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.