Best-friends are, honest to Merlin, the single most dreadful idea man-kind has ever had the audacity to come up with. Seriously. They are completely, undeniably insane, and seem to have this perpetual tendency to ruin lives (yours especially), and really, it's just horrible.
Bottom line is: never ever, ever have a best-friend. Ever. Especially one named Rose Weasley. Don't make the same mistakes I did. She's merciless.
"I can't believe you're making me do this." I groan, tightening my hold on the broomstick currently wedged in my white-knuckled, two-handed grip-of-death. Useless thing is apparently supposed to make sure I don't fall right out of the sky and, you know, die, or something.
Keyword: apparently.
"Harper, as long as you hold on tight and just keep steady, everything will be alright." Rose tells me.
See? Absolutely merciless.
This is all Rose's fault, by the way. She's the sole reason why we're both standing out here in the middle of a big-ass Quidditch Pitch at one in the morning, freezing our arses right off. It's not like Rose has ever come up with the most genius schemes in the history of the Wizarding World's Most Genius Schemes but, well, this is quite possibly her worst one yet. And that's truly saying something since last year, she managed to convince me jumping off her roof into the next-door neighbour's backyard was a good idea.
Here's a secret: It really wasn't.
"This is going to mentally scar me, Rose. I'm sure of it. Maybe even more than that time Hugo threw up in my fish bowl and killed Peter." He was my first, and last, ever pet- a goldfish. I had just come back from breakfast to check on my darling Peter, only to find him floating, all dead-like, in a toxic combination of fish-pee, stale water, and puke.
Needless to say, I have been traumatized ever since.
"That was ten years ago, Harper. I think it's time to let it go." She sighs.
"Not likely." I scoff. "And I won't be letting this go for a long time either. If I survive, that is."
"Now you're just giving me reason to hope you don't." Rose smirks as I contort my expression into a nasty glare and poke my tongue out. There's absolutely no denying it: I am the very epitome of unquestionable maturity.
"You're such a sweetheart."
"So I've been told." Her smugness seems to increase infinitely. Rose and I have known each other for almost fourteen years now and not a day has gone by without her doing something that really makes me consider throwing all my moral qualms about 'not punching mates in the face' out the window.
That's true friendship for you, right there.
"Nobody in their right mind would call you a sweetheart, Rose." I snort. It's true. She's the sort of person who would probably stab a first-year in the eye for looking at her the wrong way too early in the morning. There are many ways to describe the enigma that is Rose Weasley, but 'sweet' really isn't one of them.
"Whatever, loser." She shoots back at me, her lips twitching into a maybe-kind-of-smile. It's the sort that only Rose could pull off without looking like she's having a facial spasm. "Get your arse into the air, Harper."
"But-"
"No buts."
"But-"
"No buts."
I scowl at her. She must know that there is no possible way this- me attempting to fly- will end well. For anybody.
"Why do I have to even bother trying? Do you actually want me to die? Is that what all this flying nonsense is about?"
"Of course not. All I want is for you to get over this unrealistic fear of yours-"
"Since when is my fear of falling twenty feet out of the sky and consequently cracking my skull open unrealistic?"
Rose just continues on as if I hadn't said anything.
Crazy bint.
"- and realise how amazing it feels to be up in the air. Flying."
"I'm pretty sure it's not going to feel so bloody 'amazing' when I inevitably attack the ground with my face." I mutter angrily, shifting my weight from one foot to the other.
"Yeah, well, better your face than mine."
"Thanks, Rose."
"Anything for you, love."
I take a deep breath in. It's okay, I can do this. I can do this. I can do this. I can-
"I can't do this."
Sigh. So much for Gryffindor bravery.
"Yes, you can." Rose runs a hand through her red hair. It's always been a vibrant contrast to the porcelain pale tone of her skin, ever since I first met her. "Once you're up in the sky, your instincts will take over."
… Instincts. Ha. For someone who has known me for so bloody long, she really seems to forget the important details.
I.
Have.
None.
I shake my head, more to myself than anyone else. "I can't-"
"You can, Harper."
"No-"
"Yes."
Here's the thing: Arguing with Rose Weasley is not a pleasing past-time. She always wins. If by some off chance she doesn't, she'll probably kill you and end up as the winner by default. That's just the way Rose works.
"Harper, just get on the fucking broom and fly." Rose snaps, although without that fierce edge she seems to only reserve for meddling strangers and mornings when she's forced to wake up before 7:30 am. Really, I'm surprised she managed to hold onto her patience for so long- ten minutes is probably her maximum quota for niceness every year.
I sigh. Bringing my right leg over stiffly, I straddle the broomstick and thank Merlin for cushioning charms.
"Now what?" I ask Rose, trying to hold all the panic at bay. If I can just ignore the pounding heart, sweaty palms and quickening breaths, maybe I can pretend the prospect of actually flying doesn't scare me at all.
Because it doesn't.
Of course it doesn't.
"Kick off slowly and lean forward a little. It's going to be okay, Harper. You'll see- flying really isn't that bad at all." Easy for her to say, with her feet firmly planted on the ground and imminent doom not staring her right in the face.
I sigh again. It's now or never. As much as I'd rather never, Rose doesn't seem to be letting me choose. Oh, the woes of being a Weasley's best friend. I bend my knees and grip the handle a little tighter, whether to hide my shaking hands or to simply have better control of the broom, I don't know. I push off the ground a little and- hey, I'm flying. I'm flying.
I'M FLYING.
…
Okay, so maybe 'flying' is a bit of a stretch. More like hovering a few inches off the ground, but still. Achievement.
I feel a hesitant grin tugging at my lips. Hey, maybe this won't be as (terrifyingly disastrous) bad as I originally thought.
Or maybe I'm just getting too ahead of myself. Either way, nobody's been fatally injured yet and I've been flying-or-hovering-whatever-you-want-to-call-it for at least five seconds so far. That must be a good sign, right? Right?
… Right?
Looking down at the broom fixed between both of my hands, I try and figure out what exactly I'm supposed to do next.
Hey, it's not like I do this very often.
Or, you know, at all.
"Rose, what do I do now?" I bite the inside of my cheek, refusing to move even an inch in case the bloody thing decided to completely spaz out and throw me off, or do something equally detrimental to my mental and physical well-being.
"Lean forward a little bit. Yes, like that. Just- No, not that much. Harper. HARPER."
Too late.
Note to self: Never listen to Rose. Like, ever.
The broom suddenly shoots forward at an 'Oh-my-Merlin-I-think-I'm-actually-going-to-die' sort of speed that forces a startled shriek right out of me.
Oh my Merlin, I think I'm actually going to die.
I vaguely hear Rose screaming something at me about slowing down. Wow, that's actually such a wonderful idea. Maybe I should try it. Oh wait, that's right.
I DON'T KNOW HOW.
"MY DEATH IS GOING ON YOUR KARMA RECORD. DO YOU HEAR ME, ROSE? YOUR. KARMA. RECORD. FUCK." A rather generous clump of my own hair- if the shade of brown is anything to go by- flies into my mouth.
Um, ew.
Another bit of it falls into my face, brushing against my cheeks and cutting my vision into strips. Isn't this just perfect? Not only am I currently seated on a broomstick I haven't the faintest idea how to control, but my own traitorous hair- stupid dead skin cells- has also made blinding and gagging me it's own personal mission.
The broom swerves dangerously to the left before unnervingly spiralling upwards.
"DOWN. BRING IT DOWN, HARPER." Rose bellows from down below. Her voice sounds so far away- barely a whisper to me with the wind whipping in my ears.
Rising higher… And higher… This can't seriously be considered fun to anybody half-sane.
"FUCK. FUCK. FUCK." I'm pretty sure even Dumbledore in his grave could hear my vulgar screeching but I could care less- just in case nobody's realised it yet, I think I'm about to die.
It's too dark to see anything and- oh, for the love of babies everywhere. I jerk the broom down rapidly.
Well. It seems plunging towards the ground at rapidly increasing speeds isn't quite my cup of tea either.
Can't say it surprises me.
"FUUCCKKK. ROSE, IF BY SOME MIRACLE I GET OUT OF THIS ALIVE, I'M GOING TO KILL YOU. I'M GOING TO KILL YOU." That miracle seems to be getting less and less likely by the second. Oh, joy.
"UP! BRING IT UP, HARPER." Rose is two degrees off hysterical and it almost makes me want to laugh. And then I remember the whole 'imminent doom' thing I have going on at the moment and the mood is just killed.
Like I'm about to be. Fan-fucking-tastic.
"PULL THE FUCKING HANDLE UP, YOU BINT. YOU'RE GOING TO DIE." Wow, Rose. Why not tell me something I don't know? "PULL IT UP OR I SWEAR TO MERLIN, YOU DON'T HAVE TO WAIT TO CRASH AND DIE. I'LL KILL YOU RIGHT NOW MYSELF."
I figure maybe, just one last time, listening to Rose really couldn't be such a bad idea.
Before the possibility of introducing my face to the dirt, painfully, can become any more likely, I resolutely squeeze my eyes shut- Merlin knows, I do not want to witness this- and yank the broom up violently.
ROSE, YOU LIAR- THERE IS NOTHING REMOTELY AMAZING ABOUT THIS.
Suddenly, the broom disappears from beneath me and I'm tumbling to the ground in an ungraceful heap. Bloody hell. With a clatter, the homicidal piece of crap falls beside me, looking much less 'stick of death' and more 'school property broomstick' now that it isn't trying to send me to an early grave.
Sneaky bugger.
"Harper, you're alive! And you look terrible." I shoot Rose a look that clearly says if she values her life at all, she won't even think of going there.
"It's nice to see you too." I spit bitterly, pulling tangles of grass and mud from my hair. Merlin, my sheer attractiveness never ceases to amaze me. "Now help me up, you crazy woman, before I conveniently remember how I'm supposed to kill you now that I've survived and all."
Rose groans exasperatedly, biting back a smile, as she grasps my fingers and heaves me up in one motion, not the least bit gentle. Just like always. As I right myself, the world does this crazy tilt-and-wobble thing that makes me feel like I'm about to puke, or something.
Ugh. That would just be the cherry on top of my fantastic night.
"That was awesome."
"What the fu-" Rose begins to shriek, jumping back at least a whole foot at the voice. She spins around, hand pulled back, ready to bitch-slap the sucker into the next century before she realises who it is.
"Al, bloody hell." She yells. "You scared the fuck out of me."
Well, that makes two of us. I bring a hand up to my chest, just to check and see if my heart's actually planning on restarting any time soon. The prat.
"What are you doing here?" I snarl, swivelling on my heels just in time to catch the ghost of a smug smirk appearing on his face.
He shakes his head a little and bites the corner of his lip, stifling a laugh. "Couldn't sleep." He takes a step forward and I roll my eyes. Yes, because insomnia is always a valid excuse for sneaking up on girls in the middle of the night and frightening them half to death. Bastard.
"Figured I'd come out and fly around a bit, see if I could wear myself out or something." Al shrugs and shoves one hand into his pocket. "Then I heard some screaming and figured I'd come and check it out to make sure someone wasn't being, you know, murdered or something." Rose and I both scowl. "And I saw you flying. Your name's Harper, right? Harper Scott? I think I've seen you at Rose's place before."
I blink, a bit surprised he remembers my name at all. This is probably the first real conversation (that consisted of more than a passing hello and the mumbled obligatory reply) I've had with him in all the fourteen years I've known Rose, and by extension, her family. There's something about those Weasleys and Potters, they're a bunch of lunatics- all varying degrees of insane.
Which is to say, I like them all quite a bit.
By the time I realise I'm supposed to say something, Rose has already pulled him into a heated argument. Oh, typical Rose.
"- don't just sneak up on us-"
"- didn't mean to scare-"
"- really, you're such an idiot-"
"- why are you blaming me-"
"- can't believe we're related-"
Rose and Al fire back and forth, shouting at each other so fiercely I have to bite my tongue from laughing.
"Um, guys, could you maybe stop for-"
"- you're so horrible sometimes-"
"Okay, this is lovely and all but can you just pause-"
"- stop being such a tosser for two seconds and-"
"I'm really enjoying listening to you two bicker but there's-"
"- oh, that's rich-"
I take a deep breath in. The handbook for life didn't exactly come with any instructions on how to calmly break up sibling spats without suffering injury or causing the whole world to spontaneously combust. I guess I'm just going to have to deal with this my own way.
Sigh.
"GUYS. SHUT THE FUCK UP."
Cue: Stunned silence.
They both turn their heads to stare at me. Apparently, yelling at the top of my lungs is quite a good mediating method. I'll write that down for next time.
"Now that we've sorted that out, what exactly do you want, Al?" I ask him shortly, throwing Rose a cursory glance just to make sure she isn't about to whip out her wand and curse her lovely cousin into oblivion.
"That dive you pulled was seriously amazing." He tells me enthusiastically.
Um.
Okay.
But that wasn't exactly a dive.
"It wasn't a dive." I tell him, wiping my hands on a clean patch of my shirt that had, by some miracle, avoided being splattered by mud as I'd crash landed.
"Of course it was." Al responds, tilting his head to the side.
"No, it wasn't really-"
"You should come join the Quidditch team." As soon as the words leave his mouth, Rose bursts into hysterical giggles that soon dissolve into a coughing fit. She sounds like she's choking up her lung or something. Sexy.
"Die quietly, Rose." I shout over to her, seeing her flip me off just before I turn back to face him. "Look, I'm really not interested in joining the team."
"Why not?" He sounds so confused, like it's just not possible that anybody wouldn't want to play a sport where murderous balls trying to pound your face in are practically the entire point. Yeah, fun.
"Because I can't fly."
"Yes, you can."
"No, I-"
"But I just saw you. Flying."
I groan. This boy is relentless. "Hasn't the Quidditch season already started? Doesn't that mean all the places are filled anyway?" I point out.
"Yeah, well, our Seeker is sort of…" He brings a hand up to rub the back of his neck nervously. "In hospital right now. So that position is open. I just held tryouts for it this morning and none of the were half as good as you."
… Uh huh. Well, you see, I'm almost certain it's impossible to be worse than me. Did he not witness the whole falling out of the sky thing? Maybe he missed my screaming profanities as I almost face-planted the ground at cardiac arrest inducing speeds.
"Al, seriously, she can't fly." Rose supplies, now that she's recovered from her episode of hacking up intestinal organs. "Harper's just really equilibrate-challenged." I shoot her a dirty glare which she responds to with the universally known 'you know it's true' look.
He just ignores her. "Join the team- we really need you. If you could pull dives like that during the games and demonstrate that much broom control,-" Ha, broom control. What a freaking joke. "- we've certainly got the Cup in the bag."
I roll my eyes. "I'd rather survive my seventh year with my dignity intact, thanks."
"Join the team. Please. Come by training tomorrow and I'll introduce you to the guys."
"No."
"Harper, just join the-"
"Make me." I bite out. This boy is absolutely relentless. There is no way in hell I'll be joining him and his stupid team to ride around on dodgy, charmed twigs.
A slow smirk slides onto his face. "If you say so."
Oh boy.
"No, I didn't mean-"
"I'll convince you to join. By the end of the week, you'll be our new Seeker." Yeah, like there's any chance of that ever happening.
I throw my arms up in the air. "You know what, Potter? Good luck with that. Rose, let's go." Grabbing onto her wrist, I tow her away. Away from the insufferable, most likely delusional, prat who seems to be under some kind of impression I'm even a semi-decent flyer.
Yeah, right.
"I hope you choke in your sleep and die." I shout back over my shoulder. Aching limbs and near-death flying experiences really didn't do wonders for my patience. And Potter had been pushing it.
"End of the week, Harper." He calls back happily.
Idiot.
"He's so stubborn." Rose informs me. "You know Al's probably going to do everything he can to make you join. If he really thinks you're as good as he seems to. If there's one thing that really matters to Al, it's Quidditch."
Oh, brilliant.
"What did I just get myself into?" I groan, squeezing my eyes shut tightly. Rose throws an arm over my shoulders, pulling me into a half hug.
"Well, looks like we're about to find out."
A/N: ISN'T THIS IS AN EXCITING DAY? IT'S THE BIRTH OF MY VERY FIRST EVER FANFICTION WOW THIS CALLS FOR CELEBRATION.
If you're reading this author's note, it must mean you've successfully made it through the first chapter. Thank you for reading! Not trying to sound horribly desperate or anything but please leave a review. It would make my day.
My week.
My year.
THANKSFORREADINGILOVEYOU.