Dandelions

ALL THESE EMOTIONS AND NOT A SINGLE GOOD ONE

September first, commonly known in the wizarding community of England and Ireland as Hogwarts Day, had arrived quietly in the night. Something in the air had changed, though Rory had felt it while he laid awake in the dead of night--desperately trying to fall asleep despite his debilitating excitement.

He'd stayed awake all night, on accident of course, staring out of the window from where he laid on his bed. The moon had been nearly full outside in the dark night sky, shining through the wispy curtains of his and Dean's bedroom. There hadn't been too much for him to occupy his mind with, considering the school year hadn't happened yet. He did think a bit on the stack of letters tucked into his packed suitcase, from assorted senders all throughout the summer.

Shockingly, the most letters had come from Fred and George regarding quidditch matches, practicing in the orchard, and, of course, their older brother Bill. Their summer had been much more interesting than Rory's, and he'd found himself looking forward to their nearly weekly letters so he could imagine himself there with the two of them.

The Burrow sounded more than magnificent, from the twins' description it was closer to bordering on unreal. Apparently it stood over four stories tall, with enough rooms for almost every member of the family to not share. Rory could just imagine running down all the stairwells and chasing Fred and George around the orchard barefoot.

If he closed his eyes, he could pretend the moon was the sun and he was laying in the grassy fields surrounding the Burrow. Faintly, the twins would be laughing somewhere and Maggie would've used whatever floo was to get there. Lee could've been kidnapped or something in order to drag him there.

'I hope you've been getting my gifts,' George had written in his most recent letter, 'I guess I've never bothered to ask'.

Rory had indeed received all their gifts, much to his parent's dismay. Moving quidditch posters covered his side of the room, Irish player Richard Troy being hung right beside the head of his bed. At first, he'd felt a little silly putting it up on his wall. After all, anytime he made eye contact with the player he'd immediately look away with a heat hiding just behind his cheeks.

"Rory, are you awake?" Came Dean's whispered voice from across the room. It didn't startle him much at all, only continuing to stare out the window.

"Yeah, I am," he responded, "Why?"

"I don't want you to go," Dean replied, "Can't you smuggle me in your luggage?"

"I don't think you'd fit," he snickered softly, "You'll get to come next year, though. Legally."

"Ah, that's boring," he groaned, "Where's the fun in that?"

"It's a lot more fun to go yourself," Rory answered, "You'll have a blast. Just one more year, alright?"

"Alright."

The conversation fizzled out into silence, the two boys staring out the window together as they realized it would be time to break apart once again. Sure, Hogwarts was where Rory felt most at home--it had his friends, his professors, other kids who could do magic--but it didn't have Dean.

But, oftentimes, happiness is only found once someone is able to ignore the little bits of sadness sprinkled throughout their day. Rory felt that bit of regret stab him in the lung as he hugged Dean on the front door step, hearing his step-father loading his luggage into the boot of the car behind him.

It didn't feel good at all, watching Dean stare after the car until it rounded the corner. But all he could do was focus on where he was headed, who he was about to see, and how much he was excitedly looking forward to it. The Hogwarts Express would be waiting for him behind a hidden entrance, and all his friends would be on board.