- Al interacting with Harry only (father-son thing) talking about the drama club, the dueling club, just Al asking for advice or commenting on the stuff he likes but he's not sure what to stick with. (could be by owl exchange, or fire-floo chatting, or after class talk)
- Al and Moth having a Date that includes Flying (teaching her to fly or just having fun) and showing, if not quidditch itself, what does Al likes about flying.
- Moth seeing Al do something in the dramatic club.
- Al and Moth practicing spells (whichever is besting the other is up to you )
- Another Mothh/Al Kiss. hope it's not too much to ask in a ficlet.
[That's a little more than I can do--it's two separate ficlets, at least; a Harry-Al, and a Moth/Al--but I'll see if I can work in information from one while telling the other.]
"Is it really all right to be out here?" Moth asked.
Al shrugged. "As all right as it is to be in the cairn in the Forest."
"We could just stay in the Common Room."
"I plan to snog you again."
"If it's okay?"
"And I don't want Lily watching. I have a feeling she was critiquing it in her diary when she caught us before." He widened his eyes and brushed his hair back the way Lily did, and said, in a high-pitched voice, "'Al really ought to be playing Quidditch. Clearly, he has better skills on a broomstick than he has behind the Lionbloom. I think I saw him drooling, and I'm quite certain that's not how it's meant to work.'"
Moth laughed. Al really did good impressions; she'd gone to dramatics club with him one day, and he'd regaled people with impressions of all of the portraits. "Well," she said, "you'd been on a broomstick before. As far as I know, that was the first Lionbloom snog."
"Definitely." Al looked over his shoulder and smiled at her. He had a sweet, almost shy smile, and Moth desperately wanted to kiss it all the way off his face.
Then again, anticipation was half the fun. Kissing would be for the end of the evening. "So," she asked when they entered the Quidditch pitch, "are we going to fly?"
"That's the idea."
"I'm still rubbish at it."
He shrugged. "I'll take you up on my broomstick, just to get a feel for it." He blushed. "Er... that came out a bit, erm, more colorfully than I meant it."
"I wouldn't have thought of that if you hadn't pointed it out."
Moth laughed. "Still, I think I'll learn better if I'm up on my own. Do you know how to get the school brooms?"
"They're up in the equipment shed. Try Summoning one. That usually works. You'll probably want to get one of your own. Dead handy."
"I don't know the Summoning spell."
"Oh. Accio. You say Accio and then whatever you're trying to get. Sorry, thought you'd have heard it."
"I'm only in second year. Isn't Summoning a fourth year thing?"
"Well, yeah, but most of us try it... er, well, that is to say..."
"Most people who grew up watching their parents use it?"
He winced. "Sorry. I forget sometimes."
"It's okay. I lost you on the whole digital book business."
Al shook his head. "I still don't get that."
Moth did not want to get into another magic versus technology conversation--they weren't arguments, but they tended to go in increasingly strange circles--so she pointed her wand at the equipment shed and said, "Accio school broom."
Al came around behind her and steadied her wand arm (she'd known he would, but it still felt surprising and good). "Put a bit more behind it. Really think about that broom."
She closed her eyes. Brooms were not at the forefront of her thoughts. "Accio school broom," she whispered.
It might or might not have come. She wasn't sure, because Al kissed her cheek, just below her ear, and she turned to meet his lips. So much for anticipation.
The broomstick hurtled into them, knocking them apart.
"Right, then," Al said. "Er... Let's just, er... go up in the air. It's cooler up there. I'm a little... warm."
Moth bit down a wild giggle--and a slightly uncomfortable one--and managed to arrange herself on the hovering broomstick.
"Up, then," Al said, leading the way.
Moth followed slowly. Her broomstick kept try to tip her toward the ground.
"Keep it steady," Al said. He circled around her slowly. "You can do it. You can... right, that's good. See, it's all good. Here, take my hand, we'll go a bit higher."
"I'll lose my balance."
"No, you won't. Come on... let's go to the goal post. We can sit down there."
This seemed surprising, but when they approached the right-side goal post, Moth could see that it was wide enough to sit on. They glided to it and and sat at the bottom of the curve, their feet touching each other. Al gathered the brooms and bound them nearby. "This is a great view," he said.
"Maybe you should try for Keeper."
"Nooo..." Al groaned melodramatically. "You sound like Dad, and he's almost as bad as Lily. I had tea with him the other day, and he kept going on about how I really shouldn't be hiding my talents."
"I guess they don't really understand."
"I'm not sure. Might help if you explained it."
He shrugged. "Quidditch is fun to play with the family. But if I started playing Quidditch, all the sudden, I'd be stressed about it, and worrying about family legacies and... you know. It's only fun when all of that doesn't come with it."
"Oh. Lily thinks you run away from anything you might be good at."
"I know what Lily thinks."
"I don't think so."
He didn't ask for examples, and Moth supposed he didn't need to. The things Al was good at--at least the ones he enjoyed--weren't things that were going to end up in the trophy case. Even Hufflepuff didn't give out points for "best friend" or "coolest head." But when push came to shove, everyone knew that it was Al they could fall back on, Al who would find a way to unravel problems. And Al would then gratefully disappear under his cloak, and avoid the glare of the lights. Moth sometimes thought that she and James were the only ones who understood this--she sometimes brought the subject up, but never seriously--and James never told Al that he understood, just didn't pester him or shove him into any real spotlights.
She wasn't sure how long they stayed there, sitting at the base of the goalpost, before Roger Young, on an evening patrol, found them and sent them back to Gryffindor Tower. In some ways, as the years passed, she thought they never fully left.
Ohh! could you please do Ron's reaction to the relationship between Ruthless and James? Given his initial reaction to Harry and Ginny, I think he'd go a little nuts, but I wonder what you think :-) for Anon
"I have a problem," Ron said.
Ruth groaned inwardly, looking over at his cubicle. So far, he was the only member of the extended Weasley-Potter clan who hadn't taken the mickey out of her about James. She went into the cubicle and sat down. "What is it?"
"I'm trying to figure out on whose behalf I ought to be mortally offended. Everyone expects me to be. On the one hand, James is my nephew. My baby sister's little boy. And here you are, leading him into a life of wild carousing."
"Yes, that's just what it is."
"On the other hand, you were my apprentice. I spent a lot of time worrying about who you were, er..."
"Well, I wasn't going to put it in so many words, but... yes. Ever since... you know, I've worried about you. And James can be a little flighty. Is he using you?"
Ruth raised her eybrows and waited for him to finish.
He grinned. "So you can see my quandary."
"Well, what's your inclination?"
"Hmm. James has Harry to worry about him. Then again, Harry might not be the most protective sort on this. He's been trying to get you into the family since he came home from his Hogwarts stint and said, 'You wouldn't believe this amazing first year girl... a Scrimgeour of some sort...!' Still, maybe his business before mine."
Ruth stuck out her tongue at him. "So I win the prize?"
"I don't know. You are the experienced older woman. And you did, erm, extend the definition of 'apprentice' somewhat."
"I wouldn't be the first one. You know, Teddy's grandmother Lupin was his grandfather's apprentice. And wasn't Fleur meant to be learning English from Bill?"
Ron's grin widened into a smile, and he poured two glasses of Firewhiskey. "We're off-duty," he said, handing her one.
She took it and relaxed in her chair. "So you're going to let it go?"
"You have your own dad to worry about you, and James has his, as well." He drank. "The only thing I want to know, and I'd guess Harry and Ginny have talked to you about it..."
"The Teddy business?"
"They haven't. They've watched that a bit more closely from the other side. They know that there hasn't been a Teddy and me--not that way--since the year after he left school. And that was just"--she shrugged--"getting Sam out of my system, I think. Not my finest hour."
"I haven't even heard you say his name for a long time."
"Really?" Ruth started to sip the Firewhiskey, then decided not to, as she had no desire to have it bring up memories of her first adult boyfriend--the serial killer, Sam Cresswell. She still got nasty letters from his group of fans. "I suppose not. But he's always there. Except when I'm with James. It's impossible to hold onto bad thoughts when James is making me laugh like a madwoman, or--" She didn't finish that sentence. She supposed Ron could finish it in his head; he'd been loved for a long time, and he knew what it felt like, how it made everything else seem unimportant, even when you were bickering about whose turn it was to clean up after dinner.
He nodded. "Then I'll have to just settle for rolling my eyes at you for losing us a good Auror. I can't believe he's leaving the department."
"I think he was just looking for a good excuse to take the job at Hogwarts. I was just handy."
"Yeah... I kind of think that, too." Ron stood up. "Why don't you come home for supper? Hermione wants another few jabs at you about cradle-robbing..."