Truth Will Out
Title: Truth Will Out
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Liam Connolly (OC, courtesy of aiseiri_47), Karolina Hållinder (OC), references to Henrik Hållinder (OC)
Rating: PG
Word Count: 671
Author's Note: Written in response to the SPEW January Drabble Challenge, and the prompt 'dangerous secrets in history'.
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A piercing sun loomed over the Salisbury plains and beneath it, shadows were but little black puddles around the feet of men and hooves of horses. The weather was not ideal for flying; it would be too hot to reach full speed, too bright to focus. But after four years of the annual race almost being washed away by rainstorms, no one dared to complain.
She was leaning against the railing of the stands, taking in the busy scene of contestants getting ready and spectators enjoying themselves. She found it hard not to fidget and pace in her restlessness, and over and over again she wished that she was not here, not in this ridiculous green dress, but down by the stables helping her son prepare for his first ever race. But he, Henrik, had been most determined to do it on his own.
It was years since she had given up on competitive flying herself, but she still missed it. There were few things as satisfying as the thrill of a good race, nothing like pushing yourself and your horse beyond your limits; there was nothing like winning. For a moment she found herself wishing that she was down there, by the stables with a horse, heart beating with anticipation.
But her racing days were over. The pleasure of the game was simply not worth the risks of being out and about in this particular society. Repeatedly, she had insisted to herself that it was not for her sake that she had given up on this, but for her son’s. Of course, when doing so, she had not foreseen that he would turn into such a spectacular little horseman himself.
She looked up as a Sonorus-boosted voice echoed over the area, announcing the junior class for riders aged seven to twelve. Leaning over the railing, she tried to catch a glimpse of Henrik and his horse, the magnificent Solifer. Caught by the excitement, she grinned to herself. Really, she could barely recall why she had stayed away so long.
The reminder, however, reached her only a second later.
“To think that I should find you here.”
She spun around to face the man with the mischievous voice, and for a fraction of time her mind lost its grasp on everything. There was no race course, no Henrik or horses, no present or history. Nothing existed at all, save for the man before her, and her own trembling limbs.
He broke her paralysis with a laugh.
“All these years, and all I get is a stare? I think I’m entitled to a hug, at least.”
She had no time to protest, and no valid reason either. All she could do was try her best not to enjoy the feeling of his arms around her, or the scent of his red, curly hair. To no avail, of course.
“So, what brings you here today? I heard you gave up on racing.”
“I did.” She swallowed, trying to compose herself. “I’m just here to watch the juniors’ race.”
“Oh? You know any of the competitors?”
She was about to reply, but the blast marking the start of the race cut her off. There were eleven horses and riders, all of them setting off from the ground in a blur of dust and feathers. She didn’t need her Omnioculars to tell which one was Henrik. It was not how his red hair glowed, or how he sped to the head of the race without hesitation. No, she had only to watch the way he handled the horse, how his little figure seemed to be a part of the animal, seemed to be born for a saddle. On the ground it was not so obvious, she knew, but in the air Henrik was a miniature replica of his father.
He won. But when she turned back to the man next to her, it was not joy that caused her heart to hammer so wildly.
His gaze was fixed on her, full of shock and disbelief.
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