| back to black | {g. weasley}

[ six ]

Quidditch games are Evelyn's absolute favorite.

The outside breeze, occasional rainfall or chill... the buzzing anticipation of healthy competition... the thrill of zooming broomsticks and wizzing bludgers... and, of course, her boys.

The twins have been playing since second year, beaters (and bloody fantastic ones too). Evelyn, being absolutely splendid, always supported them and ever since they were little she's loved quidditch as well. It's actually quite unfortunate that she isn't on skilled on a broom as she is in front of a cauldron, she'd be one hell of a player if that were the case.

When Harry joined his first year, Evelyn was estatic for him along with Ron and Fred and George. In fact, it was Hermione and her that found his father's old chaser badge displayed in the hall.

The only thing about the boys is that they get serious about it. Scary serious. It's some sort of competitive edge within them, one that they know they can feed on when it comes to quidditch, that builds up in the days leading to a match. Today's game is the first of the season and the team they face is their greatest competitors: Slytherin. Straying only slightly from classes, Evelyn took the note of their focus drifting to practice. It was usual, as mentioned, but Evelyn still couldn't help but try and comfort her best friends.

"I hope you know you'll be just fine," she'd reminded them in the commons last night. "You'll all be just fine. You've been beating Slytherin's arse 5:1 since third year."

Fred refused to look up from the floor where he sat with a parchment that held a live play. 'X'es and 'O'es draw from one end of the page to the other; some shrink and some grow, some fly off the page...

"We haven't played them yet this year," George told her. "Have no clue just how good they are."

"Well your worry is worrying me," she said to them.

"Then go," Fred said.

Evelyn gave him a look. "That won't settle me." George looked up at her then, gazing curiously at her as he's knelt just next to his brother. "And if you worry too much then you might... I dunno, second guess yourself." She crossed her arms over the thin wool of her maroon 'E' jumper. "Work yourself up too much," she continued, "near stress-implosion!" George stood and walked around the parchment to her. She watched him while she lectured. "If you work yourselves up, you'll only make your minds less clear," she pointed out to him. He leaned onto the couch cushion and looked over her concerned expression thoughtfully. "I know how you can get," she said quietly to him. "And you worrying only—"

He'd placed a hand over her mouth. "Ev," he said calmly, "it would be grand if you'd just let us worry."

And making her way down to the quidditch field with Nell, Ginny, Lee, Ron, and Hermione, she's still wondering to herself: What the bloody hell was that supposed to mean?