(no subject)
Date: Thursday, March 22, 2001
Time: Afternoonish
Location: Droobles Arena, London
Characters Involved: Peregrin Derrick, Pansy Parkinson only
Rating: PG-13
All in all, Perry felt he was having a good day. The tournament had gone very well for the Bloody Barons; he wasn't sure of the numbers, but he did know that today's win put them in good standing compared to where they were at the beginning of the season. Their captain hadn't yelled at him once, which was common enough for him to have started expecting it. After the matches were over and they were heading to the locker rooms, his teammates were jovial and no longer looked at him as if they expected to be bitten at any moment.
And even better was that, at the end, it was his opponent who was being carted off by the healers, and not him.
Oh, that had been a pretty ugly scene, but not his fault in the least. It was duelling after all, and he'd defended himself just as he should have. It wasn't the first time a player had had to be carried off the mat this season. There was that bird Fellington from the Puddlemere Plimpies who'd gotten a nasty hex right to the face. Blood everywhere, she was in St. Mungo's a full two weeks afterward-Perry hadn't been at the match, but the incident was splattered (no pun intended) all over the Prophet's sports section for a month.
But that's why spectators came to the matches, really. It was all part of the thrill. No, they were only alarmed because they'd expecting that brute Harrison to win, not him. Perry was the new kid, after all, and his first few matches hadn't been too impressive. His losses had been expected, and his wins not very thrilling. He was just now starting to find his stride.
Harrison, however, had much more experience and speed-and a trademark for using pretty nasty spells. Perry was certain to lose, it just wasn't a fair match-up and he hadn't quite managed to dodge those last two blows. The crowd was so keenly waiting for the rookie's demise that, when they realized Harrison was on his back and not moving, no one could agree how it happened. Except for the referees; unfortunately, not everyone liked their decision. This caused quite a bit of a delay as the healers rushed to check Harrison for vital signs, and one of the Aurors had come monitor the situation. A few officials came down and the crowd murmured, there was talk of foul play (hadn't it been Harrison's move when Perry threw that hex?) and how only a werewolf could be standing after that last spell; the same old talk that made Perry roll his eyes. He really didn't care about his popularity, anymore. He still won the match, and that was enough for him.
But later when the team was leaving the arena, he was surprised to catch a bit of praise here and there from the departing spectators. About how that Derrick bloke holds his wand just like Alfredo Maranto, a duelling legend if ever there was one; and werewolf or no, only a natural athlete can move like that; and that dark-haired ogre's finally figuring out how to duel, if he survives the season he might even become good. So, maybe a little praise was nice every now and then.
All in all, he was glad for the day to be over and done with. He'd forgotten just how tense he was before the matches started. As if it wasn't enough to know that his best friend-and employer-was in the private box to watch him take a beating, today Pansy was up there as well. He was quite anxious to go find her and head home, but it was more than an hour before the healers and reporters were done with them. Today the questions were especially invasive, not just about the last match, but apparently one of the Prophet's muckrakers had noticed Pansy with the owners. They followed him all the way to the box, shouting questions and flashing cameras. But Perry was formidable enough that they were compelled to move back as he escorted Pansy out. He (somewhat cruelly) left the majority to hound the owners, and glared daggers over his shoulder at the rest. Eventually the little wave ebbed, and he and Pansy were alone.
"So, did you have fun with Montague?" he said, then glanced down at her with a raised brow. "He didn't do anything, did he?"
Time: Afternoonish
Location: Droobles Arena, London
Characters Involved: Peregrin Derrick, Pansy Parkinson only
Rating: PG-13
All in all, Perry felt he was having a good day. The tournament had gone very well for the Bloody Barons; he wasn't sure of the numbers, but he did know that today's win put them in good standing compared to where they were at the beginning of the season. Their captain hadn't yelled at him once, which was common enough for him to have started expecting it. After the matches were over and they were heading to the locker rooms, his teammates were jovial and no longer looked at him as if they expected to be bitten at any moment.
And even better was that, at the end, it was his opponent who was being carted off by the healers, and not him.
Oh, that had been a pretty ugly scene, but not his fault in the least. It was duelling after all, and he'd defended himself just as he should have. It wasn't the first time a player had had to be carried off the mat this season. There was that bird Fellington from the Puddlemere Plimpies who'd gotten a nasty hex right to the face. Blood everywhere, she was in St. Mungo's a full two weeks afterward-Perry hadn't been at the match, but the incident was splattered (no pun intended) all over the Prophet's sports section for a month.
But that's why spectators came to the matches, really. It was all part of the thrill. No, they were only alarmed because they'd expecting that brute Harrison to win, not him. Perry was the new kid, after all, and his first few matches hadn't been too impressive. His losses had been expected, and his wins not very thrilling. He was just now starting to find his stride.
Harrison, however, had much more experience and speed-and a trademark for using pretty nasty spells. Perry was certain to lose, it just wasn't a fair match-up and he hadn't quite managed to dodge those last two blows. The crowd was so keenly waiting for the rookie's demise that, when they realized Harrison was on his back and not moving, no one could agree how it happened. Except for the referees; unfortunately, not everyone liked their decision. This caused quite a bit of a delay as the healers rushed to check Harrison for vital signs, and one of the Aurors had come monitor the situation. A few officials came down and the crowd murmured, there was talk of foul play (hadn't it been Harrison's move when Perry threw that hex?) and how only a werewolf could be standing after that last spell; the same old talk that made Perry roll his eyes. He really didn't care about his popularity, anymore. He still won the match, and that was enough for him.
But later when the team was leaving the arena, he was surprised to catch a bit of praise here and there from the departing spectators. About how that Derrick bloke holds his wand just like Alfredo Maranto, a duelling legend if ever there was one; and werewolf or no, only a natural athlete can move like that; and that dark-haired ogre's finally figuring out how to duel, if he survives the season he might even become good. So, maybe a little praise was nice every now and then.
All in all, he was glad for the day to be over and done with. He'd forgotten just how tense he was before the matches started. As if it wasn't enough to know that his best friend-and employer-was in the private box to watch him take a beating, today Pansy was up there as well. He was quite anxious to go find her and head home, but it was more than an hour before the healers and reporters were done with them. Today the questions were especially invasive, not just about the last match, but apparently one of the Prophet's muckrakers had noticed Pansy with the owners. They followed him all the way to the box, shouting questions and flashing cameras. But Perry was formidable enough that they were compelled to move back as he escorted Pansy out. He (somewhat cruelly) left the majority to hound the owners, and glared daggers over his shoulder at the rest. Eventually the little wave ebbed, and he and Pansy were alone.
"So, did you have fun with Montague?" he said, then glanced down at her with a raised brow. "He didn't do anything, did he?"