Round 1 of The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition
I was sitting on the bed scrolling through tumblr and watching Doctor Who just a few minutes ago. Then I got the private message from my Team Captain- Game Time.
I've never written competitively before, and the reality of what I'm doing really hit me when I got that private message. I'm on a team- an INTERNET team- of people I don't know and probably will never meet in real life. Maybe it's just my (not-so) irrational fear of being disliked or thought of as annoying that a competitive drive that I haven't felt in a few years really kicked in. There's a team relying on me- and there's not a chance in hell that I'm gonna let them down.
Old Habits Die Slow
The setting sun and evening crickets provided a calming atmosphere for Molly Weasley as she cleaned the kitchen. She liked watching the dying sunlight settle on the Burrow around her. She liked feeling the water flow over her fingers as the dishes washed and dried themselves. Despite everything going on, as the sun set, Molly Weasley felt at peace.
Twilight had been her favorite time of the day since before the children left for school. They would run outside and soak up the last of the day's sun, or else they would go up to their rooms and play quietly, their bellies full from supper. Wherever they were, they were usually quieter than they were at all other hours of the day, even the twins. It gave Molly the opportunity to relax.
Molly finished her work. The last of the dishes all settled back into their drawers and cupboards and she dried her hands. The sun was nearly set now, and the shapes outside the window were in shadow. In that moment, she felt at peace. Now that the children were all at school or living on their own, the house was quiet almost all the time.
VROOOOOOOOOM!
Almost.
An obscenely loud droning noise erupted from Arthur's shed outside. As usual, Molly didn't have the faintest clue what it could be. Her illusion of serenity shattered, Molly sighed, prayed for patience, and walked out the kitchen door.
"Arthur!" she called, as she trudged past the boots, chickens, and a gnome. "Arthur, what are you mucking about with this time?"
She threw open the shed doors to see Arthur wrestling with the strangest contraption she had ever seen. It appeared to be a box with a truck like an elephant waving about. Wherever the truck pointed, chaos ensured. Arthur was trying to wrangle it, but it pointed at his workbench for an instant and pieces of parchment and knickknacks and Muggle tools were pulled from their positions and disappeared up the machine's trunk. Arthur hurriedly pushed it away from the desk so as to save his precious notebooks, and Molly watched him unknowingly point it at Sirius Black's old motorcycle. The bike skidded across the floor slowly until it caught up to the trunk and covered it's orifice.
The droning was suddenly mangled, but not quieted. Unable to consume the motorbike, it now made a whining noise like a boiling teakettle. A panicked Arthur started pushing down on the trunk hard.
"Arthur!" Molly screamed over the sound, "What on Earth are you doing?!", and her husband looked up, having not noticed her enter. She saw him mouth the word "Molly" before the trunk snapped away from the bike, the droning filled the air again, and the trunk pointed at her.
Her apron snapped off her in an instant and the machine devoured it. Next, her hair pins were sucked up, and her hair started to fall down around her face, only to be caught in the machine's pull. She felt her own clothes struggling to rip themselves off her body and she held on. In her hurry, the wand slipped off her belt and it too disappeared into the machine.
Finally the droning stopped. Arthur had found out how to turn it off.
Molly collected herself and looked down at her dress. It was ripped and hanging loose in several places. Her hair was in complete disarray. She stood there stammering in her anger and also a bit of sadness. "I- you- that- what- it- my- I-"
Arthur looked horrified. He was stammering as well. "Molly... Molly... Molly... Er, please don't shout."
She didn't shout. "That thing," she said, almost sobbing "ate my wand."
"Oh!" said Arthur. "I can fix that!"
"No, Arthur, don't-" but he turned it back on- the droning started again, as loud as before, and her wand shot out the end like a javelin and struck Molly square in the forehead. It dropped to the ground as Molly brought her hands to her face in pain, when the machine spat out her hairpins and apron, which smothered Molly.
The droning stopped again and Molly flailed her arms in front of her face, disentangling herself from her apron. When her vision was unobscured, she could see her husband, sitting on his stool with the now-dormant contraption in his lap, looking up at his wife as if she were baring fangs.
"Er- well, I guess I should, er- should explain," Arthur said sheepishly, standing and laying the thing at his side. "This," he gestured at the machine, "is called a 'Hoover'."
Molly stared at him, the expression on her face ice cold.
"It's, er-" he cleared his throat. "It's a, um-. A device! A device used by Muggles to um... Er-" he looked down at the Hoover as if he was expecting it to explain itself for him. It remained motionless.
He looked up at his wife again with a broad smile. "Actually, dear, I can't quite figure out what it's for yet. But, um-" he paused and looked down at it again. "I can tell you, that um- well, since I made it a teense more powerful... it's a very naughty and, er- misbehaving sort of device and, er-" he trailed off, his wife still staring at him with that look.
"Er-" Arthur said, and sensing what was coming, hurriedly said "I love you."
"Arthur!" Molly wailed. "How many times have we talked about this?"
Arthur didn't drop his head, but she could hear him gulp. "You know meddling about with this Muggle junk is dangerous! And it's just stupid! All of this rubbish you deal with is just stupid stupid stupid!"
She slammed the door and stalked back to the house in the dark. That was unusual, she noticed. Normally when she got going, she'd go on for several minutes. Passing it off as simply too much aggravation at her husband, Molly ignored it. Grinding her teeth, she poured herself a cup of tea and was about to heat it with her wand when she realized she'd left it in the shed. Molly let out an exasperated sigh. She didn't have the patience to go out there and get it. Arthur would undoubtedly bring it back in when he came.
Arthur didn't come inside the house for a long while. Molly had time to calmly reflect on what had happened. Once again, Arthur had broken one of his own laws with no thought to the consequences. It made her want to pull her hair out. How could her husband be so careless? So foolhardy? The notion that this was the same man who fathered her children actually explained a lot, what with Fred, George, and Ron constantly driving her up the wall and causing chaos at the school.
Why couldn't they just behave? Why couldn't they just act like responsible men?
She heard the door open, and watched Arthur walk in slowly. Here he goes again, she thought. I'm going to have to listen to this whipped mutt come in and beg forgiveness-
"You think my passion is stupid?"
Caught off guard, Molly turned around in her seat. The pitiful expression Arthur normally had after a row wasn't there. Instead, he looked affronted. Hurt, even.
Then, her words came back to her. "All of this rubbish you deal with is just stupid stupid stupid!"
She remembered how it sounded and realized at once how hateful it was. She suddenly felt as if a knot had twisted in her stomach, and she regretted those words.
"Alright, I shouldn't have said that," she began.
"No you shouldn't have," Arthur agreed. He was standing shock still in the doorframe, his fingers fidgeting at his sides. Her wand was in his right hand, and he set it on a shelf at his side
Molly gave him a reassuring smile. "Arthur, what's wrong?"
"What's wrong?" repeated Arthur, looking skyward, as if looking for deliverance. "What's wrong? Molly this whole damn family is wrong!"
He was shouting. Arthur didn't shout. Arthur never shouted. He had raised his voice at her! That wouldn't do at all!
She stood up. "Now see her, Arthur-"
"No!" shouted Arthur. "No, Molly! For once, you see here! For once in your life, stop talking long enough to listen to me!" He took a threatening step toward her and Molly backed up a step. A tingle of fear crept up her back.
"Arthur you're scaring me!" Molly said.
Arthur seemed to snap back to his usual self and immediately backed up. "I'm sorry."
Molly said nothing. There was an awkward pause.
"Molly," said Arthur. "I owe you an apology."
Molly smiled sweetly and put her hands on her hips. "That's alright, dear-"
"I'm sorry I'm not the husband you want," Arthur said, cutting her off. "I'm sorry I don't fit into your idea of how a marriage and a family is supposed to work."
His wife looked at him, bemused. "What are you talking about?"
"Molly, I was like this before I met you," said Arthur, opening his arms, presenting himself. "Take me as I am. I told you when we got married I wasn't going to change. This 'stupid Muggle rubbish' as you call it is something I love. It's what makes me happy."
That wasn't right. "And what? You don't love me?" demanded Molly. "You don't love me enough to let go of this nonsense?"
"Of course I love you, but marriage is about compromise!" Arthur said. "You can't expect to change me any more than I can expect you to change!"
What? Her, change? Molly gaped. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"How you view our children."
Braver men than Mr. Weasley would've cowered at the glare she was piercing him with now.
She repeated the question. "What's. That. Supposed. To mean?"
Mr. Weasley hesitated. "This summer, when you called Harry as good as your son... and every summer when you hug him goodbye at the station..."
"Yes?"
"Well he's Ron's best friend, you see..."
"Yes?"
Arthur took a hard breath. "Don't you think Ron might like to see that kind of affection?"
Molly's lips were curling murderously. "Are you suggesting that I don't love my own son?"
"Not at all," said Arthur, bravely. "I'm suggesting you love Harry more."
"That's ridiculous!" shouted Molly.
"No, it isn't." said Arthur, stepping closer. "And the only reason you don't know is because none of us thought it was appropriate to point it out to you until now."
"What's that mean, 'none of us'? Have you been telling the boys?"
"The twins actually noticed it first," said Arthur. "And don't try to tell me there's no love lost between you and them."
Molly snorted and half turned away. "Well, really. Who could deny that, with as much of a disappointment as they've been?"
Arthur scoffed and his eyes widened. "Do you even hear yourself?"
"What?" demanded Molly, standing her ground. "Fred and George are a disappointment. Do you really think they have any chance of a position in the Ministry after everything they've done? After their O.W.L results? While they still have this preposterous notion of a joke shop in their heads?"
"But that's just it!" said Arthur, lunging at his opportunity to make his point. "Can you possibly imagine Fred or George being happy working for the Ministry for the rest of their lives?"
At first, Molly was at a loss for words. Then, she composed herself and said, "As soon as they grow up and start using those brains of theirs-" she stopped short, expecting Arthur to cut her off, but he only looked at her, daring her to finish her thought.
"Well... think of the example they're setting for Ginny!" said Molly.
"Think of the example you're setting for Ginny," countered Arthur. "Ginny is a strong, smart, capable young witch, but you treat her like she's still an eleven-year-old puppet on You-Know-Who's finger!"
"Exactly! With everything going on, You-Know-Who's back, and Ginny's in more danger than ever before! I have to watch out for Ginny, she's my only little girl!"
"And Ron and the twins are what, then? Disposable because we've got three other sons? Better sons?"
Molly slapped him. The sound echoed throughout the den, and Arthur's cheek turned blood red. Molly pointed her finger in her face.
"Don't you dare suggest I don't care about the lives of ALL of my children."
Arthur shut his eyes. Molly could tell he knew he'd crossed the line, and regretted it. Molly stalked past him and started to climb up the stairs before Arthur called after her.
"Do you remember that summer we were staying at the Leaky Cauldron? After we visited Bill in Egypt?"
Molly halted a few steps up and turned around. Arthur was still standing in the middle of the den, looking up at her. "Of course, I remember."
"You used that same excuse then," said Arthur, locking eyes with her. "You told the boys they were setting a bad example for Ginny."
Molly didn't remember that moment exactly, but shrugged. "And?"
Arthur swallowed. "Well. P-Percy said-" was it possible for Molly to tense up any more than she already had?- "that Ginny had other brothers to set an example for her."
Molly didn't say a word.
"Ask yourself," Arthur said, "who do you want Ginny taking after, given everything that's happening?"
Silent, Molly turned back around and continued up the stairs. There wasn't any validation for what Arthur was saying. There just wasn't. There couldn't be. The nerve...
She entered the bedroom and locked the door behind it. Without undressing, she climbed into bed and curled up under the covers.
She couldn't fall asleep. She couldn't stop thinking about everything Arthur had said. Then, she thought back to any time she'd scolded the boys. There were a few moments she didn't realize she wasn't proud of until now.
"He's not your son!"
"He's as good as."
"Ron- you're not... not a. A prefect, oh Ron! That makes everyone in the family!"
"What are we, next door neighbors?"
"Think of the example you've set for your sister."
"Ginny has other brothers to set an example for her, mother."
"We spent four months developing those!"
"Oh, a good way to spend four months! No wonder you didn't get as many O. !"
"No- No- R-Ridikulus! Ridikulus!"
"Mrs. Weasley, get out of here!"
"What if You-Know-Who had gotten you, and the last thing I said to you was that you didn't get enough O. !"
Arthur didn't come to bed that night, and Molly didn't get any sleep. She kept telling herself not to let Arthur get to her- that she was a good mother.
She was a good mother. She was. Arthur was just... Heaven knows. The notion... The idea... The nerve...
She was strong. Her boys were good. Her daughter was good. She was a good mother. She didn't treat any of her children any differently. She couldn't... She'd never...
She was a strong mother. And a strong mother is a good mother... right? Yes, o- of course.
The idea... The nerve...