Chapter Three: Crooked Teeth

Soundtrack: The Beautiful Letdown by Switchfoot
Crooked Teeth by Death Cab for Cutie
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, don't sue.

I had been staying at the Burrow for about a week and I loved it. It was so unlike any house I've ever been to; full of life and energy of all kinds. I was still convinced that the house was alive too as it continued to jump and sing via quarrels, laughter, moans, and explosions. There was always something to do and someone to keep company. Some might dislike the lack of solitude, but I've had enough alone time to impress a hermit. I needed the the close human contact that the Burrow provided in heapfuls.
I really liked the Weasley's. They were wacky, and eccentric, and really loud, but they were a real family. They existed as such with the hustle and bustle, little (or not so little) arguments, and punishments, but there was love underneath it all. I watched in wonder when Ron scolded Ginny for dating some boy. She didn't appreciate it as much as I did, but she will someday I guess. I wish I could be part of their family at times, but things are the way they are, and I'm a Black because it's meant to be so.

One day Hermione and Ginny found me in the backyard, lazily doing yardwork. They slowly approached and sat in the grass with me.
"How old are you?" Ginny asked curiously.
"Just turned 17 last month," I replied distractedly while tossing a struggling garden gnome. I laid down with my hands behind my head and closed my eyes, basking in the sunlight.
"Did you go to school in the United States?" Hermione added. I looked up at them with suspicion; was I being interrogated? I nodded anyway.
" Salem Witches' Institute. Not a bad school, but I left after my fifth year when my dad busted out."
"Oh! I've heard Massachusetts is just lovely! I went to Maine one summer, have you ever been there?" I shook my head no, smiling at her enthusiasm.
"Where did you and your mum live?" Ginny continued.
"I can't say, in case I decide to go back."
"Why can't you tell anyone?"
Merlin, I was getting sick of their questioning.
"It's a perfect hideout, like the Order's in London. Dumbledore's the secret-keeper. If things ever get too crazy here, I can go back and no one would find me."
Hermione and Ginny looked at each other impressed.
"Is your mother still living there?"
I froze at the mention of my mom, and was rushed back through time to her horrible memory.
I came home one day from a friend's house during winter break. The doors were unlocked; a strange phenomenon in our home.
"Mom? I'm home," I called out to a seemingly empty house. She must be grocery shopping, I assumed with a shrug as I headed to the kitchen for a snack. As I walked through the swinging door I saw her and froze in place. Dangling by the neck above the island counter, my mom swung limply. I stared in horror: she had finally done it. She killed herself out of grief. All I wanted to do was scream, but I could do nothing…
 I was brought back from my memory to Hermione and Ginny.
"She's dead," I said flatly and stood to leave. I've seen some pretty horrible things, but I don't think I'll ever escape my mother's death. Things look so fragile when you see stuff like that happen before your very eyes.
"Sorry!" Hermione called out once I reached the back door.
"It's fine," I said over my shoulder. "People die, right?"

~*~

The next day was probably the greatest I saw all summer. The sky was a perfect blue and a gentle breeze pushed along huge fluffy clouds. It wasn't too hot, and the sun was gleaming overhead. I was in a bad mood of sorts the day before, but I refused to mope around on such a fine day. I clambered down the stairs to breakfast with a smile on.
"Morning everyone," I called out to the chaos at the table. I was greeted with several enthusiastic replies; apparently the weather had a positive effect on them too.
I was halfway through my bacon when Ron elbowed me at the table.
"Hey Nola, we're playing Quidditch today, you in?"
Quidditch…it sounded intriguing.
"Sure," I replied. "How do you play?"
Instantly, Ron, Harry, Charlie, Bill, Fred, George, even Mr. Weasley stopped and stared.
"You…don't know how to play…Quidditch?" Harry asked slowly. I shook my head slightly. The toast in Fred's mouth fell out and into his lap. Ginny raised her eyebrows in disbelief. My face grew hot.
"Don't you Yankees play Quidditch?" George asked incredulously.
I suddenly felt small; I guess the sport was more popular in the UK than I thought.
"Well, not at SWI…a lot of students are spectators, but I never got into it…" Was it really that big of a deal? I looked around and found Hermione rolling her eyes and continuing her breakfast. Maybe not to some… Ron shook his head and looked back to me.
"Well it's okay, you don't have to play with us."
I was slightly annoyed at this. He didn't want me to play because he thinks I'd suck.
"No. I wanna play." The group became silent again and looked at one another dubiously.
"Oh Merlin," the twins muttered.

~*~
"Alright, Charlie and Bill are captains, let's pick teams," Ron dictated. I was standing in line with the rest, an old Cleansweep in hand. I felt a little intimidated, but not too badly. I had ridden a broom before, and I wasn't awful at it. From what Harry briefly told me about Quidditch, it didn't seem too complex; I'm sure I could handle hitting around a blugger or something…Or was it called a butcher?...A blogger? Merlin, I'm screwed.
"Okay, I pick Harry," Charlie said first. No one was surprised, apparently Harry was an amazing flyer. Suddenly I felt like I was eight again, being subjected to the humiliation of picking teams.
"George," Bill continued. And so it went on.
"Fred."
Bill paused for a moment, his brow furrowed in deep thought; he was choosing between Ron and Ginny.
"Ginny," he finally said. I laughed inwardly; Ron, who didn't want me to play, was to be picked second-to-last.
"Ron," Charlie called him over. I just noticed Ron's ears slightly red. Bill inhaled deeply.
"Alright Nola, get over here."

There wasn't much of a game plan going on for our team. I was to learn later on that we didn't have enough players for a full team, so there would be one chaser, one beater, one seeker, and one keeper. Bill and George argued for quite some time over who should play which position.
"I don't care if there's a thousand Galleons in that hoop, I'm playing Beater, mate," George insisted. When Bill realized he wasn't making progress he finally submitted. In the end, I was to play the chaser, which meant little to me as I stared in confusion.
"Just get that red ball, and throw it in the hoop," Ginny said slowly as if I were hard of hearing. It didn't seem so hard; granted, these people had probably been doing this since they learned to walk, but I remained optimistic. On the makeshift field in the Weasley's backyard, we all prepared to mount our brooms. George took a few practice swings with his club (I couldn't remember what exactly that was for…) Bill put on a pair of sunglasses, making him look even cooler. Harry stood in place with a huge grin on his face. I looked over on the other side of the field; Hermione was sitting on a blanket with a book. She looked up and gave me a thumbs-up. I smiled weakly.
"Alright everyone," Charlie called. "On the count of three: One, two—"
He didn't have to say three. Fred blasted open the chest of balls and the game promptly started in a blur.
"YOU BLOODY GIT!" Bill called out as he whizzed over to the Keeper's hoop. It was complete chaos. There were people and objects flying everywhere; giant black cannonballs sped by attempting to hit people, Harry was flying about with such fervor I thought he'd fall off his broom with excitement. Ron managed to hover over to the other hoops and watch the game play out. Suddenly, Charlie rammed into Ginny, nearly knocking her off her broom. She barely managed to climb back on, and continue to look for the snitch. Promptly after, George whacked the cannonball thing at Charlie; it hit him square in the back causing him to drop the waffle…or was it offal?
And that's when I realized what Quidditch was really all about: while there was a main objective of scoring points and catching the snitch, every player was out to beat the living daylights out of their opponents. I smiled as I drifted through, I could like a game like this.
"OY! NOLA, GET GOING!" George called from across the field as he hit away another ball. I awoke from my daydream and saw Charlie had retrieved the waffle yet again. It was go time.
I flew after him full speed, trying desperately to catch him. It took seconds for me to tail him, but we were already at Bill's hoop. Without hesitation, I collided into Charlie with my shoulder. With a loud 'oompf!' he dropped the red ball and I dove for it, just barely grasping it in my fingers before it hit the earth. And I zoomed past with as much aggression and strength I could possibly muster. My head refused to stray from its objective. I squinted from the wind rushing through my eyes (and a little from concentrating so hard). A cannonball from Fred flew at me that managed to slam into my ankle. I gasped in pain; those things are heavier than I thought. No matter, I kept going until I reached the hoop; Ron looked a little surprised to say the least. I smirked for a fraction of a second then faked left. Ron went to protect the left hoop and I hurled the ball into the right.
Score!
I shouted in delight and my other teammates followed suit. Oh, how I loved proving people wrong.

The game continued for about half an hour. I thoroughly enjoyed every moment. I had continued to give Charlie a hard time with the Quaffle (as I learned it was called) and managed to push, shove, and inhibit most of the other players. Charlie scored three times and I scored once more. Harry soon after caught the snitch, and Bill, George, Ginny, and I graciously accepted defeat. We floated slowly to the ground and I smiled smugly.
"Where did you learn to hit like a man?" Charlie asked amazed. I laughed. A man? Really?
"I used to play rugby…It's a muggle sport," I explained after getting blank stares. "It's on the ground, and it involves a lot of tackling and hitting and all that good stuff."
"Well, I'll never get on your bad side," Ron said grimly.
"You best not, good sir," I replied with a wink, then turned back to everyone. "That was really fun though. I'm not much of a flyer, but I wouldn't mind doing this again."
"You should try out at Hogwarts," Harry piped up. "Aggression always looks good."
Perhaps… I thought contemplatively. Upon landing on the ground my legs gave way and a wave of pain surged through my left foot. I had completely forgotten about the bludger that hit my ankle. I fell in a heap on the ground and gasped in pain. Bill rolled up my pant leg to find my ankle was swollen to nearly the size of a grapefruit.
"I think I broke something," I said through clenched teeth.
"Well, thank you Captain Obvious!" George countered. Charlie pulled out his wand to help, but George put up a hand to stop him. "No need, I'll take the brutish lady back to mum." He put my arm around his shoulder and hoisted me up. With his arm around my waist, we began to slowly limp back to the Burrow.
I stumbled a few times wincing in pain, but George would only hold on tighter. Eventually my feet barely touched the ground, my right toe touching soil once every few paces.
He's strong, I thought as I looked up at him a little impressed. He barely seemed to struggle, practically carrying me like that. I could feel his muscles contracting on the small of my back.
"Why didn't you just levitate me back?" I asked curiously. This seemed like a laborious task for any wizard with a wand. He looked down at me and smirked playfully.
"Because," he stated grandly. "I am a gentleman. And gentlemen do not levitate ladies."
I rolled my eyes; of course I wouldn't get a straight answer from a funny-man.
"You know," I said in a teasing tone. "I vaguely remember you and your brother saying something along the lines of 'Don't get used to this!'" I impersonated as best as I could George Weasley, British accent and all. George smiled. Was he blushing too?
"Yeah, well, our products don't break girls' ankles."
"Nice save," I laughed.
George walked me inside and to Mrs. Weasley, not releasing his grip from me until I was safely seated.

I would have never admitted it at the time, but my heart raced as I clung to George with bated breath; and it wasn't because of the leg.

I feel like a parrot repeating this, but review please?