Prompt Post: ROUND FIVE
ROUND FIVE IS CLOSED
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<< ROUND FOUR | ALL ROUNDS | ROUND SIX >>
Rules post.
Posting Guidelines.
Flat view.
Updates Post (WIPs only)
Fills Post (completed Fills only)
damalur's firstclasskink on Delicious.
Volunteers always welcome.
There is a delay on comments appearing when there is a URL in the message body. This is due to an LJ anti-spam ( Read more... )
He pads around the room quietly for a bit and soaks up the fact that he's finally here. He wants to smile, laugh, run; he wants to dive back into bed and snuggle under the warm covers, completely assured that this is real.
For now, he decides he'll explore.
There's something so daring about being out of bed before most of the entire school. Charles feels like a kid waking up before his parents on Christmas, giddy and anxious. The staircase winds sharply downward until Charles skids to a stop on the fifth floor of the castle. The hallways are empty, lights flickering gently against the wall, and Charles gets another urge to run.
So he does.
He speeds down the first hall, sliding around the corner in his morning socks. The Grand Staircase looms ahead, full of shifting staircases and unstable platforms, but he charges ahead anyway, climbing as quickly as he can up the first set of stairs. Halfway up, the thing gives a shaky jerk. Charles momentum throws him against the railing. He breaths heavily, laughing into the crook of his elbow as he wipes the sweat forming on his brow, just as the staircase takes him to the seventh floor. The lights flare at his arrival, lighting the hallway leading toward Gryffindor Tower. In a last burst of fearless energy, Charles sprints through the stone archway -
and right into Erik Lensherr.
Charles' shoulder meets Erik's own in a nasty collision. Charles' socks provide little friction and within a matter of seconds he is sprawled at Erik's feet, face to the ground.
He moans at the sharp pain in his wrist - which he just happens to be completely laying on - and feels a few of his fingers slowly run cold. "My wrist," he grunts, rolling onto his side gingerly as possible. "I think I've done something to it."
A warm pair of hands wraps around Charles' wrist, fingers flitting over the skin to assess the extent of the injury. They squeeze at the base of his hand and suddenly it is holysonofabitch painful. Charles instinctively tries to pull his hand back, but Erik is unrelenting. Charles whimpers and bites his tongue to stop himself from ripping his hand out of Erik's grasp.
Erik says very little, just small questions like: 'Does this hurt?' Or 'Can you move your thumb?'
And then something odd happens. Erik pulls out his wand and gives Charles a hesitant, questioning look. Charles must have blinked an go-ahead, because suddenly Erik is mumbling something under his breath and there is a pop and holy fuck the pain is back ten-fold but at least he can feel the blood moving back through his thumb again.
"What did you do?" Charles asks, attempting to mask his pain with calm.
"My mom was a Mediwizard at St. Mungo's. If I ever had a bad fall when I was little, she told me to use this spell." Erik finally looks up from Charles' wrist. "It hurts, doesn't it."
"Well yeah," Charles replies heavily. His chest heaves with the effort. "But only just a little."
Erik gives him a small smile - so quick, Charles almost misses it. And then, just as spontaneously as they had collided, Erik is backing away. The boy stands up, darts a glance at Charles, and pauses momentarily before jolting back to life and fleeing back the way he'd come.
"Hey, Erik," Charles calls, sitting up with a little more effort than he cares to admit. "Erik wait, I just." But Erik is already around the corner, running like a skittish, frightened animal. "Wanted to help." He stares at the space Erik had occupied only seconds ago, mind still churning after the morning's events, before a small, subconscious smile makes its way to his lips.
After a trip to the hospital wing, Charles' wrist is nearly healed completely.
"It's a good thing you popped it back in when you did," Madam Pomfrey muses. "Might've healed slower and more painfully if you hadn't. Now on your way - best not miss breakfast.
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