Would You Have Me: A Weasely Twins Love Tale
"Would you like us to clean out your ears for you?" inquired George, pulling a long and lethal-looking metal instrument from inside one of the Zonko's bags.
"Or any part of your body, really, we're not fussy where we stick this," said Fred.
This is yet another Fred and George Weasely Love Story. :) I guess they're just lovable :)
An Angel Sent From Heaven
She gasped suddenly, stood up, grabbed her Quidditch robes, and ran downstairs with them. As new Gryffindor seeker, she didn't want to make a bad impression on the Captain on her first day by being late.
Today was her first day on any Quidditch team, as it were, and she was very excited. It was at a very young age that she had discovered her father's old racing broom and taught herself to ride it. When her father had found out, he'd been nothing short of delighted. He, being a professional keeper, had been excited to teach his beloved daughter the sport he loved most.
He quickly learned she had a knack for seeker. She was light, small, and speedy, and he'd been ecstatic when she caught her first Snitch in a PeeWee game in the small Wizarding village they resided in. It'd taken her nothing short of 5 minutes to get it.
"My Vi is the best seeker round this side of Europe," he said triumphantly, and then with a conspiratorial wink at Vivien's mother, he joked, "and also the prettiest."
But then one day, tragedy had struck. Father and daughter were practicing in the back yard. Her father had been laughing and clapping as she twisted upside down to avoid a bludger aimed at her head by her best friend Seeley, when all of a sudden he'd collapsed with a knife sticking out of his back. A hooded, cloaked man had been seen running away from the scene, but he'd never been caught.
And so, Vivien grew into the beauty her father had suspected, and everyone else was pained that her father never saw the brains and talent to match. She was now in fifth year at Hogwarts and nobody was worried that she'd pass her OWLs. She could play the piano, sing like an angel, and nobody messed with her spellwork.
And yet, most of the time, at Hogwarts, she was alone. Nobody knew her, nobody talked to her, nobody . . . cared. She was just . . . there. Most of the time, she would hang around in the common room rather than listen to her dorm mates' incessant boy talk. She wrote in her journal, hummed, and thought about her father.
Flying, playing Quidditch, was the only way Vivien could feel close to him. She imagined what he'd say if he could see her now. "There's my Vi, already on her way to the Scotland National team," he'd say, throwing an arm around her. He'd laugh and say, "Because we all know they need a new seeker."
She ran outside fast, her thoughts still on her father, her auburn hair flying out behind her and her shocking, ever-changing blue eyes stinging as the slight breeze blew her face.
She dressed as fast as she could and ran outside to meet the team, who were all gathered, except the Captain, Marina Jarlson. She knew none of them, though four out of the five others were definitely related -- all had shocking red hair. Then there was Harry Potter, standing next to the one red-headed girl.
She hoped they would like her.
Fred Weasely had that excited flutter in his stomach that he always got before a Quidditch practice. Well, most of the time it was toned down a bit by the Quidditch Captain, Oliver Wood, who gave pep talks that lasted longer than Quidditch practice did. Angelina had been a little better, but not much. And now, Marina was their captain. He hoped she'd be a little less serious and a lot more partial to the idea of let's-quit-talking-and-hit-things-with-bats than Oliver and Angelina.
His thoughts trailed off as his twin ran into him, knocking him over as he tried to pull on his Quidditch pants. "Ow, George. Watch where you're going," Fred said, standing up and glaring.
George grimaced at him. "It's your fault I'm late," he said, half exasperated, half amused. "You hid my gear."
"Oh, yeah," said Fred, smiling again. "I forgot that I'd done that. Find it all right?"
"Only after Summoning them, and that was Hermione's idea."
"Wow, George. Brain a bit foggy? Or maybe someone hid that too."
"Shut up, Fred."
"I'll shut up when you stop being a prat."
"Brother dear," George said, smiling sympathetically and patting him on the back, "We've been over this. I'm George. HARRY is the prat, remember?"
"Hey," said Harry, amused, as he pulled his arms into his red and gold robes. "Leave me out of this." He grinned, then looked thoughtful. "I wonder who the new Seeker is. I hope she's good."
"She?" asked Ron. "Has anyone actually seen her?"
"Oh, I'm sure we've seen her," said Fred, rolling his eyes at Ron. "But, because none of us actually knows her name, or who she is, or what she looks like, we probably wouldn't recognize her."
They heard Ginny laugh, and she came into their tent. She averted her eyes, mostly because Fred still didn't have any pants on, and walked over to Harry, kissing him lightly on the lips. "I've seen her," she said when Fred was fully clothed.
"Really?" asked Ron eagerly. "What does she look like?"
"Oh, I think you'll like her . . ." Ginny said, waltzing out with Harry. The three Weasely boys exchanged inquiring looks, then began strapping on their pads and such. Fred shrugged on his robes, picked up his broom, and walked outside.
He looked around, spotting Ginny, and Harry, and . . . whoa.
His mouth fell open. Standing away from Ginny and Harry, who were talking animatedly, was the single most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. True, she was good-looking to start with, with long, waist-length, gently curled auburn hair, a slim build, pale skin and pointed ears; but there was something else about her.
Her eyes were truly enchanting. She was standing close enough that he could see the texture of them. It looked like there was mist swirling around her pupil; bright, electric blue mist. As he watched, the colored fog changed from shocking blue to periwinkle, mirroring the sky that she was looking up at with a sad little smile on her face.
But it was more than that, more than her eyes or her features. She just gave off this . . . thing. There was something quietly confident about her, something in her aura that just made Fred feel as though George had stuck an ice cube down his back. He just stared as George came out of the tent.
"So, Fred, who's the . . . holy sh**," George said, spotting the girl. "Who's that?"
"That, George, is an angel sent from heaven."
"Have we yet introduced ourselves to said angel, Fred?"
"Not yet, George," Fred said, dazedly.
"Well, I think it's time we changed that, Fred."