Slipstream

Feb. 13th, 2010 02:57 pm
maja_li: (Default)
[personal profile] maja_li
Title: Slipstream
Character(s): Hugo Weasley
Rating: G
Warnings: post-DH & epilogue-compliant
Word Count: 401
Summary: Hugo has a Thing about flying.
Disclaimer: Hugo&co. belong to JKR. Not me.
A/N: [livejournal.com profile] 100quills table 1/50: wind




The wind whistled around his ears; plucked at his hair; tunneled into the gaps in his robes and stroked long touches down his chest and legs. Hugo laughed, buoyed up by the invisible current, bobbing along gleefully hundreds of feet above the ground. Villages and fields rolled steadily past beneath him: Muggles in their tall houses wreathed in eckelectic energy, doing Science at each other, working on their glow-boxes that spread tendrils of light and thought halfway around the world.

He carried on swiftly, out away from the torches of civilization to the moors of Scotland and the high mountains of Spain, rushing wild and exhilarated past them in a blur, and further—out across the sparkling Mediterranean Sea with its crown of islands, snaking back to soar over the sweeping deserts of Africa, the pyramids only specks in the distance.

He caught the Gulf Stream and tacked against it, laughing as he slip-slid between the strands of its current and plunged into North America. Wild bison thundered across the great plains; he swooped low to chase first them and then, a moment later, the herds of rugged ponies that galloped on the Mongolian steppe—

Then the ground yawned black and void beneath him, and Hugo fell.

* * *

Hugo's eyes blinked open, and he heaved a soft sigh of disappointment as the familiar ecru of the hospital wing ceiling swam into view. The rustle of crinoline and the pungent smell of antiseptic heralded the approach of Madame Pimsey. A moment later, her round, pink-scrubbed face was hovering, motherly, over Hugo's.

"Feeling better dear?" she asked, patting him on the check. Hugo tried not to grimace. "That was quite a tumble you took! How does your head feel?"

"Um. Okay, I guess," Hugo said cautiously, attempting to sit up. Madame Pimsey clucked her tongue sharply and pushed him back down.

"Oh, you stay right where you are, dear!" she scolded. "Poor Professor Potter has been worried sick about you. Really, chasing fairies out on the Quidditch pitch, and in the dark no less, I don't know what you boys were thinking! So reckless…why, I do declare, if Professor Potter hadn't—" She nattered on, checking Hugo's pulse and patting around his bandages as Hugo shut his eyes and tried to pretend she wasn't there.

If he concentrated very, very hard—he could still feel the barest brush of the wind against his cheek.

-fin-
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