The world of Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I don't get anything out of it but the pleasure of spending some time there.
Harry and Ginny are at the top of their games, but something's missing. What would they sacrifice to make their dreams come true? Written for the Hold Fast to Dreams Challenge.
Chapter 1 Ginny Gets an Offer
Ginny Weasley breathed deeply as the wind blew into her face. It was still a cool wind, because the summer hadn't really taken hold yet, but she didn't mind. It cleared her mind, as if it had penetrated her skin and blown away the tangled webs of unwelcome and oppressive thoughts. She nearly laughed with the sheer joy of it. Someone tossed a Quaffle in the air and she put on a burst of speed to dive after it. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a teammate make the same dive from the opposite direction. Her old competitive instincts, so finely honed from living over twenty years with her brothers, kicked in and she bent low over her Firebolt. Of course, the other bloke was riding a Firebolt, too, so it was a very close call. But at the last second, her hand made contact with the ball, and the Gripping Charm allowed her to pull it right out from under his hand. She grinned and shot up into the sky, far above her teammates.
"Hey, Zabini!" she called. He looked up at her, scowling. She tossed the Quaffle down to him, then took off in a circle around the stadium again. Truth was, she loved these warm up sessions, but not because she felt like she was getting ready for the day when she'd be called off the Cannons' second string to play in the big leagues. She knew that was what all her teammates were going after. She just liked to fly, to play for fun and friendly competition with players who were nearly as good as she was. She got more of a thrill from second-string practices than she did from sitting on the bench watching the first string Cannons play league matches. Face to the wind again, she took off in an orange blur high above the bleachers.
On the ground below, two people in orange robes watched her progress, their eyes shaded against the afternoon sun. The taller of the two, Aidan Lynch, the Cannons' first-string coach, turned to his companion.
"I see what you mean, B.J.," he said. "She's great."
The second string coach nodded. "She is, and she's got good instincts. She's always the best player at exhibition games. I think she could really be something."
They watched in silence as Ginny made a steep dive and snatched the Quaffle right out from another player's nose. She looped him, then tossed the ball over her shoulder to him and took off again. The second string coach, B.J. Ollerton, sighed, earning her a curious look from the other coach.
"Is there something you're not telling me?" he asked, returning his gaze to the players.
"I don't know," B.J. said. "I think she'd do a great job on first string. She's put in her time here, that's for sure. But I get a sense of something missing..." She trailed off in frustration. "I'm not sure I can explain it, Aidan. It's like she's only playing Quidditch while she waits for something better to come along."
Aidan laughed. "Better than professional Quidditch? To a Weasley?"
B.J. smiled wryly. "I know," she agreed, shaking her head. "I'm probably just imagining it. Forget I said anything. But, while you're here, you might keep an eye on Zabini, too. He's no Weasley, but he's quite good. As good as anyone Appleby or Tutshill is playing these days."
The coaches watched the players run their drills for a while longer. Aidan's eyes followed Ginny and Zabini, as well as a few other promising players, until B.J. tapped her whistle with her wand and raised it to her lips. The sound echoed through the stadium, calling all the players to the locker rooms.
Ginny landed on the pitch, feeling better than she had before practice started. She was sweaty under her orange robes, a good sweat born from honest hard work. Her red hair clung to the sides of her face, and she wiped it absently aside as she strode into the women's locker room. She flicked her wand, opened her locker, and set her Firebolt gently inside. Her nice-but-not-fancy robes hung inside the locker for her to change into for the big dinner tonight. Mum was having everyone over for the twins' birthday. Ginny smiled; she couldn't wait. Bill and Fleur's twins were like her own children these days, and their fourth birthday was a very big occasion for the Weasley family.
She began to pull off her orange robes, ignoring the restless pull of emotion in her belly. She felt that a lot recently, but right now she didn't have time to analyze it. Or even to go flying again, which was how she usually dealt with this persistent dissatisfaction. She had made Mum promise to wait until she got home to decorate; she knew exactly what she had in mind for the party theme.
"Weasley!" Her robe was halfway over her head when she heard Coach's voice call from the office.
She nearly groaned, but managed to suppress it. "Coming, Coach!" she shouted from under her robes. She yanked them off and threw them in her locker, then jogged in her shorts and jersey to the office.
"Yes?" she said, trying not to let her impatience show.
Coach Ollerton looked at her for a beat. "Shut the door and sit down, Weasley."
Curious, Ginny closed the door behind her. She sat in the uncomfortable naugahyde chair on the other side of Coach's battered desk.
B.J. sat back and studied Ginny for a moment. It was so hard to read this girl, she thought in frustration. She honestly had no idea what the answer to this offer would be.
"Coach Lynch was here today," she began succinctly. "He needs a rotating Chaser on the first string, since Bell's injuries limit her pitch time."
"Yeah?" Ginny said, wondering if Coach was really going where she seemed to be with this.
"Yeah," said Coach. "Lots of field time for a good all-rounder. And you're the best all-round Chaser we have."
Ginny blinked. "Me?" she said incredulously. "He wants me?"
Coach nodded and gave Ginny a rare smile. "Yes, he wants you. For the big leagues."
Ginny blew out a breath and slumped back in her chair.
Aidan Lynch wanted her.
To be a Chaser.
For the Chudley Cannons.
A part of her took a great deal of satisfaction in knowing she was the best, that she was good enough to rise to the top. In a family of so many over-achievers, superiority was hard to come by. And she had been working toward this for a long time.
But another part of her wondered why she wasn't leaping up and down and whooping with joy. She was pleased, but not particularly thrilled. In fact, she wasn't sure what to do. She knew the question should be a no-brainer, it was what she had been working toward all these years, but she couldn't bring herself to say yes just yet.
She fidgeted with the end of her plait, bit her lip, then glanced up at Coach, who was watching her steadily. Hesitantly she said, "Can I have a few days to think about it? When does he need to know?"
To her relief, Coach gave a small nod, as though this was exactly what she had been expecting Ginny to say. "Yeah, that'll be fine. He doesn't need to know until after the Victory Day holiday. In fact, I told him I had to be allowed to keep all my players for the exhibition games that weekend. But he'll need to know after that."
Ginny nodded and stood up. "Thanks, Coach," she said, and walked quickly back to hit the showers.
She Apparated back home, only a few minutes later than she had planned. "Hi, Mum!" she said kissing her mother on the cheek distractedly.
"Hello, dear," her mother said fondly. She was taking a huge cake out of the oven, levitating it in front of her until it came to rest on the cooling rack in the center of the table.
"Did you get Bill to take the girls out for a bit?" Ginny asked, getting to work immediately. Thoughts of flying in the big leagues were shoved to the back of her mind to be dealt with later. She waved her wand and the decorations she had Vanished appeared from the air. Thank God for magic, she thought with a chuckle. Those two little girls could find anything, or ruin the house and everything in it trying. In her mind she called them Freda and Georgette, so much did they remind her of their uncles.
"Yes," Molly said, beginning to mix the frosting in a huge bowl on the table. "He's taking them to Diagon Alley to pick out their birthday presents, so we should have some time. He promised he could keep them out until six."
Ginny and Molly worked in companionable silence for a while. Molly frosted the cake with sugary white frosting, while Ginny put up streamers and added a layer of magical sparkle to everything. Opening her bag, she withdrew a dozen Golden Snitches she had stolen from the locker room and set them free to fly around the room. Then she pointed her wand at the corners of the kitchen and parlor, muttered a spell, and vines bearing pink roses began to climb from floor to ceiling.
Finally, Ginny turned to the cake. Half of it she turned orange, writing Happy Birthday Victoria in white, in the style used by the Chudley Cannons. The other half she turned pink, decorated with white roses, and wrote Happy Birthday Claire in the fanciest, most elegant writing she could come up with.
At quarter of six, the two women looked around. Molly's roast in the oven made the kitchen smell warm and homely, and Ginny felt that wave of...something...wash over her again. It made her think of Coach's offer to her today. Victoria would go into fits of joy if she accepted the position on the team. She sighed and pushed the thoughts and feelings away.
"It really clashes terribly, doesn't it?" she said, determinedly grinning at her mother. "All this pink and orange?"
Molly shook her head ruefully. "Yes, but it's what they want. It's their birthday."
Ginny sighed and let herself lean against the counter for a moment of rest before the family arrived home. "I don't remember you ever having to go through all this for Fred and George," she said thoughtfully.
Molly shook her head. "We didn't. Fred and George have always been so much alike, at least in things like this. But those girls..."
Ginny and Molly laughed together. Bill always said that if he hadn't actually seen both of them come out of Fleur, he wouldn't have believed his two girls were related to each other. Then they both sighed, and as if by unspoken agreement, moved into each other's arms.
"I wish she were here," Molly whispered into Ginny's shoulder. "I hate that she's missing this."
Ginny squeezed her eyes shut. Birthdays were always so hard. "I know, Mum. I do, too. But we've done all right by them, don't you think? I'm sure she's proud of them."
"Of course she is," said Molly, pulling back and dabbing her eyes with her apron. "And your father is, too."
"Yeah," Ginny said quietly, her throat growing thick at the mention of her dad. As far as she was concerned, her father was made to be a grandfather to girls, and it was a bitter pill to swallow that he had died when they were still so young.
"Well, let's save the tears for Victory Day, shall we?" Molly said briskly, blowing her nose on a napkin. "Let's try to be happy tonight, Ginny, for our girls."
Ginny nodded, and took a deep breath trying to quiet her grief. Four years had gone by--well, four years on Victory Day, but that was only next week-- and she still missed her father so badly the ache never went away. She could only imagine how her mother got by from day to day. Or Bill, having lost both Arthur and Fleur on the same day. She supposed they did what Weasleys always did. They were family, and family took care of each other. For some reason, that thought nearly pushed her over into the sobs that she had been trying so hard to hold back. She pressed a fist against her belly, trying to hold in the feelings, and stood like that for a moment, still and tense.
A crack from the parlor distracted her, and she looked up. Molly went rushing through the kitchen into the other room, and Ginny heard the squeals of her nieces as they beheld the birthday decorations.
The sound of their voices made her feel better, and she followed her mother to where the twins and their father stood, surrounded by packages. Bill looked pale and bemused, and Ginny had to laugh. Men never understood why shopping was such a serious undertaking for women. Even if those women were only four years old.
Victoria was dressed in a perfect replica of a Cannons' uniform, from top to toe. With her red hair and freckles, she looked like a miniature version of Ginny. Claire, who was fair and blonde like her mother, wore a pink satin robe and a tiara on top of her sleek golden hair. Ginny smiled. Her little Seeker and her little Princess.
"Auntie Ginny!" shrieked the girls, and Ginny only just had time to hit the floor on one knee before they threw themselves into her arms. Ginny drew them close to her, and for a moment the restlessness receded, and she was content.