A Beautiful Day for a Picnic Private Closed

Even if Gem’s first time at the Great Lake wasn’t necessarily a good one, he was willing to try it again. He’d never turn down the opportunity for time to waste with a friend— especially a friend like Catriona. He’d snagged his own lot of food, mostly sweets, but they were all wrapped up in napkins, fastened shut with a rubber band so nothing would fall out.
The idea wasn’t really well-planned out, so he brought enough for the two of them in case she hadn’t, but he was sort of sure she had- she seemed prepared for everything. He felt awkward, bustling around with his hands around his guitar’s neck like an idiot, but there was no other way to do it... yet.

He shuffled along a sea of students, muttering excuse me’s along the way, feeling flustered by the time he made it out. When he finally scuffled outside, he was pleased with the weather- cloudy, the sun barely peaking out; just how he liked it. He wondered what kind of weather Catriona liked.
He thought about this on his way down to the Lake, humming to himself, thinking about how many conversations they could possibly have in the span of what, an hour? Two? He could lose track of time forever talking to her, and that wasn’t an exaggeration. He peaked under some branches, sniffing delightfully (was that even a thing?) when he saw her sitting there, already setting them up.

”Hey!” He bounced over some bushes, careful not to fall over and make an ass of himself- he did trip, but that was besides he point. “Hey. You’re here.” He plopped himself down, setting the guitar nearby himself, nice and safe, he thought. He almost forgot to talk, only blinking back when he found himself staring a little bit— it was hard not to, she just had an easy face to look at. Was that seriously his excuse? Christ.

”Um, I brought,” he shuffled into his pockets, pulling out a couple of sweets- they were impressively big, not that they were visible quite yet, but... I mean, it’d fill them up, right? He hoped she wouldn’t mind. ”I brought pastries? Like, I don’t know wot they’re called, but they’re fuckin’ ace, mate, just brilliant.” He unwrapped them, hoping that looking down and keeping his face hidden out would distract her from the fact that his face was bordering beet red. Man, he was miserable.
“Wot did’ja bring, aye?” He gestured at her own little bundle of items, hoping she’d take a sort of lead on speaking, because God help his soul if he had to carry out the conversation by himself.

Catriona was pretty sure she was being eaten alive by moths. Ok, maybe that was a gruesome way to describe it, but what she was feeling was probably just as discombobulating. Seeing Gem again was... well it was like only knowing something in theory and then being slapped with it in the face. It had been a while, that was true, but seeing him again made Catriona feel like she was drowning. And yes, she was happy, but she was also a million other things. She felt like she was floating in warmth one second and then being wildly jerked around on a broom the next. Maybe she was ill... In any case, this was neither the time nor place to be thinking about this. She'd ask William or Freddie about it later, though Freddie would probably send her back a howler with something embarrassing with an attached note about how she didn't understand the postal system.

"Hey!" she heard Gem say. "Hey. You’re here."

"Hi." Catriona found herself smiling involuntarily, which was odd since she'd only been friends with Gem for a bit. She was definitely ill. Probably with some brain disease that made her think stupid things. The illness was so bad she almost didn't notice Gem's guitar. 

”Um, I brought-- I brought pastries? Like, I don’t know wot they’re called, but they’re fuckin’ ace, mate, just brilliant.” Catriona watched Gem unwrap one. His fingers were quick and Catriona wondered briefly how they would look flying across the strings of the guitar he'd brought. Wicked.

“Wot did’ja bring, aye?” Gem's face looked a little red. It didn't seem hot enough for heat stroke, but Gem was wearing a cardigan. If he fainted from heat stroke she could always strip it off him and use the lake to cool him down.

"You look a bit heated there. I can take your cardigan if you want." She grinned, pulling the sandwiches out from her back. "I brought peanut butter and jelly for us and a cheese one in case you didn't like peanut butter and jelly."

Gem was glad she hadn't noticed-- or, if she had, wasn't expressing that she had. He wet his lips, glancing down at the few sandwiches she'd brought, smiling when he saw there were peanut butter ones.



Well, so much for her not noticing that he'd gone red. He shook his head as a vague response, instead looking back down at the small selection of food items she'd brought. The red went away quick, but only because he'd managed to convince himself to take deep breaths and remind himself that freaking out over the fact he was freaking out was only making him freak out more... and it worked, clearly.

"Peanut butter's me favorite type!" He blurted, immediately moving his hand over to snag one, sitting criss-cross, wiggling around so he'd settle in nicely. "Good eye. Me mum would always make em' for me an' me dad whenever he wos workin' on some music," he took a bite, a small corner off the bread. "He never actually ate it, but somefin' tells me he wosn't really payin' attention ta the fact she wos providing him wiv sustenance other than like, cigarettes and toast." That was legitimately his father's dietary choice, it made him silently swear to never ever smoke cigarettes and eat bread at the same time-- the thought made him feel sick. His face must've scrunched up at the thought, he could feel his nose wrinkle.

"Dunno... do ye have any nostalgic foods? Everyone's got one, even if it's gross." He raised his eyebrow, "I bet ye Rich and Proper people always eat the finest dining... Have ya got yer own chef? Or a butler?" He wasn't really considering the fact these questions were really personal, but who cared? "Your childhood meal... hmm... mac and cheese, and your parent's recipe... the secret ingredient? Lightly sprinkled wiv the tears of the middle an' workin' class." He was playing around, obviously, but it still sort of made him feel bad for poking fun at her for it-- it wasn't like she chose to be Rich and Proper. "I'm kiddin'. If this were the French Revolution, I'd hide ye away from e' guillotine." Good save, Gem.

The tense coil of emotions laying heavy in Catriona's stomach lessened a bit as Gem began to speak. She knew there was a reason she enjoyed the boy's company so much. There was something about him that made her feel like she was in a bubble where nothing could get to her. If apathy was the absence of feeling, then this was the opposite. She imagined this was what cats felt like when they stretched out in a patch of warm sunlight. Actually, lying in warm sunlight didn't sound half bad as a human either.

Catriona flopped down on the blanket and closed her eyes, relishing in the feeling of the sun on her face. She really hadn't been outside in a while...

"Peanut butter's me favorite type! Good eye. Me mum would always make em' for me an' me dad whenever he wos workin' on some music. He never actually ate it, but somefin' tells me he wosn't really payin' attention ta the fact she wos providing him wiv sustenance other than like, cigarettes and toast."

She would have laughed, but the thought of eating cigarettes and toast made her grimace a little. Would it even be possible to smoke and eat toast at the same time? Perhaps you could eat the toast while blowing smoke out of your nose, if that even was possible. Maybe it was like whistling with crackers in your mouth. She'd read about that in a book once.

She couldn't help but laugh at Gem's teasing. "Ok, ok, don't laugh, but my favorite comfort food is actually cheese on toast. My brother, William, used to make it for me when I couldn't sleep." That was actually one of her favorite memories of her brother. She would sneak downstairs, socked feet quiet on the cold floor, only to be met with him standing at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed. She was never quite as sneaky as she intended. Instead of putting her back to bed though, he would lift her up,  carry her to the kitchen on his back, and make her cheese toast (the only thing he could make without burning the house down). It became a tradition of sorts after a while. Now, whenever he visited, they would share stories over burnt cheese toast and tea.

"I appreciate your decision not to chop off my head, by the way. It's very kind of you." She grinned at him. "Unfortunately, we cannot be friends, due to your blatant disregard of propriety," she said in a faux posh voice. She tried to make her voice sound like her mother's did when she was angry. Unfortunately she failed and her words ended up devolving into giggles.

As Catriona spoke, Gem stuffed his face with peanut butter sandwich, only looking up and nodding whenever she seemed like she'd said something that deserved a response, just not a verbal one.

"Cheese toast?" He raised an eyebrow, "Eh... heard worse, cheese toast is joost two-thirds ov a grilled cheese sandwich." He sniffled, thinking on the idea of cheese toast some more. "See, I'm a bit shocked ya didn't say, like, caviar, or somefin'." He nudged her lightly, smiling while she leant back to bask in the sun. He'd do that, but his eyes always got all watery and then it'd look like he was getting all sad and emotional over a conversation about two-thirds of a grilled cheese.



Amused, he crinkled his nose up a bit, shaking his head at the sky.
"It's not like I'd wanna be friends wiv a fascist, anyways," He huffed, crossing his arms in a fake pout, curling his bottom lip out like an angry toddler. He peered out the corner of his eye to try and see what her reaction was, but he doubted it would be there. She looked nice, content that the sun was hitting her in all the right places-- it made him want to do it again, and because it was oh-so overwhelming and kind of pointless not to, he did. Except he laid on his belly instead, curling up at her side like a little dog. Hm. It was as comfortable as he predicted, minus the ants he suddenly started to think might or might not crash their picnic and climb in all their clothes and give him an antphobia. Was that a thing? Whatever. Catriona was really pretty basking in the sun. That was the point.

He felt himself smile at her laughter, breathing shortly out his nose in response to that-- he should ask his mum to owl him his cameras, he wanted to remember this. It'd remind him that he once held something truly beautiful when he was old and frail-- Jesus, could he get more dramatic than this? Yes.

"Wot's your favorite song?" His voice must've been at least a little jarring, since there were a few minutes of gentle quietness, but he wanted to know. Maybe he knew it, and maybe he could sing it for her-- he did bring his guitar for a reason.

Still laughing slightly from Gem's caviar comment, Catriona cracked one of her eyes open to peer at him. His eyebrow was raised and he was looking at her in a way that could only be described as soft-- and that weird tightness in the pit of her stomach was back again. Definitely an illness, right , whispered a voice in the back of her head. It sounded suspiciously like Freddie. She shot an imaginary scowl at imaginary Freddie and then grinned at Gem.

"It's not like I'd wanna be friends wiv a fascist, anyways," she heard him say. When she opened her eyes again, he was fake pouting, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were brown, she noted. Warm, brown eyes, like melted chocolate.

Speaking of which, Catriona was beginning to get hungry. She pulled the second peanut butter and jelly sandwich out from its handkerchief and spread it out in front of her like a plate. After struggling for a moment to neatly tear it in half diagonally, she gave up and began to nibble at a corner.

She jolted a little at the sound of Gem's voice. After deliberating over his question for a moment, she spoke. "Probably 'Hey Jude'." Pausing, she added, "by The Beatles," in case he didn't know. She knew he knew who The Beatles were, but it never hurt to specify. Though, "Hey Jude" was probably trademarked. Did that mean no one else could make a song with the same name? She'd have to ask Gem at some point; he seemed to know a lot about music.

"My dad used to hum it to me as a lullaby when I was little." She probably wouldn't have even known the song if it wasn't for her father, anyway. Now whenever she heard it, she was reminded of him. And of home too, she guessed. It would be nice if she could hear it again, at least on a record player. There probably weren't any record players at Hogwarts, though, which was a real shame.

Gem decided to sit up between getting her sandwich and speaking, tuning up his guitar by ear. It was something he was pretty proud of, only because it took him a pretty long time to learn how- but now he knew, and he could tune it however he wanted.

"Hey Jude?" He repeated, raising his eyebrows a bit, "I didn't know ya liked e' Beatles. I mean, everyone likes em, but..." He shrugged, strumming the strings with his thumb lightly.

"Look, aim' a dumbarse an' forgot to bring a pick, so I'm gonna have to use me fingers, and that might not sound as good as McCartney wonted, but whatever. It's not like he's watchin' me or anything." But Catriona was, and if he made an ass of himself in front of her, he'd probably have to do a murder-suicide right here. Except he probably wasn't capable of either of those things, so he straightened up his back and stared at the floor.
"Me dad taught me how ta play a lot of Beatles songs, and he made me focus on this one e' most cos' it's one of the hardest ones, so bare wiv me a bit, yeh?" He licked his lips, suddenly a bit stuck in fear. He never had a problem playing music in front of people, he wasn't sure why would be any different. Quickly, he added, "You can sing along too. In fact, it'd be greatly appreciated."

The beginning of the song didn't require the guitar, so he kept his fingers pressed into the chord when it was time; for now, he just sang, hoping that his voice would distract her from how red his face was.
"Hey, Jude, don't make it bad, take a saaad sooong, and make it better," Wow. He felt stupid. He felt really stupid, but he figured the fact that he was terrible would make it funny, and then she'd laugh and think he was joking and then they'd never ever have to remember this again. He had to shut his eyes to prevent himself from impulsively looking at her for some sort of approval, and kept going. This was scarier than being told you were going to go to war.