Happiness by Raymond Carver - 3/5 for the Five Drabbles Competition at HPFC. 350 not including the poem, 407 including it.
So early it's still almost dark out.
Fred and Louis, like thieves after a particularly successful heist, tried very carefully to exit the Burrow without waking anyone up. It was an escape from stillness into the bright, crisp morning.
When I see the boy and his friend-
They looked at each other with too much anticipation, with too many furtive glances, with too much blushing. There was something more to their friendship after the thing they'd shared, but they were hesitant to explore it. It was hardly mentioned verbally, but their actions and movements shouted their secrets.
They wear caps and sweaters, and one boy has a bag over his shoulder.
Fred dropped the quidditch supplies on the dewy grass, the small bag clattering loudly and showing its true size and weight. He managed to do the whole thing without looking at Louis more than once, though his muscles burned to touch the other boy. Louis held two brooms, looking with fright at the sky, where they would be training, but steeled himself. He was not going to give up.
They are so happy
They aren't saying anything, these boys.
It was like silence was their cover and their disguise. Smiles and giggles could be heard, perhaps, but they didn't need words to communicate. Fred released the Quaffle and watched as Louis ' eyes widened in the split second before the ball collided with his stomach. His breath was expelled with force, but when he sat up again, ball held in a vicelike grip, he was grinning from ear to ear.
I think if they could, they would take each other's arm.
As Fred showed Louis some basic moves on a broom, touches lingered, eyes wandered, and there was too much jostling to pretend that both of them were innocent in what they were feeling.
Both of them knew Louis had some basic broom skills.
Both of them still dragged the lesson out as long as they could, touching when they could find the right excuse. Sometimes without one. Neither of them wanted to admit they liked the closeness more than they could have imagined previously.
It's early in the morning.
Birds chirped. Peace permeated the Weasley garden. Fred and Louis were in their little world, hidden, secret. They were somewhere exciting, somewhere new.
Quidditch was the last thing on their minds.
Happiness. It comes on
unexpectedly and goes beyond, really
any early-morning talk about it.