Roxanne Weasley watches her classmates, eyes blazing, her arms folded over her chest.
They laugh and run around and brandish sticks at each other when they think the teacher isn't looking, playing their silly little war games.
She may be only eleven, but Roxanne knows that war isn't a game, and it's not fun. War just leaves scars, and it's why everyone smiles sadly about what her father used to be like, all those years ago, and it's why Teddy lives with his grandmother and not his parents, and it's why her house is so quiet and empty because her parents can't fill the gaps left by the dead all the time, but these children don't know it and Roxanne almost wishes she could tell them that war leaves marks far deeper than the scrapes on their knees.
Luke Johnson runs up to Roxanne, and grabs her by the arm. "You're my prisoner now," he laughs, dragging her towards one of the small wooden houses. She wrestles free and twists his arm violently. The teacher, Ms. Brooks, appears in a flash.
"What is going on?"
"Roxanne attacked me," Luke says, suddenly wide-eyed and innocent.
"He grabbed me," Roxanne accuses.
"You're supposed to be examples," Ms. Brooks sighs, and orders them to sit down on opposite corners of the playground, and warns them they're not to move.
When Roxanne enters the classroom after lunch, she steps on Luke's foot. He stares at her before yanking on one of her plaits.
"That's it!" Ms. Brooks thunders. "Roxanne, wait for me outside. Now."
Roxanne swings out of the classroom, because she has only one more month left in this primary school and then she has summer and freedom and then finally she'll be at Hogwarts without all the stupid, childish Muggles.
Ms. Brooks yells at her and warns her that she'll be writing a letter for her parents and that Roxanne had best make sure the letter made it into her backpack and all the way home, because Heavens knows she's in enough trouble already.
Molly picks Roxanne up from school and takes her to the Burrow, just like she does every day. None of the other grandchildren are there, and Roxanne puts together puzzles in boredom.
When she gets home, she leaves the letter on the kitchen counter while her mother isn't looking, knowing that by the time anyone pays the note any attention she'll be asleep and there's never enough time in the morning to eat breakfast, let alone receive any kind of lecture.
But George comes home early, or at least earlier than usual, and picks the letter off the counter. He reads it curiously, before warning Roxanne that she'd better not get in any more trouble before the end of the year. But Roxanne isn't sure she cares, because all anyone tells is how much trouble her father got into when he was at school, him and Uncle Fred, and what a shame it is, taken too young.
The next day, Jonah Roberts comes up to her on the playground and tells her that what she did to Luke was kind of funny, and that he thinks the war games are pretty stupid anyway. Roxanne's eyes sparkle at the hidden compliment, and she shares her pumpkin pasty with him, and he gives her some of his crisps in thanks.
School finishes – thank Merlin, thinks Roxanne – and she spends her summer riding her broom with her cousins and swimming in the river at the back of the Burrow. But she also goes to Jonah's house and she meets his father, who's in a wheelchair, and Roxanne doesn't ask, but when she speaks to Mr. Roberts, who can't be very old at all, she sees that his eyes make him look like Uncle Harry, because they're bright green and they've seen far too much.
She hears Mrs. Roberts say something to her mother about Afghanistan, and she knows that Afghanistan is the cover for why Uncle Fred died, but she still doesn't quite understand.
"Where are you going for school?" Jonah asks her.
Roxanne starts a little, before remembering the cover story. "I'm going to a special private school in Scotland. It's only for very smart children."
Jonah stares at her for a minute. "Are you sure they're letting you in? Don't seem that smart to me," he grins, before Roxanne whacks him playfully on the arm.
"Are you gonna have a phone?" he asks. "Y'know, so we can keep in touch?"
"Um, I don't think they really allow phones. They're kinda... strict and old fashioned."
"Oh," Jonah frowns in disappointment.
"You can probably write to me, though. I'll make sure to get the address from my parents," she promises.
Roxanne and Jonah write to each other, Jonah's letters passed onto her by the Squibs who work in post offices across Britain, and her owls sent to a special checkpoint before they're sent through the Muggle post.
Somewhere over the years their correspondence took the form of love letters, and Jonah became her first kiss, the first person she had sex with.
Roxanne knocks on the door of Jonah's apartment, waiting to surprise him.
He opens the door, and pauses. "What on earth are you doing here?"
"Surprise!" She laughs and he steps forward, hugging her tightly, before stepping back to admire her.
"Your brother's right. I should never believe a word you say."
Roxanne just laughed again. "Or maybe my brother's the one you shouldn't believe."
"Imagine what it must be like to have parents who actually pay attention to your life," Jonah snorts one night, cuddled up with Roxanne as they watch some love story on his TV.
Roxanne laughs. "Hey, at least it means we can get away with all this sex."
"Gotta admit it's a great perk with a girl like you."
Roxanne smiles. "What a suck up."
Jonah stares at the TV for a moment. "Would you ever ditch your parents like that for me?"
"Not sure they'd even notice."
"So you and me. One day we'll run away from the silence."
Roxanne seals the deal with a kiss.
The summer after her seventh year, Roxanne returns home with a heavy heart. She knows she's headed overseas to study International Magical Law. Ever since she was ten, she's wanted to escape the heavy silences of her parents' home, and studying International Magical Law is the best way of getting out.
She thinks her parents might know why she wants to leave, but she squashes those thoughts, letting the selfish ones cloak her the way she's always done around her family.
But really the only reason she can think of to do something less taxing, less ambitious is Jonah.
After putting her trunk back in her room, and taking a shower, she changes into one of her best dresses, the once in a lifetime piece of clothing that fits perfectly, the kind that shows one off in all the right ways.
She meets Jonah at his house, sits down awkwardly at his desk.
"How were your exams?" she asks, a question she'd already asked in her letters.
"We're doing small talk these days?" Jonah asks, lifting an eyebrow.
She smiles to herself. God, how can I leave someone so gorgeous, she thinks for a moment.
"Jonah... I got accepted into a law program."
"Oh my God, that's great!" he enthuses, kissing her on the cheek.
"Yeah, thanks. It's just..." Roxanne presses a nervous hand against the back of her neck. "I'm going to be studying overseas."
"Oh."
She feels Jonah's body slump against her. "When are you leaving?" he whispers.
"August twenty-eighth."
"So we have almost two months."
"Yeah." Ever the optimist, she thinks.
Later that night, Roxanne carefully extracts herself from Jonah's arms and gathers up her clothes. "I have to go," she apologises. "Curfew and all."
There is no curfew, not for parents who aren't there like hers, and Jonah knows it but he's half-asleep and maybe he doesn't remember, because she wasn't even home for the Easter holidays and Christmas was so long ago.
But he's sitting up now, staring at Roxanne as she dresses herself. He can see her silhouette in front of his window, the orange sunset a gorgeous backdrop against her body.
She whips around, smiling devilishly. "At least I know you'd never be able to forget a girl like me."
Jonah blinks in agreement – Roxanne Weasley was a once in a millennium kind of person. God, I love her, he thinks. But he misses her already and she may as well be her twisting a knife into his heart right now and how can it possibly hurt so much when she left him for school all the time, when they'd never even been in the same country for more than three months at a time throughout their entire friendship?
She's gliding out of the room now, pretending like their past doesn't feel like broken glass under her feet, like broken promises aren't running through her head. Because she has the world in the palms of her hands, even without Jonah. Right?
A/N: Written for QL by Beater 2 of Puddlemere, using the prompts Wildest Dreams by Taylor Swift, gliding and backpack.