was as much a victim as that girl was.  In some ways, he was even more so!  At least she had the luxury of being in her own officially designated facilities.  George certainly hadn't offered Sasha a choice as to which loo to get dragged into. 

"We're ... we're not supposed to be, you know, in here."  It hardly seemed he was in much of a position to do the 'prefect-ly' thing, but he felt obligated to try.  Which brought up an important question.  "If you aren't going to ... why - why are we here?  Maybe for you"  Sasha said under his breath.  Perhaps, if George concluded coursework could wait a little less, he'd have finished Hogwarts by now.  But, here in the girl's loo, Sasha wasn't about to say that that loud.  Despite his protesting, Sasha settled back against the wall without any further fuss.  He didn't hold it against George to just drag him back in here.   

“A friendly chat.”

Sasha's eyes slid slowly, but pointedly, around the lavatory.  "Isn't that ... what the Great Hall is for?"  He asked, feeling utterly foolish.  Why was he even having to point that out?  Did he really have to explain that to George? 

"I ... Neely ... what?  You know about ... How?"  That's ... that's why they were here?  Sasha's eyes grew round, again.  Was this one of those male custody competitions or something like those scenes in those bad high school dramas?  Was George about to tell Sasha to keep his distance if he knew what was good for him?  If that was the case, George had chosen an effective place to intimidate Sasha into submission.  "I - I don't know," he admitted before quickly adding, "she isn't talking to me.  She broke ... I mean, I didn't even know we were ... you know.  I thought it was just all a joke, you know?" 

Hopefully, George would know.  Sasha didn't have a clue.

It was kind of… girly cute in a way, he supposed, the way Sasha apologized to the young girl as if there was something wrong. It wasn’t as if the two boys were in the stalls with the girls! Then, perhaps, they might have something to be sorry for. It was nicer than the guys bathroom, though. At least, for the most part. He wasn’t going to test the stalls or anything, just where he rested his bum on the sink corner.

“We’re … we’re not supposed to be, you know, in here.”

Giving Sasha a look that plainly said ‘do you think I’m stupid,’ George let out a slow breath before rubbing his eyes. This might cause him a headache, or he might find it hilarious. Or it might do both. Either way… He finally let his hand fall down to his chin, watching the boy carefully. “It’s a moral problem, not necessarily a law per say.” Or at least that was his excuse if caught. Sure, boys weren’t supposed to be in the girls’ lavatory, but if they weren’t allowed, wouldn’t there be a charm preventing their entry? Like the ones they tried to put on the girls’ side of the dorms.

He could be critical about certain things. When it came to girls, George happened to be quite a knowledgeable bloke. And something of a rule breaker; therefore, he had to think quick on his feet in certain situations. Caring for Magical Creatures—who cared? He could work his way out of trouble in odd situations that others would be flabbergasted—point A was standing in front of him. And he let him bumble on, considering what else he was going to talk to the boy about. Luckily, he finally stopped arguing and gave in.

It was easier that way, wasn’t it?

“Isn’t that … what the Great Hall is for?”

Making a face, he quickly shook his head. “Merlin’s beard, no.” There were ‘friendly’ chats, and there were friendly guy chats. And all sorts of other ‘friendly chats’ that he would never have in the Great Hall for fear of being overheard by others. For example, he really wouldn’t want Sasha to hear him having a ‘friendly chat’ with Waker in the stacks of the library. “The Great Hall is great for conversations that don’t matter.”

“I … Neely … what? You know about … How?”

If he wasn’t trying to be serious, George might have laughed in poor Sasha’s face. How did he know that Sasha was terrible with girls? Did it take anything more than owning a pair of eyes and ears to know any different? He could practically palpate the fear coming off the kid whenever an uncomfortable conversation topic came up, and from personal experience, George knew ‘girls’ were quite an unfamiliar topic to a younger man.

“I – I don’t know… she isn’t talking to me. She broke … I mean, I didn’t even know we were … you know. I thought it was just all a joke, you know?”

His eyes narrowed slightly, and his slightly protective bristle came out as he leaned forward. “A joke?” Then he reminded himself of how many ‘jokes’ he’d had over the years, and took a slow breath through his nose, watching the kid a moment before crossing his arms over his chest. “Girls are fickle creatures.” That wasn’t going to help George—he was crap when it came to creatures. Frowning slightly, he tapped his fingers against his arm and considered a moment. “Whenever you think you’re not, you probably are.”

Finally he grinned. “Do you like her?”

Moral dilemma or legal violation - there really didn't seem to be that big of a distinction in Sasha's mind.  It seemed fairly straightforward.  Either they were supposed to be here or they weren't - what declared the rules as such were, really, irrelevant.  "I ... but," he started, though he quickly thought better of pursuing that point and forced his mouth shut. 

And ... this conversation matters?"  Sasha asked, tentatively, though given their current location that was the logical conclusion.  At least from the Gryffindor's perspective. 

It was clear Sasha had said the wrong thing.  Not intentionally - but, that was getting to be a trend, wasn't it?  He had a knack for saying the wrong thing, it seemed.  "I'm sorry," he said, quietly, shaking his head.  He hadn't meant any offense.  "I didn't mean that -"   Sasha's defense was cut off as the door to the lavatory swung open.  To Sasha's horror, one of his fellow fifth years stepped through the door. 

"What?  Can't you use your own?" the girl quipped at them before ducking into one of the stalls. 

His face a brilliant red, Sasha stared at the closed stall door before realization dawned on him.  His eyes widened and he darted forward, turning on the faucet in the sink next to where George was propped.  As he twisted both faucets open fully, he heard the older boy ask a rather prudent question. 

“Do you like her?”

Sasha hesitated, watching the water bubble turbulently in the sink bowl.  It sounded like such a simple question, it seemed like it begged a simple answer.  But, it wasn't.  "I don't know," he admitted, honestly. 

“And … this conversation matters?”

Raising an eyebrow at that, George took a slow breath and let it out in a slight sigh. He really didn’t have to waste his time on this pitiful excuse for a growing boy if it didn’t matter. Certainly not risk a scolding if they were caught for any other reason than to have a conversation that had some meaning to it. If trips to the girl’s loo was anything less than important conversation, then it wouldn’t have such a taboo light on it, right?

Not that they were going to go into that again. Morals versus Rules, and all that. No, much better to give him a look and sigh than anything. “Yes.” One day maybe the boy would appreciate what George was doing. Obviously he wasn’t going to start kissing his feet today, but… given time, he’d realize that George at least knew what he was talking about when it came to females. Or he was just really good at BSing his way through them.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean that –”

George smirked as another girl came in. Hearing her question, George shrugged. “It’s not as comfortable. You ever been to the boy’s loo?” Shaking his head, he sighed and glanced back to Sasha. There wouldn’t be privacy in there either. Girls were known to gossip, sure, but boys were known to not leave you alone when you got down to talking about girls. Vicious cycle, really. Jumping slightly as the boy darted to him, George got out of the way of the splashing water, giving him a nasty grimace before smoothing his features over.

“I don’t know.”

Sighing at that, George glanced down at his feet, crossing them over each other once again. It was normal not to be sure of ones feelings… to a degree. “Well. She likes you.” Classic flirting, really. And the way she was so angry at him… or at least that was how George took her mini temper tantrum. “How do you not know? Does she give you a reason to tap the wand?” Not that he cared so much for all the details, just that if he thought of her in that way, then he at least liked her physically. “Or is it her constant babbling that gets on your nerves?”

Neely had a way with talking over and over again... about the same thing... and making absolutely no headway with George, at least. He understood enough about fashion to wear something good. She understood more about fashion than he would care to grasp. Scratching the back of his head, feeling the scars there, he pursed his lips a little to the side. They were in the girl's loo, so if he got a little... unmanly about it, no one would be the wiser. And he didn't think Sasha was silly enough to go sprouting off about what he said. "You do realize she's flirting with you, don't you mate?"

"Umm, of course not," the girl rebuked with a snide sneer before banging her way into the bathroom stall.  She, clearly, hadn't found George's answer that amusing.  "We have separate loos for a reason." 

Sasha was tempted to apologize again but refrained.  He still had no clue why this meeting (if that's what it was) was so important but he was getting the feeling that George was expecting him to show some appreciation.  Given the circumstances and location, Sasha wasn't quite feeling that generous, yet, but he was, at least, willing to try to avoid annoying the older boy.  As daunting and nearly impossible as that task might be.  There were a myriad of follow up questions in his head.  Why was this important?  What made it important?  Weren't there other private, non-toilet based places to meet?  But, remarkably, rather than posing the questions, Sasha managed to just offer a quiet, capitulating, "Ok." 

The water in the sink was running; Sasha was in a lavatory.  If, for no other reason than the gesture was the only reasonable and familiar thing at the moment, Sasha stuck his hands under the water and washed them.  Habitually, he shut the water off but, immediately, discovered he'd shut it off too early and quickly turned it back on. 

“Well. She likes you.

"She - she does?"  Sasha froze, the water dripping from his hands onto his shoes as he stared at George.  "You mean, like ... more than tutor or friend or ... like like?  Neely.  Cornelia Woolfolk."  Pureblood, wealthy, popular, confident Slytherin Neely.  The girl that almost everyone knew - whether they liked her or not.  "But ... I'm - I'm just Sasha; she barely knew I existed until ... last spring." 

How do you not know? Does she give you a reason to tap the wand?  Or is it her constant babbling that gets on your nerves?”

Entirely unperturbed, Sasha shook his head, George's euphemism sailing straight over his head.  "Of course not!  I wouln't ever . .. I mean ... sometimes she's kind of frustrating.  Not so much that I'd want to hex her or anything."  Assuming he knew any hexes to use.  "But - don't... don't tell her I said that.  It's just, I don't always know what she's wanting from me, you know.  And, she does talk a lot but that doesn't really bother me."  Sasha usually oscillated between not saying enough and saying far too much.  Like he was probably doing right now. 

"I - she's what?"  Wait - Cornelia Woolfolk was flirting with him, Sasha Schlagenweit?  For real - to the extent that others were noticing?  Wait - no - there had to be a misunderstanding.  "Wait - no.  You're mistak- it was all part of the joke.  She was just ... I guess flirting ... for my family.  I mean, the kiss was because Anna was there."  With a frustrated sigh, Sasha shook his head.  He hadn't been offered an opportunity to defend himself - or explain himself the night Neely had gotten angry.  Now, for better or worse, it was George on the receiving end when the topic was broached again. 

"She was the one that acted like I was crazy when I asked if she'd said anything about me to her parents.  She's the one that's always looking at those magazines with that ... that Aries guy or whatever.  She was the one that was one day saying she hadn't told anyone she'd seen me and then the next she apparently wasn't telling anyone about Hannah.  She's the one that said that I was Sasha.  And, now she won't even talk to me when I try.  How am I supposed to understand any of that?  Is that all shoe?" 

When he finally grew quiet, staring at the water churning in the sink bowl.  He hadn't yet noticed that the girl was standing behind the bathroom stall, peeking over the top of the door, perhaps trying to decide when was a safe time to make her way to the door.

Freya had been sitting in the last stall for some time now, her legs drawn up onto the seat, her face buried in her hands.  She was just rubbing her eyes and giving an experimental sniff, as if to test whether she was capable of braving the corridors again or if her nose needed another minute to express itself in the same horrifying manner her eyes insisted upon.  She might have wiped them-- she considered it-- but it was the sort of stupid, girlie things they wrote about in bad romance, dabbing at one's eyes and sniffling delicately.

Yes, her nose was finished.  She scrubbed at her eyes with the back of her sleeve and thought perhaps that would do.  If anyone asked, she was on her way to see Madam Nagne for a Pepper.  It was cold season, after all.

She was only waiting for the girls who were chattering away in the next stall to disappear.  They finished whatever they were doing (no, girls weren't always doing that when they went to the loo) and were washing up.  Freya let her right foot start to slide, intending to rise from her semi-crouch on the toilet seat as soon as she heard the door shut behind them.  Her arse was falling asleep... That foot froze halfway down, when she heard the boy's voice and angry mutterings from the girls.  It wasn't immediately identifiable, and Freya had no clue which idiot had let himself into the wrong bathroom... then a burst of German made her foot snap back up again and she tilted her head to listen.

Anyone else, and she'd assume that they were cursing in the foreign language.  They'd have reason to curse, if dragged suddenly into the girl's bathroom.  Freya was quite certain that this boy wasn't cursing his foul luck, though...

...It was Sasha.

Freya knew Sasha and liked him, maybe more than any boy she knew.  Possibly better than any person she knew.  The more she listened, the angrier she became until her face was flaming again with echoed distress.  Whoever had forced him in here (for she had no doubt that a boy like Sasha wouldn't invade the girls' domain voluntarily) seemed bent on torturing him-- well, and beyond torturing him just by forcing him into the girls' loo, which was bad enough.  Neely?  This is about Neely?  Gad!  What some girls wouldn't do.  If Neely had put the gorilla up to this, she didn't deserve Sasha.  From Sasha's confused rambling, Freya questioned whether she did, anyway.  Broken up?  Sasha definitely didn't sound comfortable talking about her.  He stammered while Freya cringed angrily.

Gone were all trace of tears by the time she heard, "Does she give you a reason to tap the wand?”   Oh, bloody... she groaned, finally recognizing the second voice.  Sasha might not know what George was referring to, but Freya knew the term.  Typical.  She hopped off the toilet and flushed politely just to let them know she was there before opening the door.  She made a fist and pounded on the occupied stall, making it thunder loudly.  "Yo, Grundy.  Beat it."  The curious girl peeking over grinned at her, most certainly planning to gossip before the door hit her on the arse on her way out, and Freya glowered back at her.  Was she Neely's little spy?

Freya walked coolly to the sinks as if she hadn't been listening.  Once there, she took in Sasha with his dripping hands, his stammers about Neely still ringing in her ears.  She winked at him.  "Tops, Sorsha," she greeted him.  To George, sitting on the adjacent sink, she gave him her most friendly, "Get bent, Carter," and flashed one of her rare grins.  Most people knew that when she grinned rather than scowling she was planning revenge of some sort.  "Picked the wings off of any butterflies, lately?" she asked politely, handed Sasha a towel and then washed her hands under the tap he'd left running, accidentally on purpose slopping George's nice shirt while she was at it.  "Sorry," she said through her teeth, never losing her grin.

Separate loos? “Guys don’t talk to other guys in the boys loo.” Simple as that. You went in, did your business, left. If you talked in there… well. You just didn’t. It was some secret understanding, especially when standing so close to one another with your valuables. There was no looking, no talking, no eye contact. In the girl’s lavatory? Well… it was different, and you could carry on a conversation. They weren’t about to go stand at a stall in here anyway.

“She – she does?”

George did roll his eyes as the boy put two and two together, rubbing his forehead as if it hurt. Listening to him might give the older boy a headache. “Doesn’t matter how long a girl’s known you. Or the other way around. If you find… Look, it doesn’t take years of knowing someone to like them.” He was attracted to Waker right off the bat, after all. Well… after making sure she wasn’t off her own bat. Trophy talking, out loud, was generally a sign of craziness. Or too much time in the potion classroom.

When Sasha didn’t quite get what George meant about the wand, he felt the need to roll his eyes again. That was a little too much for him, though, and he tried to remind himself that once upon a time, he was blissfully unaware of inappropriate things. When he was, like, six. He merely nodded with a grin when he stated that she talked a lot. That was typical of the young Slytherin.

“I – she’s what?”

Did he really not come across clearly enough? Listening to the boy backpedaling, he sighed and rested a hand on either side of him on the sink, leaning back a little. Kiss? Raising an eyebrow at that, he merely frowned. All of this back story—he really didn’t need it. He heard the loo flush, but didn’t concentrate on it, letting the little pipsqueak talk.

“How am I supposed to understand any of that? Is that all shoe?”

George almost shook the boy senseless. Or shook some sense into him. Still, he stayed where he was, gripping the porcelain and taking a slow breath. “You’re not supposed to understand girls, mate. If you do that, you’ll end up with a bigger headache than you all ready are.” It wasn’t quiet for long, and he looked up in slight surprise as a younger Gryffindor, a bit hot headed by the looks of it, came out of one of the stalls.

“Get bent, Carter.”

He smirked and raised an eyebrow, his head nodding slightly to her in greeting. “All ready there.” Someone with a little attitude and steam to blow off? Watching her carefully, he ran a tongue over his lips before quickly glancing to Sasha in slight question. Clearly they knew each other, and clearly his fellow housemate wasn’t quite as friendly with George as she was with Sasha.

“Picked the wings off of any butterflies, lately?”

Raising an eyebrow at that, George let out a gruff chuckle. “No. But I’m looking to squash a caterpillar.” Clever, going for the jock card. He loosened his grip on the sink, tapping his fingers impatiently against the cool surface. He did jump slightly out of reaction when she sloshed water on him, a slight “Hey!” coming out before he let out a grunt and settled back. Why bother with it right then. “Sure.” Eyeing her carefully, he shook his head and looked back to Sasha. “You need to learn to flirt back.” Pretend she wasn’t there, just like all the other girls going in and out. She’d get the hint soon, right?

"But,..." Sasha started, shaking his head.  Ok - sure, he understood that.  You didn't have to know someone their whole life to like them but that didn't explain everything.  It was still ... It was still Neely!  "She's just - she's in a different league, you know?  I don't understand ... how could she ... I just don't get it!"  How was he supposed to know that she'd - Cornelia would have chosen him?  And, George had admitted it!  He wasn't supposed to understand girls - so ... how was he supposed to know? 

A toilet flushed.  Again.  Sasha jumped and looked up, scanning the line of stall doors in the reflection in the mirror.  Already, his mind was working through some quick calculations and math.  One girl had already been in here when they'd entered - but she'd left.  One had come in shortly after; she was peaking over one of the stall doors, clearly drinking in every word George and he were saying.  Just because actually being granted privacy to have this entirely awkward and humiliating conversation would have made him just far too lucky.  Two girls were accounted for.  The flush - well, the flush was ... was not.  There was a third girl and, given by the care with which she kept herself hidden, it was clear she had sought the loo for privacy. 

A stall door swung open, the stall's occupant easily recognizable in the mirror's reflection.  It was Freya and, despite her efforts to hide the fact, the combination of the slight red blotchiness on her cheeks and the obvious attempts to remain undetected until now betrayed the real reason she was there.  He quickly dropped his gaze as color flooded his cheeks, threatening to spread to the tips of his ears.  This was mortifying; humiliating.  "I'm so sorry," he offered, quietly, in response to the wink.  "We'll be leaving shortly."  As shortly as he could manage.

He'd always been fairly comfortable around Freya - she was easier going, less confusing than most of the other girls.  A little strange at times, no doubt, but that didn't really bother him.  But, this confusing and compromising conversation wasn't helping much. 

His fingers closed around the offered towel and he slowly dried his hands off before handing the towel back to her.  And, now, - Sasha became painfully aware - George was talking to him about flirting with Freya standing there.  He cast her an awkward, apologetic glance.  "Flirt back?"  Sasha asked, clearly startled as he looked back towards George.  "With whom?  She's not speaking to me.  Don't I have to be able to talk to her before trying to ... to do that?"  It seemed logical to him.  Like how one needed to be able to walk before trying to dance the tango.  "And, even when she was letting me talk to her, everything I said seemed to make her angry or defensive.  That's how I got into this ... this ..."  He wanted to say 'mess' but that just sounded harsh. 

'No. But I’m looking to squash a caterpillar.'

Freya scowled, opening her mouth for a scathing rebuke.  She had thought George was better than that.  Squash Sasha?  What had Sasha ever done to George...?

She closed her mouth again as Sasha handed her the towel and answered George seriously.  Freya's eyebrows raised up into her hairline.  Clearly, she was on the wrong page.  What it had sounded like, from the vantage point of her stall and the... almost hopeful (if apologetic, confused and awkward) expression on Sasha's face were at odds.

He needed to learn how to flirt?  Which meant he wanted to go with Neely?

She glanced from one to the other of the boys who'd invaded her domain.

'We'll be leaving shortly...'  Freya stared at Sasha and then snorted in disbelief.  "Not bloody likely," she grumbled.  She politely refrained from stating the obvious-- that teaching Sasha to flirt properly would take longer than either boy imagined.  If George could muster the patience or attention span to do it.  "But don't be daft.  See here--"  She clumped to a broom cupboard hidden in the corner of the loo, opened it, rummaged to the back and removed a large, faded wooden sign.  She waved it under George's nose.  It read, Out of Order.  "If you've any compassion at all, you'd have put out the sign.  Imagine, flaunting his shame in front of the entire female student body..."  She grumbled under her breath all the way to the door, opened it and smacked the wooden board hard against it.  The echo rang through the tiled loo but it stuck there magically.

"Don't think I'm leaving, though," she growled, closing the door again and leaning her back against it, crossing her arms on her chest.  She made a quick mental analysis of the possibilities that George actually knew what he was talking about and might make an adequate teacher.  Older-- he was eighteen, wasn't he? Freya thought to herself though she wasn't certain.  Rumor was that he'd been held back.  He wasn't... bad looking.  He wasn't a patch on-- Freya caught herself before she compared him to the boy she was really interested in.  It wasn't fair to compare, since Freya wasn't at all interested in George romantically.  So he was older, fairly good-looking... and he had a girlfriend.  Three things that argued that he might, possibly, know what he was talking about and maybe should be given the benefit of the doubt, since it seemed he wasn't cornering Sasha just to embarrass him.

He might even... well, who knew?  He might even know how to snog properly.  On the lips.  With groping.  Something Freya had been dreaming about quite a lot, lately, but hadn't a clue what to do with these random fantasies...  He had a girlfriend, and he... Ick Freya said to herself but forced herself to finish the thought... clearly considered a desire to tup as a prerequisite to attraction.  She might at least use the opportunity to learn how boys thought, even if George turned out to be clueless about the more subtle mechanics Sasha needed to learn.  Him and me, both.

"I find your assessment... riveting," she told George, careful to maintain the scorn in her voice though if either boy bothered to look closely, her intense interest was clearly written in the glint of her eyes.  "Go on, then.  How should he flirt back?  What do girls like?"

She had no idea that Sasha had sussed out the reason she had been in the bathroom.  At least he didn't know what she'd been crying about.  Although she'd have to admit to it sooner or later, if she decided to take George into her confidence.

“She’s just – she’s in a different league, you know? I don’t understand … how could she … I just don’t get it!”

Blinking, George was seriously considering having Neely checked for a brain lesion. How could she indeed… he wasn’t her type, surely. The easily cowed young man who dressed like his great grandmother had picked out his socks… And who seriously doubted himself. Self confidence was a turn on for most girls, but perhaps Neely liked the silent needy type. The Needy for Neely, or some horrible clique. He merely shrugged.

Hearing the boy apologize again made George let out a low growl deep in his throat, his eyes narrowing. Still, he stayed where he was—you didn’t apologize, or you’d have to expect them to treat you like a first year who was still green around the gills. Not that he wouldn’t put it past the boy. Minus the whole, you know, height thing. Part giant, perhaps. Or troll, considering what didn’t seem to be between the boy’s ears. Or… well, not in this case, anyway. What were book smarts when you didn’t have common sense anyway? That was George’s feelings on the matter…

He did smirk at Freya’s to-the-point response. “Not at all.” Then she was in some cupboards, and he waited impatiently—perhaps she left some clothes in here or something. What did girl’s do with cupboards in a loo anyway? He did grimace as she waved some smelly sign in front of him, leaning back away from it in slight irritation. “First off, three girls do not count as the entire female student body.” As she walked to the door, he narrowed his eyes. “And only one, besides you, seemed to find it interesting enough to stick around.” He grit his teeth when she said she wasn’t leaving. Fine. She could deal with the harsh realities.

“Flirt back?”

George didn’t stutter.

“With whom? She’s not speaking to me. Don’t I have to be able to talk to her before trying to … to do that?”

Screwing his face up slightly, George raised an eyebrow and shook his head a little, a tight lipped slight smile appearing as he crossed his arms over his chest, watching the younger boy. He clearly needed a lesson or two. But then… wasn’t that part of this whole surprise jump? At least he wasn’t taking the kid’s Honeydukes money.

“And, even when she was letting me talk to her, everything I said seemed to make her angry or defensive. That’s how I got into this … this …”

George only spared Freya a passing frown before focusing on Sasha once again. He didn’t usually pass on his knowledge… Keegan was a special exception, since he saw a lot of potential in the young boy; plus, he reminded George a lot of himself in his first year. And George had been taught quite a few things himself. “You have to know how to do it right, that’s all. Practice makes perfect, mate.” Sighing, he shook his head. “You can flirt with someone even if they aren’t talking to you—and in fact, it’s better to flirt first, then move to talking.” Past experience—how else had he started interviewing Waker? “Figure out what comes off as appropriately inappropriate.” And then his eyes widened and he grinned. A moment later, he had changed positions, leaning now on the sink, nearly pressing against Freya.

His eyes glanced over her face and he bit his lower lip gently, a small grin coming to his lips. Play it up. “You’re as golden as a Snitch. I could be your star Seeker.” And after a moment, he stood back up, shrugging at Sasha. “Since we have a willing victim, here, you can practice on her. Right Freya?” Raising an eyebrow, he pushed himself up on to the edge, balancing with his legs before resting his hands on either side. Then he turned his attention back to Sasha, nodding in encouragement.

"I ... we're ... no?"  In short succession, Freya seemed to snort a laugh while George appeared ... to growl.  Sasha flinched slightly and cast George a wary, sideways glance.  Now she was wanting them to stay there?  When - how had that happened?  Sasha glanced nervously from Freya to George and back to Freya just as she dragged an out of order sign from a broom cupboard.  An ominous sign.  She seemed to be preparing for a long stay.  Grappling desperately to one last ditch effort, Sasha shook his head imploringly.  "Can't - Can't this be done somewhere else?  I don't even use the boy's ... you know, outside of Ravenclaw tower."  And it was true.  It only took a few bad incidents with Slytherins in the boy's loos to discover it was in his best interest to avoid unsafe restrooms and to schedule his day accordingly. 

"My shame?"  Color flooded Sasha's cheeks and he glanced, again, between the two Gryffindors.  Did she really need to put it that way? Even if he wasn't entirely sure he knew (or wanted to know) what she was referring to.  Surely ... surely she couldn't be talking so freely and nonchalantly about that!  Such topics were bound to be off limits!

Sasha had been raised well inside the Catholic church.  He'd heard plenty of stories about Hell. But, for all the hours spent in Catechism and mass, it never occurred to him that Hell was flirting lessons in a girls' lavatory.  "Is ... is this really necessary?" Sasha asked, his voice quieter though, quite obviously, a few pitches higher than normal.  He would have, likely, preferred it if George were simply taking his Honeydukes money.  It would have been far less unsettling than watching George move so close to Freya. 

Apparently, this whole display was supposed to be for his benefit.  Rules of etiquette, therefore, hinted that the polite thing to do would be to - at least - watch.  But, he couldn't.  Such behavior was inappropriate - unethical - wrong.  It was like some sort of 'adult entertainment' right in front of him.  Sasha dropped his head forward and reached a hand up to shield his eyes, under the pretense of scratching at his temple. 

“Since we have a willing victim, here, you can practice on her. Right Freya?”

Sasha looked up, wide-eyed, and hastily shook his head.  Him?  Practice?  Flirting?  On Freya?  "Um...I really - You don't- I can't."  He stuttered quickly, shaking his head.  Was Neely expecting that?  Surely, not.  Sneaking into the kitchens for cocoa - that he could do.  But this - this ... "I ... can't get that close!  That's rude.  I mean - she doesn't want ... it's - I'm sorry." 

George's sudden nearness caught Freya by surprise, despite the conversation of a moment before.  She caught her breath and actually blushed before inching away minutely.  She didn't breathe again until he relented and suggested that Sasha could practice on her.  Why not? she thought.  I'm obviously more of a pushover than I thought I was.

The problem was, boys didn't flirt with Freya.  George caught her off-guard because it simply wasn't what the rail-thin, knock-kneed, boy-girl Gryffindor was accustomed to.  Then again... that's why she'd been crying in the bathroom, now, wasn't it?  Because lately she'd come to realize what she was missing yet she had no idea how to encourage those thoughts from boys.  Seriously, when they started pointing out girls' arses right in front of her, it was time for a change.

"All right," she managed to croak, still flushed.  She licked lips that had gone mysteriously dry.  Breathe through your nose, idjut, she told herself.  It wouldn't do at all to be seen panting over George in the bathroom.  Or Sasha, for that matter.  "Sasha... I know I'm not the one you want to flirt with-- I mean, if you even want to learn how to flirt and George hasn't gone nutters."  She spared what she hoped was a suitable glare for George to counteract the fact that she'd been thinking how nice it was to kiss the lip he'd gently bitten flirtatiously a moment before.  She glanced back at Sasha.  "You can..." she hesitated, stepping closer and took his hand despite his protest that he couldn't get that close, peered into his eyes, swallowed and continued in a rush,  "You can pretend I'm someone else.  That's okay-- I know you don't really want to flirt with me.  I'm just the guinea pig."  Obviously, she'd be a very good test subject if even George could make her blush with the tiniest bit of attention.  She ducked her head and her eyes slid away from Sasha's face.