Disclaimer: The Harry Potter books and other trademarks are © by JK Rowling, Little Literacy Agency, Scholastic, Bloomsbury, Arthur A. Levine, & Warner Brothers. No profit is being made, it's all good clean fun. Really.
- for nahkasiipi, dorrie & kessie -
Summer holidays, that magical time that spoke of freedom, the sunshine, constant outdoors. It held many shapes: sleeping-in, Quidditch-in-the-orchard, Bill-coming-home-for-a-visit, breaking-Harry-out, building-a-new-fort-with-Ron, hiding-from-Ginny, Mum-baking-her-cookies.
Fred liked to climb into the old creaking cubby house and spy on his siblings; George liked to lie on the grass, eyes shut and eating so many apples he thought he'd be sick. But the twins were rarely apart, really; they'd bar themselves in their room, exploding their new fabulous ideas and candies. They could hear Harry and Ron, as the two would thump around upstairs, while Ginny would be shut in her room, writing reams of parchment to her best friend.
The whole family would chatter at the kitchen table, the younger generation catapulting peas at each other, the twins kicking each other under the table with gentle affection, sometimes you couldn't really calling it kicking, but rubbing, caressing even, one firm white ankle pushing against slender thigh. They'd watch the family: delighting in Harry's blushes every time Bill would smile at him, or ask him what he thought about this, or that. They had high expectations for young Harry; Ron was hopeless and shovelled down his food, not noticing the dance of appreciation between best friend and eldest brother.
Fred would often look over at Mrs Weasley and distract her from noticing Harry's coyness, as George would lean over to whisper in Harry's ear, Bill smiling around the edges of his face while running his own foot over Harry's toes.
Oh yes, summer holidays were brilliant, never to be forgotten days.
They had a boys version of a slumber party in Bill's and Charlie's room, when Mrs Weasley barred them from their room until she cleared the ash away, one of their explosions getting just a touch out of hand, blowing out half of Ron's bedroom floor and collapsing Harry's makeshift bed.
Ron snored, oblivious in Charlie's bed, while Fred rubbed his nose deep into George's throat while George smiled at the sounds of small, uncertain boy-on-man kisses, Bill leaning over the edge of his bed, his hair falling out of its ponytail and around Harry's face like a flaming summer sunset curtain.
When Harry awoke from a nightmare, quiet and shaking; Fred got him into Bill's arms while George kissed his forehead, and they watched him sleep, Ron not blinking an eyelid in the morning as he stumbled past, as if seeing his best friend curled up in Bill's freckled arms was something he saw every day.
"Nightmare," explained Bill softly before Ron could even muster a questioning look in his direction.
Ron nodded and slipped out, following his nose to his mothers' pancakes and icing sugar smell downstairs, Fred kneading softly on George's erection as Harry's eyes opened, safe and secure in Bill's arms; George gasping slightly and Bill claiming Harry's mouth for a kiss.
Oh yes, summer days, when time stood still and anything was possible. Magical summer days.
- finished -