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“So, are you ever going to tell me what happened over the break, or are you just going to keep acting like this?”
Arthur frowned but kept his eyes on the corridor in front of him.
“Acting like what?”
Dirk rolled his eyes. “Moping.”
Arthur cast a stern eye at his friend. “I have not been moping.”
Dirk snorted. “Then what do you call what you’ve been doing?”
Arthur ignored that and jogged down the front steps, following the crowds of well-bundled students heading for the Quidditch Pitch. Dirk sprinted after him.
“Alright, you don’t want to talk and you’re not moping.”
Arthur nodded. Dirk slapped his cold hands together to warm them and continued, “Ok then. We’re just going to go to the game now, and watch Ravenclaw wallop Slytherin, and we won’t talk about “ anything. Well, nothing serious. We’ll just talk Quidditch.”
Arthur stopped walking mid-step. Dirk, oblivious, kept going.
“Hey, Art, I’ll bet you a sickle that MacMillan drops the Quaffle before the”“
“Ravenclaw is playing today?”
Dirk looked around, surprised to see Arthur jogging to catch up with him.
“Yeah, Arthur, Ravenclaw’s playing. What of it?”
Arthur’s face darkened. “Wentworth is playing today.”
Dirk sucked in a breath. “Oh, yeah…”
Arthur shoved his hands in his pockets and continued walking, a faraway look in his eyes. Dirk hurried after him. As they neared the Quidditch stadium an impish smile crossed Arthur’s face. Surprised, Dirk asked him what he was smiling about.
Arthur laughed and replied, “I never thought I’d say it, but… I just really hope Slytherin wins.”
***
The stands were packed despite the bitter cold wind that swept across the grounds, reddening faces and stiffening fingers. A burst of sound rose from the stands as the Ravenclaw team was announced, and then again as the blue-clad team walked onto the field. The Ravenclaws, all in blue and bronze, screamed and waved banners emblazoned with ravens that actually appeared to fly, whilst the other three houses tried their best to drown them out with a mixture of cheers and booing.
Then the Slytherin team was announced and, as one, the Slytherins cheered, raised their wands and shot green streamers into the air that writhed and coiled like snakes. The Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws roared with surprise and then let loose a torrent of booing as the Slytherin team walked onto the field.
Arthur stared morosely at the field as the referee marched out into the midst of the players and gave them a few opening remarks. Her voice was lost to the crowd through the wind.
Arthur had decided to come to the Quidditch game in an attempt to distract himself, to cheer himself up. He had always loved watching the game, though he had never been much good at it himself “ he was far too clumsy on a broom to be of much use in any of the positions. But now, as the ref motioned for the captains of each team to shake hands, Arthur couldn’t help thinking that the more emotionally sound choice would have been to have stayed back in the castle.
Tall, thin and dark-haired, Wentworth strutted forward to meet the opposing Captain. There was a brief, bone-crushing meeting of their hands, and then Wentworth walked back to his team, his pace brisk, his manner jaunty. Arthur glared at the back of the cocky Ravenclaw’s head. How was it that a git like that had ended up with everything? He was Captain and Seeker of his team. He was a ‘dream boat’ according to the giggly Hufflepuff girls that sat together in the back of Potions every week. He came from an old wizarding family “ an old rich wizarding family. And, most importantly, Wentworth had Molly’s devoted attention, perhaps even her love. The git.
It had been nearly two weeks since Christmas. He and Molly had hardly spoken to each other in that time. As the two teams kicked off and flew into the sky, Arthur relived that day in his head once again. A sad sort of pleasure filled him as he remembered the teasing and the laughing, the snowball fight and the chess, but finally, he came, wincing, to the badly timed attempt at a kiss. And again, just as they had every day in the last two weeks, her words ran through his mind.
You don’t kiss someone on accident, Arthur Weasley! What about Johnny?
What about ‘Johnny’? he asked angrily of the Molly he had pictured in his head. What about him? He’s an idiot! He’s rude, and self-centred, and he doesn’t appreciate you! Why would you ever go out with him, Molly? He doesn’t deserve you!
The Molly in his mind gave him a disgusted look. “And you do, Arthur?” she asked, pointedly.
Arthur paused his imaginary conversation to consider the question, his stomach sinking. Did he deserve Molly? Did he, Arthur Weasley, the clumsy, Muggle-obsessed youngest son of a poor family, deserve beautiful, fierce, powerful, good Molly? He had never thought of it that way before. It had always been Did Molly like him? and Would Molly ever notice him? He had never wondered whether he was good enough for wonderful, beautiful Molly to notice him. Arthur grimaced at his own self-centredness. And he had fancied himself to be in love with Molly? What kind of love was that?
He remembered what his brother, Bilius, had called it when he’d tried to tell him about his feelings for Molly over the summer. Infatuation. The idea that his brother might have been right stung.
But, wasn’t he thinking about her welfare now? Didn’t that count? Didn’t that prove, somehow, that this really was more than just an infatuation, an obsession?
Arthur groaned and dropped his head in his hands. No. Even if it was real love, he could still never be good enough for Molly. He wasn’t brave enough. He wasn’t smart enough. He wasn’t particularly powerful. He wasn’t exactly handsome.
He had just come to the conclusion that he wasn’t any more deserving of Molly than Wentworth was when another devastating thought hit him: what could he possibly give her after Hogwarts?
Because if he really did love her, if this was real, if she was his one and only, than he could never be content just spending a few months by her side in the easily broken bonds of boyfriend and girlfriend. If this was true love, than he knew he could never settle for now or for a little while. He wouldn’t accept less than forever. He wouldn’t take less than “ the thought seemed crazy “ he wouldn’t take less than marriage.
And if they were married… if they were married… Arthur’s mind was whirling “ he was only seventeen! People didn’t get married at seventeen anymore! “ but… if they were married… he would need to provide food and clothing and a place to live, and “ and besides that, Molly was so wonderful, so beautiful, she deserved fine jewellry and nice clothes and… How would he come up with the money to pay for all of those things? He’d need a good job to bring home that many galleons each month. And what career was he going into? Muggle relations. One of the lowest paying departments at the ministry. I could change careers! he thought defiantly. His heart sank at the idea of abandoning his dream job, but he gritted his teeth resolutely. For Molly, I could do it!
He sat, staring unseeingly out at the Quidditch pitch, gathering determination. After a moment a Ravenclaw chaser made a goal and around him the Gryffindors yelled and clapped, but Arthur frowned down at his hands, oblivious.
No… That wouldn’t work. He couldn’t adjust his career path now. He was half-way through his last year at Hogwarts. It was a little too late for changing his mind now. He didn’t know enough about any other subject for any other job to want him.
Then another thought hit him. If they were married… they might have kids.
The thought was strange and new, and Arthur was surprised by how appealing it sounded. As the youngest, he had never experienced having children younger than himself around, but he had always thought a younger sibling would have been nice. But being a parent was different than being an older brother. If they had children, that would mean a lot more responsibilities, a lot more bills. Their children would need clothing, and school supplies, and a bigger house to live in, and diapers, and “ and thousands of other things. And he would have to provide the money to buy it all.
There was a shriek from the row behind him, and Arthur looked up, startled, just in time to dive sideways as a broom-less player crashed into the stands, right where Arthur had just been sitting. There was a low hissing sound as the Bludger that had hit the player zoomed off to find a new target. Arthur hurried over to the fallen player.
“Are you alright? Hey! Are you al”“
Arthur stuttered to a halt as he managed to pull the player out of the wreckage. It was Wentworth. And he was, apparently, unconscious.
Blood flooded Arthur’s face as jealousy drained his mind of reasonable thought. Wentworth’s eyelids flickered. Here he was, the very person that Arthur had been thinking of so resentfully and so recently. Unconscious. Practically dumped in his lap. Immediately, vengeful thoughts of various spells that would make sure that Wentworth didn’t sit down for a week sprang to mind. No... too obvious. But “ he put his hand in his pocket, slipped his fingers around his wand “ a simple Confundus Charm could prevent Wentworth from winning the game…
“Oh, no! Johnny? Johnny!”
Molly Prewett came scrambling toward them over the mess of broken seats.
Arthur slid hastily away from Wentworth’s prone figure, both disappointed and relieved to have the temptation to curse Wentworth removed. Molly dropped to her knees beside her barely stirring boyfriend.
“Johnny?” she whispered, brushing a lock of that red-brown hair out of her face. Wentworth blinked stupidly and looked around.
“What happened?” he groaned, sitting up.
“A Bludger hit you,” Molly explained, a comforting arm around his shoulder. Wentworth grunted in reply. Looking around, he noticed Arthur standing nearby. His dark eyes flashed ominously. He threw off Molly’s helping hand and climbed to his feet. Giving Arthur one last dirty look, he seized his broomstick, which had landed nearby, mounted it and soared back into the game.
Molly stood there, hands on hips, looking after him for a moment. Then, turning, she caught sight of Arthur. It seemed that she had not noticed his presence before. Blushing, she gave him what he thought was a very strange look “ half-guilty, half… what? Arthur still hadn’t figured it out when she turned away, her face bright red, and slowly walked away to her seat a few rows back.
Arthur waved his wand over his smashed seat. The splintered pieces flew back together, and he sat down again to watch the rest of the game. But, try though he might, he failed to enjoy it. Not even when Wentworth, whose game was suffering greatly from his fall, went spiraling drunkenly toward the Snitch and then turned the wrong direction at the last second, allowing Slytherin an easy win, did he feel any satisfaction. His thoughts were too dismal and confused.
As he and Dirk left the pitch, Dirk animatedly analyzing the game and its effect on Gryffindor’s chance for the cup, Arthur kept his eyes on his shoes, trying not to think anymore.
That strategy didn’t work long, however. They hadn’t gone very far before the sound of an argument somewhere off to their right caught Arthur’s attention. The voices were difficult to make out in the hubbub as students pushed past, hurrying to get back to the castle and out of the wind and snow, but Arthur was sure that at least one of the arguing voices belonged to Molly Prewett.
“Hey, Dirk?”
Dirk paused his blow-by-blow breakdown of the game. “Yeah?”
“I forgot my umbrella. I’ll catch up with you later, okay?”
Dirk looked confused. Arthur hoped he didn’t remember that he had not brought an umbrella. Finally, Dirk shrugged.
“Alright. See you later, Art.”
Arthur's Obsession by hogwartsbookworm
Chapter Notes: When a Quidditch match fails to hold Arthur's attention, his thoughts succeed.
Chapter Endnotes: Sorry I took awhile to get this chapter done. I didn't expect Arthur to start thinking all this stuff for another few chapters, and he caught me ill prepared.Also, I realize this was a rather gloomy chapter. Don't worry, it'll lighten up.
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