Broom Closet

            “Now, Ginny, I know you’re quite fond of Harry.  I am myself, he’s a very good boy, but you have to remember to keep yourself…composed when you’re around him.”

            “Mum!  I know how to handle myself around boys!”

            “I’m just saying, dear…you wouldn’t want to turn into some…” She paused, then whispered, “scarlet woman?”

            “Mum, just because I kissed Harry in public does not mean you have to lecture me about my relationship!  Things have changed since you were my age!  Everything’s different now.  You wouldn’t understand.”

            Mrs. Weasley raised her eyebrows at her daughter.  Things had changed?  Sometimes it didn’t seem as though they had changed at all.

*

            “Arthur, you’re tickling me!  Arthur, stop it!  Ow, you’re on my foot.  Why do we have to do this in the dark?  Lumos!”

            Light flared from the tip of a wand, and Molly Prewett sat up.  Next to her, Arthur Weasley, incompetent fool that he was, battled with a stubborn mop that was tangled in his robes.  The mop seemed to be winning the battle

            “I told you it was a bad idea,” she huffed, straightening her robes and glaring down at him.  “Snogging in a broom closet, of all things.  The others do it in plain site, but not Molly and Arthur!  No, Arthur has to have his dignity, can’t bee seen snogging his girlfriend in public.”

            Arthur’s ears turned bright red as he tossed the mop aside.  “It seemed like a good idea when Edwin was telling me about it,” he muttered, pushing his glasses up his nose.  “And you know your mum…she said you couldn’t see me unless I stopped obsessing over Muggles, and I can’t do that!”

            “I don’t understand why not,” Molly muttered, crossing her arms.  “Muggles are…well, they’re a rather boring lot, I think.  I don’t know why you find them so utterly fascinating.  So they can fly in the air with something other than a broom.  So can a bird.  Just because they invented airplanes doesn’t make them worthy of worship!”

            Arthur’s eyes brightened at the sound of his second favorite word: airplanes.  Molly groaned loudly and started to stand.  He was about to go into one of his rants, she just knew it.  One of his raving, excited speeches about how incredible it was that Muggles had survived this long without magic.  Well, she was sick of it.  Two years of listening to him comment about every tiny thing he’d heard from his Muggle-born friends; two years of dates to Muggle tool shops; two years of sitting through boring Muggle Studies just to be near him.  It was enough. 

            “I’ve had it, Arthur Weasley,” she announced.  The light from her still-lit wand made Arthur’s face look distorted.  Her hand trembled slightly as she continued speaking.  “If all you can think about is Muggles, why don’t you go find a Muggle girl to snog.  I’m sure she’ll answer all your questions…and more.”  She pushed the door open and walked out into the brightly lit corridor.  Taking a deep breath, she began to walk away.  There was still enough time to join Elaine and Marie in the library to study for the NEWTs.  Perhaps she wouldn’t fail after all.

            A clatter made from falling objects made Molly turn on instinct, but she sighed and crossed her arms as she did.  Arthur stumbled out of the broom closet, one foot in a bucket, his glasses barely hanging on his nose.  He almost looked cute like that, adorably helpless.  She couldn’t help but smile, but soon covered it up.  She was angry at him, she told herself.  Not amused. 

            “Molly…wait.”  Arthur fixed his glasses and removed his foot from the bucket, then began walking toward her, a worried expression on his freckled face.  “Please…if it means I have to give up Muggles, I will.  Because…Molly?  I think…no, I don’t think.  I know.  I love you.”

            Something warm and happy welled up inside Molly’s heart, and she ran toward him, wanting to hold him and hug him and kiss him all over, tell him that she forgave him.  But she stopped, remembering.

            “I guess we can go back to the broom-”

            His lips touched hers, halting her words, and she clasped her arms around him.  They stood together in the hallway, kissing in a very public place that was, thankfully, empty of all mops. 

*

            “Mum!  Are you alright?”

            Mrs. Weasley blinked and looked at her daughter, who had a worried expression on her young face.  For a moment, the freckled nose and bright red hair reminded her of someone very familiar, someone she hadn’t seen for years, but that moment passed as Ginny spoke again.

            “Mum, I’m going to meet Harry in Diagon Alley like I told you, alright?”

            Her thoughts still on the broom closet adventure, Mrs. Weasley nodded.  “Alright, dear,” she said.  “Be back before dinner.  And do invite Harry, will you?  I’m sure he’s not getting enough to eat, with all the work he’s doing.”

            Ginny rolled her eyes.  “Yes, Mother,” she said, standing.  She left the room with a pop. 

            Mrs. Weasley smiled to herself.  The face of the young freckled girl may be gone, she decided as she stood to begin dinner, but she was still there somewhere under all the wrinkles, just as the Muggle-obsessed boy was hidden somewhere behind the heavy-framed glasses of Mr. Weasley.  People grew up, but many things stayed the same.