Chasing the Chaser - Molly and Arthur

2

Molly Prewett hopped down from the table in the quidditch field house's equipment room, brushing past Lucius Malfoy forcefully enough to spin him a quarter turn away from her, and storming out the door. Her lips were still pulsing from Lucius's kiss – the kiss she was now swearing to herself would be the last one between them ever.

For so many reasons, it was a good decision, an absolutely necessary one, the only one. He was bloody engaged, or whatever those high brow weirdos liked to call it when they paired off teenagers. But her heart was pounding as she left him all the same. After an hour and a half of running quidditch tryouts, Molly was too tired to stay fierce for much longer. And she knew the ache along the bridge of her nose was her body warning her that if Lucius caught up to her, took her hand, gave her that look, she couldn't trust herself not to burst into tears and throw herself back into his arms.

There was one sure way to lose him before he overtook her on her way to the castle, and that was not to go to the castle at all. Now that the quidditch team hopefuls had cleared the pitch, it was overrun with four very noisy third year boys from her own house. Lucius wouldn't dare act like he liked her in front of other people, not even a pack of kids like these. She turned hard toward them.

Back in those days, students weren't allowed to play on the regular house quidditch teams until their fourth year. It was a very unpopular policy among the younger students, but no one hated it as much as James Potter did. He and his friends had taken to their brooms, darting over the empty pitch, showing off how much better they were than the talent Molly had just seen in the older students.

Talent? Molly huffed. That ratty little Pettigrew boy could hardly stay on his broom. The tall one with the scars – Lupin he was called – he had an odd litheness about himself, like he was deliberately slowing his reflexes out of some kind of modesty. Or maybe it was secrecy.

It was none of her business.

Neither was the exact relationship between the boy playing keeper – that Sirius Black – and Lucius Malfoy's new little fiancee. Uncle Ignatius could explain it to her, if she cared to ask. Which she would not. Black was still a little small for a keeper. He'd grow into it – not that Molly Prewett was one to hold someone's size against them.

Potter, though – he was talented. Age thirteen, maybe fourteen, and he already flew like an angel, fluid and fast. Of course, he had the benefit of the very best equipment and lessons, the spoiled brat. His mouth was what would hold Potter back in life. He was not altogether unlike Lucius, really – the pampered only child of a wealthy family. Only Potter was free to openly throw himself at whatever girl he fancied.

If only Arthur Weasley, with his good heart, and his selfless drive to protect the other people on his team had talent like this showoff Potter had.

Molly laughed to herself. That was it. "Hey, Potter!" she called. "Bring it in. I've got a proposition for you."

—----------------------------

Dinnertime was well underway by the time Molly arrived in the Great Hall, fresh from the shower, dressed in capris and a jumper she'd knit herself, her hair still a little damp and darker than usual. Auburn was what Lucius called it when it was this shade, like when their matches lasted into the rain, and he'd meet her in the field house afterwards anyways and rake his fingers into it and...

Molly cleared her throat and patted her cheeks, telling herself to snap out of it. She squared her shoulders and strode into the hall, eyes front, not letting her line of sight drift toward the Slytherin table. She focused on her own house, and a swatch of red hair head and shoulders above the rest.

"Good news," she said as she bounced onto the bench next to Arthur Weasley.

He froze, a massive spoonful of mashed potatoes held in his cheeks. Across the table from him, his mate Reg Cattermole was even more stunned, elbowing the girl beside him to get her to turn and look.