A/N: Sorry for the delay on my other stories, finals time= really stressed out. I wrote this in about an hour and a half just now instead of working on a paper… Needed to feel like I was doing *something* productive, so I figured why not write a really short story? :P I'm publishing this without editing, so sorry if it's riddled with problems. Story's light on the angst I would normally put into the topic, blame it on the Thanksgiving season (one of my brother's is spending it with his wife's family for the first time, which got this idea of separation in my head). Inspired bythelightningstrike's "Just Dialogue/Description" Challenge and the essence of 's "Midnight Snack" Challenge.
Currently listening to "You Were There" by Babyface, "Through Heaven's Eyes" by K-Ci and Jojo, and "Wheel" by John Mayer.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
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Always Half-Full
It was a little after two in the morning on a holiday weekend. With the late timing of the year, there was a crisp spark of winter magic in the air that smelled of oncoming snowflakes and late morning promises of hot chocolate.
Creaky wooden footsteps from above signaled to the kitchen occupant that her solitude was soon to be disturbed. So, she finished setting the table accordingly before returning to the boiling water.
A languorous explosion of lanky limbs emerged upon the landing as a loud yawn disrupted the soft sighs of the Burrow's house-ly noises. The newcomer scratched his disheveled shaggy mane as he entered the kitchen, barefoot in flannel pajamas. He passed the shorter freckle-faced sibling, who stealthily watched him from the corners of her eyes without saying a word. She continued stirring her tea, bringing her cup to rest on the kitchen's island while sliding onto a stool. He returned to her side, a glass of water in hand, and hesitantly looked at her back. She hadn't said anything to him, nor had she made any kind of gesture towards him. But he peered over her shoulder and saw the second cup and saucer resting next to hers. He froze for a moment, washed over in melancholic nostalgia, listening to the pretty tinkle of her spoon hitting the inside of her cup.
Finally, she looked over her shoulder and her blue eyes met his with an unsettled yet warming glance. She smiled and held out her hand towards him. When his colder fingers touched her cup-warmed skin, his memory flashed to a smaller, pint-sized version of this bright-eyed sister, back when she had a missing front tooth, wore huge hand-me-down boy pajamas, and couldn't even reach the top of the stool without a bigger brother to pick her up and plop her on top. He remembered cradling her underneath her arms and launching her gently into the air, listening to her laughter as she felt the world leave her feet, if only for a few seconds. With his twin nearby, she would be lifted off the ground by one big brother only to be caught by her other big brother. Matching smiles would beam down at her as she clapped happily—surrounded, protected, and loved.
As he slid onto the stool next to her, he set down his glass before slyly reaching under her arms to briefly tickle her skin. She squirmed, unable to stifle a giggle before it broke the silence. He half-smiled, feigning nonchalance as she playfully glared at him. When he met her eyes, however, they shared a knowing feeling of sadness they tried their best to overcome. Gently, she took hold of his shirt and drew him closer so she could rest her head in the crook of his shoulder. His lips found the crown of her head before he rested his cheek against her hair. He could almost feel the phantom tickle of her soft locks against his absent ear, a constant reminder of everything and everyone who had been lost. They stayed that way for a little while, silently comforting each other; when she felt his tears kiss her head, she snuggled further into his shoulder. Much had been lost, but there was still so much to be thankful for. Eventually, she pulled away, sliding the snack plate between them for easier access. Two hands, one large and one small, took hold of cookies and brought them to their respective mouths, one large and one small. Her legs no longer dangled precariously over the seat as they used to, and she no longer felt like she had to hold onto the counter's edge for dear life. His hand no longer had to hover behind her small back, spotting her from tumbling off. But his hand lingered gently on her lower back out of habit, a soft reminder that traveled all the way to warm her heart.
One snowflake began the brave descent onto the ground as a new pair of legs descended the staircase. Another pair of lanky limbs stretched into the air, though not as lanky as the earlier pair. Scratching his shaggy hair, this newcomer was half-surprised to see his siblings at such a late hour. Neither one had to turn around to know who it was, and she loudly patted the stool to her left while sipping her tea. Older brother moved the plate towards the middle of the table for equal access. In his drowsy state, the youngest brother thudded over to the counter and sat in front of the third cup as the little sister filled it with tea.
Their midnight snack tradition hadn't been lost on him. It had just been…a long time.
He unconsciously ruffled her hair in gratitude; an old habit that mimicked the memories of playful fighting the youngest Weasleys had shared together. Automatically, she stuck her tongue out at him. And, just as instinctively, he stuck a cookie into her mouth, catching her off guard. She chewed awkwardly around the snack, feigning annoyance. As he popped a cookie into his own mouth, the older brother reached over the little sister's head and playfully ruffled the little brother's hair. It was little brother's turn to grunt as little sister grinned smugly.
None of them directly addressed the fourth cup on the table, nor did they make any acknowledgment of the sibling who would not be joining them on the fourth stool. Whose footsteps they would not hear on the landing. Whose stretching and hair scratching would not break the comfortable kitchen silence. There was no need to address this; not vocally, at least, because he was already with them. Their tradition had never involved speaking. It wasn't about bickering or scheming or arguing, as was per usual in the Burrow. It was about making a baby sister giggle. It was about making one's kid brother feel included. It was about looking up to one's big brothers, regardless of whether one big brother was physically present or not.
As snowflake families softly fell hand-in-hand onto the world outside, three Weasley siblings silently sipped their tea and shared a post-midnight snack. Although the fourth cup would remain empty, it would always be filled with the loving memories of these peaceful morning rendezvous. A secret that would always be between four siblings.
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Please review, thanks in advance, and happy Thanksgiving!