100 Moments
folder
Harry Potter › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
100
Views:
10,646
Reviews:
52
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
100
Views:
10,646
Reviews:
52
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Air
Title: Air
Author: ianthe_waiting
Rating: T
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter books and their characters are the property of JK Rowling. This is a work of fan-fiction. No infringement is intended, and no money is being made from this story. I am just borrowing the puppets, but this is my stage.
Genre: Drabble
Warnings: None.
Summary: #54 – Air. She was his goddess of the air.
Word Count: 1, 055 words.
Author's Notes: Drabble: a slice of fic in less than 1500 words.
Prompt 54 – Air
When the Bludger’s Bat hit him in the head a second time, he kicked Warrington off his broom and immediately landed.
Warrington had managed to land without breaking his neck, and Marcus scowled as blood trickled down his face.
“Damn it, Flint, get back up here!” Montague shouted.
Marcus Flint let his hand and finger fly as he threw his broom under a tree at the edge of the clearing, falling heavily to the ground cradling his head. The sound of footsteps on the grass startled him as the impromptu game in the air above went on without him.
“Don’t move,” a voice whispered, and he felt hands rest on his wide shoulders, a slight body pressing into his back.
Magic trickled over his scalp where the bat had struck him, and soon the initial sting of bleeding and broken skin faded.
“Warrington has not played in so long, I’m surprised he’s hitting anything at all, let alone this big head of yours.”
He closed his eyes as the person moved to kneel before him producing a dampened handkerchief to wipe the blood from his thick brow. A cool hand ruffled his long, dark hair, brushing his cheek softly.
“At least your team isn’t beating each other senseless, Kate.”
Katie Flint chuckled and Marcus opened his eyes to look at his pretty wife.
Overhead, Angelina Weasley shouted to Ginny Potter, a cryptic word to begin performing some maneuver or another. Marcus could not look long, his head hurting. He surely had a concussion.
Whoever had the bright idea to play Quidditch during the school reunion was a bloody idiot, in his opinion.
“You are starting to look green, luv,” Katie said, pressing a hand to his now clean forehead. “Let’s get you back in the shade.”
Marcus sighed, letting Katie help him to his feet, leading him under the oak tree, sitting next to him against the trunk. From under the tree, he could not see all of the game, but he could see Malfoy arguing with Potter about where the Snitch was.
“We’re getting to old to fly, Kate,” he murmured.
Katie snorted. “Fifty-four is old? Since when?”
Marcus closed his eyes and swallowed thickly, a wave of nausea sweeping through him. He could hear Wood shouting to Ron Weasley to relieve him soon or ‘there will be hell to pay.’
Across the clearing, he could hear the children and the grandparents shouting instructions to the players above, and somewhere among those voices was his son Julius, cheering for George Weasley to beat the Bludger in Goyle’s direction.
“The kids should be playing, not us,” he grumbled. “The air is theirs now.”
Katie was pressed into his side, frowning, he knew. Katie had also taken a ‘time-out’ when Alicia Spinnet tossed the Quaffle a little too hard into her belly. They were too soft to be able to cut the air as they used to.
“It is still fun, though,” Katie whispered before pressing a kiss into his temple. “We are all terrible, well…maybe not Wood, he’s still great…”
Marcus wanted to roll his eyes, but he was sure he would vomit.
“And maybe Potter, but he is used to flying all the time being an Auror. And, you are still great, Marcus,” she whispered, her hand brushing over his chest, petting his jumper.
“Flying is one thing, Quidditch is another.”
She kissed his temple again. “True.”
He tried breathing in through his nose, but it only made him feel more nauseous. Gods, he wondered if someone had the foresight to bring a Quidditch outfitted first aid kit. Somehow, he doubted it. In such a kit, there was always a phial to deal with the immediate effects of a concussion.
“Open your eyes, Flint,” Katie snapped.
Marcus complied, startled, and wished his head would either explode and be done with it or Katie find something to make his head stop hurting as it would explode.
“I think I want to go home.”
She moved, standing first, frowning down at him, her hands on her hips. For a moment, she looked just as he remembered from Slytherin/Gryffindor Quidditch games, only with bigger breasts. She wore the pads the same way, even her jumper had been Charmed the same shade of red.
When she sat down on his outstretched legs, he grunted. He wanted to ask her what she thought she was doing, but my jaw felt as if it were locked at the hinge. She was face to face with him, her hands moving to grasp his loose black hair falling to the tops of his shoulders. There were strands of silver about his temples, he knew, and despite having his teeth fixed and growing out of his ‘trollish’ phase, he was by no means handsome. The manner in which she looked at him, however, always made him feel otherwise.
Katie needed to be in the air, he thought. She was beautiful no matter where she was or what she was doing, but in the air, she was a goddess.
“I’d ask if you wanted to go off together for a while, fly over the Forest, but the way you’re looking at me makes me wonder if I should take you up to the castle and to the Hospital Wing.”
He swallowed thickly again, as warm wind blew at her long chestnut coloured hair.
He kissed her, even though his head burned and his breath came out wrong. His rough hands cupped her face; tasting the lingering taste of some dessert they all had eaten an hour before during the picnic. In his mind’s eye, which was slightly out of focus with the concussion, all he could see was Katie flying as she once had years ago.
“Oh, Kate,” he whispered, leaning back into the tree again.
He never called her ‘Katie,’ it was only ever ‘Kate,’ or ‘Kate, goddess of wind,’ or ‘Kate, my Ocypete.’
She brushed his hair from his face, pressing a kiss into his brow.
“Never say we’re too old to fly, my Boreas, we are the wind and we need the air to be together.”
He chuckled. “Of course.”
They had met in the air, they had fallen in love in the air, and in the air they would remain, as long as Warrington stayed away with the Bludger’s bat…
Author: ianthe_waiting
Rating: T
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter books and their characters are the property of JK Rowling. This is a work of fan-fiction. No infringement is intended, and no money is being made from this story. I am just borrowing the puppets, but this is my stage.
Genre: Drabble
Warnings: None.
Summary: #54 – Air. She was his goddess of the air.
Word Count: 1, 055 words.
Author's Notes: Drabble: a slice of fic in less than 1500 words.
Prompt 54 – Air
When the Bludger’s Bat hit him in the head a second time, he kicked Warrington off his broom and immediately landed.
Warrington had managed to land without breaking his neck, and Marcus scowled as blood trickled down his face.
“Damn it, Flint, get back up here!” Montague shouted.
Marcus Flint let his hand and finger fly as he threw his broom under a tree at the edge of the clearing, falling heavily to the ground cradling his head. The sound of footsteps on the grass startled him as the impromptu game in the air above went on without him.
“Don’t move,” a voice whispered, and he felt hands rest on his wide shoulders, a slight body pressing into his back.
Magic trickled over his scalp where the bat had struck him, and soon the initial sting of bleeding and broken skin faded.
“Warrington has not played in so long, I’m surprised he’s hitting anything at all, let alone this big head of yours.”
He closed his eyes as the person moved to kneel before him producing a dampened handkerchief to wipe the blood from his thick brow. A cool hand ruffled his long, dark hair, brushing his cheek softly.
“At least your team isn’t beating each other senseless, Kate.”
Katie Flint chuckled and Marcus opened his eyes to look at his pretty wife.
Overhead, Angelina Weasley shouted to Ginny Potter, a cryptic word to begin performing some maneuver or another. Marcus could not look long, his head hurting. He surely had a concussion.
Whoever had the bright idea to play Quidditch during the school reunion was a bloody idiot, in his opinion.
“You are starting to look green, luv,” Katie said, pressing a hand to his now clean forehead. “Let’s get you back in the shade.”
Marcus sighed, letting Katie help him to his feet, leading him under the oak tree, sitting next to him against the trunk. From under the tree, he could not see all of the game, but he could see Malfoy arguing with Potter about where the Snitch was.
“We’re getting to old to fly, Kate,” he murmured.
Katie snorted. “Fifty-four is old? Since when?”
Marcus closed his eyes and swallowed thickly, a wave of nausea sweeping through him. He could hear Wood shouting to Ron Weasley to relieve him soon or ‘there will be hell to pay.’
Across the clearing, he could hear the children and the grandparents shouting instructions to the players above, and somewhere among those voices was his son Julius, cheering for George Weasley to beat the Bludger in Goyle’s direction.
“The kids should be playing, not us,” he grumbled. “The air is theirs now.”
Katie was pressed into his side, frowning, he knew. Katie had also taken a ‘time-out’ when Alicia Spinnet tossed the Quaffle a little too hard into her belly. They were too soft to be able to cut the air as they used to.
“It is still fun, though,” Katie whispered before pressing a kiss into his temple. “We are all terrible, well…maybe not Wood, he’s still great…”
Marcus wanted to roll his eyes, but he was sure he would vomit.
“And maybe Potter, but he is used to flying all the time being an Auror. And, you are still great, Marcus,” she whispered, her hand brushing over his chest, petting his jumper.
“Flying is one thing, Quidditch is another.”
She kissed his temple again. “True.”
He tried breathing in through his nose, but it only made him feel more nauseous. Gods, he wondered if someone had the foresight to bring a Quidditch outfitted first aid kit. Somehow, he doubted it. In such a kit, there was always a phial to deal with the immediate effects of a concussion.
“Open your eyes, Flint,” Katie snapped.
Marcus complied, startled, and wished his head would either explode and be done with it or Katie find something to make his head stop hurting as it would explode.
“I think I want to go home.”
She moved, standing first, frowning down at him, her hands on her hips. For a moment, she looked just as he remembered from Slytherin/Gryffindor Quidditch games, only with bigger breasts. She wore the pads the same way, even her jumper had been Charmed the same shade of red.
When she sat down on his outstretched legs, he grunted. He wanted to ask her what she thought she was doing, but my jaw felt as if it were locked at the hinge. She was face to face with him, her hands moving to grasp his loose black hair falling to the tops of his shoulders. There were strands of silver about his temples, he knew, and despite having his teeth fixed and growing out of his ‘trollish’ phase, he was by no means handsome. The manner in which she looked at him, however, always made him feel otherwise.
Katie needed to be in the air, he thought. She was beautiful no matter where she was or what she was doing, but in the air, she was a goddess.
“I’d ask if you wanted to go off together for a while, fly over the Forest, but the way you’re looking at me makes me wonder if I should take you up to the castle and to the Hospital Wing.”
He swallowed thickly again, as warm wind blew at her long chestnut coloured hair.
He kissed her, even though his head burned and his breath came out wrong. His rough hands cupped her face; tasting the lingering taste of some dessert they all had eaten an hour before during the picnic. In his mind’s eye, which was slightly out of focus with the concussion, all he could see was Katie flying as she once had years ago.
“Oh, Kate,” he whispered, leaning back into the tree again.
He never called her ‘Katie,’ it was only ever ‘Kate,’ or ‘Kate, goddess of wind,’ or ‘Kate, my Ocypete.’
She brushed his hair from his face, pressing a kiss into his brow.
“Never say we’re too old to fly, my Boreas, we are the wind and we need the air to be together.”
He chuckled. “Of course.”
They had met in the air, they had fallen in love in the air, and in the air they would remain, as long as Warrington stayed away with the Bludger’s bat…