Chasing the Chaser - Molly and Arthur

4

Thanks to the help of James Potter and friends, Arthur Weasley made the cut and became a starting beater on Molly Prewett's Gryffindor quidditch team. It might have been a bit of a scandal if there hadn't been an absolute uproar about another player.

The day of Gryffindor's first practice, James Potter, a lowly third year, stepped out on the pitch as the relief seeker. It set every other underaged quidditch hopeful in the school howling. But Professor McGonagall acknowledged the exception in the age limits for seekers, and supported her captain. Potter got to keep his personalized tunic and his spot on the Gryffindor bench. If only Lily Evans would notice...

But beyond gossip about her players, Molly's biggest worry on the afternoon of their first practice was the state of her broom. The day she broke away from Lucius Malfoy's kiss in the field house and stormed off, she had been so firm in her resolve to leave him that she had left her splintered broom behind too. By the time she went back for it, it was gone.

Bloody annoying. It must have been taken maliciously. No one else who played on a house team was small enough for a broom that size. And even if it did fit them, the mangled thing needed major repairs before it would be airworthy again. If she could have sent it home to Gid and Fab they might have been able to fix it. Having it stolen, sabotaged, was the worst possible outcome.

But there was nothing for it. She scuffed toward the field house, resigned to using one of the clunky school brooms for the day, like a first year at flying lessons. It would have to do until she could figure out something else.

And then, there is was, her broom sitting on the table, exactly where she'd left it. Only now, the splintered stick was mended, polished smooth and glossy. The brush end was so neat it looked like it might have been completely rebristled.

Molly gave a high, happy gasp and rushed at it. Yes it was her broom, good as new. It must have been repaired professionally, and at significant cost to someone. Was it McGonagall? No. It must have been...

Her heart lurched in her chest with the strangest feeling – half satisfaction, half dread. Lucius had done this. He must have taken it the last time they were here together. Now he had fixed her broom to show her how much she needed him, how she couldn't leave him. She read what all of this was meant to say. It said that she was bought and paid for, and she must stay with Malfoy, sneaking around even as Narcissa Black grew up and he began to court her, and as those Death Eater recruiters got closer and closer.

"Captain!" It was Sharlene calling from the pitch outside. Everyone was waiting.

There was no time to do anything but hop on this broom and get her new team started. Lucius Malfoy – he could mean whatever he wanted in paying someone to fix her broom. It didn't matter. She hadn't asked for it. She wasn't for sale and no matter what he paid, it didn't entitle him to anything she didn't want to freely give him. And what she wanted to give him was nothing. Nothing at all.

Wasn't it?

She tossed her puffy ponytail and bounced down to the pitch, sunlight gleaming off her shiny broomstick as she twirled it idly, like a majorette's baton. Everyone was too distracted with their own equipment and nervous energy to notice her as she came – everyone but Arthur Weasley. His expression was serious, his eyes locked on the broom in her hand.

"That cleaned up nicely, didn't it?" he said, the sound of something vaguely uneasy in what ought to have been harmless small talk.

But of course Weasley would remember how badly this broom was damaged the last time she flew, when he rescued her from falling off of it. Maybe he knew the rest too. Didn't he say he'd run into Lucius in the field house, complaining about being able to smell her perfume?