Outfit

It was Friday the 13th. The unluckiest day of the year? Not in Quinn's book - it was a Friday, which meant that no matter what, there had to be a glimmer of 'that Friday feeling'. Why should superstition ruin a potentially awesome night out? She'd missed her first two lessons of the day and rather than seek out the related professors to do some serious grovelling, Quinn decided to wait for Lou to finish. Knowing her, Grace would've dragged the poor soul into the dire realm of academia, and she could only wait for her friends to return.

Falling down into an armchair with all the grace of a elephant, Quinn sifted through her rather garish zebra-print handbag. Flicking through a few non-descriptive items, she toyed with each one out of boredom before throwing them back in. A hairbrush (like that got much use), a bottle lid, her wand, a Chocolate Frog wrapper, a tube of body glitter. Nothing to pass her time with. Scanning around, it was a quiet afternoon. Everybody must've been at lectures, and the few faces that were present were hidden behind books, parchment and quills. Either they were working, or simply avoiding the resident nutter - Quinn didn't particularly mind which. Tapping her feet on the floor restlessly, the blonde let out a long, loud sigh. She wasn't the quietest of people - especially when bored.

She got to her feet, keen to find something (anything) to pass the time: perhaps she'd go find Grace and Lou's class and pull faces at them through the window. She was twagging* school, so she might as well be funny whilst doing it? Sliding her bag back onto her arm, Quinn headed to the door, her boots dragging carelessly on the floor. Pulling it open, she began to move outside but an upwards flick of the eyes caused the girl to stop in her tracks, a wide grin appearing on her face.
"Georgie Georgie Georgie boy, how're tricks you old dog?" she laughed heartily, giving him a friendly dig in the arm.

Finally, someone she could distract a friend.

The upside to not being an overachiever when it came to academics was that George had very few classes to attend. Which was better for him: he wouldn’t have the patience to sit in any more than he currently had. Even then he found a way around a lesson or two. Especially as of late.

That was not the lectures fault, of course.

His tie was tied like a headband, the long part behind his head and down his back. He may or may not have just been up to something he shouldn't have been. Quill propped over his ear, George took a bite out of the apple he was carrying. A nice, juicy, red apple. It was so juicy that he had to wipe his chin off. Delicious though. Now he just had to get back and respond to a letter; he had plans for tomorrow, and he needed to square them away before it got much later. His feet moved quickly as he wound his way up to the seventh floor.

Of course he didn’t expect to nearly collide with the resident noise maker. With his apple held between his teeth, his face showed surprise at her appearance. Grinning around the nearly devoured fruit,  George bit down, lifted a hand, took the apple, and dropped his hand back down.

“Georgie Georgie Georgie boy, how’re tricks you old dog?”

Smirking as he chomped noisily, he glanced Quinn over and raised an eyebrow. George shrugged and swallowed. “Ace. All right, mate?” Then his eyes moved to glance over her, beside her, behind him, and back at her. Discarding the finished apple, he dusted his hands and crossed his arms over his chest. He could distract himself for a short while with Quinn, before she went off to wherever she was… going. He half expected to see someone else with her.

Come to think of it, he needed to talk with Lou about something very important. Stupidity in relationships didn’t need to be a family trait, after all. And since he didn’t feel like studying or doing his essay(s? possibly), coursework and acknowledging it could wait. “What are you doing?”

"Good to hear, my friend," she bellowed, throwing an arm over his shoulder and instinctively leading him into the common room. She had to be sure this one wouldn't get away, or her boredom could become critical. "You know me, same old." Quinn flashed George a toothy smile before she collapsed once again into her armchair. She didn't care less whether the people in the common room would be annoyed at furthering their disruption - it was a common room, a place of activity (and boisterous noise). If they had a problem, they could shove off to the library.

"I missed out on this morning's lecture, and as such, I'm bored and increasingly lonely," she mused, shrugging her shoulders comically. "Serves me right for being such a no-good drop-out." Quinn emphasised her last words with widened eyes and a hushed voice: it was common knowledge amongst the faculty at Hogwarts that she would achieve mediocre grades at best, and had nobody else to blame. It wasn't that she was stupid (Quinn was quite capable of sitting exams and actually learning), she just didn't have the energy to think beyond the next big social mash-up. Quinn had accepted her fate - she was going to be a world-class Quidditch commentator. Who needed qualifications for that?

"And waiting for Lou and Grace to finish so we can braid each others hair, talk about boys and Witch Weekly, and have major pillow fights." The tone of sarcasm in Quinn's voice was overwhelming - she was hardly the girly girl, and the blonde adored Grace and Lou for sharing her anti-ultra-feminine mentality. "How about you? Haven't seen you in so bloody long."

Since he was going into the common room as it was, he was at least pleased to see that was where she was dragging them into. Smirking, he ducked out from under her arm so that he wouldn’t be pulled down with her, dropping himself into the couch next to her. He stretched out, his hands interlaced behind his head.

Bored and lonely because she didn’t go to lecture? Laughing, he shook his head. George only went to class so he could finally graduate. Being stuck at Hogwarts for an extra year was doing things to his head. “I think you would’ve been bored anyway.” Even with his array of stick figures, marching along what was supposed to be his notes, George had grown tired of hearing his professors’ drone on. He scratched at his head and leaned it back.

A loud laugh escaped him. “Can I watch?” Maybe Grace and Quinn could help him convince Lou that she was making a big dating mistake. “Do you even know how to braid?” George wouldn’t have the first inkling, and wasn’t sure if he doubted that Quinn did or not. He knew she was kidding, but why not tease?

What about him. Rubbing a hand over his face, George forced his smirk to stay. “Breaking hearts and causing havoc. It’s a full time job these days. The trophies are extra shiny, though.” Detentions and punishments kept him in line, supposedly. “At least it’s the weekend… Have any plans?”

Quinn could only nod in agreement with George, smirking slightly. Of course she would've been bored - academia was a big no-go area, a section in life that the blonde could do without. Thinking about it, the two did have quite a lot in common - both serial truants, both loud, both huge fans of Quidditch. It was always going to end well in Quinn's opinion, and any relative of Lou's that was just as loud, just as wacky and just as fiery as Quinn's best friend had that McAvoy stamp of approval. Pulling her knees up to her chest, she reclined, unintentionally mirroring his actions.

"No, you can't," she replied sharply, raising her head with a smile. "Because if you're around then it'll just make me want to go pick up a Quaffle and get mud-drenched playing Quidditch." It was true. Quinn was one of the lads at heart, and if it wasn't for her dire behavioural record, Quinn would be allowed to partake in house team trials. "And as for braiding, believe it or not, but I'm quite the expert." She held up a tiny, thin plait of hair from behind her head, showing it to George with a smirk that dripped with that 'I told you so' expression. Sure, that plait had been there for three days, but it was still relatively intact, and too small to transform itself into a mangy dreadlock. At least, Quinn presumed it hadn't transformed into a mangy dreadlock...

She let out a laugh at his statement of 'breaking hearts', rolling her eyes. If Quinn was one of those dreamed-up, waify teenage girls, George would definitely be the object of her affections. However, fading wallflower she was not, and Quinn McAvoy saw the loud-mouthed kid as competition rather than attraction.
"What's the missus got to say about that?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. It was common knowledge that Quinn wasn't the biggest fan of Waker, but in front of George, personal feelings were usually kept quiet. At the end of the day, it wasn't Quinn who had to date her. "And as for upsetting the ladies, I've broken more dishes than you have hearts."

Rolling his eyes, he smirked and shook his head. “I think muddy Quidditch would be more fun anyway. If you played starkers it’d make it even more interesting.” That would be better than braiding any day, George would put money on it. Plus it would interest more in the sport (not that they needed more interest, in George’s mind—it was all ready pretty popular on its own).

But then she said she was an expert braider. Raising an eyebrow, George leaned forward to examine what she put on display. Had she lost her quill in there? Laughing, he shrugged and waved her on before running his palm back and forth over his bit of hair. “You can claim to be an expert, I won’t argue.” Scratching the top of his head, he settled back.

“What’s the missus got to say about that?”

His smile twitched but otherwise he did a good job of keeping it there. “She doesn’t mind these days.” In fact, if she had an opinion about it, it wasn’t something he cared to hear. Giving her a shocked look, George made a noise and disagreed, throwing a pillow over at her. “You must have broken a lot of dishes if you’re going to make that claim.” Grinning, he put his fingers interlaced behind his head, leaning back into his palms.

“The dateable female population at Hogwarts became endangered when I hit puberty. Nothing has changed, just my standards.” Unlike his best mate, George cared about the age of his date. Trent had little cooth when it came to that, but George accepted him for who he was. Creeper and all. If anything, it made him more entertaining and awesome.

"Is this some sort of attempt at flirting, Carter?" Quinn laughed, throwing her head back savagely. Kicking her legs over the arm of the sofa, she tapped her feet up and down. It was her job to have some mischievous banter with the Gryffindor guys, or at least pitch herself onto the same level of cheesy one-liners. "But you're quite right, I'd be an awesome pin-up. Give me some glitter and a pair of cowboy boots and you've got yourself a cover girl, dude." Quinn was, of course, joking. Despite her outrageous style and larger-than-life outlook, posing naked in some young wizard's magazine was just that one step too far.

Quinn eyed George fleetingly, wondering why she'd never considered him as a source of romantic relief. There were a few things. One, he was Lou's cousin - the last time she messed around with a friend's relative, a whole family had sent her into exile. (Quinn momentarily swallowed hard; the thought of John Flickwick still made her heart skip a beat.) Second, it was George, a clown on the same mental level as Quinn. Being so similar to somebody was surely a bad thing. And finally? His choice in girls was extremely suspect. Waker Nolan was a square, boring, dull, highly-strung and too prim for her own good. The antithesis of Gryffindor's resident party girl. If that sort of bird pushed all of George's buttons than he was a no-no. It was probably for the best that Quinn kept him in the circle of 'just friends'.

"I haven't broken all that many dishes, I'm afraid," she replied, shrugging her shoulders amusingly. "However, I have smashed a lot of glasses, but unfortunately, the comparison was limited to cermaic eating ware only. You're a fake heart breaker, Carter, and I'm disappointed." The smirk on her face and the cheeky sarcasm of her voice only highlighted her perpetual state of being an utter clown. "You've got a lot to explain, young man. Why haven't I been informed of these conquests and escapades, dude? Come on, I need evidence!"

Quinn's eyes suddenly widened at the possibility of a personal anecdote to break this cycle of boredom. A story was a story, right? And even if McAvoy was the epitome of 'ladette', there were sparse (but remarkable) moments when she desired a drop of gossip on her ears.

Attempt at flirting? George Carter didn’t attempt anything. He either did it… or he didn’t. Or he tried to, anyway. Glitter and cowboy boots? Blinking at the image that started to materialize in his head, he slowly shook it, smirking. “I don’t know about the glitter. That stuff gets everywhere.” And you found it on your things for days. There had been one time he’d gone back to put his boxers on, and found a glittering piece. It had to have been months since he stumbled into glitter! And how it ended up where it did…

That was just a question for the glitter witches.

Where Quinn was considering George (and why she hadn’t before), George was way past that. He was a guy based on appearance, and he decided after meeting someone whether they’d be worth his time in that way or not. It was a quick assessment of ‘is she hot?’ and had served him will since puberty. As he’d known Quinn for a while… he’d all ready done his assessment. Of course, now and again it had to be updated, based on certain criteria (was she dating a mate? Did she change her appearance in an unattractive way? So on and so forth).

“Fake heart breaker?!” Shocked and appalled, he sat up and dropped his hands to his knees. “You didn’t say ‘ceramic dishes’…” A lot of the girls he had been with, prior to Waker, had all ready left Hogwarts to start their lives. An odd pang in his chest hit and he rubbed his thighs with his palms. Coming back to the conversation, he merely smirked and shrugged, leaning back comfortably. “Evidence? They’re mostly outside Hogwarts walls now.”

However, he was due to meet up with one of the vixen from his past tomorrow. Thinking about it made a grin fall on his lips. “Like Laney Irving. She’d practically go weak at the knees if you mentioned me. Or Eleanor St. James.” That one left a bad taste in his mouth. “She wouldn’t be able to deny our explosive chemistry.” Waker had ended his devastating claim to the new sixth years when he came back. And for most of his seventh year, as well.

"I know, isn't it just great?" Quinn replied with enthusiasm, referring to her favourite substance on earth. Her sixteenth birthday party at her home in Bethnal Green was like an underground nightclub; magical glitter coated almost every possible object and fairies erupting lasers flapped around her cellar like possessed pixies. It had been awesome, and Quinn had spent the next two weeks frequently brushing her favourite dust from her hair. Despite the inconvenience, it'd been a blast. A drunken blast, but a blast nonetheless. "I think you'd look sick with a bit of glitter around the eyes, Carter, get all those girls who dig the metrosexual looking guy. I can ask Fir to give you a few tips if you'd like?" She nodded with feigned enthusiasm, giggling gently at the image of George becoming one of the Glitterati. It would never happen, and Quinn thanked Merlin for it.

Quinn's eyes flicked to his hands momentarily, watching them rub his thighs. She tutted loudly, settling further into the couch and becoming increasingly ignorant of the other common room dwellers.
"Am I making you nervous?" she asked, wide-eyed with a large smirk. Harmless joking around with the boys was always Quinn's favourite time of the day. "Or are you just a terrible liar? You call yourself a heartbreaker, but there's no evidence for me to access, and you're acting very, very shifty, Mr Carter. Anything you do say will be used against you in the court of the Wizengamot." She peered at him with accusing, power covered eyes, mimicking the face of some aged, old-school Auror. "Heartbreaker, whatever!"

However, her joking suddenly ceased at the mention of 'Laney Irving', and she bolted upright, immediately impressed. Was this kid for real?

"You're trying to tell me you've dated Laney Irving, thee Laney Irving?" she asked with baited breath, emphasising each word with a slow clap of the hands. "Laney Irving of Seeker fame?" The Gryffindor was crazy about Quidditch, and this little nibble of information had remained hidden for too long. "The woman is a legend, an absolute legend. Why was she giving you the time of day?" Quinn laughed, poking her finger towards him. Even in absolute amazement, George still needed ribbing now and again.

He wasn’t a fan of glitter. So in regards to her question, he shook his head in disagreement. “Not on a guy.” George laughed and made a face at her ridiculous idea. “I could get those girls without wearing glitter. If I wanted.” He had to let his ego talk for him; his confidence was one of his biggest selling points. “Only way I’d get glitter on my eyes is if my girl is wearing it.” Sometimes it seemed to multiply, that awful substance.

“What?” Nervous? “No.” He pulled his thoughts from where they were, smirking over to Quinn. “Hey, I don’t need you to think I’m a heartbreaker. I know who I’ve done.”

Her reaction to the couple of girls names he’d sprouted out was odd. Raising an eyebrow at her, he stretched his arms above his head, arching his back slightly. “Ah… no. I don’t think we ever ‘dated.’ Just… had fun.” Seeker fame? Hadn’t she only been out of Hogwarts less than a year? Laughing at that, he shook his head. “Her ego is big enough without adding her into the seeker hall-of-fame at 19, Quinn.”

And now she was a legend, it seemed. Smirking, he shrugged and put his hands out, palms up. “I make room in my schedule for women who deserve my time of day. Plus, she was a lot of fun.” One of those in the common room who seemed a little irritated with the two got up and stalked off, scowling in their direction before taking the stairs in an angry huff. Laughing, he watched them go. “She’d give me the time of day anytime I wanted…” Leaning his elbow on the arm of his chair, he rested the side of his head on his hand.

“Why so much interest in my private affairs, Quinn?”

"No glitter on George Carter," Quinn muttered, shaking her head comically. "Then no interest from Quinn McAvoy I'm afraid." She was a flirt, it was undeniable, but in her own laddish way. When she made comments of a rude nature to guys, it wasn't ever taken seriously; sure, some girls got jealous and blabbed that whole 'Quinn McAvoy is such a slag' spiel, but it was like water off a ducks back. She kept her lads and the ladettes close, and everybody else could take a running jump as far as the Gryffindor was concerned.

"If you're not trying to prove something, Carter, then why all the bravado?" she laughed mockingly, tossing back her head of blonde locks fiendishly. "You don't have to pretend to me that you've had loads of pretty girls, I won't judge you. Honestly." With wide eyes, Quinn gave George a patronising grin of jest, leaning forward and lightly patting his knee in faux comfort. Underneath the façade, Quinn knew that George was quite the heartbreaker, and there were more than a few notches on his bedpost: that made his choice in Waker even more peculiar. She saw nothing of the untamed, wild Carter in the square, studious Nolan, but opposites did indeed attract, and who was Quinn McAvoy to judge?

The shock of Laney Irving still rang through her brain however, a starstruck chime of sorts. Quinn shook her head in disbelief, ignoring the two angry students that had their homework time so rudely interrupted. She tilted her head a little, gazing at George as he rested his head on his hand. She snapped out of it instantly, not wanting to look like some dreamy broad.
"I like prying on people," she giggled, crossing one leg over the other. "And you my friend, are full of surprises this afternoon."

His lips pursed as he smirked in her direction, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. She was always very to the point, wasn’t she? “The glitter condition is going to give you limited options.” And he wasn’t sure if half of those options would even be interested in Quinn (being of the female population). However, he saluted her and grinned. “Good luck with getting glitter where no person would want glitter.” Rolling around with a glittered up person led to glitter in unforeseen places. And if she wanted someone who liked it as much as she… Well, George could only imagine.

She had him there. Shrugging with a laugh, he tilted his head in consideration. “Guys are supposed to talk it up… Ego boosting is important to our fragile self-confidence.” Not many people could say they’d seen George have a lack of confidence. The sarcasm was thick, but all in fun. “Most have been pretty. And then there’s Trent…” His best mate was a bit of a contradiction, but George loved him like a brother he would have preferred. Still, they made more jokes about each other than could be taken seriously.

“I like prying on people.”

George could’ve figured that one out. In a subconscious response to her legs crossing, his widened slightly in their stance, comfortable in his slouch on the sofa. “Am I?” A soft ‘hm’ escaped him as his eyebrows went up, a bemused look on his face. “I’m like an open book.” His hands went out in a faux open-for-hugs gesture before they dropped back down. “What about you, Quinny?”

"You'd be surprised; plenty of boys are willing to overlook the glitter," Quinn mused with widened eyes and a perpetual smirk. She leaned forward, as if letting George into an earth-halting secret, the usual Cockney tone of brashness reduced to a mere whisper. "In fact, I know plenty of boys love it." The blonde gave a snort of laughter and a mischievous wink. Even Quinn had to admit that she wasn't the most chaste of the Gryffindor girls, but she still managed to avoid the title of complete hussy. There was no fun in being a goody-goody, but one always had to retain some sort of charm.

His joking mention of Trent caused Quinn to create a mock expression of shock: Travis and McAvoy had never been closed, and although acknowledging each other, the two were hardly friends. Even after seven years, you couldn't get to know everybody, and the boy would probably have some pre-judgements about Quinn. It seemed like every other Hogwarts student did. "Trent? Didn't have him down as your type, Carter. Thought you were a more Edmund Klint sort of guy." Even she had to break another laugh at this one - the rivalry between the two had been heated ever since their first year, and Quinn knew how much they disliked each other.

The focus of attention moved from George, and from Laney Irving, to Quinn herself. She shuffled in her seat, pulling a sideways glance at her companion; Quinn was always caught off-guard in these situations when the roles were reversed. Giving an uncharacteristically bashful smile, Quinn simply shrugged, thinking of the right response for a few moments.
"I've got to know a few boys in my time..." she murmured, then rolled her eyes. "But real men are few and far in between. As of late though, I've got my eye on someone, but I've got a feeling they might just be a kid like the rest of the monkeys in this castle."

“For you, Quinn?” He smirked, not quite as surprised as she might think. She wasn’t ugly or deformed or had an awful personality, after all. Not that any of those things were deterrents, after all—enough people got enough love no matter their quirks. But if she was going to take the mick out of him, he could do the same back. He laughed at the idea of boys loving glitter, but he also couldn’t swear he hadn’t been involved with girls who had too much of the substance.

Sometimes glitter was just an unavoidable weapon girls had in their arsenal.

Most people who knew him knew his best mate was Trent. They got up to a lot of indecent trouble together. Trent was just one of those people who, to George, would never change, and he much preferred that constant. The mention of Klint, however, forced a sour look to his face. “He’s almost prettier than the girls.” Shaking his head at Quinn, he grinned and rolled his eyes.

George kind of really enjoyed watching Quinn get uncomfortable and quiet. It didn’t happen often, so you had to learn to cherish it. He leaned forward slightly, focusing on her face. He let out a breath of agreement—she was at Hogwarts after all, not many men to be had. Aside from him, of course. And a few professors…

She’d piped his interest though. Pausing a moment, trying to think of the best response, he finally went at it, if a bit too blunt. “Who’s that?” He curiosity beat out his options to quip and prod little by little. It would be interesting to know who the Glitter Princess found worthy of setting her sights on.

"Yes, even for me!" she laughed, shaking her half-plaited, half-wavy mane of blonde locks. Quinn rolled her eyes before meeting his gaze, giving the boy a wink and a click of the tongue. "You're probably just used to girls that fall at your feet with no fierceness about them, no roughness to keep you on your toes." Again, her tone suggested that the Gryffindor party banshee was kidding, and Quinn was... mostly. She never could fathom how somebody like George Carter was compatible with somebody like Waker Nolan. The Ravenclaw head girl was all books, and quills, and perfect hair, and pressed uniforms, and George was just, well, George. He was the typical Carter and that was why Quinn adored both him and his cousin - she was a little less warm about his girlfriend however. Each to their own, after all.

Quinn couldn't contain a snort of laughter as George commented upon Edmund's beauty: the boy was scarily stunning, and although he melted the heart of many a Hogwarts girl, that preened, preppy look just wasn't up Quinn's street whatsoever. Somebody that clean and good-looking would only make her look bad: she was all about a bit of rough and tumble with a manly man. Her best mates knew that Quinn was a sucker for a bit of stubble and a bottle of beer.
"You know, you really shouldn't argue with Klint," she said, still laughing and shaking her head. "It must piss Lou off an absolute treat." Quinn was not one to lecture, and the cockney managed to get away with words of advice without sounding all moralistic and high-horsey. Only Merlin knew how many mistakes she'd made in the past, and her words of warning were often in the realms of 'been there, done that'. Her teenage life had been rather colourful to say the least.

As George began to poke an answer out of her, Quinn shuffled in her seat a little awkwardly, barely holding a grin as she bit down on her bottom lip. It wasn't that she was embarrassed, but rather that she didn't tell anybody other than Lou, Grace and Fir this sort of stuff. George questioning her was odd to say the least; they were good mates, but were never in a 'I'll tell you a little secret' sort of friendship. Besides, it'd be disgustingly blatant if Quinn was to just spill the beans.
"Why do you care so much anyway?" she asked, leaning her head on onto her arm, beaming at George with a toothy, schoolgirl grin. "Scared somebody will ask me out for a drink before you do?" With the latter statement, Quinn's voice was all high-pitched, purposefully talking to George like a child. Their exchanges were always charged with mick-taking.