welcome to chimera!

[Roberta Weasley]

On a given school night when she could manage it, Roberta Weasley tended to be one of the last few awake in the Common Room. This was not by chance, but by deliberate choice. She liked to be the last up to bed. There was no grand reason to this beyond that she enjoyed the quiet of the room, abandoned. Bobbie wasn’t a reclusive girl by any means, but she had her moments of preferring to be alone. And if you stayed up late enough, you got to be alone without deferring anyone’s company in particular.

What it meant was that she slept in on the weekends. She did it when she was home also, which bothered her mother distinctly. She liked to wake up and hear things happening already downstairs: it gave her a reason to get up and get going.

So by the time that she came downstairs on Saturday – having taken her time in the dorm as usual - it was already part-way through the afternoon. Bobbie was dressed casually; the yellow sweater she’d pulled on as an after-thought had made sure that her hair was rather less than smooth, but her dark green eyes were bright and alert. By this time of day, they’d better be, really. She skipped down the stairs from her dormitory, running a hand through the bottom of her fallen curls absently and finally landing two feet in the Gryffindor Common Room.

Saturday afternoons were a pleasant mix of lazy and busy in the Gryffindor Common Room. It was still nice outside, and people passed through now and then, pulling on or off scarves and light jackets while chattering to their friends. Eager first and solemn seventh years were dotted around the edges with their books open, to varying degrees of concentration. In the corner, the fire flickered quietly, circled by the lucky, laughing first few who had claimed the prized chairs.

She was supposed to study the habits of the fwooper for care of magical creatures in preperation for their test on Monday, a topic that had interested her for all of the first three sentences of her textbook. She had a quill tucked in her pocket and crossed the common room to where she had sat last night, pulling her textbook up from where she had left it with a little sigh. No matter how long you postponed the day, it tended to catch up with you.

Bobbie had never been dismissive of school – she knew it was important and even enjoyed it in a casual, self-directed way – but she had notable trouble letting it dictate her life. Maybe that was part of the reason she took so long to get properly up that Saturday morning – she’d promised her parents she would study hard for her NEWTs, but it felt so early in the year to sign her life away to her books. Bobbie became sporadically interested in things they were being taught, and happily pursued her interest while it lasted. But these interests tended to fade before the assignments on them did, leaving Bobbie distracted and rarely exceptionally as an outcome.

She smiled over her shoulder at a few girls in the corner, but stayed where she was, holding her book up and grimacing at it openly. If she started failing her tests this early in September, her parents would both separately have very strong words for her. To be fair, Roberta didn’t have an ambition to do badly in school. Just, now and then it was tempting.

She dropped the book to her side, swinging her arm slightly, and fiddled with the end of her quill poking out of her pocket. She, glanced out the window at the September sky which was beginning to crowd with clouds. There’d be rain later that evening. Unsurprising. Distracted before she’d begun, Bobbie carried her still un-opened textbook with her, crossing to the nearby window that looked out over the grounds and quidditch pitch. She leant forward on the sill slightly, tucking her hair behind her ear. She should try to get outside before the rain came – it would be good to clear her head, once she’d done anything that left it with anything to clear, of course.

[Rudolf Brand]

For Rudolf, Quidditch was a gulp of life. The buffeting winds left pale cheeks and chapped lips in their wake, but this was nothing to that glorified whoosh of cutting through air, of that heady invincibility which comes from shaking off gravity. Currents churned like a frothing ocean, and amidst them, six other red specks zipped like zeppelins alongside his own flight. In this altitude itself there was unconstrained freedom, and in the whiz of the quaffle, the fast thrill of the game. Minutes passed as seconds, and in those seconds they were Gods all.

Needless to say, they stayed out in the field even longer than he'd intended, tasting the whirl of Quidditch again for the first time after summer. He called out the end of practice only when fatigue grew heavy and his throat hoarse from yelling above the winds. Landing on the ground was like pulling out of water - losing the buoyancy and strange weightlessness was almost puzzling, and definitely disappointing. But the exercise had given him a pleasant sense of weariness, the kind that feels accomplished and wholly given. After a friendly punch from Magnus and goodbyes from his teammates, who were on the other hand grateful to finish, he lingered in the changing room with quill in hand. A few amendments to his strategic diagram later and he was satisfied - they had made good progress already, and there was plenty of material to work on yet. He began making his way back to the Gryffindor tower.

Apt to his mood, the common room was saturated with the warmth and good cheer characteristic of a lazy Saturday morning. He smiled at the ready supply of friendly faces and threaded his way through to find an empty seat. Slumping into a lumpy sofa, he leaned back and stretched pleasantly, feeling the tautness of his muscles relax.

Free of Quidditch, he was something of a different person - the focus, the responsibility, and sharpness of mind was all left on the field, while none of the pride and self-satisfaction was abandoned in any such manner. He felt lazy now, and inclined to relax and enjoy himself rather than take on schoolwork, like so many others were doing around him. He deserved it.

Casting his gaze around in pursuit of some fun, he caught the telltale redness of the Weasley hair. It was Genevieve, and uncharacteristically, she was reading so quietly as to have completely escaped his notice beforehand - despite sitting only a foot away.

"Hey Gen," he called out, despite the potential rudeness of interrupting her. After all, it wasn't as though any girl could prefer the company of books to him - he was Rudolf Brand. Even if it was Genevieve Weasley, who was decidedly less impressed with him than the average female; then again, he dismissed her reluctance for simple denial. "Some Quidditch practice today, eh?"

[Roberta Weasley]

Eventually, she had settled. Vaguely. She had found her way back to her chair and sat heavily. After stalling slightly, she’d even opened the book and flipped to the right page. It took a while and it was late in the day by the time she started, but Bobbie found her way to doing her school work. She was leaning against the high back of the red chair, swinging a foot absently. Her red hair fell around her face slightly as she bent over the textbook. She looked focused and, mostly, she was. She was reading slowly, but deliberately. After all, Bobbie wasn’t prone to schoolwork, but she wasn’t incapable of it.

The reading was far from thrilling, but it required a bit of thought and the girl looked engrossed. Her deep green eyes were cast down and her fingers played absently with the corner of a page. Now and then her mind wandered – to the whereabouts of her sister, to dinner, to the treat she meant to bring Paracelsus later – but she was keeping quiet all the same. It wasn’t really very much reading.

Her foot scuffed the ground repeatedly and she flipped a page. Probably, she should have been taking notes, but she found it distracting to do both at once. She’d find someone to go over it with later, she assumed.

But before she could follow that thought (or finish the next page), she was interrupted by a loud voice in her direction. Her attention was on her reading, and in her own mind, so she didn’t quite realize at first that she was being addressed or pick up on what was being said. There was noise all around the Common Room, and she knew none of it was directed at her. But after a moment she looked up quickly, catching sight of the boy sitting not far from her. He was looking right at her and Bobbie blinked, reaching up to push her hair back behind her ears, realizing it had certainly been her he was addressing.

She hadn’t been paying enough attention to what he said to notice the mix up, so she smiled in a friendly manner at Rudolf who looked fresh and cheery. She figured he must have returned from practice with Gen; he looked it. Rudolf Brand might be more in Gen’s territory, seeing as he shared quidditch with her sister, but Bobbie had always got on with the now-quidditch-captain in an easier, gentler way. Many of the twins’ friends overlapped and always had done so, even if the girls related to people differently. ”Hello, Rudolf,” she said back at him, ”I wasn’t paying attention at all, sorry – did you want something?” Truthfully, she wasn’t about to complain about being interrupted. She’d got quite a bit of reading done, and company always trumped schoolwork in the long run.

[Rudolf Brand]

Rudolf was leaned back lazily in the armchair, feet up and body slackened. It was a very casual pose that displayed him to best advantage, and one that he had perfected over the years - that this was consciously done, however, would never be admitted.

He shot her his friendly Rudolf Brand smile. "Oh, don't worry about it," he said breezily. "I was just asking you about the quidditch practice today, that's all. Good to be back in the air, isn't it?"

His gaze turned from her in recollection; without waiting for a response, he continued speaking, as was common habit when the subject of quidditch was on his mind. "I have to admit, I missed flying over the summer. Snuck out a few times at night just to keep familliar with it, but it's just not the same in a backyard." Nevermind the fact that his particular backyard was nearly half the size of the pitch anyway. "No competition, no edge - and you can't fly very high, most of all. Can't get seen. You know what I mean?"

Again, unbidden, he continued before she could reply. "That was a good run we did today, though, especially for the first time. Some of the new members aren't bad, not bad at all. That one fourth year - can't remember his name for the life of me - blond, reall tall, you know who I'm talking about? Anyway, him. We'll have to take him off reserve if he continues hitting those bludgers like that. Almost as good as Denthead, he is."

His hand found his chin, scratching in deliberation. "Not too sure about that new chaser, though. Couldn't pass the quaffle four out of five times. Though, speaking of, that's something I've wanted to talk to you about too. I mean, don't get me wrong, you're pretty good for - " he caught himself before he could say girl " - for someone flying with that model of broomstick. But one thing to keep in mind- how about passing the ball more often, yeah? No one can score quaffles all by himself, even me."

The inherent vanity in that sentence went unnoticed. He did, however, pause for a rare moment - to draw breath.

[Roberta Weasley]

Bobbie closed her book, folding down the page and keeping it in her lap. She twisted slightly so that she could see him, leaning her side against the plush back of the chair, not objecting to his apparent desire to chat. But by his second sentence, it was evident that there was a glaring mistake in their interaction.

Rudolf was prone to mixing up Bobbie and her sister. On one level, she couldn’t blame him. On the other hand, Rudolf had been both of their friend for a substantial amount of time now, and even Bobbie found it a little strange that he was repeatedly incapable of making the distinction.

Roberta didn’t resent people for confusing her with her sister, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t frustrate her slightly. Bobbie wasn’t really one to make a fuss though and generally kept those particular frustrations to herself anyway; she opened her mouth to cheerily correct her housemate: ”Sorry, Rud—“ but she didn’t get even two words in before he was off again.

With a little sigh, Bobbie leant back again, waiting, again for an opening. She tried to look interested in whatever it was he was saying – she was far from ignorant of quidditch and even enjoyed the game quite a lot as a spectator, but she got exhausted of constantly discussing it. She tried to grab her chance again when he asked her a direct question, ”Actually—“ but she didn’t have time for more than that before he continued. This exact pattern was repeated once more.

By the time he finally finished, Bobbie was just slightly pink. The situation was rather awkward, having gone on long enough that there wasn’t an elegant way to correct the misunderstanding. She blinked, slightly surprised, as he actually quieted and smiled sheepishly, ”Sorry, it’s actually…It’s Bobbie,” she said shrugging slightly. It was a little awkward, but though Rudolf Brand was rather a lot to handle sometimes Bobbie generally managed their friendship by patient cheeriness: ”I’ll definitely keep that in mind though. I could be better at sharing the quaffle,” she teased gently, if a little awkwardly, not knowing what else to do.

[Rudolf Brand]

Rudolf had started talking almost as soon as she stopped, too absorbed in the topic for her words to have immediate impact. "Yeah, just keep in with the strategy that I outlined and you shouldn't have too much tr - "

It was though he had only just heard her clearly. Blinking, his speech faltered and then stopped altogether as he turned more fully to regard her. "What?" came out instinctively, a sort of buffer as he mentally digested his mistake. It was a bit of slow going, perhaps because he had already spoken to her for so long. "Oh, you're...Bobbie?"

A sheepish grin immediately spread over his face, as he reached to scratch the back of his neck; he seemed genuinely embarrassed and apologetic. After all, he had known them for seven years now, and even someone as self-absorbed as he was could be slightly more discriminate. "Wow, I'm sorry," he said, and added quite obviously, "I didn't even realize."

It made sense, then, why she had been reading so quietly before he interrupted. Bobbie had always been less rowdy than Gwen, and also more patient. He recalled as well that Gwen had said something of plans after the practice - again, another cue that went completely over his head, as it did not relate directly to himself.

Although generally social, Rudolf found the situation now somewhat awkward in the lull of the realization. Still feeling mildly guilty about the mix-up, he felt all the more obligated to make up for it. Not that talking to Bobbie was any difficult task - in fact, he preferred it to talking to Gwen, who tended not to suffer his monologues with as much good temper.

"I'll get it down by this year, promise," he said, quirking a smile. "So, how've you been then? Classes going alright so far?"

[Roberta Weasley]

“Yes. Exactly.” It was honestly a relief when he finally caught up with the situation . Bobbie wasn’t particularly easy to frazzle, , but it was undeniably awkward to find yourself stuck in the middle of someone else’s conversation. Of course, it happened to her quite often, but this did not make her more fond of the strange displacement – and, besides, for a moment there, she had legitimately thought he might just keep on going. It was unfortunately true that Bobbie was mistaken for Gen more often than the reverse, by virtue of the fact that Gen tended to stick in people’s minds. It wasn’t that Bobbie was unmemorable, she was just less memorable. And that was how it had always worked.

Still – she wasn’t really one to dwell. She shrugged, her relief reading obviously across her freckled cheeks. “It’s fine – I know.” She said, dismissing the apology. What was she going to do? Shout at him? She knew Rudolf well enough by now that the whole situation wasn’t entirely surprising. Bobbie took the situation in stride fairly well.

Better, interestingly, than her friend.

She thought he showed his discomfort, and thought also that this was rather sweet. Rudolf was a good friend and Roberta had come to know that, but it was always nice to see the reminders that he was aware of the people around him – at least on and off. “You’d better hurry,” she teased, swinging a leg absently, her toe scuffing lightly on the stone floor, “You’re running out of time. Other people manage – I can’t believe you let them beat you at it.” She was smiling through her teasing though, her intentions evidently friendly.

“Classes are…a bit out of hand, honestly,” she said with a soft sight, “I shouldn’t be surprised, obviously, but still. What about you – breezing through the NEWT work?”

[Rudolf Brand]

As always, Bobbie reacted with a patience and sweetness of temper that could not escape even Rudolf's awareness; for all the he was self-absorbed, he did pick up observations of others from time to time, however much Kenny and Magnus bemoaned that it was otherwise. Though he had expected no less, he was glad to see that she was relatively unruffled - he did like Bobbie, in his own way, more than could be thought of from a boy who had just misidentified her for five minutes straight.

He grinned a little when met with her teasing. Contrary to popular perception, Rudolf Brand was perfectly capable of laughing at himself, provided it came from a source he deemed inoffensive. After all, how many jokes from his friends had he suffered for his devoted personal upkeep?

"Oh, I didn't know there was a race," he returned in the same easy manner, quirking a smile while he was at it. "I'm rather disappointed you didn't give me a head start - guess I'll have to start sprinting. What's the prize at the finish line, then?"

At her next question, he thought of all the unused stack of books still lying unpacked in his trunk. His broomstick, his sports articles, and everything quidditch-related - those had all been unearthed the minute he'd had the chance. But the items related to actual scholarship, well, were still rotting away in some unseen corner. This paralleled his actual efforts too. Already into the first practices, and with five different strategies drawn out, he was deep into the game immediately - but he couldn't honestly recall having learned anything in class the first week. Did they even have class? He couldn't remember the contents for the life of him.

"Been sort of occupied by quidditch, really," he answered honestly. "I haven't even started on any assignments lately. It just doesn't seem as important to me, you know, since it won't relate to what I want to do in the future. I mean, how's knowing about a bowtruckle going to help me with playing professional quidditch?"

That he would go on to play professionally, then, was not in question in his mind.

[Roberta Weasley]

Easily, Bobbie matched the boy’s grin, drawing her knees up on the chair in front of her so that she was rather cosily perched, facing him. Roberta liked people who were fun. She liked to laugh and she didn’t like to feel too much pressure to be the centre of creativity. She couldn’t complain on either count with Rudolf and over her seven years of knowing him, she’d begun to count him as a friend without reservation.

“No – I always play fair,” she told him, shaking her head in mock solemness, “Serious matters, after all.” She betrayed her tone with a soft laugh, more at the situation than at any wit of her own. It was the best thing (and the downfall) about studying in the Common Room: people were so willing to distract you. “The prize? I don’t know – what would tempt you? I want it to be something that will work.”

“A cake? I already owe Percy one. Feathers for your hat? I’ve got quite a collection.” She laughed at herself again, shaking her head, “No, I don’t know - I’m open to suggestions.”

She nodded as he talked about quidditch. Bobbie didn’t dislike the game – though she had never taken to flying herself. She was surrounded all too often by people who lived for Quidditch and though it sometimes exhausted her a little, Roberta had fairlyenduring good humour about such things. “It’s not like I need immaculate grades myself,” she agreed, not questioning his self-assurance. Gen had the same dream – she wasn’t interested in being the one to break it if it needed to be, “But my parents’ll go mad of I just write them off.”

She shrugged, “But congratulations on being captain. How is it? Worth the wait?” Gen had been jealous, of course, but it was destined to come to a choice between them. That was an argument she’d listen to but firmly avoid coming between, as much as she could help.

[Rudolf Brand]

Rudolf's accompanying laugh came easily as she played along with the joke. Now that his lingering embarrassment had dwindled away (not that he ever focused on his errors for long), he was all the more comfortable with the situation and back to his usual self - which tended to be, by nature, fairly social. For all that he could be often caught in a fight of some kind - usually instigated by blows to his vanity - he was at his core a people's person, who enjoyed company and talks and jokes.

"Hmm," he said at the question, scratching his chin as though earnestly pondering his answer. Likewise, however, a grin also played at his lips, as he couldn't completely hide the playfulness of his response. "Shame you play fair. And here I though I could count on your favoritism. But I suppose I could live with a good cake or a few colorful feathers."

He paused, and added with a renewed smile, "Though, if you're looking for what would really be worth it - I don't think anything could be better than a beautiful girl." It could very well have sounded awkward had someone else voiced it, but Rudolf had a little too much practice with lines like these for it to come off as anything but natural, friendly - easily sidestepped if one was uncomfortable with its intention. There was the suggestion of a wink there as he glanced meaningfully at her, but it was also mentioned casually enough that it could pass as just another piece of conversation.

"My parents don't mind too much, thankfully," Rudolf continued, thinking of them as he said it. Truth be told, they thought Hogwarts in general was a waste of time - a magic school, really? - and had only enrolled him because he had pleaded so much, and they couldn't imagine denying their son anything. His father expected him to carry on the wealthy family business; he hadn't broken it yet that he had no intention of pursuing anything other than quidditch. "They're muggles though. Expect it's an entirely different experience for you."

At the mention of his captain-ship, he was immediately smiling again - nothing put him in quite as good of a mood as that particular conversation topic. "Thanks! Yeah, I'd say it's definitely worth it. There's nothing that can compare with leading your own quidditch team - I could do it for the rest of my life, really. The strategy, the gameplay itself, the teamwork - it's all a lot of work, but seeing it come together on the field makes it all worth it."

[Roberta Weasley]

Enjoying the sound of their laughter, Bobbie shook her head lightly. The awkwardness appeared to have drifted out of their interaction, thankfully and the light-heartedness of their exchange matched the breeziness of Gryffindor tower and the cosiness of the fire that was not far from them. Before Roberta could answer his joking ponderings, he added a second comment and his tone switched just slightly from playful to something different – though similarly cosy and unimposing.

She caught his eye and his intention only a moment or so behind and reached up, pushing her hair behind her ear, mostly just for something to do with her hands. Roberta wasn’t overly prone to over-thinking herself, and she was not insusceptible to flattery. No one spent time with Rudolf Brand without noticing that he was attractive. Of course, the same might be said for noticing his particularly large ego, which bothered Bobbie little though she was aware of it. But today, his genuine guilt at his mistake and something about his willingness to tease at himself with her was particularly appealing to Bobbie. It meant that she wasn’t too thrown off by the comment – though she hadn’t expected it. It seemed to progress almost naturally from their cheery exchange and, therefore, it felt natural to continue along with it.

And she smiled, ”Well, that seems like a logical progression,” she admitted, catching his glance and watching him in return, ”If you can tell which one she is, you’ll have a far better chance.”

She shrugged her shoulders and dropped her hand back down to rest on her knee. Yes, she was flattered; she didn’t think there was anything wrong with that. ”Oh, that’s right,” she said with a nod as he mentioned his family, ”Yes, I expect it’s a bit different.” Roberta had nothing against muggles, but she wasn’t particularly curious about them, by way of finding her ignorance a little disconcerting. But the subject changed quickly:

At Rudolf’s quick smile she laughed openly – though not unkindly. ”Everytime I think I dislike quidditch, I see you or Gen smile like that about it and I change my mind back.” Except for Percy, Bobbie found herself surrounded by quidditch maniacs, most of the time. It wasn’t unpleasant, as she enjoyed the game (from a spectator’s seat) and her house pride was appropriately in place, but it got overwhelming now and then. ”So should we expect to win the cup this year?”

[Rudolf Brand]

His smile automatically widened when she laughed along, taking his flattery in stride. But he wasn't entirely surprised by the positive reception; Rudolf habitually thought he would succeed in any venture, and girls were hardly an exception. This preconceived assurance was charming to some and endlessly frustrating to others, depending on the situation. Here, however, it was relatively innocuous - it presented itself in the form of friendly confidence rather than overbearing vanity.

Still with something of a teasing tone to his voice, he responded, "Well, I could tell. But that ruins the fun of guessing, don't you think?"

For better or for worse, Rudolf tended to think better of people who liked him, as though that in itself were testament to their good judgment. Bobbie's easy company had always been appreciated, and at present, she was improving more and more to his eye as she played along so good-naturedly. And she was rather pretty, he thought, when she caught his glance in turn. Her features were soft and her complexion fine, and currently with such a smile that conveyed her gentleness, her sweetness of temper - and that was attractive in of itself, nevermind the girls he had sought after for much different reasons. She was so different from Gen, whom he was used to seeing on a much more regular basis, but it did not follow that such differences were at all bad.

His gaze seemed to soften for a moment, before he picked up the other segment of conversation again. Quidditch was always a source of discussion, something he could speak about immediately and go on for quite a bit longer. "Oh, I'd bet on it," he said, with his typical grin of assurance. "We'd have to win. There's no better team in any of the other houses, and none more passionate either. I hear Ravenclaw hasn't even started training yet, can you imagine?"

It was only the first week in, but the idea seemed scandalous when voiced by him.

[Roberta Weasley]

Roberta wasn’t picky about friends, but she didn’t make them quickly. She was drawn to people who made her laugh and didn’t expect too much, and she had a fairly un-botherable disposition. Rudolf had happened into being a friend, and she’d never begrudged him for it. Now, she couldn’t quite begrudge…this. Whatever it was. She didn’t think of herself particularly as the sort of girl Rudolf Brand took after, and she didn’t like to be presumptuous, but what else could she do than enjoy it?

Bobbie had Genevieve Weasley as a twin sister; she’d learned from an early age to be easy-going. Someone had had to be.

“I might if you were right more often,” she teased good-naturedly. She didn’t mean, of course, to insult him, and she doubted her tone would come off as such. To underline the point though, she laughed again rather cheerily, though not too loudly, shaking her head, “Maybe you need to study up a bit.” The laughter brought a touch of pink to her cheeks that spoke to something pleased within her. She could feel him watching her, but it didn’t bother her. Roberta pulled her arms tightly around her knees but she kept her head up though and her smile rather wide. Bobbie wasn’t easy to fluster, and she wasn’t about to derail them at this point.

Despite his bravado, Bobbie noted the genuine eagerness with which he picked up the topic of quidditch and again, she thought this was sweet. His particular breed of pomp, she was rather used to, but she enjoyed having an extended chance to look past it. “I can’t,” she agreed, amiably, even if privately she might have thought it was reasonable not to start practice until the second week of school at least. “But I’m glad to hear it, for our sakes. I’ll look forward to the first game; It’ll be lovely to be cheering when I know we’ll win.” There she laughed again, not unkindly. Whether he was right in his confidence or not it was hard to say, but she thought he was right about the passion: and that was endearing enough. “You were training over the summer then? Gen hardly stopped for a moment.” It did bother Roberta, now and then, how often she was prone to drawing her sister into conversations. For a brief moment, there was a touch of frustration in her expression, but she let it be fleeting. She didn't like to dwell on being bothered; she just had to learn to stop herself.

[Rudolf Brand]

Rudolf laughed easily again, taking her words perfectly in stride as a good joke. One of the defining quirks to his character was his different treatment of people within and outside the circle of people he deemed friends. Among the former, he was generous and could tolerate the most deprecating joke (he knew it was in good humor), and among the latter, he angered at the very shade of an insult. Bobbie clearly fell in the first category, both for her sweetness of temper and familiarity of six years; for Rudolf, knowing someone for a generous amount of time was a mark in their favor, in of itself. He had a tendency to like what he was familiar with, and people were no exception to this rule.

"Maybe I should, maybe I should," agreed Rudolf in a smiling way. "I'll need to look for opportunities to study. Can't say I'm very academic, but at least the subject would be interesting, right?"

He grinned a little again, slipping into a tone that was not altogether unfamiliar to him - that of good-natured playfulness. Flirting with Roberta was admittedly different from flirting with the usual girls, though, but the change was not at all in her disfavor. More sweetness, less falseness of mirth and forwardness of demeanor - it rang with more sincerity, even to Rudolf, whose ears were not well-attuned in distinguishing affected behavior.

"Oh definitely. Our yard's secluded enough to get into the air a bit, though not too high - there's a muggle village nearby. I feel more at home flying than on the ground, so it's kinda hard to resist when the opportunity's there, you know? Of course, it's nothing like playing at Hogwarts - the thrill of Quidditch is just something else entirely. It's like freedom of a kind, you just lose yourself while in the game." Rudolf's expression was animated, as it always was during discussions of this topic. Although his rhetoric was somewhat soaring, he nonetheless seemed conspicuously genuine about it; his passion was legitimate.

"Have you ever flown before?" he asked, rather curious. "I'm guessing it didn't take?"

[Roberta Weasley]

Bobbie liked fun people. She liked to be made laugh. And Rudolf was undeniably good fun – if you could out-wait his rather self-inflating tendencies. And Roberta had a rather good knack for that sort of thing. She thought he was more interesting than people gave him credit, not that she was really prone to over-thinking people; she just enjoyed being surprised by them. The point was, really, that she hadn’t expected to be surprised quite like this – but that was how it went, obviously. Bobbie shook her head at her own thoughts – laughing at herself was never a great obstacle – before pushing her red hair out of her eyes and focusing on her companion again.

“Definitely interesting,” she agreed, playing with the hem of her skirt absently. Roberta was not a nervous person, but she was somewhat prone to such nervous habits, mostly because she didn’t have better ideas about what to do with her hand. “I think I can guarantee. If you’re willing to trust my bias.” Roberta had known Rudolf for six years now and had seen him with numerous girls. All the same, his playfulness felt – for the moment – singular. And Roberta, of all people, was particularly drawn to feeling singled out.

“You should come visit ours then,” she offered casually, “There’s not a muggle anywhere around – Gen is always whizzing around everywhere.” An absence of muggles didn’t bother Bobbie; she’d never lived any differently and though she wouldn’t avoid muggle contact, she was secretly made nervous by the idea of seeking it out. Her lips twitched lightly as he spoke and then she nodded. His passion was catching – she couldn’t help but appreciate it (maybe as much as she had ever appreciated his skill on the Gryffindor Team. “I’m looking forward to seeing your team,” she said quickly, but truthfully.

“Oh, yes. My brother was always dropping us on broomsticks as a lark,” she laughed, “But I never…took to it like Gen did. I’m not fond of heights.”