AN: This is a fic I am writing as a warm up to NaNoWriMo in November. The idea is to start October 1st writing a minimum of 150 words and increase by 50 words a day until the end of October. As soon as November hits I will be abandoning this story to work on my novel, though I plan to return to it in December. You have been warned.
Trigger Warnings: no trigger warnings (that I am aware of) for this chapter. If you would like me to add something, please let me know!
"Watch it!" Hermione shouted as Ginny swooped down low to the table on her broom and scattered Hermione's books and papers. "You really shouldn't be flying inside."
Ginny laughed and spun her broom around, "Come on, Hermione. We've weeks until school starts again and we've been cooped up in here for ages. You don't need to start studying yet. Come play with us."
Hermione shook her head. "I need to review my notes from last year before starting to read my textbooks for this year."
Ginny rolled her eyes. "We haven't been to Diagon Alley yet. You don't even have next year's books yet."
"I want to start studying as soon as we get them."
"Please?"
"No," Hermione insisted. "I'll watch you for a bit though."
Ginny whooped and flew up to snatch the Quaffle from Fred. She did a barrel roll to avoid the ceiling light, darted between George and Ron, and hit the cupboard door.
"Point for me!" said Ginny, twirling on her broom.
Hermione spent another minute watching as George scored, and then Ginny scored again before she lost interest and turned back to her books.
She shuffled through her notes, trying to find where she had left off, but she was too distracted. The shouts of the Weasley family above her kept piercing her concentration, and most of her attention wasn't on her notes to begin with.
She was worried about Harry. It was hard to write to him consistently when there was so much she couldn't tell him about. He didn't even know that she was with the Weasleys, or that they weren't at The Burrow. She tapped her quill anxiously on the parchment, spraying little dots of ink across her notes.
Even after four full years at Hogwarts she couldn't cure herself of the habit of tapping her pen whenever she was nervous or thinking.
"What is the blazes are you doing?" Mrs. Weasley shouted, setting of the portrait of Sirius's mother.
Her children halted and Ron dropped the quaffle.
"Quidditch practice." Fred said, a wide grin on his face.
"And why," said Mrs. Weasley, huffing, "in Merlin's name, are you doing it inside?"
"We can't very well go outside, can we?" said George. Ginny and Ron were still frozen in place, not daring to look away from their mother. "We're stuck in here, just like Sirius. It's no wonder he's gone half mad."
Mrs. Weasley sucked in air and her voice got deadly quiet.
"You will get off your brooms this instant and hand them to me. This house has far too many hidden spells and nasty creatures for you to be flying around and knocking things about. We are here because it is the only place where I can keep you safe. I will not hear you complain again. Do you understand me?"
Her children nodded, mute, and brought their brooms to her.
"Sorry, mum," Fred and George said together. Ginny and Ron nodded in agreement.
Mrs. Weasley looked over their sorrowful faces and nodded once firmly, then turned and marched out if the room, their brooms tucked under one arm.
Fred and George looked at each other and shrugged. Then their faces broke into grins, clearly plotting something, and raced up the stairs. Ron traipsed after them, feet dragging on the floorboards, and Ginny came to sit beside Hermione.
They sat in silence for a while. Hermione kept catching herself tapping her quill. Mrs. Weasley had been on edge ever since she had arrived at Number 12, Grimmauld Place. She was more likely to go off on anyone for any small thing, and never gave herself a moment's rest. Instead, she had attacked the house and the nasty Dark spells and creatures it contained with vengeance, as though the war she waged against the darkness in the house directly translated into successes for the Order. It was worse when Mr. Weasley had guard duty.
Ginny scooted her chair closer and laid her head on Hermione's shoulder. "Are you done studying yet?"
"Pretty much. I'm having a hard time concentrating anyways."
"Would you plait my hair?" Ginny asked.
Hermione smiled. "I'd love to. Let's go upstairs."