Entry for Fluffy Tuesday...where the topic is drama.
Chilly claws of wind tug at my cloak, whipping the woolen fabric against my skirt. My fingers grip the steely cold rungs of an old fire escape, hugging the side of the brick facade. I dare not look down. I don’t want to think about the pavement two stories below. My hand gropes in the darkness for the next rung. The rusted ladder creaks in the gusts. Oh, Doxie droppings!
A splintering crash erupts from inside the building and rattles the panes of the open window a few yards below me. Flashes of magic light the window. Merlin preserve us, the Death Eaters must have broken through the enchantments that barred entry to my flat. Swirls of fog sweep beneath my feet. A sudden bout of vertigo seizes me.
“Cory, hurry.” Black’s hoarse voice calls to me over the howl of the wind. His calloused fingers wrap around my hand. Before I can register what has happened, his bracing arms pull me onto the roof.
I sink to my knees, glad to have more than air under my feet. Black stands over me, his tall, lean frame silhouetted against the incandescent glow of the city’s skyline. The corrugated rooftops of Diagon Alley stretch out around us. Little crooked chimney pots jut into the sky as far as the eye can see, spewing smoke into the thickening nighttime fog. Where can we go from here? It’s just a matter of time before that gang of ruffians figures out that we’re on the roof. We’ve got to get out of here. But how?
“What now?” I say to Black, hoping he has a plan that doesn’t involve feeding me to the wolf-man breaking into my flat below.
“I’ve got it covered,” he says. With the wind whipping dark hair about his face, he looks every bit the wild man in the wanted posters. He purses his lips and whistles.
Is he barking mad? Surely, the Death Eaters will hear his whistle. I pull my cloak more tightly around me, wishing I was wearing something more substantial than a little black robe underneath. I sidle away from the edge of the roof, listening for the commotion down below in my flat.
A whoosh of beating wings fills the air. What in Agrippa’s name is that? A large dark shadow covers the sky, blotting out light from the few stars that remain visible. An involuntary scream escapes my lips.
“Hush, love.” Black kneels at my side and clamps a hand over my mouth. “It’s only Buckbeak. Now bow.” He leans into me, forcing my head down with his shoulder.
Buckbeak? What’s a buckbeak? Then I see the clawed toes of an immense bird of prey before me and hear the snap of a beak the proportions of which I can only imagine. If I wasn’t already on my knees, they would have given way beneath me. I’m trembling like a mouse trapped under the talons of an owl.
“Good boy, Buckbeak.” Black rises from my side.
He’s abandoning me to that monster? I grab for his arm, but Black slips out of my reach. I look up. An enormous creature, half-eagle, half-horse, fixes me with a glowing orange gaze. A hippogriff. Black mounts the beast and extends his hand to me. That’s his escape plan? He’s off his bleeding rocker.
“You expect me to ride a hippogriff?” I back away from the fierce stare of the proud beast. “I can’t ride that.”
“Would you rather wait up here for them?” Black nods toward the alley.
I glance toward the edge of the roof. An angry howl rides upward on the wind. It won’t be long before the Death Eaters discover the fire escape too.
“Merlin’s beard, no.” My voice reduces to a squeak. My lips go dry. I shoot Black a pleading look. I don’t want to give him the wrong idea, but there’s nothing else for it. I pull open my cloak and flash him a glimpse of the form-fitting sheath underneath. The sexy little black robe. “Just how do you expect me to ride in this dress?”
“Not exactly dressed for an escape, are you?” His lip hitches up in a wry smirk.
“I was dressed for a dinner engagement, if you recall,” I say with my hands on my hips.
“That’s easily fixed.”
His wand is aimed at me before I can blink. A tearing sound rends the air. I feel a sudden chill run the length of my thigh. I glance down to see a slit torn in my dress from hem to hip. My mouth melts open.
“Just look what you’ve done to my dress?” I run my fingers over the fraying silk. “This was a genuine DuSult.”
“Well, now it’s practical.” The impertinent scalawag cocks a dark brow. “So are you coming or not?”
The hippogriff paws at the rooftop and ruffles his powerful wings. I stare up into Black’s face, looking for assurance in those bedroom eyes. Can I trust him? I must be daft to put my life in the hands of a wanted criminal. But I don’t want to contemplate the alternative. Visions of that horrid Death Eater flash though my mind. The remembrance of his ravenous leer sends waves of shivers down my spine that have nothing to do with the cold. I muster my courage and place my hand in Black’s.
“Come on then.” He jerks his head up. “Up you go.”
My jaw drops. I stare at the monstrous beast, all feathers and hide. There’s no saddle. No stirrup. How in the blue blazes does he expect me to mount this beast?
“Aren’t you going to help me up?” I say.
“Just put your foot on the wing joint there.” He points to where the hippogriff’s wing sprouts from his flank. “And hop on.”
I gather my skirt, conscious of Black’s gaze on my exposed leg, and plant the toe of a high-heeled slipper where directed. I attempt a hop with my other leg, but only manage to launch my body half as high as I need to be. I land back on the roof, right where I started.
“It’s no use.” I shrug and cast him an I-told-you-so look. “A true gentleman would give me a leg up.”
An exasperated sigh hisses from his lips as he dismounts the hippogriff. I catch a few very uncharitable mumblings. He’s no gentleman, this one.
“Put your foot there.” Black jabs his finger at the hippogriff’s wing joint. “Try again. This time put more life into it.”
“But…” The crazed glare in his grey eyes snuffs out my protest faster than a Killing Curse. Talking sense to a madman is useless.
I sigh, place my foot on the hippogriff’s wing, and grab hold of the creature’s back. Then two hands slap firmly against my buttocks and give me a shove. I let out a squeal of surprise. My body shoots upward and onto the back of the hippogriff. I land draped over the beast with my arse in the air in the most humiliating position imaginable.
Black’s great barking laugh cuts through the thickening mist. I swing my leg around the hippogriff’s backside and scramble to right myself. A grin as wide as the River Thames bridges his face. The nerve of that cheeky rogue! I straighten up and arrange my cloak in prim folds over my exposed leg. Black mounts the creature in front of me with the grace of a natural horseman. Doubly infuriating after my undignified ascent.
“Now hang on,” he says. He clucks his tongue at the hippogriff and digs his heels into its sides.
“To what?” I shout. There are no reigns. No pummel. No saddle.
“You’ll think of something,” he says with another burst of laughter.
The muscles of the beast’s haunches contract beneath me. His wings expand sending swirls of fog spinning in little eddies. My cloak billows around my body, filling with freezing night air. Then we launch into the sky with a force that jolts me backward. I gasp and grab for Black. My arms clasp around his chest and hang on for dear life. I keel forward until my forehead finds its resting place against Black’s back. Rumbles of laughter peel in his chest, the sound traveling to my ears through his flesh and bones. I feel his shaking mirth against my arms.
“You’re enjoying this far too much,” I say through teeth gritted and chattering.
“And you’re not enjoying it enough.”
I can only huff in response. Who does he think he is?
The hippogriff propels us through the night on great beating wings. With each jarring flap, we rock and teeter on the brink of disaster. I feel as though the beast will shake me from his back and send me tumbling to my death. I tighten my grip on Black and hear his sharp intake of breath.
“Easy there, love.” He takes my hand in his rough fingers and pries my grip loose. “A man’s got to breathe.”
“I’d gladly let go.” My own breath comes in fits and spurts. “If I weren’t so afraid of falling.”
A glimpse of the city far below appears through a break in the clouds. Automobile headlamps, mere pinpricks of light, mark a crisscrossing web of urban streets. And the Thames flows like a great black snake twisting a path through the city lights, waiting to devour us should we fall. I squeeze my eyes shut.
“How can you be so cavalier?” I say.
My voice quavers, but Black shows no fear. My fingertips feel his muscles through his clothes. No tension tightens his chest. With my ear pressed against his back, I can hear the slow steady slow rhythm of his breathing. How can he remain so calm?
“Can’t you feel it?” He lets go of the hippogriff with both hands, spreads his arms wide, and whoops with delight. “Freedom. There’s no more precious thing in this world.”
He’s a few twigs short of a full broomstick, he is. Right now, I’d settle for life and solid ground beneath my feet. What have I gotten myself into?
A splintering crash erupts from inside the building and rattles the panes of the open window a few yards below me. Flashes of magic light the window. Merlin preserve us, the Death Eaters must have broken through the enchantments that barred entry to my flat. Swirls of fog sweep beneath my feet. A sudden bout of vertigo seizes me.
“Cory, hurry.” Black’s hoarse voice calls to me over the howl of the wind. His calloused fingers wrap around my hand. Before I can register what has happened, his bracing arms pull me onto the roof.
I sink to my knees, glad to have more than air under my feet. Black stands over me, his tall, lean frame silhouetted against the incandescent glow of the city’s skyline. The corrugated rooftops of Diagon Alley stretch out around us. Little crooked chimney pots jut into the sky as far as the eye can see, spewing smoke into the thickening nighttime fog. Where can we go from here? It’s just a matter of time before that gang of ruffians figures out that we’re on the roof. We’ve got to get out of here. But how?
“What now?” I say to Black, hoping he has a plan that doesn’t involve feeding me to the wolf-man breaking into my flat below.
“I’ve got it covered,” he says. With the wind whipping dark hair about his face, he looks every bit the wild man in the wanted posters. He purses his lips and whistles.
Is he barking mad? Surely, the Death Eaters will hear his whistle. I pull my cloak more tightly around me, wishing I was wearing something more substantial than a little black robe underneath. I sidle away from the edge of the roof, listening for the commotion down below in my flat.
A whoosh of beating wings fills the air. What in Agrippa’s name is that? A large dark shadow covers the sky, blotting out light from the few stars that remain visible. An involuntary scream escapes my lips.
“Hush, love.” Black kneels at my side and clamps a hand over my mouth. “It’s only Buckbeak. Now bow.” He leans into me, forcing my head down with his shoulder.
Buckbeak? What’s a buckbeak? Then I see the clawed toes of an immense bird of prey before me and hear the snap of a beak the proportions of which I can only imagine. If I wasn’t already on my knees, they would have given way beneath me. I’m trembling like a mouse trapped under the talons of an owl.
“Good boy, Buckbeak.” Black rises from my side.
He’s abandoning me to that monster? I grab for his arm, but Black slips out of my reach. I look up. An enormous creature, half-eagle, half-horse, fixes me with a glowing orange gaze. A hippogriff. Black mounts the beast and extends his hand to me. That’s his escape plan? He’s off his bleeding rocker.
“You expect me to ride a hippogriff?” I back away from the fierce stare of the proud beast. “I can’t ride that.”
“Would you rather wait up here for them?” Black nods toward the alley.
I glance toward the edge of the roof. An angry howl rides upward on the wind. It won’t be long before the Death Eaters discover the fire escape too.
“Merlin’s beard, no.” My voice reduces to a squeak. My lips go dry. I shoot Black a pleading look. I don’t want to give him the wrong idea, but there’s nothing else for it. I pull open my cloak and flash him a glimpse of the form-fitting sheath underneath. The sexy little black robe. “Just how do you expect me to ride in this dress?”
“Not exactly dressed for an escape, are you?” His lip hitches up in a wry smirk.
“I was dressed for a dinner engagement, if you recall,” I say with my hands on my hips.
“That’s easily fixed.”
His wand is aimed at me before I can blink. A tearing sound rends the air. I feel a sudden chill run the length of my thigh. I glance down to see a slit torn in my dress from hem to hip. My mouth melts open.
“Just look what you’ve done to my dress?” I run my fingers over the fraying silk. “This was a genuine DuSult.”
“Well, now it’s practical.” The impertinent scalawag cocks a dark brow. “So are you coming or not?”
The hippogriff paws at the rooftop and ruffles his powerful wings. I stare up into Black’s face, looking for assurance in those bedroom eyes. Can I trust him? I must be daft to put my life in the hands of a wanted criminal. But I don’t want to contemplate the alternative. Visions of that horrid Death Eater flash though my mind. The remembrance of his ravenous leer sends waves of shivers down my spine that have nothing to do with the cold. I muster my courage and place my hand in Black’s.
“Come on then.” He jerks his head up. “Up you go.”
My jaw drops. I stare at the monstrous beast, all feathers and hide. There’s no saddle. No stirrup. How in the blue blazes does he expect me to mount this beast?
“Aren’t you going to help me up?” I say.
“Just put your foot on the wing joint there.” He points to where the hippogriff’s wing sprouts from his flank. “And hop on.”
I gather my skirt, conscious of Black’s gaze on my exposed leg, and plant the toe of a high-heeled slipper where directed. I attempt a hop with my other leg, but only manage to launch my body half as high as I need to be. I land back on the roof, right where I started.
“It’s no use.” I shrug and cast him an I-told-you-so look. “A true gentleman would give me a leg up.”
An exasperated sigh hisses from his lips as he dismounts the hippogriff. I catch a few very uncharitable mumblings. He’s no gentleman, this one.
“Put your foot there.” Black jabs his finger at the hippogriff’s wing joint. “Try again. This time put more life into it.”
“But…” The crazed glare in his grey eyes snuffs out my protest faster than a Killing Curse. Talking sense to a madman is useless.
I sigh, place my foot on the hippogriff’s wing, and grab hold of the creature’s back. Then two hands slap firmly against my buttocks and give me a shove. I let out a squeal of surprise. My body shoots upward and onto the back of the hippogriff. I land draped over the beast with my arse in the air in the most humiliating position imaginable.
Black’s great barking laugh cuts through the thickening mist. I swing my leg around the hippogriff’s backside and scramble to right myself. A grin as wide as the River Thames bridges his face. The nerve of that cheeky rogue! I straighten up and arrange my cloak in prim folds over my exposed leg. Black mounts the creature in front of me with the grace of a natural horseman. Doubly infuriating after my undignified ascent.
“Now hang on,” he says. He clucks his tongue at the hippogriff and digs his heels into its sides.
“To what?” I shout. There are no reigns. No pummel. No saddle.
“You’ll think of something,” he says with another burst of laughter.
The muscles of the beast’s haunches contract beneath me. His wings expand sending swirls of fog spinning in little eddies. My cloak billows around my body, filling with freezing night air. Then we launch into the sky with a force that jolts me backward. I gasp and grab for Black. My arms clasp around his chest and hang on for dear life. I keel forward until my forehead finds its resting place against Black’s back. Rumbles of laughter peel in his chest, the sound traveling to my ears through his flesh and bones. I feel his shaking mirth against my arms.
“You’re enjoying this far too much,” I say through teeth gritted and chattering.
“And you’re not enjoying it enough.”
I can only huff in response. Who does he think he is?
The hippogriff propels us through the night on great beating wings. With each jarring flap, we rock and teeter on the brink of disaster. I feel as though the beast will shake me from his back and send me tumbling to my death. I tighten my grip on Black and hear his sharp intake of breath.
“Easy there, love.” He takes my hand in his rough fingers and pries my grip loose. “A man’s got to breathe.”
“I’d gladly let go.” My own breath comes in fits and spurts. “If I weren’t so afraid of falling.”
A glimpse of the city far below appears through a break in the clouds. Automobile headlamps, mere pinpricks of light, mark a crisscrossing web of urban streets. And the Thames flows like a great black snake twisting a path through the city lights, waiting to devour us should we fall. I squeeze my eyes shut.
“How can you be so cavalier?” I say.
My voice quavers, but Black shows no fear. My fingertips feel his muscles through his clothes. No tension tightens his chest. With my ear pressed against his back, I can hear the slow steady slow rhythm of his breathing. How can he remain so calm?
“Can’t you feel it?” He lets go of the hippogriff with both hands, spreads his arms wide, and whoops with delight. “Freedom. There’s no more precious thing in this world.”
He’s a few twigs short of a full broomstick, he is. Right now, I’d settle for life and solid ground beneath my feet. What have I gotten myself into?