First Flight (scarvesnhats Day 05)
Title: First Flight
Rating: Gen/PG
Disclaimer: Not mine. I believe in happy endings.
Wordcount: 1101
Prompt: Autumn, the year's last, loveliest smile.
-- William Cullen Bryant
Notes: Sixth year. Pre-slash. Hints of R/S and L/J. Transfigurations class. Not as autumnal as I wanted it to be.
1 2 3 4 5
…like the leaves of autumn, dropping from the trees, James thought, gazing at the sunlight glowing in Lily’s hair. After a moment, he thought again. That sounded like he thought her hair was falling out. Like the firelight shining-
“Mr Potter!”
He jumped, almost knocking his ostrich feather onto the floor. “Yes, Professor McGonagall?”
“Have you finished transfiguring your egg?”
He waved his feather at her to prove it and she nodded and snapped, “In that case please refrain from daydreaming and assist one of your classmates.”
James sighed and looked around, pushing aside thoughts of Lily’s hair. Wasn’t much point thinking about that sort of thing, anyway. He and Lily were friends now and Remus had told him quite firmly that the quickest way to lose that friendship was to start flirting again. Sirius, to his disappointment, had agreed. Then again, those two agreed on far too much these days. What was the world coming to?
Lily had a feather, although it was flaked with shell. Remus seemed to be coping, despite being weaker at Transfigurations than the rest of them and not having had the practice they had at non-verbal spells. Peter had produced a quill, fully nibbed and inked. He was turning it round in his hands thoughtfully.
“Need a hand?” asked James.
Peter shook his head. “I know what I’ve done. I overemphasised the temporal spiral.”
“Okay,” James said brightly. He hated theory.
“I just need to work out if I can get it back to a feather without it regressing completely.”
“You’ll need to allow for the Moebius effect, Mr Pettigrew,” Professor McGonagall said and stalked to the front of the room. “Quills out, everyone. Mr Pettigrew has raised an interesting theoretical question.”
James groaned inwardly and settled back into his chair. He glanced across at Sirius for sympathy and winced.
His friend was sitting quietly behind his desk, looking meditative. Before him lay an egg and a sealed letter.
“Mr Black, you are supposed to be taking notes.”
Sirius’ brows knit a little but he did not move.
“Wake up, Padfoot,” James hissed and tore the end off his own scroll. He shoved it in front of Sirius and jabbed a quill under his nose. Sirius batted him away irritably.
Professor McGonagall was approaching. James winced and looked helplessly at the others. Peter grabbed his wand and pointed at Sirius’ egg but James shook his head frantically. She was too close.
Remus was staring at Sirius, his brow creased with worry. It was a familiar look and James suddenly wondered when he had started fretting all the time.
“Mr Black?” McGonagall said, sounding surprised. “Is there something wrong with your egg?”
“No,” Sirius said.
“Then why is it still an egg?”
“I like eggs,” said Sirius pensively. “I don’t think I would like to be a feather, if I was an egg.”
James flinched and waited for the explosion. It didn’t come and he glanced up to see Professor McGonagall studying Sirius, a faint frown on her face. Then she said, “Are you feeling unwell, Mr Black?”
“Never better,” Sirius said morosely.
“It’s a little early in the year,” she murmured, “but not impossible. Are you harbouring any feelings of unusual ardour towards anyone?”
“No!” said Sirius, jumping.
“Not a love potion, then.”
“It probably wouldn’t work on him,” Lily said seriously. “He’s got a particularly high tolerance for most potions.”
James beamed at her proudly for a moment before he thought to wonder just how she’d learnt that.
Most of the class had downed their quills in anticipation. James, who knew they must be expecting a prank, suddenly wondered uneasily if the others had planned something without him. He didn’t think they would have but he glanced at them quickly. Remus looked worried. Peter was twitching his nose, which meant he was puzzled.
“Nobody’s hexed him,” Remus added. “Not unless they did it when we were asleep. I’ve been watching him.”
“Were you expecting someone to attack him, Mr Lupin?”
“No, professor.”
“Then why were you watching him?”
James saw Remus’ eyes wide in dismay and then he said earnestly, “You told me to, professor. Last year. You said to keep an eye on Sirius and make sure nobody got hexed.”
Sirius grinned, very faintly. Professor McGonagall’s eyes narrowed. “Are you trying to be clever in my class, Mr Lupin?”
“Shouldn’t I be, professor?” Remus asked and Sirius smirked.
“Mr Lupin, your prefect’s badge does not make you immune…”
Sirius picked his wand up and nudged his egg into the centre of the desk. Then, he made a quick, silent gesture.
The egg sprouted pink wings and took off, clucking madly. It zigged across the room, narrowly missing Lily’s head. While the girls shrieked and Peter collapsed with laughter, Sirius pointed his wand at the table again and turned his letter into a Snitch. He then grabbed for James’ quill but James beat him to it.
“Cut it out.”
Sirius sighed and said, “Spoilsport.”
The Snitch pursued the egg across the classroom, buzzing with what James sincerely hoped was not amorous delight. The egg, panicked into speed, headed straight towards the wall.
Professor McGonagall turned and lunged forward gracefully to pluck the egg from the air, bringing her hand down in time to let the Snitch crash past into the cold stone. It squeaked and slid down to the floor, wings twitching.
“Nice catch,” Lily said and James applauded.
“Thank you, Miss Evans. I was considered an adequate seeker in my day. Now, Mr Black.”
Sirius put his wand down and looked at her, wide-eyed and innocent.
“I commend you on an elegant piece of transfiguration. Consider yourself fortunate that it was sufficiently impressive to cancel out the number of points you could have lost. Be warned, though. You will all come of age this year and I expect you to begin behaving like adults in my classes.”
They settled down to copying her diagrams off the board. Sirius wrote quickly, in neat, copperplate writing, and then stole James’ feather. He busied himself with turning it orange. Peter asked a question. Remus scribbled, darting quick, unhappy glances at Sirius. James, who intended to steal Sirius’ notes if he ever needed them, copied the first few sentences and went back to staring at Lily.
She glanced at him, looking a little worried, and he shrugged and rolled his eyes. She sighed and smiled at him quickly before leaning over her work.
Her smile is like the autumn sun, James thought happily. Golden and far too brief. Does that sound like I think her teeth are yellow?
Rating: Gen/PG
Disclaimer: Not mine. I believe in happy endings.
Wordcount: 1101
Prompt: Autumn, the year's last, loveliest smile.
-- William Cullen Bryant
Notes: Sixth year. Pre-slash. Hints of R/S and L/J. Transfigurations class. Not as autumnal as I wanted it to be.
1 2 3 4 5
…like the leaves of autumn, dropping from the trees, James thought, gazing at the sunlight glowing in Lily’s hair. After a moment, he thought again. That sounded like he thought her hair was falling out. Like the firelight shining-
“Mr Potter!”
He jumped, almost knocking his ostrich feather onto the floor. “Yes, Professor McGonagall?”
“Have you finished transfiguring your egg?”
He waved his feather at her to prove it and she nodded and snapped, “In that case please refrain from daydreaming and assist one of your classmates.”
James sighed and looked around, pushing aside thoughts of Lily’s hair. Wasn’t much point thinking about that sort of thing, anyway. He and Lily were friends now and Remus had told him quite firmly that the quickest way to lose that friendship was to start flirting again. Sirius, to his disappointment, had agreed. Then again, those two agreed on far too much these days. What was the world coming to?
Lily had a feather, although it was flaked with shell. Remus seemed to be coping, despite being weaker at Transfigurations than the rest of them and not having had the practice they had at non-verbal spells. Peter had produced a quill, fully nibbed and inked. He was turning it round in his hands thoughtfully.
“Need a hand?” asked James.
Peter shook his head. “I know what I’ve done. I overemphasised the temporal spiral.”
“Okay,” James said brightly. He hated theory.
“I just need to work out if I can get it back to a feather without it regressing completely.”
“You’ll need to allow for the Moebius effect, Mr Pettigrew,” Professor McGonagall said and stalked to the front of the room. “Quills out, everyone. Mr Pettigrew has raised an interesting theoretical question.”
James groaned inwardly and settled back into his chair. He glanced across at Sirius for sympathy and winced.
His friend was sitting quietly behind his desk, looking meditative. Before him lay an egg and a sealed letter.
“Mr Black, you are supposed to be taking notes.”
Sirius’ brows knit a little but he did not move.
“Wake up, Padfoot,” James hissed and tore the end off his own scroll. He shoved it in front of Sirius and jabbed a quill under his nose. Sirius batted him away irritably.
Professor McGonagall was approaching. James winced and looked helplessly at the others. Peter grabbed his wand and pointed at Sirius’ egg but James shook his head frantically. She was too close.
Remus was staring at Sirius, his brow creased with worry. It was a familiar look and James suddenly wondered when he had started fretting all the time.
“Mr Black?” McGonagall said, sounding surprised. “Is there something wrong with your egg?”
“No,” Sirius said.
“Then why is it still an egg?”
“I like eggs,” said Sirius pensively. “I don’t think I would like to be a feather, if I was an egg.”
James flinched and waited for the explosion. It didn’t come and he glanced up to see Professor McGonagall studying Sirius, a faint frown on her face. Then she said, “Are you feeling unwell, Mr Black?”
“Never better,” Sirius said morosely.
“It’s a little early in the year,” she murmured, “but not impossible. Are you harbouring any feelings of unusual ardour towards anyone?”
“No!” said Sirius, jumping.
“Not a love potion, then.”
“It probably wouldn’t work on him,” Lily said seriously. “He’s got a particularly high tolerance for most potions.”
James beamed at her proudly for a moment before he thought to wonder just how she’d learnt that.
Most of the class had downed their quills in anticipation. James, who knew they must be expecting a prank, suddenly wondered uneasily if the others had planned something without him. He didn’t think they would have but he glanced at them quickly. Remus looked worried. Peter was twitching his nose, which meant he was puzzled.
“Nobody’s hexed him,” Remus added. “Not unless they did it when we were asleep. I’ve been watching him.”
“Were you expecting someone to attack him, Mr Lupin?”
“No, professor.”
“Then why were you watching him?”
James saw Remus’ eyes wide in dismay and then he said earnestly, “You told me to, professor. Last year. You said to keep an eye on Sirius and make sure nobody got hexed.”
Sirius grinned, very faintly. Professor McGonagall’s eyes narrowed. “Are you trying to be clever in my class, Mr Lupin?”
“Shouldn’t I be, professor?” Remus asked and Sirius smirked.
“Mr Lupin, your prefect’s badge does not make you immune…”
Sirius picked his wand up and nudged his egg into the centre of the desk. Then, he made a quick, silent gesture.
The egg sprouted pink wings and took off, clucking madly. It zigged across the room, narrowly missing Lily’s head. While the girls shrieked and Peter collapsed with laughter, Sirius pointed his wand at the table again and turned his letter into a Snitch. He then grabbed for James’ quill but James beat him to it.
“Cut it out.”
Sirius sighed and said, “Spoilsport.”
The Snitch pursued the egg across the classroom, buzzing with what James sincerely hoped was not amorous delight. The egg, panicked into speed, headed straight towards the wall.
Professor McGonagall turned and lunged forward gracefully to pluck the egg from the air, bringing her hand down in time to let the Snitch crash past into the cold stone. It squeaked and slid down to the floor, wings twitching.
“Nice catch,” Lily said and James applauded.
“Thank you, Miss Evans. I was considered an adequate seeker in my day. Now, Mr Black.”
Sirius put his wand down and looked at her, wide-eyed and innocent.
“I commend you on an elegant piece of transfiguration. Consider yourself fortunate that it was sufficiently impressive to cancel out the number of points you could have lost. Be warned, though. You will all come of age this year and I expect you to begin behaving like adults in my classes.”
They settled down to copying her diagrams off the board. Sirius wrote quickly, in neat, copperplate writing, and then stole James’ feather. He busied himself with turning it orange. Peter asked a question. Remus scribbled, darting quick, unhappy glances at Sirius. James, who intended to steal Sirius’ notes if he ever needed them, copied the first few sentences and went back to staring at Lily.
She glanced at him, looking a little worried, and he shrugged and rolled his eyes. She sighed and smiled at him quickly before leaning over her work.
Her smile is like the autumn sun, James thought happily. Golden and far too brief. Does that sound like I think her teeth are yellow?