Title: Summer Contests (1/1)
Author: Lea ( )
Disclaimer: I don't own the lovelies, but I do own the plot. Everything else is copyright J.K. Rowling and her publishers, etc, etc, etc...
Rating: G
Pairing: N/A
Summary: The Weasley brood hosts their annual post-term contest. Further proof that when left to their own devices, wizards are a lot like Muggles--very uninventive!
Feedback: Always welcome.
Notes: This was out last day of term, so this little blurb was written in celebration of that fact.
And so we begin…
Ron laughed.
Percy winced.
Bill and Charlie chortled.
Ginny turned scarlet.
Harry snickered quietly.
Hermione clucked disapprovingly and turned back to her book.
Arthur, who was weeding nearby, choked, trying to smother giggles of his own.
And the twins…well, the twins…Weren't actually there, but if they had been, Percy was sure that they would have been guffawing as loud as humanly possible.
"Ginny," Percy reproved. "Honestly."
The laughter continued while his sister only blushed harder.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"
"You can do so much better than that," he clucked, escaping the garden as quickly as his lanky frame would allow, calling behind him, "Even mine was better!"
"Okay, okay. My turn," Bill said, taking a long pull from the bottle in his hand.
A moment later the garden erupted in shouts and catcalls.
A plate slipped from Molly's soapy fingers and shattered on the floor. She drew her wand on the broken dish with an exasperated sigh, sending the re-formed plate to the cupboard with a clatter.
As she completed the dishes some ten minutes later, Ron came bounding into the house, grabbing the key to the shed off its hook by the door and starting to run back out to his siblings. His mother stopped him.
"What are you lot up to now?"
"Quidditch," Ron said, rolling his eyes as though it were obvious.
"What happened to the last game?"
"Oh. Bill won. Even Charlie didn't want to follow that. George could've beaten him, but they're not here."
"He's not here, dear. Fred and George are separate entities, you know."
"Uh-huh," Ron said absently, running back outside.
She watched for a moment as her oldest boys, Ron, Ginny, and Harry rose on broomsticks and sped off towards the empty field where they were confined when playing Quidditch.
Hermione came stomping in, a bit red in the face, with her book under her arm. "Honestly," she was muttering. "Where's the appeal in…I just don't understand how they…boys…"
Mrs. Weasley turned from the kitchen window and sighed. She had to agree with Hermione. Some day, she thought, her children would be mature enough not to find a belching contest quite that amusing. As for her husband, who was still laughing as he pulled dandelions from the flowerbeds…There she had completely abandoned hope.
-Fine-