Wesley Harper's prefect is better than yours (wandforhire) wrote in may02, @ 2010-09-25 17:08:00 |
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Entry tags: | !!complete, !september 1998, laura madley, wesley harper |
Who: Wesley Harper & Laura Madley
What: Them being ... them. | Complete
When: Sept 25th @ The Charity Game
Rating: PG
The game had already been on-going for a good 45 minutes. Wesley’s attention had been captivated fairly well by the chasers who had been doing beautiful things on the pitch. Even though he was an excellent Seeker, he’d always known that the excitement for the crowd really came from the on-going play between the six players trying to score on one another for a large potion of any given game. He himself had been paying keen attention to the plays, especially since Marcus was there. His recent anger at his cousin had ebbed away completely when he’d realised he’d be sitting in the VIP box instead of with the rest of the Hogwarts’ students. Hero worship restored, Wesley had been cheering until his throat was sore.
It would have been a lie to say he hadn’t noticed Laura two rows in front of him. Pride had kept him from talking to her during the pre-game entertainment but the longer the game had gone on, the more he’d felt inclined to move toward her. Even though he hadn’t seen her since she’d stormed off on him, Wesley had begun to feel anxious about their relationship. He didn’t like when his friends were angry with him at all. Despite the fact that he had called her a few choice words in his head, he had started to think of her as someone he actually liked talking to (among other things) so he’d been wondering if she was going to get over their falling out. He certainly had no real desire to continue being angry at her, even after she’d attempted to lecture him on his relationship with Kevin. Friends were far and few between for Wesley, so he’d come to value the fact that she had seemed to have taken a liking to him.
After James had missed his second penalty shot, Wesley decided to approach. He knew he’d be rather upset if Marcus had been performing that way, so it seemed logical to him that Laura wouldn’t be entirely pleased with her brother’s current display of “skill”. Eyes off the came momentarily, he moved from his seat and walked the short distance to Laura. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he said, “Hey.” He wasn’t really sure she would be happy to see him but after a week of not seeing her, he actually felt a little relieved.
Unlike Wesley, Laura had not been enjoying the opening forty-five minutes of the game. While she had never shared her brother’s enthusiasm with Quidditch, she could typically watch and be bored to death at worst. But this was the first time she had watched James play after the war, and the game seemed to have taken on a new level of danger to her. Whenever a Bludger veered too close to him, whenever he dodged around another player and only avoided collision at what seemed like the very last of a split second, it was all she could do to keep from crying out. Images of James’ body merged with her mother lying on a hospital bed. She began to watch the game through a squint, hands gripping the sides of her seat so tightly that her knuckles were white. Her pumpkin pastry sat in a bag next to her, cooling and completely forgotten with her lack of appetite. Please, oh please, don’t let anything happen to him, she thought.
When the hand came down on her shoulder, she shrieked and leapt what felt like several feet out of her seat. “Um, sorry,” she said to the people around her, who were turning annoyed faces in her direction. “And, um, oh hi, Wesley.” Her hands were trembling and for lack of something better for them to do, she raked them through her hair. All of her accessories were in the blue of Team Dragon, but she had worn a dark green jacket today, easily the nicest of what she had hanging in her wardrobe at home.
Although he hadn’t really put much thought into the type of reaction he expected, the jump certainly wasn’t it. He was a little surprised by the shriek that accompanied it and took a half-step back away from her. In all honesty, he felt a little chastised by the whole thing, even if it hadn’t been meant that way. He was already wondering why he had thought this was a good idea. He should have just stayed put and continued enjoying the game, which was now quickly slipping into the background for him.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, looking at his feet. Apologises weren’t his thing and he wasn’t even sure why she had reacted that way in the first place. He found that he was lack of anything to actually say so he tucked his hands into his robe pockets and glanced around at the surrounding crowd, giving each and every one of them a glare, even though Laura had already apologised for her outburst. “Green,” he said, noticing her jacket. Casting around for something to say he added, “So you missed me then.” And immediately felt stupid for it.
Laura gave him a dry look at the comment, her attention taken off the game for a moment, then quickly snatched back by a cry from the crowd. James had just scored a goal and was zooming back towards the centre, pumping a fist into the air in triumph. “I really wish he would hold the broom with both hands when he doesn’t have the Quaffle,” she muttered to herself, then turned back to Wesley. “I never realised just how dangerous Quidditch was before.”
His cheeks flushed pale at her look and decided his shoes were pretty interesting again, unsure of what to make of that. It was hard not to notice half the crowd cheering though, so he looked up in time to notice James’ and his ‘fist pumping’, which for Wesley, was enough to realize he’d scored despite having missed the actual shot. At Laura’s words, he raised his eyebrows a bit. He couldn’t really argue with her. Quidditch was dangerous, but so were a lot of other things. “When was the last time you heard of a Quidditch player dying?” he asked a little dryly, as he rolled his eyes. Laura’s worry went completely over his head.
At that her eyes widened. Her stomach churning with increased worry, she willed herself not to be sick in front of all of the people who were currently turning and glowering at her for standing and blocking their view. “Um, you can have this,” she said faintly, pressing the pumpkin pastry into Wesley’s hands. Even its smell was making her feel queasy, and a fresh wave of nausea washed over her as the pastry passed under her nose.
The mutters of the people sitting in their near vicinity increased. “Maybe we should go somewhere else. Where are you sitting?” She hadn’t noticed him up until now, so he likely wasn’t closer to the front. Maybe being further back wouldn’t make things look as bad, she reasoned.
Wesley didn’t really care what the people around them were doing, even if it was glaring at two of them being disruptive. He was a bit confused when she pushed a pastry into his hands though he took it anyway, tucking it into his pocket just as quickly as she’d given it to him. He thought Laura was acting extremely oddly but wasn’t really sure why or how to respond to it. Vaguely he wondered if she would cry at some point, since he seemed to have the best luck when it came his timing in seeing her.
“Oh, a few rows back,” he said. Normally he might have been embarrassed to admit his seat wasn’t as good as hers but with the strange behavior, he forgot to care. He wasn’t really sure why she’d want to move to his row when she had the better view but it was hard to argue when he suspected she wasn’t quite herself. “I guess we could go back there,” he added since she had mentioned moving. After a second of hesitation, he reached out to grab her hand, effectively leading her back to his seat - much to the visual relief of some of her row-neighbors. “Why are you being weird?” he asked once they’d relocated.
“I don’t like watching James play it anymore. That’s all.” And she would likely feel the same way when Kevin, and Heidi, and anyone else she cared about took to the air for their games. Below her brother, Quaffle in hand and path obscured by one of the Chasers in red, leaned into his broom for a charge. She inhaled sharply and ducked her head away from the sight, hands finally untwisting themselves when James zipped aside and passed to a teammate.
Wesley was baffled by her confession. He enjoyed watching any professional game he could get tickets too - particularly if Marcus was playing. It was strange to think that Laura wasn’t enjoying seeing her own brother play, when had had been mentally documenting Marcus’ every move. He hadn’t connected the dots at all, so he just kind of stared at her oddly, not really sure how to even respond to that.
He watched her as she watched the pitch, noting the way she seemed to react when her brother did anything at all. Personally, he thought both James and Marcus were playing brilliantly together. Her brother seemed quite competent as a Chaser, penalty shot failures aside. “He’ll be fine,” he said, taking an almost random stab at her discomfort. Her comments about Quidditch being dangerous combined with the now-obvious distress she was displaying at his plays seemed to indicate she thought he was in some sort of danger. Wesley thought it was silly but just put it off to her being a girl and worrying unnecessarily. “Games are safer than you think. Not only are there precautions put in place, but they have all the appropriate people here, just in case.” He shrugged, not quite sure how else to explain it.
“I’ll be happier when it’s over though.” She took a deep breath, forcing her hands to relax and placing them in her lap. “So what are the fatality rates for - actually, I’d rather not know.” James went into a sharp dive to snatch up a loose Quaffle. Her hand grabbed at Wesley’s arm and she winced. The instant either side called for a team huddle, she decided, she would run down to the toilets and hopefully manage not to toss up what she had eaten for breakfast.
Over? The game hadn’t even been in play for that long. Wesley thought it would be a fairly sad waste of money for those who had had to pay if it ended anytime in the next half hour. Professional games tended to last over two hours and while this wasn’t technically a season game, he couldn’t imagine that it would be any less up to par.
Still, he was mildly alarmed at her tenseness. In any normal circumstance he wouldn’t have minded her grabbing his arm but he was starting to realize she was taking the game to extreme levels in her mind. “Laura,” he said quietly, though firmly. Her question about fatalities was ignored. It wasn’t a significant number at all but he thought her mind was definitely in the wrong sort of place. “The game will probably last at least another hour. If you’re going to be all high strung about it, you’re not going to make it. He’s fine. I promise.”
Another hour of this? Merlin’s trousers. But James had played goodness knew how many hours worth of Quidditch, and he’d never been hurt badly before. Laura shut down the nagging voice in her head that told her this only increased the probably of him being hurt now and forced herself to concentrate on Krum and Harry Potter. In comparison to events below them, nothing much was happening with the Snitch at the moment, and the two Seekers were hovering above the crowd, watchful but with nothing solid to chase.
“You’re right,” she said. “I’m just imagining the worst case scenario. It’s going to be alright.” Her hand, still on Wesley’s elbow, now slid through so that she had linked her arm with his. For now her disagreement with him had been completely pushed out of her mind, and she wasn’t really analysing her behaviour (if she had, she might have let go of him) but even that bit of physical contact made her feel slightly more comforted. “So, do you think Harry could get the Snitch?”
“Maybe,” he replied to her question. As much as Wesley liked to boast about his own skill a Seeker, it would be completely daft not to acknowledge Potter’s. He was still rather irritated with himself for having allowed himself to be distracted by the Golden Boy’s petty insult two years ago when he’d had the chance to best him. “Krum is far more experienced though, and just.. better. Potter has a chance if he plays to Krum’s weaknesses, but he isnt a professional so I doubt know that he really understands what they are,” he mused, his commentary having become more self-focused than anything. He really thought he had what it took to get on a reserve team, in the very least, by the end of the school year, especially if he could enlist Marcus’s help.
Blinking, he turned to look back at Laura, remembering that they were really talking about her brother. The fact she’d changed the subject though, left Wesley at a bit of a loss. He wasn’t really sure if he should pursue it or let it go. What he did know, was that he felt a small surge of self-confidence at the fact she had chosen to hang onto him. Biting his lower lip, he pulled his arm away from her grip, instead draping it around her shoulders.
Inwardly she experienced a moment of blankness when Wesley’s arm slid around her shoulders. What did that mean? She would have to ask Henry later (and of course, attribute the incident to a friend), but she knew that it wasn’t a bad thing. And it was much warmer than sitting by herself. Settling closer to him, albeit tentatively, she added, “My brother said that Harry has a chance if Krum is overconfident. But he doesn’t think he will be. James thinks that since their side has stronger Chasers than Krum’s, Harry’s best bet is to shadow Krum and try to prevent him from getting the Snitch, rather than going for the Snitch himself. Oh, but look-”
Suddenly Krum sprung into motion, streaking around the pitch like a blur of red shadow. Laura’s hair rustled as he swept past their stand, but soon resumed his position above the Dragons’ goal hoops, seemingly muttering to himself. Apparently it had been a false alarm.
Wesley’s eyes followed Krum’s every move when Laura had pointed him out - he hadn’t been paying much attention to the game for some time now. As a fellow Seeker, he glanced around for the glint of gold but didn’t see anything. He wasn’t a fool though, and had no reservations in saying that Krum was superior in terms of skill. Still, even he was prone to faux attractions. It was not unheard of to have a false start, and Wesley wasn’t particularly bothered by the misguided alarm. It happened.
Since she had leaned in closer to him, Wesley had relaxed slightly, deciding their previous rift was all but forgotten. “Thats common,” he said, once the excitement of Krum’s false positive had faded. He was of course speaking from experience. Though it was obvious that Laura wasn’t very well versed in Quidditch, it was hard for him not to talk about something that was a big part of his life. “Usually Seekers see two or three things that look like they might be the snitch, but aren’t.” His focus re-centered on the pitch, he watched as the teams continued to compete for the Quaffle, noting that both Potter and Krum had returned to their idle searching positions. “I’m kind of glad to be back at school, just to play. You know Kevin made the Hufflepuff team, right?” Even though Wesley was in a different house, he felt a slight surge of pride for his friend, despite the fact they would soon be rivals in the field. The fact that Kevin was currently angry at him seemed to escape his attention as well.
“And I suppose that if they see something which seems remotely like the Snitch, then it’s better to be safe than sorry. Krum’s likely just being careful. You know, like what Professor Moody used to say. ‘Constant vigilance!’” Laura smiled at her rare joke. Nolan O’Carroll had just called for a Phoenix team meeting and with no sign of action (nor therefore any chance of James hurting himself), she relaxed completely for the first time in the game. She had began looking around for one of the waiting staff who circulated the VIP area, hoping to order a couple of bottles of Butterbeer, when Wesley’s comment snatched her attention back. “That’s fantastic! I knew Kevin could do it. He’s playing as Seeker, isn’t he?”
Wesley smiled a little at Laura’s enthusiastic reply. “Well yes, no Seeker worth his salt would risk not chasing down something that might be the snitch,” he said, “better to be embarrassed by the lack of, than missing it all together.” Of course, in down time, Wesley’s favorite activity was “accidentally” flying into players on the other team. He was fairly decent at keeping an eye on the snitch but it did get a BIT boring just sitting around waiting for it to glint.
“Kevin? Seeker?” he repeated, shaking his head. “He would suck at that. He’s the Keeper. I think that suits him fairly well.” Even though most of the teams had seemed to be mostly, or completely, new players, Wesley couldn’t imagine Kevin competing against him as Seeker. He was glad to know that he was the most experienced person in that position this season, believing it really gave him a leg-up on all of the players who would be assuming it for the first time. He was curious to see the rosters fro the other teams but figured it was likely they had done the same as him, keeping it close lipped.
“Oh yes. Keeper. That’s right.” Laura grinned and blushed. “I doubt you would have been as happy if he were a Seeker.” She settled back further in her seat, then grimaced. While she had gone to Madam Pomfrey for the worst of her scrapes from her rather farcical trial with Heidi, she had been too embarrassed to mention her more minor injuries, and now had several bruises around her tailbone the size of a tennis ball. There were also some blisters on her hand from gripping the broomstick too tightly, but the cool Scotland weather meant that she could wear gloves and thus conceal them.
Finding a more comfortable position, she added, “I think skipping stones is the closest to a contact sport that I’ll ever get.”
“No,” he agreed. “I wouldn’t have enjoyed crushing him nearly as much as I would the other teams.” Even with Kevin cast as ‘rival’ - the position of Keeper had no direct competition with him so he didn’t really find it obnoxious. He knew that Kevin as a Seeker would have been an easy win, but at the same time, he was glad for the reprieve in having to play against him like that. Their relationship was on thin ice most of the time as it was, adding in his aggressive playing style would have just served to make things worse in his opinion.
At the mention of skipping stones, Wesley turned to look her in the eyes directly, smiling as he did so, and offering, “Oh I got to six this week.” His chest swelled with a bit of pride for his accomplishment, which he had meant to tell her before but the ill terms they’’d been on had kept him from doing so. Without Laura to follow around in his free periods, he’d ended up finding new ways to entertain himself, and skipping rocks had been one of them. “It wasn’t as fun without you though,” he added, shyly, for good measure.
“Crushing him? You really need to do something about your lack of confidence when it comes to your Quidditch,” she jested, tucking a strand of hair back behind one ear. “Six is pretty fantastic. If I mention it to James though, his personal best will mysteriously slide up to eight or nine though.” At his comment about skipping stones without her, she blushed and tucked her head, smiling bashfully. “Stop embarrassing me,” she told him, not with any real intent.
Picking up on the sarcasm, he just rolled his eyes at her, knowing full well his Quidditch “confidence” was perfectly fine. He did enjoy hearing her praise about the stones. The idea of her brother ‘adjusting’ his best record in order to keep ahead of him was certainly something to be smug about, so he grinned at her pretty broadly. Her next comment was a little off to him though so he just stared at her, asking, “Why is that embarrassing?”
“A little,” she said. “Well, not really. I’m just not used to being complimented.” The last was said almost as a whisper, her cheeks deepening to red. Buying herself some time, she signalled towards a nearby waiter, slipping off her gloves in anticipation of the Butterbeer and quite forgetting about the angry red blisters adorning her palms.
It was on the tip of his tongue to inform of her his LACK of compliment, but instead he let it slide, deciding it was in his favor if she had decided thats what it had been. He wasn’t opposed to getting something to drink, so when she signalled the waiter, he didn’t think much of it. But he did, however, notice the angry welts on her hands and frowned at her.
“What are those?” he said bluntly, his full attention on her.
“These?” Laura repeated. She had understood him the first time, but needed a second to call up the backstory she had thought of, in the event that she removed her gloves. “Oh, I was cleaning out the kitchen cupboards the other day. I didn’t realise that I was allergic to a particular sort of cleaning fluid.” She couldn’t quite meet Wesley’s eye as she responded.
“Your a terrible liar,” he replied promptly. It wasn’t just that she was unable to meet his eyes. Even he knew that allergies didn’t generally cause blisters. Still, he WAS a bit amused. “I didn’t realise you were capable of trying to hide the truth, being prefect and all,” he added, grinning at her, perhaps more broadly than he ever had. For the first time he wondered why she wasn’t in Slytherin with him. “So what really happened?”
“Okay,” Laura began desperately, “I was making a cup of tea and I burned myself when I was pouring water out of the kettle. But that’s kind of embarrassing so I came up with a different story. But look - Moran is heading towards goal, and he got it all the way back from Christmas Garrick!” Rising with the crowd, she cheered rather more enthusiastically than what she would have characteristically done, not realising that her jacket and top had hitched up enough for the foray of yellowish bruises dipping below the waistband of her jeans to be visible.
Wesley blinked at her. Not finding her new excuse to be any less “embarrassing” than the first one. With his curiosity suddenly peaked it was no wonder he kept close eye on her, trying to determine what exactly was going on in her mind. He found it very uncharacteristic of her to suddenly find the game interesting, as he had been on the verge of thinking her a rather poor Quidditch fan.
His eyes immediately found their way to the bruises on her body, which completely obstructed any joy he might have found in seeing her bare midriff. “Laura,” he said, sounding completely serious. “What did you do? Blisters on your hands... bruises on your waist....” he didn’t care if she noticed that he’d been looking; he was more concerned with the sort of activities she’d been up to lately.
“What?” Laura swung around to face him, tugging down the back of her top self-consciously. She bit her lip, wondering how to explain things. Wesley had not believed her first two lies, and she didn’t think it would be a case of third time lucky. Her blisters snagged on her hair as she raked her fingers through it, and she dropped her hand abruptly down to her side. “Okay,” she said, easing herself carefully back into her seat. “But don’t get angry.”
“Heidi was convinced that I had Quidditch talent somewhere in me. As I should, because-” she waved a hand back towards James’ general proximity vaguely. “I know better of course, but she was so enthusiastic that it was hard to say no to her. And well, you can imagine what me on a broom is like. Please don’t get angry at her! It was my decision and she did take me to the hospital wing afterwards!”
Laura’s insistence than he not get mad made him feel a little apprehensive before she started explaining. She was right though, he didn’t like what he heard one bit. Wesley had very little love for Heidi as it was and finding out she was the cause of Laura’s injuries certainly didn’t settle well with him. The fact that Laura had agreed to Heidi’s twisted little experiment didn’t really make much of a difference to him, as he decided she’d clearly taken advantage of Laura’s being too nice.
“I told you real girls can’t play,” he replied, irritation evident in his tone. Wesley dropped down into the seat next to her. Even though the match against Hufflepuff wouldn’t be for a few months, he was already imagining just what he’d do to their Captain once they faced eachother on the pitch. Slytherin’s reputation for being rough was definitely going to be solidified this year if he had anything to say about it. “And you must be a really terrible flier to have come out looking like that,” he added, wondering how she managed to get blistered AND bruised. “I think I might have to teach you the basics, at least. It’s just not right if you can’t get around casually on a broom.”
“Oh yeah, Angelina Johnson is such a man. And so is Christmas Garrick.” Laura rolled her eyes and thumbed towards where the pretty blonde Keeper was hovering watchfully between the Dragons’ hoops. At Wesley’s suggestion, she paled. “No. Oh no. It’s really unnecessary. There’s Flooing, and Portkeys, and next year I’ll be able to sit my Apparation licence. I have an early birthday. So no. No flying.”
The crowd groaned collectively, and she swung her head back towards the pitch. A blue-clad player was lying on the ground with a swarm of Healers rushing over towards him. She gasped, then realised that the blond head of hair could not possibly belong to James. Below Dragons Keeper Travis Battle heaved himself into a sitting position, blood seeping down his face. Laura jogged a look back to Wesley, as if to say see what I mean?
Wesley really wanted to make scathing comments about Angelina and Christmas but decided he wasn’t particularly keen on having Laura walk off on him again so soon. Of course, he didn’t think that her excuses not to learn to ride properly were worth much. He doubted he would get very far arguing his point at the moment but it was something he could ponder later. If Heidi could talk her onto a broom, so could he. He did, however, puff his chest out a bit and say, “I already have my apparation license.” Also having a late birthday, he’d been particularly proud of this accomplishment for quite some time.
Seeing Battle on the ground actually amused Wesley. He found the injuries to be just as entertaining as the game itself, usually. The only thing that topped either were fights, but those didn’t seem to happen as often as he would have liked. Of course the look Laura gave him forced him to wipe the smirk off his face. “Nothing a good Healer can’t fix,” he said, shrugging. “You aren’t a real player if you don’t get the crap beat out of you sometimes.” He could recall a few times he’d been hit with a well-aimed bludger, after all.
When the waiter that Laura had flagged down finally came over, he asked for two butterbeers and then fished in his pockets for money. “Do you have 5 sickles?” he asked, realising he didn’t have enough to cover them both.
“Sure,” she said, producing her purse and pulling out a handful of coins. That Wesley may have wanted to pay for her drink as well hadn’t occurred to her.
“And I don’t want to be a ‘real player.’ I’d just like to be able to get on a broom without humiliating myself. And without picking up so many bruises.” She grimaced ruefully. “Do you know how to get rid of them?” Her sister, Cassandra, had mastered the Episkey spell by the end of her fifth year, and Laura figured that a seventh year as good at spells as Wesley obviously was would know more.
After paying the guy, Wesley took the drinks and handed one to Laura. He was actually rather glad to have his since he hadn’t realised how parched he was until then. He gave her a bit of an odd look though when she started talking about flying the boom. “You just said you didn’t want to fly, but you’ll never manage to keep from embarrassing yourself if you don’t actually get on one.” Her statements were mismatching but Wesley saw it as an opportunity to convince her she should fly with him sometime and filed the information away in his head.
It had not occurred to him that he should offer Laura any help with her injuries until she asked if knew any spells. Having a Healer for a mother, Wesley had picked up on a few of the minor healing spells over the years. “Yeah, actually, I think I could help you,” he said after considering for a few moments. He wasn’t that skilled with healing charms but he was confident he could at least reduce some of the bruising if he tried. “Do you want me to try?”
“Yes. Please. That would be wonderful.” Back on the Quidditch pitch, the game had ground to a halt, the stalling centred around Battle waving off the attention he so clearly needed and refusing any assistance from the Healers. James had flown down himself and appeared to be arguing at him, pointing at the side of the field to clearly indicate that Battle should leave. Seeing that her brother was safely grounded, Laura added, “Do you think we could go downstairs for a while? I think the rest of these people have seen enough of my bare back for today.” She smiled bashfully, cheeks tinted with pink once again.
At Laura’s suggestion, Wesley’s eyes flew open pretty wide. “What? Are you going to take your shirt off or something?” he balked. After the initial surprise wore off, it dawned on him what he’d just said, and his own cheeks flushed as well. “I guess we could go somewhere else, if that would make you feel more comfortable,” he added, though he was talking to his feet instead of to Laura.
“What? No!” Laura burst out. “But obviously I’ll need to lift up the back of my shirt so that you can see what you’re doing.” Fortunately being fifteen and being Laura, the possible innuendo of the phrase what you’re doing had escaped her. Wesley looked embarrassed, however, so she let some of her indignation slip away. “Yeah, somewhere near the lavs would be good for privacy. Just so - you know - not every single person in the stadium gets to see my back by the end of the day.”
Wesley was beginning to think the conversation was getting incredibly awkward and privately hoped no one around them was listening, least they get the wrong idea. He was at least glad for the fact that none of them were students, since the last thing he wanted was to hear rumours about this whole thing.
“Okay,” he said, deciding the sooner they left, the better. Standing up, he slinked off toward the stair case and once he’d reached the bottom, kept walking until he came up around the bathrooms, noticing there wasn’t anyone else standing around there at the moment. “Okay,” he said again as he pulled his wand out. Wesley gave her an expectant look, ignoring the mild feeling of embarrassment. It was just her back, after all.
There were less people around downstairs, which Laura was grateful for but which seemed to make the tension between her and Wesley thicker still. She said an “okay” of her own and turned her back to him, removing her jacket and tugging up the back of her shirt so that about four inches of liberally bruised skin between that and the waistband of her jeans was revealed. The gooseflesh that had broken out on her arms wasn’t entirely due to the trim Highlands breeze seeping along the corridor. “Should I feel anything for this?” she asked, biting on her lower lip.
“No. Well, probably not, since it’s just bruises,” he replied absently as he looked at her back. “Maybe a slight chill.” It had been awhile since he’d been injured himself, and usually he was so pumped with adrenaline that didn’t pay much attention to how it felt being healed. Wesley reached out to gingerly touch one of them. They seemed superficial enough. He dropped his hand fairly quickly though as the contact had made his cheeks burn a little more than they already were. He then pointed his wand at her and started casting the spell at each individual bruise that he could see. It took about a minuet to get them all and afterwards he said, “Well now you look normal again.” He was still looking at her back, inspecting his handi-work and thinking it wasn’t that bad. Most of them had cleared up and there was only a single stubborn one that had only faded.
Laura had needed to stifle a jump when Wesley touched her back, even though it wasn’t an unusual thing to expect someone to do when they were about to Heal your injuries. His fingertips on her skin however had been cool but gentle, and despite the awkwardness, she found herself feeling slightly disappointed when he took his hand away.
Like he had said, she felt a slight tingling chill as each bruise was removed, then positively beamed when the process had finished, turning around and pulling her shirt down over her back. “Thank you! It’s so nice to be able to move again without feeling sore. You don’t know how to get rid of the blisters, do you?” she added hopefully, holding out her palms to him.
“I don’t think I should try those,” he said. He was a afraid of accidentally popping them in the most horrible of ways. Blisters didn’t seem as ‘safe’ to attempt healing as bruises had. The unwanted image of puss squirting everywhere popped into his head. “Maybe you should ask Madam Pomfrey when you get back to school,” he suggested. “Or someone at St Mungos if you visit again before coming back.” After a pause he asked, “When are you coming back?” He was a bit anxious to see her around the castle again.
“Monday. McGonagall said I didn’t need to be back until then, so I’d rather spend the rest of the weekend with my - at home.” She swallowed. “Seriously though. Thank you.” She put a hand on his arm.
He couldn’t think of anything to say at all about her mother that didn’t sound rude, so he decided to just skirt away from the topic all together. Of course he was instantly distracted by Laura’s touching him, which helped him keep his mouth shut. Offering her a shy smile he said, “Your welcome? I kind of owed you anyway.”
“How so?” Laura frowned, her hand still on his arm.
His eyes drifted down to Laura’s hand and he stared at it for a few seconds, avoiding eye contact. “Well, I was pretty rude to you before you left. So. I guess what I’m trying to say is... Sorry, or something.”
Laura was finding it slightly difficult to think of what to say. She had been upset about some of the things Wesley had said to her during their walk around the lake, and part of her had been worried about possible repercussions when she returned to school. But Wesley - Wesley in particular - had apologised, and she could accept that.
“I’m sorry too,” she said softly after a moment. “And I appreciate you saying that.” Because it was the usual thing to do after an apology, and because it would get rid of the issue of having to look Wesley in the eye (which was becoming increasingly difficult), she stepped forward and draped her arms over his shoulders in a hug.
He was glad that she hadn’t thrown his apology back in his face. Although it seemed illogical to think she would have done so, a part of him had almost expected it. Saying he was sorry wasn’t something he did often, despite the fact that he’d now done it twice in less than three months. Wesley would not have taken a rejection very well at all.
Already feeling uncomfortable about apologetic exchange, he wasn’t sure what else to say in reply to Laura’s returned sentiment. The fact that she hugged him quickly made replying a mote point and he found himself very awkwardly putting his own arms around her. Wesley was trying very hard not to think about how much liked the way she felt against his chest. He thought about retreating but decided that pulling away too fast would make it seem like he didn’t appreciate the gesture. He wasn’t sure what was too short of a hug, or, reversely, what was too long of one. He decided he would just continue holding onto her until she stepped away.
Despite being away from school, it had been a tough week for Laura. Aside from the day she had eaten lunch with Ryan and Susan, most of her time had been spent at the hospital, and as well as having to deal with her mother’s state of health and how exactly she felt about that, she had been unprepared for her nerves when it came to James playing again. So her first impulse was to take comfort in the fact that she was being hugged by someone much taller and stronger than herself, to close her eyes and bury her head in his shoulder and allow some of the tension to seep out of her.
However, as she sensed Wesley’s awkwardness, she stepped away after a few seconds, stooping to pick up her jacket from where she had placed it on a nearby chair. “Maybe we should get back upstairs,” she suggested, adding with a small smile that attempted levity, “I wonder if they’ve managed to drag Battle off for treatment yet.”
Wesley was both relieved and disappointed when she let him go. He was grateful the anxiety of not knowing how to respond was gone, in the very least. “I wouldn’t mind getting back to the game, actually,” he replied, grateful for the distraction from his conflicted feelings. He practically dashed back up the stairs to his former seat, anxious as he was to escape the mounting tension he’d been feeling.
Laura followed Wesley up the stairs at a more leisurely pace. Today had been an odd mix, even for what she was coming to realise were her and Wesley’s usual standards, but she was happy that he had apologised and was no longer angry at her. For the first time that day, she was almost looking forward to the distraction the game would provide.