September 29th, 1888; the wee hours — Fourth Ravenclaw Boys’ Dormitory

In her dreams, a verdant field saw itself flooded by a nearby river, and George herself stood entirely nonplussed at the bow of a ship as it coursed through what had once been grazing land, a wake of water reddened by the earth trailing behind it. The Ravenclaw, if awake, might have questioned her newfound sailing acumen, but in her dream it felt as natural as anything—certainly more natural than much of her waking life!

When she woke, it was gradually, and decidedly well before dawn. Geroge could recall the feeling of the water splashing against her as it crested over the prow of the ship, but then frowned slightly, still groggy, as she realized she still felt rather… damp.

Merlin’s beard—had George wet the bed?!

Frantically, the fourth year pulled out her wand, glad the curtains on her four-poster bed were drawn to avoid waking the other boys.

“Lumos,” George cast quickly and efficiently, mentally steeling herself before peeling back her bedsheets.

The red sight that greeted her was, perhaps, the last thing she expected, and she let out a (loud!) yelp of surprise before clasping both hands to her mouth, her wand falling down the side of the bed and clattering to the floor on the other side of the curtain.

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The following 1 user Likes George Waterford's post:1 user Likes George Waterford's post
   Avril Lukeson

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He/Him/His by those around her.
She/Her/Hers OOC and in her own narration.

Thomas had yet to drop off to sleep, and he sat propped up with two pillows, his head bowed as he poured over his newest book find. Over the summer, he had latched onto the topic of Animagi, and he couldn't wait to return to school so he could continue his research in the Hogwarts library. His new acquisition proved to be incredibly interesting, and it was likely he would read the book cover-to-cover quite a few times.

The casting of Lumos from the next bed fell on deaf ears, and it wasn't until he heard a yelp that Thomas tuned into the fact that he wasn't the only child still awake. In fact, the sound had him nearly dropping his own book in surprise. The clattering of a wand had him drawing back his own bed curtains to peer out, lit wand raised.

"George?" He whispered out, loud enough so his friend could hear, but not audible enough to wake the others who continued to snore away. His first thought was perhaps George had some sort of nightmare, but the fact his wand had rolled away from his bed had Thomas' lips pursed in concern. Turning, he swung his legs around to dangle over the edge of his bed. "Is everything alright?"

  

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By the awesome MJ <3

George quickly realized her efforts had been in vain: Thomas had been woken, and what was to say their other dormmates were not lying awake as well, yanked firmly from their dreams by the fourth year's volume?

Everything, the Ravenclaw thought, was certainly not okay.

"I-I'm fine," George whispered back, shaking voice and stammer giving away her discomfort.

  

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He/Him/His by those around her.
She/Her/Hers OOC and in her own narration.

Everything about George's reply had Thomas concluding that his friend was definitely not fine, despite his insistence toward the contrary. He wasn't the best at always realizing subtle social clues, like many boys his age, but even he could tell something was amiss.

Sliding out from under the covers until his toes hit the chilly, castle floor, Thomas peered about to see if anyone else had stirred. All he discovered was quiet breathing. Being sure to tiptoe, he closed the short distance between his four-poster and George's.

"Are you sure?" came his voice, much closer now. It held a rare, gentle sort of tone. He knew how harrowing nightmares could be, and that is just what he assumed had happened to George. But why had Waterford dropped his wand?

Reaching out, the young Ravenclaw took hold of part of the curtain and tried to tug it open, just enough so he could peek inside to be sure his friend was truly alright. In case it wasn't just a nightmare.

  

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By the awesome MJ <3

Whatever George might have been, it was most decidedly not fine, but she didn’t want Thomas to worry about her—or worse still, wake any of the others and draw further attention to the situation. The Ravenclaw was already beginning to feel as though she might be sick; the last thing she needed was an audience!

“Go back to bed, Thomas,” George directed, the ‘reassuring’ smile attempted far more strained than intended, and largely hidden in the dim light anyways. “I’ll just—I’ll just run down to the hospital wing, just to be sure.”

Be sure she would live through the night.

  

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He/Him/His by those around her.
She/Her/Hers OOC and in her own narration.

Hospital wing? Now that didn't sound promising in the slightest. Thomas either missed the reassuring smile in the darkness, or he simply dismissed it in favor of going with his gut, for he was soon shaking his head.

"George, if you're feeling ill, I'll walk down there with you." It was late enough that, if something happened en route, poor George might not be stumbled upon until the morning. While he was sure his friend was old enough to take care of himself, he could never forgive himself if something happened. He remembered nearly falling over his grandfather one morning, who'd been feverish and alone, never arriving where he'd intended.

"Let me just slip on my shoes, and we can be off?" He suggested, awkwardly rocking from one foot to the other. If it had been anyone else, Thomas likely wouldn't have made the suggestion.

  

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By the awesome MJ <3

But George didn’t feel ill, just a knot in the stomach and an overwhelming feeling that she was clearly about to join the ranks of the Hogwarts ghosts. The fourth year didn’t need an audience for that, even if the audience was Thomas, the best friend George might ever have hoped for.

“Please, Thomas…” the Ravenclaw tried again, trailing off when she realized she didn’t have any convincing arguments.

  

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He/Him/His by those around her.
She/Her/Hers OOC and in her own narration.

When it seemed George didn't have any solid reasons for him not come along, Thomas wandered back to his spot in the room and fished out his shoes. He slid them onto bare feet, not bothering with socks, and did up the laces in a sloppy fashion. He wasn't the best at completing tasks in a dim light, but he doubted the situation warranted being extremely presentable.

He then returned, lit wand half shielded by his free hand, so as to avoid waking anyone else. "Are you going to put your shoes on, too, or do you plan on walking to the Hospital Wing without?" There was a smirk to his voice, trying to lighten the mood with some sort of joke.

  

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By the awesome MJ <3

George tried to breathe deeply, to steady herself, but the Ravenclaw found any such efforts were shaky at best as she obediently moved to put on her shoes, her dressing gown.

“You can walk me there, then,” the third year acquiesced, “but you needn’t stay afterwards. I’m sure the nurse can see to me without any of your input.”

And once Thomas was safely returned to bed, George could find a hidey-hole until morning. It was an ideal plan, though it did not address the blood loss.

Thomas Montgomery

  

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He/Him/His by those around her.
She/Her/Hers OOC and in her own narration.

Thomas seemed satisfied that George was on the move and would allow him to be his escort. Really, he was just a worried friend. He was sure the nurse at the Hospital Wing would fix him up good, and then they could both forget the entire experience.

"Alright," he agreed. It was better than nothing. He figured the nurse would shoo him away as soon as they arrived, either way. She was rather good at that. "Even if it's nothing, it's always good to check." He nearly recited as it was something his Gran liked to say.

He waited for George to be ready, and then moved to walk with him through the door, trying not to wake the others.

  

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By the awesome MJ <3

The relief on George's face was, mercifully, obscured by the low light.

Thank Merlin, the Ravenclaw thought as Thomas agreed to leave once she was situated. Quietly and carefully, George threw a dressing gown over her nightclothes, nerves still abuzz—sure, Thomas wouldn't linger, but the troubles at the core of this interlude had not been eased in the slightest.

A deep breath and then the Ravenclaw murmured, "Let's go."

  

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He/Him/His by those around her.
She/Her/Hers OOC and in her own narration.