#ginny would sneak the quidditch kids onto the pitch every year

[leiafett]

Professor Harry Potter and he offers all of his students to stay at his hamlet manor over the summers for those who don’t have a good place to call home. This is canon and no one can me otherwise. He can still marry ginny and have children. But he’s Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Since JK was striped from being allowed to write things.

[velvetthunder1999]

All the time on Earth

Part 17 - Happy

Summary: You take George on a date where he tells you stories about his family and the first time he realized he loved you

Warnings: None, Fluff

Word count: 4.2K

George Weasley x Reader

Masterlist

You were just writing the last words on your Transfiguration essay when Hermione who was sitting opposite you in an armchair by the fire exclaimed in an angry voice.

“I can’t believe they still doing this!”

You and Ron followed her gaze. She was staring at Fred, George and Lee, who were surrounded by a group of first-years, giving them candies for testing. You raised and eyebrow but didn’t say anything; you turned back to your homework, hoping you could finish it before Hermione erupts again.

“I told them yesterday I write to their mum if they don’t stop,” she said snarkily. Your eyes met Ron’s and both of you turned away very quickly. “You think it is all right, what they’re doing?”

You needed a second to realize that she was talking to you. You raised your head again towards the boys, then shrugged.

“They’re not doing anything illegal, Hermione,” you said casually. “I’ve checked the school rules.”

“What they’re doing is dangerous. And those are just kids!”

“It’s not dangerous,” you sat flatly. “They’ve tested everything on themselves, so have I. I know for a fact that Lee ate at least twelve of those candies since the week we’ve been here, and he appears to be just fine.”

“I still don’t like it,” she said. “It can cause serious harm.”

“No, it can’t.”

“At least you should be more responsible!”

“Hermione, you know about the sort-of-illegal business I’m running here, right?”

“I have a few words about that, too.”

“Great, hold that thought for a second, I’m trying to finish here.”

You leaned over your essay again, and Ron gave out a snorting laugh. He quickly stopped when Hermione looked at him.

“Will you tell them to stop, then?” she returned to you.

“I’m not their guardian, Hermione. Let them make some money, please.”

You folded your finished essay and looked towards the boys again. George apparently was eavesdropping because when you met his eyes across the room, he winked.

September’s first week was about to end and you already felt exhausted. You’ve written a bunch of essays to five different teacher, and that Umbridge woman was giving you pointless homeworks as well; copying pages out of her beloved book. You had a feeling that if this was what she called teaching, you won’t be quite satisfied this year.

As Saturday arrived, you felt like sleeping in, but you knew you had loads of things to attend to. You dressed quickly and went down to the Great Hall for breakfast. As you sat at the table, your eyes stuck on Ron’s sickly looking face.

“Are you all right, Ron?”

He just nodded. Ginny answered for him.

“He has his first training today as official Keeper.”

“Oh, yeah, right,” you said as George sat down next to you and Fred opposite you. “Well, good luck, Ron!”

He nodded in silence. George kissed you quickly on the cheek and reached for a toast.

“Good morning. Are you coming to watch the training session?” he asked, looking for the marmalade jar.

“Sorry, I can’t,” you said, handing it over to him. “I need to do a few things today.”

“On Saturday?” asked Fred in disbelief. “I cannot imagine the pain.”

When you finished eating, you joined the twins to walk with them till the quidditch pitch. Fred went ahead to the changing rooms but George stayed behind.

“You sure you can’t stay?” he reached for your hand. You smiled at him.

“Sorry. Really. I try to finish early.”

He made a sad pouty face.

“Fine. I show off some other time then.”

You giggled.

“That’s the spirit,” you saw Ron and Harry coming to the dressing room as well. You raised an eyebrow at George. “Be nice, okay?”

“I will, I will.”

He turned back to you with a small smile. You nodded and kissed him on the cheek.

“All right. I gotta go. Have fun!”

You waved and left him behind. You needed to hurry if you wanted to do everything you have planned.

——

After finishing the training and taking a shower, George was looking for you everywhere in the common room but you didn’t seem to show up. He joined Fred and Lee feeling rather disappointed; he hoped returning to school would let you spend more time together, since during the summer you had to sneak around for every private minute.

When the common room started to get empty he stood up, too, joining the crowd heading to have dinner, however, he was only walking on the marble stairs leading to the Entrance Hall when you appeared next to him, grinning.

“Hey there.”

“Hey! Where were you all day?”

“Oh, I needed to get ready,” you said, with a suspicious smile on your lips.

“Ready for what?”

“I’m going on a date.”

George’s heart gave a panicked throb and he stopped in his tracks in the middle of the stairs. A third-year boy walked right into him but he didn’t care.

“You — What?”

“Yeah, on a date,” you said shrugging. George felt his brain shutting down.

“With — Who?”

Your grin widened.

“My boyfriend.”

“Your…”

He was mumbling. He looked in your cheeky eyes. Why were you not concerned?! Why were you… you…

“For Merlin’s sake!” he exclaimed and you started to laugh. “Don’t ever do this to me again! You naughty little prat!”

You laughed and you hugged him. He felt his heart calming down.

“So what are you planning?”

“Come, you’ll see.”

You took his hand and lead him out in the park, leaving the crowd behind. George was gazing at your face in disbelief as he was still recovering from the extreme shock. You two passed the greenhouses and George realized that you were heading towards the quidditch pitch.

“I really made an effort, you see,” you said, while climbing the stairs to the rows where audiences sat during the matches. “Ta-da!”

George looked around and saw at once the packages prepared on the highest benches;  numerous kinds of sandwiches, butterbeer bottles by the dozen, his favorite Honeydukes candies, games from Zonko’s and Dr Filibuster's Fireworks lay around on a huge blanket.

“I felt like we couldn’t really hang out lately,” you said. “And you did this for me once so I guess I’m returning the favour.”

George felt that warm feeling in his chest, the one he only feels when he’s with you. He took your hand and sat comfortably onto the blanket next to you.

“Where did you get the butterbeers, though?” he asked.

“Why?”

“It wasn’t a Hogsmeade weekend.”

“Oh, I went through the tunnel,” you said, raising an eyebrow in doubt and opening a bottle. “Don’t tell me you don’t know about the tunnel.”

“Of course, I do, but I thought… You know what, I’m not even surprised. Cheers.”

He beamed and drank from his bottle, not taking his eyes off you. He was blown away.

“So how was quidditch practice today?” you asked, not realizing that he was gazing at you. George shook his head a little, forcing himself to create a sentence that actually makes sense.

“Oh, it was rubbish,” he said. “Ron accidentally threw the quaffle at Katie, and she had a nosebleed.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah. Fred gave her the wrong candy — that just made it worse. She had to go to the hospital wing.”

“But is she all right?”

“Yeah, she’s fine now,” he said reassuringly. “But training was still dreadful with Slytherin lurking around.”

Your face darkened.

“I’m guessing they were really interested in Ron’s capabilities.”

“Something like that,” George drank again. Even though his brother was a bit slow-paced sometimes, he wished the worst for everyone other than Fred and himself who dared to say a bad word about Ron.

“How was he?” you asked, concerned. “He almost fainted when I saw him this morning.”

George chuckled.

“You want the kind answer or the honest answer?”

You grimaced.

“The honest answer, kindly.”

“He’s… not the best. Not the worst, either. Harry says he’s got it, he’s just nervous.”

You nodded silently. George was smiling to himself.

“You never saw me flying, you know that?”

You snorted, chuckling.

“That’s not true. I saw you on matches loads of times.”

“Not like that,” George shook his head, beaming. “You know, since we are — cohabitants.”

“Cohabitants?!” you burst out laughing. “That sounded horrible!”

“Sorry, I meant since we have been dallying with each other.”

He was grinning like crazy at the sound of your laugh. You were incredibly loud and he loved it.

“Okay, just stop,” you said, still giggling. “So, since we’ve been living in sin, you mean…?”

George laughed and choked on his butterbeer. He felt like he was going to have a coughing fit.

“Are you okay?” you giggled. He nodded, then made a ��hic’ sound and he started hiccoughing. You laughed again.

“Hey!” he said, trying his best to hold back the laughs and the chuckles. “Don’t laugh at —‘hic’.”

You were leaning back in laughter. He shook his head — ‘hic’ — and tried to come off it by holding his breath but — ‘hic’ — it wasn’t working. Every time you seemed to calm down, he chuckled again, making you laugh even more. If it meant seeing you like this, he was up for hiccoughing for the rest of his life.

“All right, all right,” you said after a long fit of giggles. “Try taking small sips and raise one arm above your head. That should do.”

“Is this like a muggle — ‘hic’ — solution?” he asked while waving around like a windmill.

“You don’t know this one?” you giggled watching him. “I’m starting to realise we have a lot of different life hacks.”

“Yeah?” he said then swallowed the rest of his butterbeer. The hiccoughs stopped. “Ah, that’s better.”

He reached for a few Filibuster's Fireworks and lit them with his wand. He threw them into the air, watching as they were flying all around five feet above your heads. You followed them with your eyes as well; in the setting sun your hair looked the same texture as honey. George smiled to himself. He suddenly wanted to share every thought that had ever crossed his mind with you.

“When we were children we believed that if you don’t fly your brooms regularly, they get bored and break out of the shed in the middle of the night. Attack you in your sleep.”

Your eyes widened as you giggled.

“What?”

“Yeah,” George nodded, beaming. “So Fred and I waited until everyone was asleep and snuck out to play quidditch in the dark.”

“I bet your parents loved it.”

“Oh, yeah,” he chuckled at the memory. “Dad had to sleep in our room for two weeks to make sure we stayed inside.”

“How old were you?”

“Fourteen,” he smirked.

“What?!”

He laughed.

“No — no, about four or five, I reckon. We were quite a handful.”

“You are quite a handful,” you said, shaking your head, smiling. “Tell me more.”

You were looking at him in such a tender way he could not help but smile. His heart was beating really fast again. He took your hand into his and continued.

“Let’s see… Did I tell you how I got my middle name?”

“No.”

“You know it’s Fabian, right? And Fred’s Gideon. They were brothers of mum. They both died in the war. I reckon she wanted to commemorate them somehow.”

You were looking at him with warmth in your eyes.

“That’s a really nice gesture of her.”

A sweet, sorrowful expression appeared on your face. George leaned closer, examining you.

“Did I make you sad?”

You shot a small smile at him.

“A little. But it’s okay. These are important things. We should not forget about telling them.”

George couldn’t help himself. He leaned and pressed a tender kiss on your cheek, then he just let himself get lost in your presence, taking you all in, with a smile hiding in the corner of his lips.

He felt so different when he was with you. So honest. So free. He knew he could tell you anything. Even the not-so-nice stuff. Even the sorrowful things. He knew you’d understand, just like you understood why he had told you this. He saw it in your eyes. He saw kindness and caring. And it made him feel a bit better. He had always thought his middle name carried a gloomy meaning. With you, it didn’t seem so gloomy anymore.

Merlin, he loved you so much.

“Tell me more,” you said, with that eager expression on your face. Like you’d give anything to hear him gabble his tatty stories.

“All right… Let’s see… Oh, here’s one. When we were little, Fred and I always pretended to be each other. Drove mum crazy, that one, ‘specially when we did something we were not supposed to.”

You chortled.

“And you left that habit behind, have you?”

“Er — sure,” he said, not very convincingly. Then he cackled. “Once we tried to confuse Snape, in first year. He ended up taking a hundred points from Gryffindor. Mm… Those were the days, I’m telling you.”

Your giggles returned and his heart was beating fast again.

“What are you on about?” you said. “You’re not even that identical.”

“Yes, we are!” he said in mock offense. “Loads can’t even tell half the time.”

“Come off it, it’s not that hard!”

“Why, how do you know you’re not sitting here with Fred right now?” he asked. “I might have been fooling you for a whole week.”

You snorted.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I can tell the two of you apart in an instant.”

“I’m sure sometimes you can’t, though,” he said teasingly. You furrowed your brows.

“That’s not true!”

“Isn’t it?”

“No, stop,” you said, scowling. “Don’t say that.”

“I’m just joking.”

“I know, but it’s important to me. You knowing… that I know. I want you to know… I always… I’m always certain.”

Your puzzled speech made him take your hand again. As he spoke, he was smiling mischievously, but he meant every word.

“I know you can tell us apart, love,” he smirked. “I know it since the Yule Ball.”

You turned to him in surprise.

“Really?”

“Mm…” he trailed off for a moment, reminiscing about that night, then continued. “Remember, you didn’t tell me who did you think I was. And we danced later and I wished you’d knew for real, but I wasn’t sure… And then you said ‘Good night, George’ and it was a really big deal for me.”

He hesitated. He felt himself blushing but he also wanted to tell you… He cleared his throat and smiled sheepishly.

“I think that was it for me. When you said my name… I just somehow… knew.”

“Knew what?”

He didn’t answer, but looked at you with a you-know-what-I-mean face. You seemed to be blushing a bit, too. He found you beautiful.

“That’s…” you started. “Blimey.”

He chuckled.

“Sappy?”

You giggled as you leaned closer to him. You kissed him on the cheek, just as he had done a few minutes ago to you.

“Yeah,” you said. “Yes, it is, but it’s okay. But, yeah, a bit sappy.”

“All right, then, tell me yours if you’re so witty,” he said playfully.

“Mine?” you said, thinking. You smiled to yourself. “I think when we went to Hogsmeade for the first time. And I refilled the butterbeer bottles with magic, remember?”

“Yeah.”

“And you said, you said this: ‘You really are something.’ And I was blown away, because I knew I wasn’t doing something nice, but… You seemed to understand. And I just… It felt so… right with you.”

You were captivating as you were sitting there, showering in the last orange beams of the sunset. George was not fond of showing off, let others see what you two have… He had always believed it to be a private thing. But as he saw the last people wandering around the quidditch pitch, way below where you were sitting, he almost felt like putting everything aside and just press kisses all over you right here, right now.

His rumbling stomach reminded him that you two skipped dinner, indeed. He looked down at the sandwiches you had brought and his chest felt warm again.

“Are these for us?”

“What do you think, ginger boy?” you handed him one from the pile. “Here, take it.”

He took a bite and his stomach immediately felt better. He wondered if he’d feel the same if anyone else but you’d had made the sandwiches.

“What’s yours?” he said, mumbling through the ham and tomato.

“Cheese. You wanna try it?”

“Yeah.”

You switched.

Above your heads the Filibuster’s Fireworks were throwing their last sparks around before their remainings fell at your feet. The quidditch pitch and the park was empty now, as curfew was coming. George’s mood sank a bit as he saw Hagrid’s empty hut in the distance; he just hoped that he’s all right, whatever mission Dumbledore had sent him on. Sitting here with you, eating sandwiches and drinking butterbeer made it hard to believe that somewhere out there the greatest dark wizard was planning to destroy their peaceful world. He wished he could stay in this moment with you forever.

“You wanna play a round of Exploding Snap before heading back?” he asked you.

“Sure!”

You opened a pack of Fizzing Whizbees while he shuffled the cards. You put a piece of candy in his mouth as well and he pressed a kiss on your fingers as a thank you.

By the time you finished playing it was already dark, only the moon was shining on the sky. George knew you felt the same — trying to stretch out this perfect day, before returning to reality. But soon you could do nothing about it. It was time to pack your stuff and head back to the castle.

“Are you cold?” George glanced at you as you shivered.

“A bit. I’m more creeped out by the forest. Look.”

You pointed at the treeline by the Forbidden Forest. George grinned.

“Ron said there are enormous Acromantulas there,” he said teasingly. He knew you hated spiders. “Bigger than a car, even.”

“Oh, shut up, will you?” you shivered again. He laughed and put an arm around your shoulders.

“Wouldn’t it be nice, tough? A nice tour in the —”

“George!” you scolded him and ran a few feet ahead. “I leave you behind if you don’t behave!”

“I’d like to see you try,” he said, running after you. You shrieked as he almost caught you at the bottom of the stairs and giggled loudly when he embraced you in a tight hug in the Entrance Hall.

“George! Let me go!”

“I don’t think so, love,” he said, peppering you with kisses from behind.

“Let me go, I feel sick!”

George let go in panic at once. He reached for your face in concern.

“I’m so sorry, are you all right? Did I do something?”

“Hah!” you blew raspberries at his face and started laughing again as you ran up the marble staircase. George scowled in mock outrage.

“You’re making fun of my good heart, Y/N!” he shouted as he was running after you.

The two of you were chasing each other all the way on the corridors. You stopped in the middle of a hallway, waiting for him, playing with him, daring him to chase you again. You seemed to be trapped between a statue and the window; behind you the stairs had just moved away.

“Having some trouble?” George asked, smirking. His voice was echoing in the empty hallway.

“Oh, you wish!” you giggled and decided to jump to your left, at an arriving staircase. George followed and caught you for the second time, holding you close from behind.

“Don’t even dream about going free this time,” he murmured in your ears and he felt you shivering again.

“You overestimate yourself, Weasley,” you chuckled.

Somewhere in the distance a door was shut, but it was too far away for George to care. He only cared about you as you turned around in his arms, standing in the middle of the moving staircase. You casually put your arms around his neck. He loved when you did that.

“I wanna ask you something,” he said suddenly. You nodded.

“Ask.”

“It’s a serious question.”

“Okay, ask,” you smiled at him with anticipation.

George had no idea where this was coming from. He just wanted to know. He just wanted to be sure. He’s a declared sappy git already… so it didn’t really make a difference.

“Are you happy?”

He saw that the question took you by surprise. Somewhere above he could hear footsteps.

You nodded, smiling.

“Of course.”

He shook his head.

“No, witty… I mean seriously. Are you happy?”

You were looking deeply in his eyes. George knew you understood. He just hoped you say yes. Yes to being happy with him… just as happy he was with you.

Your smile faded a little as you were thinking… evaluating… George’s heart was beating nervously. You looked to his side, reminiscing about something that he couldn’t see, something only you could see, only you could remember… then you looked back at him, a piercing look in your eyes, and you said calmly with a returning smile:

“Yes. I am happy.”

George let out a deep sigh and grinned. His chest felt really, really hot. When you reached for his face, the touch of your fingertips left him feel dizzy.

“Are you happy?” you whispered. George didn’t even need to think about it.

“Yes, I am.”

“I am serious, too.”

“I am very happy,” he leaned closer to kiss you but you turned away.

“Don’t, I have a boyfriend!”

“Oh, all right then,” he let go of you and stood tall, making it impossible for you to reach him. “Is this all right?”

“Now, that I think about it…” you said with a cheeky grin. But he purposely stood even taller on his toes. He loved playing with you like this. His smile widened when you gently pulled his tie towards you.

“Now, now, what will your boyfriend say?”

“He can handle it.” George gave in and closed his eyes in pleasure as your lips touched his. He grabbed your robes and pulled you closer to him, taking in your wonderfull vanilla shampoo and tasting butterbeer on your tongue…

“Hem hem.”

George sprung aroung, hiding you behind his back in an instant. He knew this voice, this disturbing little sound, he knew whom it belonged to. He was right. On the top of the staircase was Professor Umbridge, staring at the two of you with a wide smile.

“Mr Weasley,” she said in a girlish voice. “Miss Y/L/N. Are you aware of how late it is?”

“No,” said George at once. Umbridge shook her head.

“When I ask you something Mr Weasley I expect you to answer with ‘Yes, Professor Umbridge’ or ‘No, Professor Umbridge’. Let’s try again. Are you aware of how late it is?”

“No… Professor Umbridge.”

“Come up here, please.”

She indicated next to her, and she herself stepped off the staircase, too. George looked at you and rolled his eyes; you smirked and took his hand. He knew detention was coming, he didn’t really care; he was rather annoyed that he has to spend his valuable time cleaning statues or writing some lines.

You walked up the staircase and stopped in front of Umbridge. George wondered wether she was twice as short as him. She shot an interested glance at his hand holding yours, but she did not comment on it.

“Now, I must inform you that breaking the school rules comes with consequences. Leaving your dormitories at night, way past curfew is one of the many things that are forbidden in this institution. I am expecting you on Monday at five o’clock in my office. Detention, it is.”

“For going on a walk?” you said irritatedly. Umbridge glanced at you holding hands again before she answered.

“Punishable behaviour should be punished, dear. Was I clear enough?”

“Yes…” you muttered. She raised an eyebrow. “Professor Umbridge.”

“Wonderful. Let’s hope we can break off these silly… habits,” she took one last glance at your hands. “To your dormitories, now. Off you go, please.”

You didn’t speak until you reached the Fat Lady, but when you stepped into the common room, both of you snorted with laughter.

“Punishable behaviour should be punished,” George said in a high pitched voice. “Honestly.”

“I hate that woman so much,” you said, rolling your eyes and giggling. “Detention! Seriously?! Like I had nothing better to do than writing some lines for her or something.”

“Exactly,” George said, pulling you closer to him again. “Come here, you.”

He pressed a kiss on the tip of your nose. You giggled. You were very giggly tonight.

“I had fun, you know,” he said.

“Yeah, me too,” you nodded before letting out a huge yawn.

“Maybe you should turn in.”

“Yeah, probably,” you said, rubbing your eyes. You curtseyed playfully. “Goodnight, Mr Weasley.”

George seriously considered saying ‘Goodnight, Mrs Weasley’ to you, but he decided he’d rather not freak you out. So he just said his usual ‘Sweet dreams’ and only turned away when you waved him goodbye and disappeared behind your dormitory door.

[ink-splotch]

you know what would have been great? if ron got sorted into slytherin.

imagine-- we have this kid on the train, the first friend harry meets, with his corned beef sandwiches and smudged nose. ron is eleven years old and he wants gryffindor, because he's a weasley and that's what always happens. but it doesn't happen.

what a way to redeem slytherin house-- or, god, at least complicate it. because ron is petty. he is mean and sharp and ambitious and jealous-- and he is loyal to the ends of the earth. he is all those things, and he is and always has been good.

potter becomes before weasley in the alphabet, so harry says not slytherin please and gets told might as well be gryffindor. percy and fred and george are all sitting there in red and gold, ruffling the already-ruffled hair of the boy who lived, smug, and then ron sits down and the hat spits out slytherin!

c'mon it'd be fun. just imagine--

the weasleys freaking out-- but even that first christmas molly sends him a sweater in beautiful green and silver.

snape taking points from gryffindor when ron breaks rules or mouths off. "i'm in your house." "hm, couldn't tell which weasley it was..." /drifts away

sitting with harry in potions and in flying-- whatever classes they happen to share. meeting up to study. scarfing down their breakfasts at separate tables so they can go hang out in the empty classrooms before the day starts. hermione reads while they play exploding snap.

the trio signing up for all the same electives third year. this friendship being something they earn and work for; not just the one that looked easiest. (not to bash canon ron&harry, the bros to end all bros, but by putting this very obvious obstacle between them-- it makes it that much clearer to the reader that this is a love worth fighting for, because they're fighting for it).

ron being jealous that harry and hermione get to share this house, this home, these hours, while he's stuck with malfoy and parkinson and goyle-- because that would eat him up some days, some months, this insecure kid who's been the last at everything all his life. this kid who always leaves and always comes back.

ron, who constantly compares himself to his brothers-- not as smart, not as popular, not as good. one more nail in that coffin, here, yeah? he's not a prefect, not a quidditch star, not a troublemaker-- and even when he becomes those things, someone else has always gotten there first. 

well, i guess he got to this house first at least

ron still snaps at snape in potions, after hermione's been ignored three times, "you know, sir, i think hermione might know the answer." he still pulls the bars off harry's window with a stolen, flying car. he still shows harry around the burrow shyly, not knowing what a wonder a warm home is. he still stands up in the shrieking shack as best as he can with a broken leg and tells a mass murderer that if he wants harry he'll have to go through him first. 

ron weasley is a lot of things, but one of them is absolutely a true friend.

in their second year:

when everyone calls harry the heir, they eye ron at his side and sniff.

when hermione lays petrified in the medical ward, ron sits at her side and reads her homework assignments aloud and thinks my house this was my house. 

when ron hugs ginny's damp, shaking frame after the chamber, ron says sorry and sorry and are you okay and i'm so sorry and ginny calls him an idiot.

the trio spends more time in the library with hermione, since ron can't come to gryffindor tower to study, and homework remains a thing that has to happen. fred and george constantly try to sneak him into the tower anyway. 

"c'mon, ronnykins, you belong here, you deserve it, no one's gonna fuss, it's your BIRTHRIGHT," and ron fusses and rolls his eyes at them

and then in fourth year in one of those periods where he's not talking to harry and harry's not talking to him-- he just snaps at the twins

because it's not, alright?

not his birthright, not his house, and maybe no one would fuss if he snuck in, maybe no one would care, and that makes it worse not better, because then he's just that weasley who should've been gryffindor

and isn't

(and harry overhears this caterwauling, feels his heart fall to his toes, and goes and awkwardly asks ron if he wants to go a few laps on his firebolt). 

(because, god, harry-the-chosen-one, harry-in-the-cupboard-under-the-stairs, harry-who'll-save-us-all-- he knows what it's like to have should have beens on your shoulders, and he knows what it's like to not be wanted).

ron cheers for gryffindor during quidditch matches in those first few years, and sits with hagrid and hermione and neville. harry's seeker, and fred and george are beaters, and ginny becomes chaser eventually, and honestly screw the slytherin team. they have each and every one of them said disparaging things about ron's mother.

harry and hermione badger ron into trying out for keeper fourth year; he and harry have been practicing on the quidditch pitch because its a non-library-shaped place to hang out where both of them are allowed. ron makes the slytherin roster, and malfoy grudgingly provides ron a team broom after the captain chews him out for a bit.

"he may be a weasley, but he's our keeper, don't you want to win, draco"

but the sort of things they spit in the locker room, the words the players hiss or snigger, the slurs that come easy to their tongues-- ron would like to say that he considered just walking out of the cesspit, but instead he snipes and sasses and shouts and sometimes tries to spell slugs at the worst of them. 

it doesn't do much, that one irritated voice of protest-- except that it does. and he's got a new (hand-me-down) wand, after the gilderoy fiasco, so the slugs even come out the right end.

fred gives him a black eye with a bludger one time (though ron does manage to block the quaffle) and molly sends a howler to gryffindor table with the morning post. ("RON DID YOU TATTLE") ("IT WAS CLEARLY PERCY, FRED, SIT DOWN")

(the weasleys often have family conversations across the great hall, with hufflepuffs and ravenclaws covering their ears long-sufferingly between them)

in the lake, it's still ron hanging there in the water, still and bloated. it's still harry's heart that stutters in his chest, for all it's just a game, just a game, just a game, right?

ron listens hard and tries to talk himself out of fist fights, all that next year in the slytherin common room as they read aloud rita skeeter articles.

when hermione calls dumbledore's army to its first session in that pub, there are green scarves in that crowd-- ron and one of the beaters who ron's gotten to help glare to rest of the slytherin quidditch team into submission.

ron beats draco to being prefect (i think i remember it was dumbledore and not mcgonagall who seemed to award prefect status-- snape doesn 't get a say).

percy is SO PROUD, as usual, but so are fred and george. "did you see the little malfoy git? green with shame, my god."

when harry has the dream about sirius, ron isn't there to wake. but when draco's pulled out of bed to be a professional bully-- er, i mean inquisitorial squad member-- ron follows at a careful distance and curses draco from behind. 

they ride thestrals over london. harry finds the prophecy and ron thinks about the sorts of things that get decided at your birth.  

sirius black was a son of slytherin who had a lion living in his chest that he couldn't hide away. 

ron was meant to be gryffindor, and through a haze of injury and fear he watches sirius die just out of harry's reach.

just imagine: ron with his temper and his sharp words and his fierce loyalty. ron who looks into the mirror of erised and sees house cups and prefect badges and ambitions earned-- he could belong in slytherin. there is nothing wrong with wanting things, and he wants them so bad.

there are so many reasons to fight a war, and so many ways. harry and his sacrifices, his loving resignation. hermione's good right hook and bottomless bag of supplies. luna, brilliant and a bit batty. lee jordan's radio and mcgonagall's burning patience and brittle, certain bones.

just imagine: when the last battle comes, there is a slytherin on the field who is not snape.

when draco and his parents walk away, in that last battle, ron--

who slept in the same dormitory as the boy for six years

who heard draco's nightmares and saw him paling and desperate all sixth year

who is as pureblooded as lucius's spoiled whelp

who remembers grimacing at the thought of squibs

who has known magic all his life

who spotted draco penning letters home to his mother every sunday and hiding them when the other boys could see--

ron sees them going.

he sounds no alarms. he says no farewells.

he turns back to his friends, and his fight, and lets them be.

just imagine: when harry kneels on the train platform and his second son asks him "but what if i get sorted slytherin, dad?" harry can say, "the bravest man i ever knew was in slytherin house. whatever you are, wherever you go, we're going to be so proud of you." 

and they can both gaze over to where ron is squawking beside his daughter's trolley of luggage because crookshanks (who will live to be forty eight million years old) has latched onto his shins with a violent fondness.

[aparecium-hq]

Welcome to Aparecium, Addie! You have been accepted for James Potter. You said you’ve been playing James off and on for a while, and it shows. He’s such a nuanced character and seems to have a lot of great potential. Check out the new member checklist, and jump right in.

Character Basics

Birthday (Age): November 3 2004 ( 23 ) Gender (Pronouns): male ( he/him ) Sexuality: pansexual Blood Status: half-blood Hogwarts House/School: Gryffindor Occupation: Keeper for the Chudley Cannons Faceclaim: Jordan Fisher

Any requested changes? n/a

Biography:

As the first born child of ‘the boy who lived’, the world quickly took interest in everything to do with James’s life from the moment he was born. He was special simply because his parents were famous and everywhere he went people seemed to know who he was. It was overwhelming at times, and a bit scary being so young and having complete strangers knowing your life story, but at home Jamie was just Harry and Ginny’s boy, another one of the Weasley’s spawn that seemed to be half of the British Wizarding population by this point. At home, lost in a sea of far less red heads than one would expect, is where James knew he was truly significant. Sure, it was easy to be overshadowed with his parents so busy and two younger siblings that couldn’t take care of themselves like James could, but Harry and Ginny made it look easy balancing work and a growing family.

James was a curious child, always managing to get into something he shouldn’t, but there were just so many amazing things around him he couldn’t always help himself. He had a need to know everything about everyone and was constantly in trouble for sneaking into his daddy’s office, or trying to see how to work his mummy’s wand. But his daddy would always let him curl up in his lap after being punished and read him any story he liked, so it really wasn’t that horrible.

James had gotten a calendar for his eleventh birthday and counted down every single day until he got to start his first year. He had been listening to stories of best friendships, Quidditch finals, and adventures since he could remember and was more excited to get to Hogwarts than he had ever been in his life. What James had not prepared for, was the unfamiliarity of it all. He had never been in a situation before where he didn’t know at least the majority of the people, and anyone he had not known his parents introduced him to. Now he was supposed to make friends on his own, decide if someone was best friend material or if he should have chosen a different compartment, and interact with people who expected things from him solely because his last name is Potter. The Prophet, professors, various school day quidditch captains, they all expected him to have the best traits of both of his parents and namesakes. It had been a lot to take in at only eleven years old.

At Hogwarts, James wasn’t surrounded by family members who were careful to make sure he was aware it was okay to be his own person. He knew he couldn’t cling to his cousins all the time, and what do you want, James? quickly turned into so much like Harry, or it’s like they knew when they named you. Instead of using his teen years to figure out who he was, James came to the realization he could become the person he was supposed to be, he just needed to try harder. He had never been the best in school, he became distracted too easily and had a hard time keeping up with all the material; but he needed to keep up pretences that he didn’t care about grades, but did well in school without trying so he would never go for help, instead staying up sometimes for 24 hours straight studying until he fell asleep sitting up.

tw: anxiety , panic attacks , and disordered eating One thing that had always captured James’s interest was flying, so when third year rolled around and James still hadn’t managed to make the house Quidditch team, he had gotten sick in the grass by the lake and hadn’t known what to do. His dad was the youngest seeker in over a century, his mum played professionally and he couldn’t even get a spot on the team. Terrified his friends who were now all on the team were going to forget about him, James spent hours from the second he got out of classes until curfew practicing. Whenever he wasn’t in class he was studying all night, then waking up at the earliest hours of the day to get time on the pitch before the teams wanted to use it for their own practice. Stress weighed heavily on him and he would manage to go days without stopping for a meal. With the extra weight off from days of not eating and extra workouts, James was faster, more agile on a broom than he had been and when one of the chasers landed a detention on game day, James was asked to fill in.

When fourth year came around and one more spot opened up on the Gryffindor team, James had shown up to try out for not the chaser position that he had been subbed in and practiced his entire life, but for the keeper spot. Sure people whispered when he got it over three seventh years, ‘ everything always came so easily to James Potter. It wasn’t fair. ‘ He didn’t correct them ( even if it bugged him that all his hard work was overlooked ). Rumors were flying that he decided to try out for keeper that morning and was simply so talented he beat out kids who had been playing the position their whole lives. It was a lot better for his image than admitting the entire previous summer he was out flying every second he wasn’t needed anywhere else.

He definitely hadn’t expected to fall in love with keeper as much as he did. Sure, his Uncle Ron played in school and they had bonded even more over his interest in the position, but the spot felt like it was his to own. He wasn’t being compared to his parents or his grandfather. He could focus on playing, not beating stats of his mother at his age, although his own progress on the house team had become something that drew the attention of quite a few people outside the walls of Hogwarts. A “natural born talent” people had called him.

It was Easter break James’s fifth year, only a few months before he sat his OWLs that Harry and Ginny quickly caught on something was wrong and perhaps he hadn’t been as easy-going the past few years as he had been throughout childhood. The boy they always had to pull out of bed every summer was now up and out the door before even they were and the cabinets holding all James’s favorite snacks seemed constantly full. But they hadn’t thought it was anything more than the stress of teenage years until Ginny walked into James’s room at four in the morning to find him throwing textbooks across the room in the clothes he had been wearing since the day before, sobbing openly. His marks on his practice exams had all been lower than he wanted, and the more times he took the practice tests the worse he did. Of course he hadn’t been the only one in his year struggling with test anxiety, but after days of talking through what was happening ( and his Hogsmede weekends being taken from him the rest of the year and being replaced his parents bringing him to therapy ) he realized it was a lot more than stress over his exams.

It was difficult accepting that maybe James could just do what made him happy; he didn’t even know what that was and wondered if he had forced himself into being this person that was a watered down version of what he thought he wanted. His parents had not even been sure they were going to let him return to Hogwarts for his sixth year, but James managed to convince them with promises of weekly letters home (which quickly turned to bi-weekly, then monthly) and closer eyes on him than necessarily made him comfortable. His final years at school hadn’t magically become perfect, but James had managed to at least make himself aware he was allowed to be true to himself and ask for help when he needed it, even if he didn’t always follow through with the actions.

After finishing school, James had no idea what he wanted to do with his life. He had gotten more OWLs than he ever thought he could ( nine Outstandings and the rest Exceeds Expectations) and did amazing in all the courses he continued onto for NEWTs level, so maybe all of his hard work really did pay off. Still, there were so many things he could do with his education but none of them sounded interesting in the slightest so his first year out of school James worked as a clerk at Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes, partially for money to start saving for his own flat, and part because it was so stereotypically ‘Weasley grandchild’ to have a job there and he couldn’t help himself when his Uncle George offered him the position.

However after a few months working at the shop James had been approached by a man he had remembered seeing at multiple Quidditch matches over his years at Hogwarts. They had watched James play for years, and wanted to offer him a position on the Ballycastle Bats. Of course his parents had their concerns about James moving so far away, as well as the pressure of playing professional Quidditch, but he couldn’t give up an opportunity to seize his dream job since he was six years old. He had loved his time in Ballycastle, the town had begun to feel like home and James had been upset to learn he has to leave it behind. However, his trade to the Canons had come with a raise too large to pass up on, plus he was equally as excited to be closer to home as well as his family.

Character Questionnaire

How does your character feel about their family?

“I- I don’t think there is anything in the world more important, really. Sure, family isn’t always blood, there is family that you just sort of find, and that’s just as important but family is still my number one priority. I think out of all the similarities people try to force on me and my late grandfather, this is definitely the one thing I’m positive we had to have shared, although I think I get it more from my dad than anyone else. He taught me more about family than anyone. It’s why I’m so excited to move back to England. Even though I haven’t lived here since I was eighteen, home is where your family is.”

How would your character describe their own work ethic? Is that an accurate measure of themself?

“I’ve always liked to run with the stories you hear about me, you know the ones? Potter never even plays the position until he’s fourteen years old and somehow manages to go pro. But how can’t I with my genes? Mum played pro and Dad could have if he wanted I’m sure, I was just born talented. Truth is I tend to overwork myself until I’m sick. I had a great team, and I’m joining another great team that I need to work twice as hard as any of them to be half as good.”

How would a stranger who has just met your character describe them?

“Probably say they always knew I was handsome, but didn’t realize I would be this drop dead gorgeous. Then likely wonder how I manage to even fly a broom with how clumsy I am on the ground, but that’s only because I refuse to wear my glasses half of the time and I can’t see where I’m going. I don’t know really, people always want me to be like my dad. People have always thought they knew who I was before they ever met me, now even more so since they know me for my own accomplishments not Mum or Dads. I’m shorter than they thought I’d be, and quieter.

I’d really like to consider myself more than Harry and Ginny Potter’s kid and I’m working really hard to be that. But they’re the only reason anyone pays any attention to me in the first place, I doubt that scout from the Bats would have ever taken the time to watch me play in school if I wasn’t Ginny Potter’s son. Perhaps I’m good enough to be where I am on my own, but I’m not better than all the other people who worked so much harder than me whose last name isn’t Potter. I don’t know.”

Para Sample

It had been a long day, although lately everyday seemed to feel like a long day. To be fair, James did it to himself; when he got overwhelmed he purposefully put more and more on his plate, refusing to stop as if looking for a way to self-sabotage everything he had going on. His father  had been the only one who could ever talk any sense into him when he got like this but he hadn’t exactly told anyone he was back in England just yet. He had wanted to finalize a place to live, have a plan before he told anyone he was moving back home. He was still playing quidditch  professionally, living his greatest dream since he was a child, but for some reason he still was nervous everyone would see him having to move back home as a failure. He wanted everyone to know he was still doing well before he told any of them he left Ireland. But he had been apartment hunting all day and the fact that his lease was up and he was no closer to finding a new place to live left James exhausted but unwilling to just stop for even a moment.

He looked up at the person next to him only for a moment, passing them a drink before taking a sip of his own before plastering a somewhat plausible grin on his face, faking a weak attempt at a laugh, just hoping they wouldn’t recognize him. If his family found out he was in town because someone posted it online he’d never hear the end of it. “I never would have thought it would be this difficult to find a place to live, I mean Merlin’s beard you’d think I was asking for an entire bloody castle to myself with how few options are available.”