These stories are part of a complete universe of stories called the Making it Universe, however, it is completely and utterly a stand alone story. You DO NOT have to read the other stories to have a complete understanding! It is it’s own story, it just happens to coincide with information from other.
This chapter/one-shot was also written for the FF Quidditch League with the prompts: Episkey (spell), 1089 words (did not fulfill this after editing), frost (word), shatter (word), as well as the HPFT Companion Piece Challenge by the ever wonderful Rumpel (rest of the one-shots written for this as well). Thank you also to my Betas, SpacesInMyMind (Sophie), Queen Bookworm the First
My breath condensed in the air around me, the fog-like cloud dissipating quickly. Too soon, the grass had been overrun with frost, my boots crushing the miniscule crystals as I made my way across the pitch, Air Wave Platinum in hand. The smooth wooden handle was cold, even through my gloves, and I shivered as a gust of wind blew by, rustling the sapphire robes that clung to my figure. I reached the middle of the pitch and looked up at the sky, my grip on the broom tightening as I felt the familiar rush of adrenaline course through my veins.
My right leg swung over the broom and in one fluid movement I bent my knees and kicked off, rocketing into the cold air above. One deep breath, and suddenly, I was at home. I leaned forward, coaxing my broom forward, gaining speed with every second I stayed crouched low to the handle. The stands raced by, red, green, blue, and yellow blurring together in my peripheral as the wind whistled in my ears. One lap. Two. Then three. Tears streamed down my cheeks, an unfortunate consequence of the harsh wind and my lack of goggles - I’d forgotten them in my room, and by the time I’d realized, it wasn’t worth it to go back.
I reached the far end of the pitch and slowed, circling around the posts before finally orienting myself towards the opposite end. And then I was off. Streaking down the field, I felt myself grow weightless with every moment until I bore almost no strain from gravity. This was my moment. I brought my left foot up onto the back of my broom, my teeth gritted from the effort I was making to stay balanced. Once I was sure that I was secure, I slowly started to bring my right foot up from its place on the foot grip but I began to shake. Balancing myself out, I tried again, but this time I began to wobble uncontrollably.
“No. No, no, no,” I breathed through a clenched jaw. “I’ve worked too hard at this to fail again.”
With renewed determination, I thrust my right foot onto the handle and stood up. I was flying. It was like nothing I’d ever experienced before. For a split second I was racing through the air, my arms outstretched like a bird, my auburn hair whipping around me like fire. It was a type of magic I had never before experienced. And then just like that, it was over.
My broom slipped out from under me, and instead of flying, I was falling. Instead of magic it was science, gravity gripping my body and pulling me back towards the earth where it thought I belonged. A sharp shriek resounded through my throat as I barreled towards the ground. I saw green, then blue, green, then blue, as I rolled around in the air, unable to stop my own momentum.
Get it together, Molly, I thought. You’re a witch. What can you do if you’re falling?
My wand! With a flourish, I pulled it out from my robes and screamed the only spell that I could think of. My descent slowed, but only slightly as I realized the one flaw in my thought process – the Levitation Charm wouldn’t work on me; it would only work on my clothes – and I was still falling towards the ground below. Pain rocketed through my wrist as I hit the earth, sharp and harsh at first and then slowly becoming a dull murmur. I cradled it instinctively and lowered my head, fighting back tears.
“Hey!” a voice suddenly cut through the otherwise silent air. “Hey, are you okay?”
I glanced up to see a figure clad in red running towards me. Tears in my eyes blurred my vision and I couldn’t tell who it was until they were right there, kneeling beside me.
“Merlin, I saw that fall. Are you alright?” Christopher Finnegan, captain of the Gryffindor team, asked as his eyes fell on my wrist.
I managed a weak smile and a watery chuckle. “Oh, just dandy.” My voice broke on the last word as a rush of pain raced through my wrist once more. “My broom,” I finally croaked out. “My broom, can you find it? Did it shatter?”
“No, I saw it land near the posts. I imagine it’ll be banged up, but I wouldn’t worry about it.” He reached for my wrist and I recoiled on instinct. With a reassuring look, he reached out once more and this time I let him, his long fingers closing around my hand. “Can you move it?”
I attempted to bend my wrist but stopped with a whimper. His brow furrowed as he tightened his grip on my hand. My wrist was slowly moved up, then down, then around in a circle, his hands doing the work as I stifled my cries.
“It seems broken, but it’s nothing that a small healing spell can’t fix.” He brandished his wand and gave me a comforting smile. “This might feel a bit strange. Episkey!”
My wrist suddenly felt very warm, strange compared to the cold assaulting the rest of my body, and then just as quickly, very cold again. The pain that had been radiating through me faded and I sighed, my breath turning into a fog again just as it had before.
“What were you doing up there, anyways?” Christopher asked, glancing upwards to where I had fallen.
I chuckled and wiped away the few tears that had fallen from my eyes. “I was attempting a Chelmondiston Charge. Been practising for months, but I can’t seem to keep my balance.”
He whistled, long and low. “That’s ambitious. I don’t even think I can dream of doing that. No wonder you took such a hard tumble.”
“Yeah, well, not much to show for it.” I shrugged. “You seem to have properly healed me. Thank you for that, by the way. Don’t know what I would’ve done had you not come along.”
“It’s no trouble. I’ve picked up a few things over the years. I’m Chris, by the way. Christopher Finnegan.” He shook the hand he was already holding and I smiled.
“I know. I’m Molly. Molly Weasley.”
This time, it was his turn to smile. “I know.”
And just like that, just with two simple words and an easy grin, butterflies erupted in my stomach. Christopher Finnegan, Head Boy, was inches from me, my hand still in his, and he knew who I was. Me, Molly Weasley. Oh, my…
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