Chapter Text
CHARLIE WEASLEY
Hogwarts, November, 1988
The first Quidditch match of the year was always electric: Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw. Clear skies, just a bite of wind, and a crowd that buzzed with excitement. More than half the school cheering and rooting for their favourite players. The try-outs had been the previous weeks and the new team members were excited and nervous.
Charlie mounted his broom, calm as always, looking at his classmates, his brothers, and some other friends from the air. He was scanning the pitch as Madam Hooch’s whistle echoed sharp through the air.
He didn’t usually pay attention to the Chasers, or the rest of the players apart from the Beaters, and he focused on his own task, but this time there was something different. Someone caught his eye as the Ravenclaw team flew past, someone he hadn’t seen on the pitch before, like…never.
Rowan Ferguson.
He knew about her from first year, and now they shared a few classes: Transfiguration, Potions, and Care of Magical Creatures, among others. She was clever, but he knew that much, she was a Ravenclaw. She usually didn´t answer questions in class, but for Transfiguration, unless she was addressed directly, but she always had something witty to say when professors tried to trip her up. And she hung around with Tonks from Hufflepuff and some Ravenclaws who had been her friends since first year that somehow caused chaos and got away with it. It wasn´t like Charlie had been paying attention to her specifically, but she was noticed, when she entered a room she turned heads, and she probably knew it.
They had never talked before, though.
He didn’t think she even played Quidditch.
But here she was, darting past him on a broom with a grin that could probably talk the Snitch into coming quietly. Charlie blinked. Since when does she…?
He didn’t finish the thought, he just could watch as she caught the Quaffle mid-pass and turned sharply, weaving past two Gryffindor players like it was nothing. Her dark hair was tucked under her helmet, a few strands flying loose in the wind. She looked back over her shoulder, straight at Charlie, and winked.
It wasn’t a flirt, or so Charlie thought. It was a challenge.
Charlie grinned despite himself, his grip tightening around his broom handle. Alright then.
Let’s see what you’ve got, Ferguson.
According to Jordan, the Gryffindor Captain, she was there playing for her friend as a punishment, something involving an accident with brooms past curfew a few weeks ago. The Ravenclaw Chaser she was replacing sat on the stands with a bandaged arm, shaking his head in disbelief and cheering her on like he’d just discovered his stand-in was secretly a prodigy.
But Ferguson…well, she played like she had no business being that good.
Charlie watched her weave through the air with practiced ease, laughing as she passed the Gryffindor Keeper and tossed the Quaffle to her teammate mid-spin. The crowd went wild. Her friends in Ravenclaw colours (and Tonks among them too, front and centre) were screaming like mad, shaking banners and howling her name. Even the professors were watching with interest.
She caught his eye again during a pause in play, hovering in the air like she owned it. She blew a kiss toward her friends, then turned slightly and gave Charlie the most annoyingly smug look he'd ever seen, like she knew she was putting on a show and didn’t care who was watching.
She wasn’t just playing.
She was performing.
And for someone supposedly subbing in as a punishment, she was taking it seriously in her own terms. Her passes were precise, her movements sharp. She clearly knew what she was doing, either she’d been hiding this skill, or she had learned damn fast. And…the fact that the males of both teams were mostly distracted when she smiled or winked at them, Charlie included, certainly helped.
So, he circled above, scanning for the Snitch but catching himself glancing back down at her more than once. He shook his head and dipped lower, narrowing his eyes, trying to focus.
She was enjoying herself too much. And she knew he was watching, well, all were but still.
It wasn’t irritating. Not really. It was just… distracting. And strangely fascinating.
What the hell was this girl doing?
The Snitch was still in his hand, wings fluttering weakly between his fingers as the Gryffindor team whooped and clapped him on the back. It had been a solid match: fast-paced, close score. One of the good ones. But despite the win, Charlie’s attention kept drifting back to the Ravenclaw side.
They weren’t sulking.
They were celebrating.
Rowan stood in the middle of them, hair windblown and cheeks flushed, holding her broom like a trophy. Will was nearby, shaking his head as she mimicked a dramatic dive, arms flailing like she’d barely survived a near-death pass. Her friends howled with laughter and watching her in disbelief.
Charlie lingered near the changing rooms, half-listening to his teammate Quentin chatter about trick Bludgers he had seen in a match last summer. He should’ve been basking in the usual post-match glow, but instead he found himself watching her.
She had that presence you did notice instantly, she always had. Charlie knew some of his classmates were a bit gone for her, and guys from other houses, and years, too. Because yes, she was gorgeous, but he had never really paid attention to her beyond her looks. It felt like she was way out of his league—does he even had a league? —or anybody´s league to be honest. She looked too untouchable, out of reach and impossible to catch. Maybe that´s why half the school was mad about her.
All that noise, that energy, that grin, like she’d never doubted she’d pull it off. She wasn’t just good. She was magnetic.
And now she was walking back toward the castle, still surrounded by her noisy crew, laughing at something Tonks said. Charlie’s eyes followed her, and she must’ve felt it, because just before they passed out of view behind the hill, Rowan turned over her shoulder.
She saw him.
And instead of looking away like most people might have, she smirked. Because she never looked away first.
A slow, knowing, I know you’re watching me sort of smirk.
Then she was gone.
Feeling his neck and ears warm Charlie let out a breath, running a hand through his already wind-tossed red hair.
“Mate,” Quentin said, nudging him. “You spacing out or admiring the enemy?”
Charlie didn’t answer right away.
Maybe both, he thought.
Instead, he looked at the ground and shook his head. “Let´s go, dinner is in an hour.”
____________________________________________________
ROWAN FERGUSON
The classroom was empty. It smelled like old books, chalk dust, and rules begging to be broken. Sunlight filtered in through tall windows, casting golden slants across the desks. Rowan sat on one of them, legs crossed, back against the wall, a half-burnt cigarette between her fingers.
Technically—okay, definitely—she wasn’t supposed to be smoking inside. Or smoking at all, for that matter. Her mother would hex her, but she’d cracked the window open at least. She didn’t even like smoking that much, but some sixth year she had been seeing lately did, and she took one just because she could. It wasn´t horrible, but she wouldn´t be doing it again soon either.
She had been at the library for around forty minutes trying to finish a Charms essay due next week until a seventh year Slytherin had approached. And she hadn´t seen the end of it, the bloke was smug and arrogant, but that wasn´t the problem, she could bear smug and arrogant. The problem was…he had made fun of Will for the accident on several occasions, she wasn´t being friendly with someone that had laughed at her injured friend, so she had stood and left without a word. She didn´t owe him an explanation, not to him or anybody, really.
Also, just two days before, she had survived her first ever Quidditch match and been cheered off the pitch like a bloody legend, and that had boosted her ego a bit more. Her friends hadn’t stopped talking about it ever since, and she’d soaked it in like a sponge: every grin, every back slap, every surprised look and nice word.
Even his.
She smirked to herself. Charlie Weasley. Gryffindor’s golden Seeker. Calm. Stupidly good at what he did. He’d watched her, she’d seen it, felt it, even. That moment after the match, when she’d turned and caught him staring? Priceless.
That had been fun.
She hadn´t really noticed Charlie Weasley much, honestly. She knew he had an older brother Bill, Head Boy or something, and she remembered that another Weasley had been sorted into Gryffindor a year ago. She knew he liked dragons; everybody knew, and they shared Care of Magical Creatures among other subjects. And well, he was in the Quidditch team, the Seeker of Gryffindor team for a while now. People noticed that, and he was excellent, people noticed that too. But he always had been… steady, not shy, but not loud either. Professors liked him, students liked him too.
And he was cool, actually, but she was sure he didn´t know that, or maybe he just didn´t care. He had the perfect good boy profile: determined, daring, courageous…and he probably was responsible too, because he had been made Prefect this year. She smiled.
And he was attractive. He had that boyish charm that it was interesting. Well, maybe she had been paying a bit of attention after all, but well, she did with all the boys that caught her eye and were hot. She had never tried anything with him though, as there were a lot of boys that did look for her attention, she had been busy.
Also, he seemed too good. Not in a bad way, but he was so perfect, so golden, so nice and polite, so… Gryffindor that was a bit intimidating, to be honest.
She took a slow drag, exhaled toward the window, and let the silence settle around her. Merlin, this smelled.
She was just reaching for her wand to vanish the smoke when the classroom door creaked open.
Rowan froze for a moment, then blinked when Charlie Weasley himself stepped through, casual as anything, brow furrowed like he’d taken a wrong turn.
She watched him amused and unbothered, as he didn´t seem like he was going to speak first, she smirked before saying, “If you’re going to report me, at least let me finish.”
Charlie looked at her. Actually looked now, not surprised, not flustered. Just calm and assessing, but with a glint in his eye.
“Didn’t know this room was occupied,” he said, glancing around. “I was looking for Professor Kettleburn.”
“Well,” she said, flicking the ash in her sleeve out the window, “unless he’s hiding behind the desk and very good at holding his breath, I think you’re out of luck.”
A beat of silence.
He stepped further in, not leaving just yet. Rowan raised a brow, expecting.
“Didn’t peg you for the indoor-smoking type,” he said, half-curious.
She gave him a little shrug. “Didn’t peg you for the type to stare like you’d never seen a girl on a broom before.”
That earned the ghost of a smirk from him.
Touché.
He didn’t leave. Instead, he leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed. The corners of his mouth twitched, somewhere between amused and intrigued. “You always hang out in empty classrooms smoking things that’ll get you detention?”
Rowan gave him a look, flicking ash out the window again. “Only on days ending in ‘y.’” She grinned, then added with a shrug, “Besides, I’ve gotten really good at not getting caught. Present company excluded, I suppose. Are you giving me detention?”
Charlie shook his head, studying her the way one might study a creature you didn’t quite expect to find. “You were interesting to look at, in Quidditch, I mean.”
She smirked, playful but sharp. “I’m flattered. Did you expect otherwise? Buried in books, too smug to even go and see a quidditch match, let alone steal a broom and make you look bad?”
He chuckled. A real one. “You didn’t make me look bad.”
Rowan raised a brow. “Didn’t I? Pretty sure most of my house forgot we lost the match.”
Charlie shrugged, amused. “They were cheering you like you’d won the Cup, yes, but you still lost.”
She grinned at that, he wasn´t timid. Interesting, good looking AND with a sense of humour? Very well.
“Wasn’t planning on playing, you know,” she said, stubbing the burnt cigarette out on the window ledge with a quick flick. “Just a punishment gone sideways. Will owes me a month’s worth of sweets, at least.”
He nodded slowly. “You’re good.”
Rowan blinked. His sincerity caught her off guard. “Thanks,” she said, a little less snarky than before. Then, tipping her head toward him, voice lilting again, “Keep those words and I might start thinking you’re actually a decent bloke.”
“I’ll try not to let it happen again,” he said dryly, but there was a smile tucked behind the words. She liked it.
Another moment passed. Not awkward, just... lingering.
“Guess I should go,” he added, finally pushing off the doorframe.
“Guess you should,” Rowan echoed, hopping off the desk lightly, brushing off her skirt. “Though, next time, knock first.”
Charlie turned, pausing just before the door. “You planning on sneaking back in here again?”
She gave him a sly grin. “Depends. You planning on finding me during your patrol rounds?”
He didn’t answer. Just smiled, and then left. Was he flushing?
And Rowan, standing in the golden quiet of the classroom, found herself smiling too.