First post-DH fic
Aug. 2nd, 2007 04:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
matrilAlone
"No, of course we didn't play any Quidditch this year," Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "That would have been classified as fun."
Harry smiled. "I see." He found his heart lifting at the sight of the school broomsticks lined up in neat rows, lessened only by the pang that came from thinking of his lost Firebolt. Aside from the mad flight out of the burning Room of Requirement, he hadn't had a ride on a broom since last year. A few circles around the Quidditch pitch felt like just the thing he needed after yesterday's overwhelming ups and downs.
He and Ginny each selected a broom and headed out toward the ptich, walking alongside each other in companionable silence. They both halted at its edge, however, and looked upward. Someone had already beat them to it.
A lone red-haired figure soared above them, accompanied by two wildly spinning black balls. As they watched, the figure lifted a bat and swung mightily at one of the Bludgers, sending it hurtling toward the opposite end of the pitch with a violence that was somehow unsettling. The other Bludger began pelting towards his head, but he whirled aobut and managed to hit it so hard that it traveled even farther than the first, spinning out to the very limits of the pitch before coming back.
Harry looked down, feeling that he had intruded on a scene of intensely private grief. He glanced at Ginny and saw that her eyes were glistening, her hand limp on the broomstick handle.
"Should we leave him alone?" he asked softly.
Ginny took a long time to answer. At last she whispered, "He's never been alone before."
As the meaning of her words sank in, Harry found himself seized by a ridiculous thought, sounding distinctly like Fred's voice. Oh, come on. You think we went to the toilet together? We weren't joined at the hip, you know. He almost laughed out loud, and was immediately ashamed. But then, Fred had died with a laugh on his face...he'd probably prefer that everyone was remembering him with laughter rather than somber expressions and hushed voices...
Still, Harry didn't think George was ready to laugh at this point. "Come on," he said quietly. "We'll make sure he's not alone later on, but for now..." He shrugged. Ginny nodded, and they turned and left the pitch.
High above them, a Bludger was sailing through the air so fast it was letting out a high-pitched noise like a wail.
"No, of course we didn't play any Quidditch this year," Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "That would have been classified as fun."
Harry smiled. "I see." He found his heart lifting at the sight of the school broomsticks lined up in neat rows, lessened only by the pang that came from thinking of his lost Firebolt. Aside from the mad flight out of the burning Room of Requirement, he hadn't had a ride on a broom since last year. A few circles around the Quidditch pitch felt like just the thing he needed after yesterday's overwhelming ups and downs.
He and Ginny each selected a broom and headed out toward the ptich, walking alongside each other in companionable silence. They both halted at its edge, however, and looked upward. Someone had already beat them to it.
A lone red-haired figure soared above them, accompanied by two wildly spinning black balls. As they watched, the figure lifted a bat and swung mightily at one of the Bludgers, sending it hurtling toward the opposite end of the pitch with a violence that was somehow unsettling. The other Bludger began pelting towards his head, but he whirled aobut and managed to hit it so hard that it traveled even farther than the first, spinning out to the very limits of the pitch before coming back.
Harry looked down, feeling that he had intruded on a scene of intensely private grief. He glanced at Ginny and saw that her eyes were glistening, her hand limp on the broomstick handle.
"Should we leave him alone?" he asked softly.
Ginny took a long time to answer. At last she whispered, "He's never been alone before."
As the meaning of her words sank in, Harry found himself seized by a ridiculous thought, sounding distinctly like Fred's voice. Oh, come on. You think we went to the toilet together? We weren't joined at the hip, you know. He almost laughed out loud, and was immediately ashamed. But then, Fred had died with a laugh on his face...he'd probably prefer that everyone was remembering him with laughter rather than somber expressions and hushed voices...
Still, Harry didn't think George was ready to laugh at this point. "Come on," he said quietly. "We'll make sure he's not alone later on, but for now..." He shrugged. Ginny nodded, and they turned and left the pitch.
High above them, a Bludger was sailing through the air so fast it was letting out a high-pitched noise like a wail.
