Quidditch League, Round 6

Beater 1, Falmouth Falcons

Mandatory: Fic featuring someone born in February (Arthur, Newt, or Luna)

Optional: refreshed, football, striped

Hogwarts, Assignment 1, Potions task 2: Write a canon pairing

1,147 words

Note: this is simple slice of life fluff

Arthur shows up, dressed in a burgundy-and-white striped shirt that clashes with baggy, bright yellow shorts. The smile on his lips is evidence enough that he is pleased with himself for his Muggle attire.

Molly is grateful her brothers aren't home to see.

It isn't as though she's embarrassed by Arthur. He is lovely with his awkward smiles and wild, impossible ideas. But he is different, and that makes him an easy target. Some days, Molly has to defend him so much that she thinks there is more fire than blood in her veins.

"Arthur, what on earth are you wearing?" she asks with a soft smile as she hurries outside to meet him. Her eyes rest upon a strange black and white ball in his hands. "And what is that?"

His expression brightens as he holds the ball up a little higher. There's clear excitement in his eyes. "It's a football," he says. "They call it that because you can't touch it with your hands! Only your feet."

Her brows raise. It sounds so silly, but Molly doesn't understand Muggles. Maybe they aren't supposed to make sense at all. "But you're touching it with your hands," she points out, wary that something bad might happen to him.

He blushes a pale pink that almost hides the light spattering of freckles on his face. "Yes, well, I'm not playing. Come on. I'll show you."

Molly hesitates. There are still little chores to finish up before her parents and brothers return from running errands in town. She ought to stay behind.

Instead, she grins and steps closer. "I would love to see."

XXX

"Some of the Muggle boys in the village taught me," he says proudly as they walk along the dirt trail, clumsily passing the ball from hand to hand; he drops it several times, but he still looks so proud of himself. "They even bought me this kit from the charity shop!"

When she looks at the striped shirt now, Molly can't help but feel embarrassed on his behalf. The Muggles were undoubtedly having a laugh. Why else would they pair burgundy stripes with such an atrocious shade of yellow? They know how to dress without looking foolish, after all.

Her stomach twists, and it takes all her control to keep her warm smile in place. Poor Arthur. He is such an eternal optimist who seems to believe everyone in the world has his best intentions at heart. She moves a little closer. She wants to pull him into a hug, but his attention is solely on the football.

"Oh, Arthur," she sighs fondly as he drops the football again, stirring up a cloud of russet dust.

Arthur doesn't seem to care about his slip up. He begins kicking at the ball and chasing it when it soars into the tall grass. He looks so silly as he stumbles along, but the satisfied smile on his thin lips makes her heart turn to putty.

"They say I'm good enough to play for Chelsea," he tells her as he jumps around and steers the ball back onto the path.

"I'm not sure what that means…"

Arthur glances back her, his freckled face lighting up. His smiles so broadly that his eyes nearly close completely. "Nor do I," he admits. "But it must be good. This way!"

Molly doesn't have a chance to question it. Arthur veers off, and she follows along until they reach a small green field. Though it clearly hasn't been maintained, the grass that forms a square in the center has been trodden down, contrasting with the overgrown weeds that surround it.

"This is where we play," he says, kicking the ball around.

Molly watches, mesmerized. She has never actually seen anyone play football, but she can guess that Arthur isn't good. His movements are clumsy, and he almost looks like a disgruntled flamingo as he hops around, swiping his foot at it.

Her insides grow warm, and her lips tug upward, forming a fond smile. Arthur is absolutely ridiculous. She has come to terms with this fact long ago. He is unconventional, bordering on eccentric, and not many people understand him; if she's honest, she doesn't really understand him.

But it doesn't matter.

That boy in stripes, with his Muggle obsession and his constant curiosity, means the world to her. It is not exactly an epiphany. She is well aware of her feelings for Arthur Weasley, but in this moment, as he runs around until his pale skin flushes a splotchy pink and looks so close to collapse, she realizes just how much she loves him.

"Arthur?"

He comes to a stop, nearly tripping over the football. Grinning, he looks up, pushing his fingers through his red curls. "Yes, Molly?"

The words don't come. Instead, she walks over to him and stands on her tiptoes as she pulls him close, kissing him firmly.

This is hardly their first kiss. Molly has lost track of the many times his lips have found hers. But there is something different about this one. She wonders if he can taste the promises of forever on her mouth.

"What was that for?" Arthur asks, his cheeks darkening to a scarlet that spreads all the way to the tips of his ears.

"To remind you that I love you," she says simply. "I should get back."

She expects him to bid her farewell and resume his little game with himself, but he doesn't. Arthur reaches down and grabs the football, tucking it securely under his arm before wrapping his free arm around her. "I'll walk you."

"You don't have to," she assures him.

Arthur offers her that sweet grin that she loves so much. "I want to," he says.

"I thought you were practicing so you could play for Chelsea," Molly chuckles. "You have a real future with them, I hear."

Her boyfriend laughs softly, guiding her through weeds and tall grass until they reach the trail. "You're my future." He leans in, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I think the boys were just having a go, anyway."

"Oh, Arthur…"

"It's okay. It won't stop me from having fun," he says. "Now, let's get you home. Maybe tomorrow, after you've slept and you're refreshed, you can come watch me play with the others?"

It isn't her idea of a good time. She doesn't understand the silly sport, and she still has a right mind to scold the villagers for giving Arthur such a ridiculous outfit to wear. It doesn't matter. This is something that makes Arthur happy, and his happiness is the most beautiful thing in the world.

"When I'm refreshed," she agrees.

And she hates having to part with him, but she can deal with it now. Tomorrow, she will see her boyfriend doing something he enjoys. The promise of that wonderful smile is all she needs.