Roxanne Weasley had always wondered where her name had come from. Her brother was easy, they all knew of the Uncle who had lost his life during the final battle. Her dad's twin who passed through the veil too easily.
But what of her name, the Roxan...
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'Flossie, I know the stereotype is for the woman to be the man's cheerleader. But every time I saw you across from me on the pitch I was nothing but your biggest fan. Your Freddie.'
It would be only a week or so later following the break in that things had returned to normal. There was no choice otherwise, not at least to Florence. If they were to focus too heavily on what could have been, then they were not going to be able to move on to what could be. It had been something her mother had instilled in her since she was very little.
Florence's mother was her biggest hero. Her mother had seen so much so young and still come out the other end. She had never hid from Florence what the first Wizarding war had truly been like, what it had meant to lose so much in so little time. And what could potentially happen in her future if the rumours were anything to go by. Florence's mother Mary, may not have been at the forefront of the fighting, unlike her closest friends, but she had been there. She had fought a little away from the distance and always cited that the reason that she had not met the same fate as her own friends was the choice she had made to not be at the front lines. It had meant little less that she had not been by her friends sides when they ulimtately lost their lives so young, because Mary Macdonald had felt it irregardless. And as she watched her friends be picked off one by one, she had lost herself. It had been that unwavering love towards her friends which had lead Florence to have the middle name Dorcas, after one of her mother's best friends. The one who's death nobody had truly been expecting until it was much too late. And it had been this unwavering love for her friends that Florence had also seemed to have inherited.
The unwavering love which only increased considering most of the friendship group played on the same house sport team. Quidditch had been something that Florence had fallen into easily when she had turned 11, as her friendship with the others grew. They had all got onto the team before she had, and she often was used as another player to even out the teams. And when the time approached in their third year and the space for the third chaser was open, Florence had been the first to sign up. And two years later she wore her position as chaser with prize.
It always felt a little weird that the three female players would change in their changing room and then meet with the rest of the team in the boys room for their pre match game. But with just how Oliver Wood would go off during his speech perhaps she could see why. When Florence trugged into the boys changing rooms, last as per usual she was immediately pulled to the bench and given a look from the team captain. Oliver Wood was a little bit full on with his love for the sport and his passion to win. That much was obvious, and she did not blame him either, she knew that he was hoping to be scouted at the games this year, as his time in Hogwarts drew to a close, and he would need an amazing season to have the chance to play the game he loved so much professionally. Not that she doubted he would be unable to do so.
"Now that Flo has joined us, I shall begin. Remember what we have trained for guys, This is our last chance, my last chance, to win the quidditch up. I'll be leaving at the end of this year. I'll never get another chance." The 17 year old piled the pressure on as he spoke. And Florence gave a weak smile back when she caught him taking a moment to properly look him in the eyes. But it was hard to focus on what he was preaching at them. Especially considering, she had been pulled down into a Weasley Sandwich placed between the number 2 and 3 players with her own number 4 shining proudly on her back. And it was impossible for either Fred or George to remain quiet during Oliver's long winded speech, neither with the capacity to sit through one without having at least something to say.
"Don't be getting all emotional on us now Wood. There's still a whole year worth of games to go." It would be Fred who spoke up from her left hand side, only his words enabled Oliver to head down a different tangent about how it was more than fine to get emotional about something you loved as much as he loved the game. Florence gave Fred a little nudge in the side for that comment, knowing now just how much longer the speech was going to be now.
"I don't know why you're worried, Oliver, Hufflepuff is a pushover. , Harry caught the Snitch in about five minutes, remember?"Fred tried to calm the captain down, "We were playing in completely different conditions! Diggory's put a very strong side together! He's an excellent Seeker! I was afraid you'd take it like this! We mustn't relax! We must keep our focus! Slytherin is trying to wrong-foot us! We must win!" Oliver was quick to return his opinion to the tallest member of the team. "Oliver, calm down! We're taking Hufflepuff very seriously. Seriously." Fred continued but he was having no luck and therefore turned to Florence with a pleading look on his face. "Oliver, we are as prepared as we can be, we've trained three times a week. Can we please just go out there and have a little fun?" Florence gave into the pleading look she was being sent, just like Fred knew she would and all she got was a grimace from their captain who could not see the idea of being able to even have fun playing something which should be serious.
There was no chance for a response as the large clock clicked over and it was time for the team to hit the field. They quickly organised into their respected number train, Oliver their keeper and proud team captain stood at the very front, the twins behind and the three roommate chasers next and little Harry Potter drawing the pack to a close. With a shake they were up in the air.
The weather around the team was nothing short but dreadful. The rain was heavy, and visibility poor. Florence could barely see the red and gold uniforms of her team members around her, not the yellow and black of the opposing team. Spotting the quaffle as it was thrown in her direction was an even harder feat, but to some miracle or what she hoped was pure talent Florence was able to perform her job pretty decently all things considering. Yet despite their best efforts as a team, they would go on to lose the match to Hufflepuff. Something on the pitch, something that Florence herself could not see clearly, had spoked the boy who lived sending him crashing to the ground and their hopes of winning crashing to the deep depths of the lake as Cedric Diggory caught the snitch for Hufflepuff.
And Florence wondered what on earth had she just seen fly onto the pitch. And why did she suddenly feel such an urge to cry.
