A Magical Sight (PG; Harry/Megan)
Title: A Magical Sight
Characters: Megan Jones, Harry Potter
Prompt: 3 - new every morning at 7spells
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1124
Author's Note: This is a group of 7 stories that are set at a fictional Quidditch Summer Camp. The pairing is for _ashestobeauty_.
Megan took a deep breath to calm her beating heart. It felt as if she had just run up a million stairs and back down again. Instead, she’d been forced to endure two minutes of intense goalkeeping.
“Ten,” Susan said under her breath as Megan limped to her seat. So she’d let ten Quaffles through the round holes. After lunch, she’d be forced to do it all over again, this time the clock set at five minutes. By the end of the week, she’d be expected to be able to work her goals for the five minutes without letting through any of the deadly balls that were zooming toward her. Somehow, she wasn’t sure she was ready for this. Until this moment, her practice had simply been keeping the goal during pick up games or practices. Once, she’d convinced Zach to have the team toss Quaffles at her after practice. Her pride had been so intense at her perfect score (off a bunch of tired players, no less) that he’d refused to ever do it again.
“Smile,” Susan hissed. “Here he comes.”
Sure enough, the dark-headed boy was coming toward her, glasses askew and his fringe of hair parted so the scar was noticeable to anyone who cared to look.
“Don’t leave,” but her friend was already disappearing into the circle of sable and gold that she didn’t dare permeate until she was ready for the friendly banter - and dark glances full of something close to censure now that she was blatantly talking to a Gryffindor.
“You looked good out there, Megan,” Harry said as he took Susan’s seat. “Better than…” but his voice faltered as if he was just realizing that he was about to talk bad about one of his own.
She nodded, helping him out by pretending he hadn’t started the sentence. “Thanks. I’m feeling good about my score.” Every word a lie, but he had the grace to let it go now that she’d proved as helpful. “Hopefully I can improve this afternoon.”
He cracked a smile. “Or just keep on your broom.”
Her own smiled blossomed, feeling real for the first time since she’d gotten here to camp. Yes, she’d be lucky to stay on her broom at this rate, that’s for sure. Already her thigh muscles were screaming in frustration at her audacity at working them so hard. There was no way she could do anything now. All the stretching in the world would never help this workout. She could either do it or she couldn’t. Very simple. Effective. Cruel.
“What does your morning tomorrow look like?”
Without Susan nearby to consult, Megan wasn’t sure what the schedule for tomorrow was. Surely there would be breakfast and then… more pain as the coaches struggled to make them better Quidditch players by the end of camp.
She could see in his eyes that he took her silence to mean she was working out a way to turn him down with that Hufflepuff tact that they were known for. “It’s okay if you don’t want to but there’s something I’d like to show you if you have the time.”
“Before breakfast?” she asked, still unsure what she was getting herself into.
His grin was back, almost beautiful in its gratification. “That will work.”
No amount of magic could help her aches and pains by the time she got back to the campsite that evening. She’d contemplated skipping dinner but her teammates were running high on suppressed adrenaline and they refused to let her leave the celebration they decided to have over the lukewarm meat and half frozen vegetables they called dinner. The approval she’d been longing for was evident on the captain’s face as the whole team told her how great she’d done. Of course, she didn’t dare think she’d get another chance to bask in it. Who knew what tomorrow might bring.
“I can barely move my arms,” Susan complained, her bat hanging secure from a strap around her wrist. Megan felt slightly better that she didn’t have to carry around the thick circular posts, the tools of her trade, the way the Beaters did during camp.
“My bruises have bruises,” Megan moaned.
They both found the strength to heat water and spend a blissful half hour each soaking before the brisk knock on the door of the tent and the tense, “Lights out, ladies,” alerted them to the time. So far, they were the only team with a strict curfew although Megan couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to stay up late tonight with the promise of what lay ahead of them tomorrow.
“You tell the Captain about your excursion tomorrow?”
Megan blushed as she pulled the jersey over her head. The thick gray and white jumper was faded and worn but lovingly tended to each wash day so that it held together for one more week. She’d never think of sleeping in anything else.
“I didn’t have time. Besides, he didn’t dictate what time we woke up. What’s the harm?”
Harry waited for her under the sturdy branches of the tree that marked the entrance into the campsites. She’d made sure that he didn’t think he could pick her up at her door for fear that one of the team might notice. Surely they were all still in bed, she consoled herself as she walked beside him to the edge of the main pitch, a center of great pride and fear. None of them had been allowed to set foot on the grass yet and wouldn’t until the games that marked the final days of camp.
“Look,” he whispered, touching her arm in a familiar gesture that she wasn’t all that sure she wanted him using just yet.
As the first rays of sunlight broke over the horizon, Megan forgot that he was touching her and stared in wonder as flashes of color jumped from somewhere deep within the wood and cloth. All the materials of the pitch were renewing themselves. In a few moments, the entire stadium looked as if it had only just been built.
“It renews itself every morning,” Harry informed her as if she hadn’t been beside him this whole time.
“That’s amazing.”
They stood in silence until the breakfast gong sounded. It had felt wrong to ruin this perfect moment with words that would simply be out of place among this wonder.
“Thank you,” she told him as she shook herself awake. His hand slipped off her arm. “I don’t think I would have ever seen this if you hadn’t invited me along this morning.”
“You’re welcome.”
Somehow, she felt new this morning, as well. By mid afternoon, she’d be aching again, but she’d been renewed a bit by the magic of this place.
Characters: Megan Jones, Harry Potter
Prompt: 3 - new every morning at 7spells
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1124
Author's Note: This is a group of 7 stories that are set at a fictional Quidditch Summer Camp. The pairing is for _ashestobeauty_.
Megan took a deep breath to calm her beating heart. It felt as if she had just run up a million stairs and back down again. Instead, she’d been forced to endure two minutes of intense goalkeeping.
“Ten,” Susan said under her breath as Megan limped to her seat. So she’d let ten Quaffles through the round holes. After lunch, she’d be forced to do it all over again, this time the clock set at five minutes. By the end of the week, she’d be expected to be able to work her goals for the five minutes without letting through any of the deadly balls that were zooming toward her. Somehow, she wasn’t sure she was ready for this. Until this moment, her practice had simply been keeping the goal during pick up games or practices. Once, she’d convinced Zach to have the team toss Quaffles at her after practice. Her pride had been so intense at her perfect score (off a bunch of tired players, no less) that he’d refused to ever do it again.
“Smile,” Susan hissed. “Here he comes.”
Sure enough, the dark-headed boy was coming toward her, glasses askew and his fringe of hair parted so the scar was noticeable to anyone who cared to look.
“Don’t leave,” but her friend was already disappearing into the circle of sable and gold that she didn’t dare permeate until she was ready for the friendly banter - and dark glances full of something close to censure now that she was blatantly talking to a Gryffindor.
“You looked good out there, Megan,” Harry said as he took Susan’s seat. “Better than…” but his voice faltered as if he was just realizing that he was about to talk bad about one of his own.
She nodded, helping him out by pretending he hadn’t started the sentence. “Thanks. I’m feeling good about my score.” Every word a lie, but he had the grace to let it go now that she’d proved as helpful. “Hopefully I can improve this afternoon.”
He cracked a smile. “Or just keep on your broom.”
Her own smiled blossomed, feeling real for the first time since she’d gotten here to camp. Yes, she’d be lucky to stay on her broom at this rate, that’s for sure. Already her thigh muscles were screaming in frustration at her audacity at working them so hard. There was no way she could do anything now. All the stretching in the world would never help this workout. She could either do it or she couldn’t. Very simple. Effective. Cruel.
“What does your morning tomorrow look like?”
Without Susan nearby to consult, Megan wasn’t sure what the schedule for tomorrow was. Surely there would be breakfast and then… more pain as the coaches struggled to make them better Quidditch players by the end of camp.
She could see in his eyes that he took her silence to mean she was working out a way to turn him down with that Hufflepuff tact that they were known for. “It’s okay if you don’t want to but there’s something I’d like to show you if you have the time.”
“Before breakfast?” she asked, still unsure what she was getting herself into.
His grin was back, almost beautiful in its gratification. “That will work.”
No amount of magic could help her aches and pains by the time she got back to the campsite that evening. She’d contemplated skipping dinner but her teammates were running high on suppressed adrenaline and they refused to let her leave the celebration they decided to have over the lukewarm meat and half frozen vegetables they called dinner. The approval she’d been longing for was evident on the captain’s face as the whole team told her how great she’d done. Of course, she didn’t dare think she’d get another chance to bask in it. Who knew what tomorrow might bring.
“I can barely move my arms,” Susan complained, her bat hanging secure from a strap around her wrist. Megan felt slightly better that she didn’t have to carry around the thick circular posts, the tools of her trade, the way the Beaters did during camp.
“My bruises have bruises,” Megan moaned.
They both found the strength to heat water and spend a blissful half hour each soaking before the brisk knock on the door of the tent and the tense, “Lights out, ladies,” alerted them to the time. So far, they were the only team with a strict curfew although Megan couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to stay up late tonight with the promise of what lay ahead of them tomorrow.
“You tell the Captain about your excursion tomorrow?”
Megan blushed as she pulled the jersey over her head. The thick gray and white jumper was faded and worn but lovingly tended to each wash day so that it held together for one more week. She’d never think of sleeping in anything else.
“I didn’t have time. Besides, he didn’t dictate what time we woke up. What’s the harm?”
Harry waited for her under the sturdy branches of the tree that marked the entrance into the campsites. She’d made sure that he didn’t think he could pick her up at her door for fear that one of the team might notice. Surely they were all still in bed, she consoled herself as she walked beside him to the edge of the main pitch, a center of great pride and fear. None of them had been allowed to set foot on the grass yet and wouldn’t until the games that marked the final days of camp.
“Look,” he whispered, touching her arm in a familiar gesture that she wasn’t all that sure she wanted him using just yet.
As the first rays of sunlight broke over the horizon, Megan forgot that he was touching her and stared in wonder as flashes of color jumped from somewhere deep within the wood and cloth. All the materials of the pitch were renewing themselves. In a few moments, the entire stadium looked as if it had only just been built.
“It renews itself every morning,” Harry informed her as if she hadn’t been beside him this whole time.
“That’s amazing.”
They stood in silence until the breakfast gong sounded. It had felt wrong to ruin this perfect moment with words that would simply be out of place among this wonder.
“Thank you,” she told him as she shook herself awake. His hand slipped off her arm. “I don’t think I would have ever seen this if you hadn’t invited me along this morning.”
“You’re welcome.”
Somehow, she felt new this morning, as well. By mid afternoon, she’d be aching again, but she’d been renewed a bit by the magic of this place.