Almost Like a Dance
Title: Almost Like a Dance
Characters: Rufus Scrimgeour, Alastor Moody, John Dawlish
Prompt: 1. Razor Sharp
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1094
Summary: Rufus' point of view during a fight with the Death Eaters.
Author's Note: I feel terrible for having taken so long to get this written but I've finally gotten through my first auror fic for the quill_it community. It's not quite my usual style but I think I like it anyway.
A sharp crack cuts through the silence as the first curse is fired. The air is stiffling, partially from the humid summer weather but mostly from the magical energy that has permeated the air with something like electricity that prickles the skin and makes hairs stand up on the back of necks. Rufus can feel his heart beat quicken as he casts a hex and then ducks behind a tree. They're outnumbered at least two to one. Back up would have been appreciated but at the same time he likes the idea of them getting all the glory should they succeed. He doesn't consider the fact that they could lose.
A jolt of green light wizzes past just over his shoulder. His breath hitches and he swallows hard before leaping forward into the growing chaos. In the whirlwind of the battle Scrimgeour almost feels as though he's having an out of body experience. His movements and attacks are purely out of instinct, which some might think is dangerous but has thus far served him well. Step. Swish. Curse. Shield. Dodge. Step. Flick. Hex. It almost feels like a dance. He is aware of his fellow aurors around him. Shield. Alastor Moody is leading the charge. Step. He is flanked on the other side by a newer recruit, John Dawlish (whom Scrimgeour thinks we'll be a good asset with a bit more experience) and two older veterans. Swish. Of course, he himself has only been out of training for two years, which makes him a rookie in the veteran's eyes but it already feels like a lifetime ago to him. Curse.
A brief predatory smirk twists across his lips when the spell connects with its target, blasting a masked death eater back into one of the other trees lining the street and rendering him unconscious. Rufus has been described as somewhat lion like in appearance. The resemblence is all the more obvious in the heat of battle. His movements are precise and graceful but backed with a primal energy that makes him dangerous.
There is a shout as another death eater is hit with a curse and for a brief moment his attention snaps over to the assess the damage. He has moved out of sync and forgets for just a second to long about shielding himself. A sharp hiss escapes from his lips that quickly turns into an animalistic growl when he feels several thin gashes cut through the thick fabric of his robes and through to his skin. Retreat. It is no deeper than if he'd nicked himself with a razor while shaving. Hex. Hex. He did, actually, two days ago when he'd last had the time. Curse. His skin is coarse with stubble that only adds to the effect of him seeming to have a lion's mane. Shield.
The injury is not serious but it is a blow to his pride, which is almost worse. He dodges another curse and crouches down by a hedge as though ready to pounce on his prey. His skin prickles again and he hopes that it is sweat and not blood that is slowly sliding down his abdomen. He does not look down to check. Leap. Swish. Curse. Flick. Hex.
"Rufus!" Alastor's voice is stern and gravelly as he shouts to him. He does not need to add an actual warning for Rufus not to let his emotions get the best of him and make him wreckless. Dodge. Curse. The chiding is clear enough from his tone and though it makes him all the angrier, Scrimgeour restrains himself. Step. Turn. Rufus flattens himself against a brick alley wall and pauses. Deep breath. Watch. They have taken out at least one of the Death Eaters. Alastor and the others seem relatively unscathed. They can win. They will.
Tackle. Rufus pushes John to the ground in an instant, flattening himself over the other man briefly as a green light whirls past and collides with a tree instead of it's target. Shield. Dawlish grunts out a quick thanks as Rufus crouches for a moment before jumping to his feet and haulling the other man up as well. Hex. He nods curtly and makes a mental note to talk to the other man about being more alert. Step. He needs to sharpen his senses. The margin for error is razor thin and could easily kill any one of them.
"You're bleeding," John calls out before reentering the battle with renewed vigour. Shield. Rufus spares him a quick glance and notices the other man's robes are now stained with the dark substance from when he'd tackled him. Perhaps those cuts were deeper than he thought. Curse. Curse. He thinks it is not serious enough to take him out of the battle just yet. Shield. He staggers back when a heavy blasting curse nearly shatters his shield. A primal growl is ripped from his throat as he fires back a stronger blasting curse, putting all his energy into it. The Death Eater cries out as it breaks his shield and sends him flying back.
"Look out!" John shouts to him just a moment too late. A bolt of light hits him and he falls to his knees in pain. It feels as though his entire body is on fire and being torn apart as he's wracked with the razor sharp pain of the cruciatus curse. "Stupefy!" John fires off what was probably the first curse to come to mind in an attempt to distract Rufus' attacker. Rufus gasps for breath as soon as the curse is lifted. [i]Leap.[/i] He is back on his feet in an instant even though his body is still shaking from the shock. [i]Curse.[/i] He throws himself back into the battle. He misses his mark but presses forward regardless. He will not be defeated. He's feeling a little light-headed but it's nothing to be concerned about at the moment.
The Death Eaters are starting to realize that even with their greater numbers, they are losing quickly. They begin to flee. Rufus races forward in an attempt to stop them but they apparate too quickly. Only one of the ones they'd knocked on conscious is captured. "Rufus!" Alastor calls again, warning him with just the single word to stop his pursuit. He is furious but heeds the command from his leader. They won at least. It is a step in the right direction. Tomorrow they will be better. Maybe the enemy will too but he will be ready for the challenge. He will destroy them.
Characters: Rufus Scrimgeour, Alastor Moody, John Dawlish
Prompt: 1. Razor Sharp
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1094
Summary: Rufus' point of view during a fight with the Death Eaters.
Author's Note: I feel terrible for having taken so long to get this written but I've finally gotten through my first auror fic for the quill_it community. It's not quite my usual style but I think I like it anyway.
A sharp crack cuts through the silence as the first curse is fired. The air is stiffling, partially from the humid summer weather but mostly from the magical energy that has permeated the air with something like electricity that prickles the skin and makes hairs stand up on the back of necks. Rufus can feel his heart beat quicken as he casts a hex and then ducks behind a tree. They're outnumbered at least two to one. Back up would have been appreciated but at the same time he likes the idea of them getting all the glory should they succeed. He doesn't consider the fact that they could lose.
A jolt of green light wizzes past just over his shoulder. His breath hitches and he swallows hard before leaping forward into the growing chaos. In the whirlwind of the battle Scrimgeour almost feels as though he's having an out of body experience. His movements and attacks are purely out of instinct, which some might think is dangerous but has thus far served him well. Step. Swish. Curse. Shield. Dodge. Step. Flick. Hex. It almost feels like a dance. He is aware of his fellow aurors around him. Shield. Alastor Moody is leading the charge. Step. He is flanked on the other side by a newer recruit, John Dawlish (whom Scrimgeour thinks we'll be a good asset with a bit more experience) and two older veterans. Swish. Of course, he himself has only been out of training for two years, which makes him a rookie in the veteran's eyes but it already feels like a lifetime ago to him. Curse.
A brief predatory smirk twists across his lips when the spell connects with its target, blasting a masked death eater back into one of the other trees lining the street and rendering him unconscious. Rufus has been described as somewhat lion like in appearance. The resemblence is all the more obvious in the heat of battle. His movements are precise and graceful but backed with a primal energy that makes him dangerous.
There is a shout as another death eater is hit with a curse and for a brief moment his attention snaps over to the assess the damage. He has moved out of sync and forgets for just a second to long about shielding himself. A sharp hiss escapes from his lips that quickly turns into an animalistic growl when he feels several thin gashes cut through the thick fabric of his robes and through to his skin. Retreat. It is no deeper than if he'd nicked himself with a razor while shaving. Hex. Hex. He did, actually, two days ago when he'd last had the time. Curse. His skin is coarse with stubble that only adds to the effect of him seeming to have a lion's mane. Shield.
The injury is not serious but it is a blow to his pride, which is almost worse. He dodges another curse and crouches down by a hedge as though ready to pounce on his prey. His skin prickles again and he hopes that it is sweat and not blood that is slowly sliding down his abdomen. He does not look down to check. Leap. Swish. Curse. Flick. Hex.
"Rufus!" Alastor's voice is stern and gravelly as he shouts to him. He does not need to add an actual warning for Rufus not to let his emotions get the best of him and make him wreckless. Dodge. Curse. The chiding is clear enough from his tone and though it makes him all the angrier, Scrimgeour restrains himself. Step. Turn. Rufus flattens himself against a brick alley wall and pauses. Deep breath. Watch. They have taken out at least one of the Death Eaters. Alastor and the others seem relatively unscathed. They can win. They will.
Tackle. Rufus pushes John to the ground in an instant, flattening himself over the other man briefly as a green light whirls past and collides with a tree instead of it's target. Shield. Dawlish grunts out a quick thanks as Rufus crouches for a moment before jumping to his feet and haulling the other man up as well. Hex. He nods curtly and makes a mental note to talk to the other man about being more alert. Step. He needs to sharpen his senses. The margin for error is razor thin and could easily kill any one of them.
"You're bleeding," John calls out before reentering the battle with renewed vigour. Shield. Rufus spares him a quick glance and notices the other man's robes are now stained with the dark substance from when he'd tackled him. Perhaps those cuts were deeper than he thought. Curse. Curse. He thinks it is not serious enough to take him out of the battle just yet. Shield. He staggers back when a heavy blasting curse nearly shatters his shield. A primal growl is ripped from his throat as he fires back a stronger blasting curse, putting all his energy into it. The Death Eater cries out as it breaks his shield and sends him flying back.
"Look out!" John shouts to him just a moment too late. A bolt of light hits him and he falls to his knees in pain. It feels as though his entire body is on fire and being torn apart as he's wracked with the razor sharp pain of the cruciatus curse. "Stupefy!" John fires off what was probably the first curse to come to mind in an attempt to distract Rufus' attacker. Rufus gasps for breath as soon as the curse is lifted. [i]Leap.[/i] He is back on his feet in an instant even though his body is still shaking from the shock. [i]Curse.[/i] He throws himself back into the battle. He misses his mark but presses forward regardless. He will not be defeated. He's feeling a little light-headed but it's nothing to be concerned about at the moment.
The Death Eaters are starting to realize that even with their greater numbers, they are losing quickly. They begin to flee. Rufus races forward in an attempt to stop them but they apparate too quickly. Only one of the ones they'd knocked on conscious is captured. "Rufus!" Alastor calls again, warning him with just the single word to stop his pursuit. He is furious but heeds the command from his leader. They won at least. It is a step in the right direction. Tomorrow they will be better. Maybe the enemy will too but he will be ready for the challenge. He will destroy them.