Grace remembered her mum once telling her a bittersweet story about one of her oldest and dearest friends from grade school and how they had grown apart as the years had gone on. They started to have different interests and began to interact with other crowds of individuals and eventually, they went off to college, causing additional distance between them. Eventually, Eugenia Eddy no longer considered the person to be her closest friend, even though she cherished the memories that their friendship had afforded them. The story had saddened Grace, but Eugenia had made a point of telling her daughter that growing apart and moving in different directions wasn't something that had to be looked at negatively. It was just a fact of life.

Even though Grace was beginning to see this concept take shape in her own life, she didn't accept it lightly. In fact, she didn't want to accept it at all. She didn't want to think about losing friendships she had had for years and years. But the sad fact was that it was a very real thing as there were already those she had grown apart from, like Bethan. For a long time she had been super tight with her roommate, but now she had grown closer to Emily and Quinn and Fauna.

Another reminder of this struck Grace as she came down from the girls' dorm one Sunday morning and saw George lounging in one of the large chairs. She hated to think that they had grown apart, but a lot had happened for them both already in that school year and some of the events made it hard to connect all the time. They both had things going on that had pulled them away from doing that.

She missed how much they used to joke and confide in each other. And just as it had saddened her to hear her mother's tale of distance from her friend, Grace felt a wave of sadness wash over her now as she looked at her friend sitting there. It was already March and he didn't even know about what was going on with her mum. Part of it was because it was still hard for her to talk about with anyone and part of it had been because she didn't want to ruin his happiness with Waker. But that also meant that Grace had been unable to share in that happiness -- tease him about being a whipped boyfriend or being all lovey dovey with someone or just being a changed man in general.

Even with the now infamous Grace verses Maeve scenario, in the past, he would have always been the first to share in that sort of glory but for some reason, she had not done so. As far as taking notice of what was happening in his life, perhaps in the past, she would have taken notice that things were a bit frosty of late between George and Waker. But it wasn't until she saw him now, with his visage complete with a brooding brow and a clenched jaw, that it occurred to her that all might not be right in his world.

Instead of bounding in his direction like was usually the case when she saw him, Grace made her way over to where he was sitting with more tempered movements. She then knelt beside his chair and reached out to flick the Quidditch Illustrated he was reading. "Hey stranger," she said softly. Then she settled back on her haunches and crossed her arms over the armrest before perching her chin on top. Perhaps it was a cop-out to use the sport they both adored to reconnect, but she proceeded to ask, "What's the news in the quidditch world? Are Cuddyer and Wiedman still feuding? And are there anymore trade rumors flying about about? If Montrose and Tutshill strike a deal, that could mean there will be an opening somewhere for a hotshot rookie keeper..."

George would have thought that after a month and a half (give or take a week) of being single, he would have gotten over her. He’d never been so devastated over a silly girl. It was frustrating and irritating, but he couldn’t stop it. It was getting easier with time, accepting it—he wasn’t getting himself into detentions over his irate reactions to the stupidest things. Or not as much. And it was easier to go to class and sit within the same confined space as Waker.

It was easier to pretend she didn’t exist. Which was the hardest thing he had tried doing. Especially when he kept her photo in his bedside table…

Eleanor had been annoyingly right, though he didn’t really want to admit it. At least not out loud. Waker had hurt him, had broken trust, but he had done the same in the past. It was that nagging thought that frustrated him the most. Was it karma? Was it natural for teenagers to do that? Was the pull for someone else, to know someone different, that strong?

So while he lounged in the chair, brow furrowed and contemplating the magazine in his hand, he wasn’t really paying it any attention. Just staring at the photos. It was easier to concentrate on his inner dialogue that way.

Blinking at the hand that came into view, George sat up slightly and glanced over his shoulder, seeing Grace. A couple of seconds passed before he grinned at her, leaning his elbow on the armrest and turning his body towards her slightly. “Hey.” They didn’t have practice today…

At her questions, he glanced back at the magazine, flipping a couple of pages and shrugging, offering it to her. “Looks like the Cannons are losing again.” Pushing himself up straighter, stretching, he yawned and rubbed at his head. “How’s Gracie been?” Giving her a grin, pushing thoughts aside for now, he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. He hadn’t spent a whole lot of time with his mates, and it was just dawning on him how quickly it was coming up to graduation.

Grace reached out and accepted the magazine from him and moved around with the intent to perch herself on the armrest. She gently nudged his elbow off of it so that she could do so.

"You sure do know how to kick a girl when she's down, huh? Thanks for reminding me that my team is the laughing stock of the entire league," she quipped with a hint of a smile. "But that is the torture I get for rooting for the home team, regardless of their talent." She made a big sweeping movement with her arms. "They are always destined to break my heart....every time they look like they are going to win....to put the horrible seasons of past in the past and give the fans something to cheer about....all that hope is yanked out from under us."

She slumped against the back of the chair, dejection clearly seeping into her body. She settled her sad, brown eyes on her friend's face. She knew there was two ways she could answer his question. If she answered with the truth, it was bound to lead the conversation into misery. Or, she could lie and pretend that nothing at all was wrong.

She didn't want to do anything to take away his smile--something capable of lighting up a room and make her smile in the process--but Grace shook her head and lowered her eyes. "Um....actually, to be honest, life's been pretty sucky since school started back up," she told him. "I mean...you know that muggle concept of Murphy's Law? Basically that's how I've felt." She's paused, still not having enough courage to blurt it all out. "How about you?"

Giving her a disbelieving look, he chuckled as his eyebrow rose. “You don’t need much reminding, love.” It was pretty usual, poor blokes. At least they had a strong fan base. That was something going for them. “Yes… but you keep on rooting, hoping for a better season next time.” He gave her a thumbs up and a slightly guarded grin.

Thankfully, you didn’t need to be an Unspeakable to see something was wrong with Grace. Raising an eyebrow at her, George waited. Why she had to confuse him with muggle ideas was beyond him. Who was Murphy, and why did she think George knew about him? Shaking his head slightly, he put it on the list of things to look up one day (and by one day, he knew it meant never). He assumed, from the conversation so far, that it wasn’t a good thing.

Then she asked about him, and his mouth opened partially, a breath stuck in his lungs, held as he contemplated what to say. Finally he let it out and gave her a small, soft smile, glancing down at his hands. “Yeah. Murphy must have it right.” Whoever he was. Lifting his hand up, George scratched the back of his head, shaking it as he tried to say something else. “Just ready to be done with Hogwarts.” It was quite confining, with Waker so near. Suffocating, almost. “So what’s got your life in a bunch?”

"You are right," Grace conceded quietly. "I am reminded of their demise all the time. And I am, like any other fan, well aware that their fortunes for the near future look about the same, unless they sign some decent players sometime soon." She pursed her lips and turned her brown eyes to his face. Then she wryly commented, "Perhaps you should play for them when you're done with school. At least you know you'd be adored right off the bat and you'd be destined to be their franchise player."

It was a dumb suggestion because no player in their right mind would choose to play for a losing team if they could help it. As much as George probably wanted to play professionally, she gathered he, like many others, would rather be a reserve on a more prominent and winning team than settle for a spot on a team like the Cannons.

Talking about Qudditch was a means of putting talking about anything negative -- or at least anything more negative than the Cannon's record. It wasn't going to help anyone to avoid the inevitable. That was something that Grace knew quite well.

Shifting slightly on the arm rest, his comment about being done with Hogwart's left a bittersweet taste in her mouth as she swallowed hard. She could understand the sentiment -- she was ready to move on with the next phase of her life -- but she also knew that the end of the school year was bound to bring more sadness for her.

With a sigh, she finally told him, "Well, for starters, you'd think that I was taking a page out of your book as far as classes and behavior is concerned. Professor Bombay and I haven't been on speaking terms every since he took my plot away and I don't know if you heard, but not long after coming back from break, I walked out of DADA because Professor Storm's class was just....unbearable." Grace omitted why it had been unbearable for her to stay in the class and perhaps that might make it seem like she disliked his lessons completely. The truth was, Grace liked Storm and it was just the timing of the class that had mucked things up. And she was too proud to tell him why because the last thing she wanted was for teachers to pity her or to think she needed special treatment.

With the intent of being more positive, Grace flashed George a mischievous grin. "Oh, and then on Valentine's Day, I hexed Maeve Whitman's face off. I'm really quite proud of that," she boasted. But then her shoulders sagged when she added, "But, Professor Levartian punished me by mandating that I take etiquette lessons from Kit Branwell." She scrunched up her nose and lamented, "Oiy..."

A chuckle left his mouth as George raised an eyebrow. “I’ll have fans because I’m awesome. And look good in Keeper gear.” Winking at her, he felt it was important to talk himself up. If no one else was going to, George would make sure he talked it up. He knew he had a large ego, and he had to keep it full. It was the Carter way. Plus, he’d make Phillip have a cut out of him in his room.

Grace was slacking on her academics?! Shock did come through on his facial expression, shaking his head in disbelief. He hadn’t heard; he wasn’t paying much attention to gossip—as he just reminded himself, he preferred his ego inflated. Then again, he also didn’t understand taking so many classes. As soon as he was able, he’d gotten out of DADA, like a lion after a much better meal. “He’s the old guy, right?”

His hand came up instinctively, giving Grace a high five. “Nice!” Hexing someone’s face off, that was something powerful and fun sounding. Waving his hand, blowing it off, he shrugged and made a face. “Detentions aren’t that bad. Even that could be tolerable.” He would like to think his biceps were in part due to his shining trophies ability. He had perfected it over the years. “Nothing else though?” Surely it wasn't school work that was making it so unbearable for Grace.

"Yeah, you are pretty awesome," she said, her voice filled with both amusement and affection. "And you know I have a thing for Keepers. You're probably responsible for starting that," she told him, referencing her affinity for quidditch players who played the position. Besides George, Grace regularly flirted with the other person who was a Keeper/Captain on a house team, Ravenclaw Leon Monroe (even if he only saw her as a tomboy) and it was no secret that most of her favorite professional players were Keepers as well, including the hunky Ian Cuddyer.

All kidding took a backseat as they continued to speak about the infamous DADA professor. "Yeah, Storm's the old guy. Or, as Fauna, Chance and I have nicknamed him, The Grumpy Zombie. That was compliments of our detention with him where he tried to poison us." She sailed on, "But we survived."

Grace half heartedly gave her friend the high five. "I knew you'd appreciate my foray into rebelliousness."

The Gryffindor prefect lowered her eyes when he pressed her about her behavior being caused by something else. By now, saying what was at the root of her problems should have been easy. She had told enough people to that point where it was no longer a shock to say or even think about the impending doom.

With a sigh, she leaned against him and allowed her gaze to move to the opposite side of the room. "Do you remember years ago when I told you that my mum was sick and then she got better?" She paused, only meaning that to be a rhetorical question before she continued. "Well, she's sick again. And.....she's not going to get better this time."

It wasn’t the smartest thing to feed into George’s opinion of himself, not that he was going to stop her. Laughing, he rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulder. “I’m responsible for starting a few things. The only problem with that line of thinking, Grace, is that you’ll not find a better one than me.” Grinning, he winked at her. “I’ll sign a poster for you, though.”

How they got these old geezers to try and teach them about being witches and wizards was beyond George. Sure, it meant they might have had more time to perfect their concentrated area, but how serious might you take someone who could break a hip from stumbling down a couple of stairs? Then again, he preferred beautiful specimens to stare at while he was ‘learning.’ “Detention, skipping out on class… Gracie, you are making me so proud.”

High fives were all in enthusiasm and watching the elbows. You could never miss if you looked at the other person’s elbow! “Appreciate and encourage, love.”

When she leaned against him, he moved his arm around her. He nodded to her question, frowning as he watched the side of her face. Hearing her words, however, forced a tightness in his chest, and his mouth opened and closed without knowing what to say. Feeling very inexperienced with this sort of thing, George did the first thing that came to mind. With his arm around her, he pulled her down to him, hugging her. Frowning, resting his head against hers, he shook his head. "Aw, Grace..."

Clearing his throat, he closed his eyes a moment. “When did you find out?”

The one thing that George Carter would never cease to be was infuriatingly charming, which he was now with his puffed up ego regarding his ability to play. Grace bit her bottom lip and reached out to muss up his hair. "Sign a poster? That's all you do? Really, George. Surely I deserve more than that. Like say....season tickets to the games of whatever team you end up playing for. Even if it is the minor league affiliate team for the Canons." she teased as she retracted her hand from his hair. She loved her friend and as much as she could feed into his ego, she could also practically bring it back down to pin sized proportions. She seriously told him, "I think you know that even if you don't make it to the big leagues right away, I'll still be your biggest fan. Probably always have been...." She chuckled lightly and ducked her eyes, remembering their younger years and how much she had idolized him in many ways. "I know, foolish thing on my part..."

Besides her mother's delicate condition, Grace had been doing a lot of reflective thinking of late, and surprisingly it had very little to do with her school work (well, aside from the fact that in a few months time there would be a lack of school work to focus on). But she had been looking back on some of her friendships and how they had started and began to wonder if the ending of their school years might mean an ending to the friendship. She didn't want it to, but they might all be going in different directions once the school year ended. That was such a bittersweet thought.

Another soft chuckle sounded in Grace's throat as he praised her for her deviant behavior. "Yeah,
well, I can only pretend to e a delinquent for so long. I'm trying hard to be good again. I can't get away with being bad for long. Just doesn't suit me."

The lightheartedness of the conversation began to drift into something more serious and she was glad to have his comfort, even if deep down she knew her friend was uncomfortable in situations like this. Still, in this particular situation, Grace didn't need him to say or do the right thing according to some script for how to deal with those who were or would be grieving.

She returned his embrace and feeling her forehead pressed to his, she closed her eyes as well before she answered his question. "Found out at Christmas. I guess she didn't want me to know until it was serious." Grace swallowed hard and tried to shrug. "So now it is."

She let those words hang in the air for a moment of silence. Then Grace decided that she didn't want to dwell on that sadness for long. It was too hard to think about. It led to too many uncomfortable thoughts. She opened her eyes and pulled her head away from his. Looking into his face, she demanded, "Tell me something good that's happened to you, George."

She got him there. Here he thought she would have been happy to have his signature plastered to a cheeky grinning George on a broom. Or a cut out of himself for her that would wave or something. Moving away slightly from the messing of his hair, he laughed and made a face, attempting to smooth his hair back down. “Season tickets, that's steep, but for you Grace… I might be able to swing it. Especially if I’m in the minor league. How dare you.” And for that he poked her in the side, a jab of a tickle.

Still, she was loyal and true. A dear friend that George counted on. “Just remember to wear a sweater that says ‘George knows best’ or something, and I’ll keep that in mind.” Sometimes it was easier for him to play something off as fun and games though he really appreciated it. “Biggest fan… height jokes now, Eddy?” It also didn’t help that she was just slightly taller than him as well. It wasn’t as if George would be caught dead in heels, so he had to deal with standing tall and attempting to walk on his tip toes now and again to make his point.

A sigh escaped him. Somehow he knew being a screw up wasn’t part of Grace’s personality. Still… “At least you tried it out for a while. Too much excitement, hm?” Sometimes the adrenaline had been the part about being up to no good that had enticed him to keep doing it.

“Found out at Christmas. I guess she didn’t want me to know until it was serious.”

Merry Christmas… George frowned and his eyes glanced downwards, keeping her close as he tried to think of what to say. He didn’t want to know how long she had, because if it were him, he wouldn’t want to remind himself. He didn’t want to ask her how she was dealing, because if it were reversed, he would want to punch someone who asked such an obvious question. So he stayed quiet and tightened his hold on her just slightly to show he was hearing her.

He loosened his hold when he felt her pull back. “Good?” He blinked and frowned, shaking his head a little with a chuckle. His arms rested down, still wrapped around her, and his fingers drummed lightly against her back. “Hm.” She knew practice was going, though whether it was good or not was up to the player on the field. His face darkened at the thought of his love life—he wasn’t doing so hot there. So what was something good in his life? “I got an E on the last potion essay.”

That was good, right? Got him closer to graduating, and showed (at least to himself) that he could pass on his own. It had taken him forever to do it, true, and he’d almost torn the potion book to pieces in frustration, but he’d done it. Finally he met her eyes and he gave her a small smile. “I think you need to tell me something awesome that’s going on for Grace.”

"Too steep for your biggest fan, George?" She tried to wiggle out of the way of his poke. She closed her hand around his fingers, in attempts to hold them hostage and prevent a further assault. Then she teased, "I mean, I know my place isn't the same as the player's wives and girlfriends so I'm sure Waker would get her own assigned seat with all the other significant others, but c'mon. Surely I can get at least a permanent bleacher seat for all the years I've supported your ego."

She scoffed at his further comments about sweaters with mottos and height jokes. "But I am your biggest fan," she insisted. "Even when you're going to be an old has been, I'll still come and watch you play. So you should get used to it."

The mood couldn't stay light and airy forever, even if they both tried. Even George's commentary on her delinquency was short-lived. He seemed to pick up on the fact that she didn't want him to feel obligated to have an outpouring of sympathy of her, as it would just make her feel awkward and depressed.

She smiled at his improved mark in potions and she patted his leg. "Atta boy. You keep that up and you won't need someone else to take care of you when you get sick."

And then he threw the focus back at her. What was something good that was happening to her? Grace sighed and hugged herself closer to her friend, adjusting slightly so that her head was resting against his shoulder. It took her a moment to search through all that was going on in her life to find something positive to highlight. Ever since the return to school it seemed like there was one stumble after the other. "Hmm....well, does studying Anamagus Transformation with Professor Hallet count? I don't really know what else there is..."

He laughed as she grabbed on to his fingers, momentarily trapping them as he slowed in his assault. “Your place is—” He was attempting to talk over her, but shut up at the mention of Waker, and his grin slid down into a very small smile. “I doubt she’ll have her own seat.” Pushing forward, he lightly poked her, not enough to do any real damage, before withdrawing it. “You can have your own seat, Gracie. Just keep supporting the Ego, and you can keep it.”

George chuckled, rolling his eyes. “An old has-been?” He couldn’t picture himself getting old… or giving up on his career. The possibilities of fame and fortune could blind even the most dutiful quidditch players. On top of that, he thought he’d always have the idea of ‘go big or go home,’ so why think of a time when he might have to retire or spend his days complaining about his aching knees while he hobbled to a chair.

George didn’t think he’d ever get to that point. It just didn’t fit his personality, in his opinion. Youth is wasted on the young, so they say. “You’re quickly losing that seat, Eddy.” And once again his finger found her side, from a different direction.

“If that’s the case, I might stop trying all together. I like when people fawn over my health.” Sticking his tongue out at her, he nevertheless puffed up his chest at the compliment.

“Holy Salazar, you’re doing that, really? What're you trying to be?” Grinning, he got comfortable in the chair, holding her to him and making room for her head on his shoulder. It felt nice to just sit there with his friend. Who was a girl. Trent had too many poky angles, and Sebastian… “That’s fantastic. Plus you’re amazing with the Snitch. Every practice, I swear you find it quicker than the last. And you’re a prefect, so you get to go into the fabled bathroom…” He was just slightly jealous of the goody-two-shoes who got to wear a shiny badge and yell at students for being a bother, if only for that joyous relaxation tool.

“You should sneak me in. I think that could be a lot of fun. And healthy for your delinquent soul.” His voice was soft enough for her to hear, upbeat in its encouraging tone. “Or we could go for a dip in the lake.” It was warm enough for the more sane students, right? “Or we could play hide-and-go-seek with a few books in the library.” Surely the librarian would have a headache over that. But the plant species book doesn’t belong with Ways to Wrestle a Chimaera. He even gave the haunting librarian a whiny voice in his head for humor sake. Just thinking about it made him smirk.

Waker not having her own seat? Grace's brows shot up in surprise. "Why won't she?" came her somewhat innocent inquiry.  She admitted to being a little preoccupied since returning to school, but even she had picked up on a little chill between her best friend and his girlfriend. She hoped everything was alright between them.

"I guess I could support it," she teased. "Maybe I'll just find my own way to get tickets to games instead of sucking up to you." She pretended to look away with feigned disinterest. "I'll have you know that I have my wand on the pulse of all the best ticket sellers." Then she looked back at him and nodded. "Yes, even you at some point will be an old has been. You pretty much are one already. 19---" She wiped the back of her hand across her forehead. "Whew! That's old! A real geezer, you know."

She reached out and patted his cheek before leaning in to place a quick, affectionate kiss on it. "But that's okay. You've always been a geezer to me."

She grinned. Talking about quidditch and transfiguration was more positive. She told George, "Yeah, I decided to try it after our lesson last semester where we talked about the ethics involved. And then for our midterm, we had the choice to do the partial transformation." Grace knew that some of her explanation would be lost with the underachieving George. But she continued anyway. "I am no where near good at it yet. I'm working on transforming into a swan, but there are times when I really mess it up. Having beaks come out of your elbow doesn't exactly spell success. But it'll come eventually. It's a process."

And then they were back to talking about quidditch. "Yeah, I catch it every time except that time I smacked my hand into the post. Not my finest moment." A quirky grin remained on her lips. Then he was speaking about her privileges as a prefect. "I thought as captain you got to go in there too. But if you want to see the bathroom just let me know. You can take my place as prefect for a while and have that privledge plus dealing with loud, obnoxious first years." She waggled her brows. "And I'll be slacker George for a while."

Truth be told, part of Grace was ready for the school year to be over so that she could stop being the perfect prefect along with trying to keep the rest of her life in order. She relaxed against the comfort of her friend's embrace. She softly chuckled at all his suggestions for how to continue to be the anti-Grace. His mention of going for a dip in the lake had her recalling the one summer where George had practically drowned her. She imagined the water was a lot warmer way back then. But surely they could handle a quick dip, right?

She was quiet for a moment and that could lead one to believe that Grace had fallen in deep reflection, which could often mean she was going to be uber serious when she spoke again. But her next words were actually far from that.

"Hey George," she began with tempered excitement. She pulled back from his embrace and looked to his face, her eyes gleaming with a mischievousness that sometimes only came out around him."What if we could get all of the seventh years to go skinny dipping before the year ends? Kinda like our last hurrah."