Jimmy Peakes is one hell of a Beater. (shortnbroad) wrote in changedrpg, @ 2011-11-24 17:39:00 |
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Entry tags: | !date: 1997 - november, jimmy peakes, walden macnair |
Who: Jimmy Peakes, later Walden MacNair.
What: Jimmy is getting more frustrated and breaks out to cool off. Not a smart move.
Where: Bristol; the Peakes home; Diagon Alley.
When: Thursday, November 24th. Afternoon.
Status/Rating: Closed/Medium? (language).
It hurt. A lot. Jimmy winced away from it too late, and felt to sting across his cheek and jaw. He felt like his eye was about to explode out of it's socket. When his eyes opened from their squint, they were full of water. Water and hatred. His breath rose in shallow, angry huffs. He remembered to count. He remembered what people back at Hogwarts had said to him and about him. That he was a hothead. That he was angry. But his cheeks flamed dark, dusky pink under his tanned skin and his lips twisted into a growl. His nostrils flared as he threaded enraged breath, but he dared not lash out himself. He told himself he was not that person. He wanted to be someone that his friends- and Dennis- would be proud of.
His mother's hand stung as she lowered it. She looked as angry as Jimmy did, but far less shocked. She'd hit him hard enough to make the arthritis in his first and second fingers sting. "Go to your room." She told him with a stern but quivered voice. "Get out of my face."
For a moment, cupping and rubbing his cheek, Jimmy considered defying her. He considered bolting past her and straight out the front door. He didn't want to be here. For the two weeks he'd been trapped here, he'd not wanted to be here. He hated this place. He hated Bristol. He hated St. Mary Redcliffe. "I hate you." Was all he growled. He turned around and rubbed his cheek as the first tear managed to drop off his eyelid.
With a slam of his door, Jimmy isolated himself from them. Over the last week, he'd started thinking of them more and more as, The Muggles. He felt so cut off and so alone right now. He had no idea what was going on in his world. He had heard nothing from Dennis or any of his other mates. Maybe they dared not send owls? Still...
... Jimmy steepled his fingers and sniffed angrily away his tears. Men don't cry. And gradually Jimmy leaned on his hands, reliving in his mind what had happened. A note home from school and a flunked exam. Jimmy hadn't bothered to study. It was pointless. Magic was so much more useful. And the teacher was terrible, he'd complained. All lecture and notes and the letters kept doing little flips. He was coming in later and later. Everyday.
Then they argued. Jimmy wanted to go back to Hogwarts. I don't want to be like you! I'm a wizard, not a goddamn Muggle! Then she slapped him. And it still stung. His brother had been sneering and giggling from the wing chair while his rather clinched the arm rests of his chair, looking tired and tense. Unmovable. Unwilling to intervene.
Jimmy flinched behind his eyes. He wasn't sorry he said it. He wasn't. He should have said it earlier. He should have said it everyday. He didn't fit in to this world anymore than his parents would fit in at Hogwarts. Then Jimmy made a decision. He stood up and folded his journal under his arm. He reached under his bed and produced his wand and his only remaining travel cloak. He didn't think. He wasn't concerned about the trace right now. He flicked his wand and unlocked the padlock that hid his broom in the closet. He sneaked out and took it with silencing charms on his feet. Then he opened his window and slipped onto his broom. A last flick at his door and he locked it.
The fresh breeze against his face felt good. He felt free. His eyes closed and he breathed deep. He felt like a wizard again, for the first time in two weeks. If even for a little while. He climbed high and fast and breached the low evening fog. He flicked his wand and told it to point him to London. And Jimmy hugged close to his broom... his brand new racing broom from Alexander, and he flew.
He touched down in London, in front of the Leaky Cauldron. He ventured inside and breathed in the familiarity.