I. A Midnight Summer Soar
- Of first loves and family -
The summer of 1988 held her fondest memories; Her dad let her play with Muggle objects in the old shed, Percy taught her the basic theory of spells, and Ron took her to the lake near their humble abode to get a look at the fishes. Ron swore up and down there was this one puke-green fish the size of Percy's ego, yet it never revealed itself. Instead, the twins popped up out the lake to greet their younger siblings, scaring them both half to death. Ron and Ginny got their revenge later that week, though the house stunk for almost a month, as, unfortunately, they forgot where in Forge's room they hid the rotting fish.
It had also been one of the hottest years the burrow had ever seen. So much so, the Weasley matriarch herself was forced to cast freezing charms on several objects in each room. Not that it did much good, though; the blasted items melted within a few hours!
Nevertheless, all Weasleys were tucked in bed, snoring up a storm... well, all Weasleys save for one. The youngest, smallest carrot top was wide awake, scheming and waiting for her father to enter a dream state, which was, as always, signaled by a loan drawn out, thundering snort. Arthur Weasley had a nightly routine of sorts. After putting his herd of children to sleep, which took quite a lot of time on a good day, he'd sneak downstairs for a pastry, get caught and scolded by Molly, check on the children, tinker with some muggle objects, and finally resign himself to bed. Fortunately for the juvenile red-head, it had been a good day and Arthur didn't have any reason to stay up later than usual.
It was nearly a quarter till midnight when she had heard her endearing, yet obnoxiously loud, cue. Ginevera shoved her silver-painted toes into her slippers and yanked her hands through the large arm holes of the thin sea-green robe that once rested at the foot of the bed. While her bedroom was only on the 1st floor, she took an excessive amount of time creeping past the adjacent bedroom that was Bill and Charlie's. Living in the room directly under Fred and George made them both quick to startle awake; Mix that and their respective career choices and it's no wonder the female Weasley trekked past the room with caution. Eventually, petite feet tip-toed down the wooden staircase, cautiously skipping the fourth, seventh and final step, as each were particularly known to creak under the slightest pressure.
Earlier that day, Percy had eagerly rushed off to the broom shed to show Bill and Charlie what he had learned at school. Though Mrs. Weasley hadn't let her third born son fly too high, the younger red heads were enchanted and soon begged to be let on a turn. Fred and George, being the eldest of those who had yet to go to Hogwarts, were let on individually first. That's to say no one really knew which of the pair was which and was not foolish enough to try to manage both at a time.
Just as the second twin angled the handle of the upward, Molly marched from her position by the kitchen window and declared the activity done with. That didn't stop the lad from angling his broom upward and shooting off towards the sky. His partner in crime, Fred (perhaps it was George), cheered from below. True to his seeker skills, not a minute had passed before Charlie had hopped on the spare besom, raced after the wayward child, yanked him off the stuttering broom, and dropped him at Molly's feet. They were quickly ushered inside. Ron and Ginny protested, of course, but were silenced as their mother sent them to wash up for lunch. Bill grabbed the broom that fell across the field, while Molly took the disobedient twin by the ear into the kitchen to draw a small x on his face, signifying which of the twins had to de-gnome the garden all afternoon. As soon as her back was turned, the unmarked twin grabbed another quill from the living room and branded himself the same x. Molly punished them both.
Ron had his turn as soon as he gobbled down his sandwich, despite Molly's demand to wait half an hour. After all the proper threats were given to ensure a second joy ride would not occur, Ron jumped on the broom and awaited instruction. His plump, freckled toes tickled as the blades of dry grass scrapped gently across his feet. Though he'd not gone very fast, the look of pure delight seen within his wide blue eyes made the female Weasley ache to give it a try.
But she hadn't gotten a turn. She was too young, they said. She could get hurt.
Ginny got into the shed from the left side, where if you pushed the bottom board in ever so gently, there'd be just enough room to enter. She squeezed past Arthur's work bench and beaten-up shell of a car before hopping over the many rusted tools that lay scattered on the floor. She took the least rattiest broomstick from the tall wooden cabinet of the far left corner and hurried to the open field beside the house.
The besom lay on the ground, wrangled and used. It's hair was wild and loosely confined with a thick, rusted band that may have once been a nice shade of red. All in all, it was a sore to look at. Despite this, Ginny couldn't wait to hop on. Her entire being pulsed with excitement, caution, and sheer magic that crackled in air like static.
"Up," She spoke, clear and hopeful.
The only answer she received was the endless chirping of the crickets concealed in the grass around her scruffy, work-out slippers. She looked at the still piece of wood that lay on the ground with frustration as it quivered, but remained seated.
"Up!" She growled forcefully in a low, deadly tone that morphed her sweet face into one that resembled her mother's when reprimanding the twins earlier. The broom trembled with fright, yet hovered past no more than the height of her ankles.
Ginny tugged her robe around her small body; it being once Bill's, it cloaked her completely. She huffed and crossed her arms as failure showered over her. Her eyes brimmed with tears and her cheeks grew puffy and red, though no one but herself witnessed her defeat.
She rid her cheeks of the few escaped tears and jammed her lips together to muffle the chocked sobs and whines that refused to remain lodged in her throat. Breathing deeply, Ginny rubbed her face with the sea-green material of her robe, and once again glared at the beaten-up house cleaning utensil with contempt, as it mocked her with it's inanimate appearance. If there was one thing on Earth the smallest Weasley absolutely despised, it was being mocked.
Standing to her full height, a whopping thirty-eight inches, she scowled and barked, "UP!"
With a resounding Smack!, she found it's handle encircled in the small palm of her hand. Ginevera gasped and a wide grin overtook her face. Amazement and joy cooled her body in the summer heat, which had hardly lessened since noon. The dark handle of the broom felt so absolutely right in her hand. It was as if she was made to have it. A quick glance at the house reassured her she hadn't been too loud. Not wasting another moment, she threw a freckled leg over the broomstick and gently pushed off the ground.
She fumbled a bit, but quickly found balance soon after she'd leveled herself somewhat parallel to the ground. She had done it! By Merlin, she was flying! Her feet weren't even close to touching the ground! She glanced back at her still house and when she saw no sign of movement within, she leaned forward. The warm wind caressed her face and playfully danced with her hair. The moon above didn't seem so far away as it had all those times she looked out her window. As a matter of face, if she raised her hand, she thought she might even touch a cloud. It was ludicrous of course, but what about flying was sane? With more confidence, she tilted the broom upward, towards the sky... and immediately began to lose control.
Her legs slipped off the body of the broom and were kicking below her frantically as she held on with all her might. The broom curved backwards and before she knew it, she was spiraling directly downward. The wind, once her friend, slapped her face and poked her watery eyes, causing her grip to loosen even further. She silently cried out as she shut her eyes and dug her nails into the wood of the broom. The ground was getting more close with every second that passed. Her breaths were shallow and rushed. The young Weasley was going to die. As a last hope, Ginny frantically pulled the broomstick backwards, towards her chest, and hit a boom berry bush hard, though she supposed it was softer than the ground. Her arms and face were covered in small scrapes and the slightest of movement caused her agony. Trying to get out of the thorn bush only caused her more pain. At least the broomstick wasn't so badly injured.
She wasn't even halfway out of the snare, when she heard faint footsteps running towards her. She begged it wasn't dad, or worse, mum. Large, rough, and calloused hands gently nudged the offending branches away from her body and picked her up so that she was cradled against his chest. The absence of breasts assured her Molly wasn't the one holding her.
"Shh. It's alright now." It was Charlie. Her whimpers quieted down some, but she still feared he wasn't the only one awakened by her crash. She was in trouble; That fact alone brought her to tears. Her body throbbed in pain. He set her down, sank to one knee, and had a look at the cuts scattered all across her body. He winced and plucked the thorns from her robe and skin. He cooed at her as he did with all the injured dragons he had come across. For the most part, it had worked in comforting her.
"Episkey." He lifted his wand to several spots all over her bodyand healed them. One by one the pain vanished, though she did feel a little sore all over. "Tergeo," and the dried blood was gone as well. No one had come out, so she assumed everyone was asleep, save for the pair. Now that his younger sibling was well and mended, anger seeped through Charlie's veins like Venomous Tentacula Juice.
"You want to tell me what the bloody fuck you're doing out here? Hey! Look at me." She finally met his eyes, and saw his stubbly jaw clench in displeasure. A fresh wave of tears trailed down her face. Charlie was the most even tempered of the Weasley bunch. Like Arthur, he rarely got upset but was easily more frightening than twenty Mollys when put in a mood. She wiped her face with the back of her hand and took a deep breath before answering.
"I-I didn't g-get a turnnn and I-I wanted to flyyy." She sobbed and reached out to bury herself in his chest. "I j-j-just w-wanted to f-fly!" He smothered down her wild hair and sighed. She had to know it was wrong to sneak out though. She wasn't a dunce, on the contrary, she was bright for her age and should have known better. At the sound of his sister's distressed weeping, Charlie deflated. Also not unlike Arthur, he had a soft spot for her.
"Listen, you and I both know it was wrong to sneak out. You could have been in an even worse shape than what I found you in, and then what? There'd be no one to help you. Damn it, Ginny! This was one of the better outcomes to coming out here unsupervised, never having ridden a broom before." The girl was breathing slowly, deeply and was staring at her naked feet with a pitiful look. The elder ginger cupped Ginny's face and forced her to look him in the eye. Softer he said,"I get you wanted to fly. Do I think it was right to exclude you earlier, no, but I wasn't about to go against mum, to her face at least." That brought a smile out of his sister. "If you want, I can fly with you a bit. Don't tell anyone, though. And don't think I'm not upset at you for being so reckless, 'cause I am. I just don't think you should be left out. After this, straight to bed though. No more sneaking out, understand? I swear I'll haul you straight to mum next time."
Ginny nodded eagerly to the proposal and Charlie summoned the broom. He cupped her hands and placed them correctly on the broomstick, one above the other. He got on the back of the broom and gently steered them around the field. She wanted to go higher, but felt it wasn't her place to demand anything. As if he read her mind, Charlie sped up and angled the broom upwards.
Her breath quickened and she gave a quiet Whoop! of joy. He stopped when they were just under over the height of the Balm tree and set the broomstick horizontally. She gave a few puffs of excited and terrified breaths and laughed as if the twins had slipped Hyena tree leaves in her tea… again. Flying felt like freedom at no cost, like desert without dinner! This is where she belonged. Charlie chuckled and gently flew around in figure eights and other silly patters.
She basked in the glow of the moon and as they glid around the yard, alternating speed and height. She was completely safe with Charlie – He was the best flyer in the world. He could have gone professional; she heard that from various people that stopped Molly and Arthur for a quick chat at the shops earlier that month.
When her eyes grew too heavy to continue, they flew to the ground, retrieved her slippers and sneaked into the shed to put the broomstick in its proper place. A symphony of snores greeted them as they tip-toed up the crooked staircase, cautiously skipping the final, seventh, and fourth steps of course.
She gave Charlie the biggest hug before retreating to her room. She threw off her battered sea-green robe and tossed it to hang over an old, wooden chair near the far right corner of the room. She slipped off her dirty slippers and snuggled into bed, where the smallest Weasley promptly fell asleep and dreamt of soaring onto the moon.
Those were the days of unstinting bliss and ease. In their perfect, shielded home, the Dark Lord never existed and poverty meant little to them.
Flying was her first love.
Tom was her second.
Author's Note: Funnily enough, this was only meant to be a prologue. Instead I've gone and written over 2,000 words, which is wild, considering my first draft had less than 600. Just thought I'd share that with you. If you liked what you read and want more, leave a comment below. Nevertheless, expect another chapter in the next few weeks.