eloise! (competitive) wrote in thedept, @ 2013-04-08 06:22:00 |
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Her broom was gathering dust. Gwen took a deep breath as she grabbed it out of the closet, her thumb rubbing away the finest coat of grey. She didn't really know how this had happened. It used to be flying was a semi-daily experience. But everything had changed in June. And it wasn't that she was afraid of what would happen. Well, she was a little afraid. She didn't want to die. Or wind up on the Spell Damage ward. But Guinevere had always known she could still fly despite the ban on Quidditch. She just hadn't wanted to. Flying without Quidditch meant accepting defeat. It meant finally accepting that she couldn't have everything she wanted, although she'd always expected she could. But James had offered and she liked James. She wanted to fly with him. She just didn't know how she'd feel about it, really, when the wind soared through her hair and there was no golden ball to fetch. Broom thrown carelessly over his shoulder, free to hit unsuspecting passersby as he walked up to the gate from where he’d Apparated, Jim whistled an impromptu tune. When he’d asked Gwen to fly with him, he hadn’t even realized how long it had been since he’d been on the broom himself -- and it made him even more excited and pleased about his idea than he’d been before. Quidditch had been a passion of his in school as well, although he’d sort of had a bit of a sulky fit in seventh year when he was told he couldn’t be captain despite his nomination because of his detention record. People were really just no fun sometimes. Gwen was fun, though, potentially his favorite of the Shacklebolt siblings although he got on with all of them well, and Jim was looking forward to this. He knew Gwen loved the sport, the broom, and he wouldn’t have understood why she hadn’t gone before even if she’d explained it to them. Why stop yourself from doing something you wanted, after all? “There you are,” Jim said, approaching her with a smile, outside the gates of the mansion. “I hope you remember how this works, hm?” She jogged the last few feet to meet him as she finished dusting off her broom. "'Lo, Blackberry," she said. "I hope you're ready to taste the bitterness of defeat." She tilted her head to the side with an impish grin. "You might have been a Chaser but I was a Seeker. Chasers follow." She held out her free arm. "Lithe, quick, sneaky. If you intended this to be a simple flight, you should know that nothing I do is simple. Straightforward, sure, but not simple." Was a Seeker. Dammit. She should have been doing tryouts with Eddie. She shouldn't be behind a desk, finally doing something her father wanted and trying to be sensible. It was even too dangerous for her to be a referee, something she'd implored him to let her try once she'd known that playing professionally was out of her hands. As soon as her father transferred, she was headed for Games and Sports. If there was a position opened. Salazar's nipples. She needed one too. "I know how this works. Do you, old man?" “Ouch, going right for the age,” Jim put on an exaggerated wince. “That’s a sore spot. And I hardly would expect anything along the lines of simple from you by now. What, will we be racing? Flying around in circles until one of us gets dizzy?” He didn’t waste a moment, flinging the broom down from off his shoulder and hopping on it, rising a good ten feet up into the air. A breeze against his skin and the weightlessness in his legs and the rough feel of the wood against his palm, the other hand reaching out to nothing in particular -- they put his mood instantly even a notch higher. “Coming?” "Hey," she said with a smirk. "I thought you said you were in your prime." She straddled her broom. "Racing, obviously. Flying around in circles is for firsties." She watched him zoom up and was on her way almost as soon as he started to ask her if she were coming. Like James, the sweetness of being in the skies made her feel better. Her face softened and she moved her broom back and forth, side to side, and did a quick roll. She needed to be sure she was ready for this. Because Gwen did not plan to lose to James. "All right," she said. She had half a mind to just speed off and leave him to follow, but then when she won he'd call foul. And it wouldn't be fair. She dipped her broom down and then came back up to James's eye level. Holding onto the broom with one hand she pointed to a clump of trees at the edge of the property. The trees were small from the distance. "Think you can stay on your broom long enough?" “One, of course I’m in my prime, thus it hurts doubly when you try to insult it,” Jim said, with a nudge flying around so he was next to her and their shoulders almost touched. “Two, you clearly have not been flying around in circles recently. Many things that are for firsties can be incredibly fun.” He followed her gaze to where she was pointing, cocking his head as he examined the trees. “Three, please, darling. I’ll even let you count off.” Grinning, he bent low over his broom in preparation. It was true that he could be competitive, but that was almost entirely with strangers and with people he didn’t respect. With friends it wasn’t about winning but more about spending time with them, and if it’s a competition between two people you care about (one of them, of course, being yourself), you can’t really lose, can you? Jim let his fingers flex on the handle of the broom, eager for the speed more so than the finish. For Gwen, of course, it didn't matter that someone was a friend. What mattered was the rush and popping burst of excitement that she felt when she won a race. She couldn't wait to win this one, because she was sure she would. She just grinned at James and bent her body over her broomstick, ready as she'd ever be. "One," she said, still watching him. Gwen gave him a wink and then turned back to face the trees. "Two," she gripped her broom handle tighter and cleared her throat as though that would save her a few inches of flight. Her broom was quivering underneath her, as though it felt the excitement coursing through her veins. "Three." And she was off like a flash of light, hurtling through the air with the grace and speed that befitted a Seeker. She made no move to see what James was doing or where he was. Her eyes were trained in front of her. The only way she'd see him was if he pulled ahead of her. And that wouldn't do. Three! Jim whooped as they set off; where she was focused he was eager, once or twice in his path spinning on his broom, flying upside-down. When going at such a speed, the trees that had seemed fairly far away before appeared to approach them quickly, and Jim was almost sorry to see them come. It didn't take all too long for it to become clear that he wouldn't win this race, but instead of pulling to a stop at the end he kept going at maximum speed through the trees, dodging and swerving before pulling his broom around to fly back to her. For no particular reason, he flew a circle around her before pulling to a stop. "Don't think I can argue with that one," he said, shaking his head. "Fair and square. I can, however, demand a rematch in the future!" Gwen grinned. She was glad she'd managed to score a win. Her shoulders squared pridefully and she puffed a breath on either shoulder as though working off some flames that she'd earned whilst hurtling toward the trees. She was amused that he'd gone through the trees, and was about to follow suit when he started circling her. "Rematch, sure," she said. She rose higher than him and turned herself upside down, hanging there for a few moments, her hair almost brushing his head. "Now, if you really want," she barrel rolled a few times. "We can fly in circles like ickle firsties. Since you're an old man and probably really want to relive the good old days." From below, Jim looked up at her and grinned, before again flying a quick circle around her, this time vertically. “Anything for the good old days!” he laughed; he wondered what they looked like from the ground, like when you saw hummingbirds or butterflies frantically twitch around one another. Flying while not playing Quidditch or in a particularly exciting environment hadn’t been on his list of things to do recently probably because when he needed some real fun, he’d had other places to go to -- particularly in his late teens and early twenties, when he’d spent a ridiculous amount of money participating in Muggle extreme sports and making up a few wizarding ones of his own, as well. Talk about adrenaline. Looking at the ground far below them and the speed they flicked around sparked in him a sudden urge to jump off a plane. “Hey, Gwen,” he said at one point, “ever been bungee-jumping?” At his spinning around her, Gwen started doing the same. She tried to loop around him when he was looping around her, and she knew that this dangerous loop'd'looping could potentially end up with someone breaking a bone, but she didn't care. It was fun to do wild things now and again, and funner still when you were with someone like James. "Bungee-jumping?" The activity gave her vague recollections at first, and she stilled her broom, frowning in concentration as she tried to remember what exactly it was. "Oh!" she said, rushing her broom to float alongside his. "Is that where, I mean, it's a Muggle thing, isn't it? And people jump off tall buildings or bridges with a cord keeping them from hitting the ground? I've never been but it sounds dead fun." “Exactly,” Jim said, grinning, continuing to fly around like a madman but a little more calm now that they were having a legitimate conversation. “It’s is definitely dead fun. Muggles have some awesome ideas. I’ll take you sometime, if you want.” Although no one would be happy with him, more likely than not. Few approved of Jim’s interest in this particular aspect of Muggle culture. After a moment, he smiled at her, tapping his fingers again on the handle of his broom. “Well? How’s being on the broom again?” "Of course I want," she said with a laugh. She zig-zagged around him, enjoying the wild flying she was doing with James. She dove for a minute and then zoomed back up, grinning at him before coming back up to hover directly above him. "Just promise me I won't die. Well, actually, you don't need to promise that. Just remember that my dad's a powerful man who could make you pay if you let me die." She zoomed down to be next to him, but at his question she started drifting away, forcing a smile on her face. There was a reason she hadn't been on a broom. She didn't like to think about it. Even more than that, she didn't like to talk about it. She knew that she couldn't just hide it. People wondered why the Quidditch crazy Guinevere had suddenly stopped playing completely. She didn't even play a game of pick up anymore. "Yeah, well, it's good," she said. "But it's not the same," she said suddenly, a bit more than she had planned to say. "I mean..." She started moving forward. "It is what it is." Jim looked up at her, letting go of the broom with one hand and leaning to the side so he could look at her. His other hand hung loose in the air. “I always remember that, obviously. Anyway, I’ll take you to a place where we definitely won’t die.” There were places that Jim had been to that didn’t quite fit that description, and he wasn’t even going to pretend that he’d never be so irresponsible to bring someone to those places, but -- bungee jumping in the grand scheme of things in his experience had seemed more secure. But Jim’s adored topic of dangerous sports drifted away with Gwen, and at first, not being the most perceptive person in the world when it came to how people were feeling, he didn’t notice that the smile was forced, or that the sudden space between them was more than physical. It was only at the tone of her voice that he sensed that maybe something was wrong. “Hey,” he said, closing the distance between them with a touch of his broom, so that he nudged her with his shoulder. Wracking his brain for the appropriate thing to say -- Jim was shit at this -- he just grinned at her. "So, let's go soon," she said. "Real soon." It was easier to think of that than anything else. Better. Safer. Oh, dammit. "You..." she said slowly. "Can't get a concussion from that, can you? The, uh, force?" She didn't look him in the eyes. She wasn't used to having to double check these things. It felt wretched. "You know. Just because." Guinevere hated this problem of hers. They had called her the bludger magnet back at Hogwarts. They'd said 'it's not a game if Gwen doesn't get hit by a bludger.' And now here she was. Magic couldn't save her anymore. His grin, at least, made her smile weakly. Jim thought about it, but pointedly kept his tone casual. “I don’t know. I’ll check or ask someone something. And then we can go as soon as possible.” He hadn’t been at Hogwarts when Gwen was, but having known the Shacklebolts over the years he’d heard both about what kind of Quidditch player she was -- the kind after his own heart, really -- and what had happened in the end. “Well,” he drawled as they flew along side-by-side, “I hope it is what it is means it was still fun and I clearly did a wonderful thing by dragging you out here. Because if you say no I’ll be terribly offended, and then in order to save my pride I’d have to steal you away for various other activities,” here Jim paused because fuck he actually hadn’t intended that to be vaguely innuendo-ish but he had to laugh at himself a little, “and your friends would likely be displeased.” She laughed, trying not to think about him having to ask. It had to be done, but that didn't mean she needed to get herself all worried about it. Hopefully she could go and he'd let her know. If she couldn't, she hoped he wouldn't feel the need to let her know. That would just be awkward. "It was brilliant," she said, circling him again and taking a deep breath of the fresh air. "But I'll say no anyways. You can drag me away whenever you want." She winked at him. "Race you!" she said, peeling off in the direction of the house. |