A / N : For the "Elements" challenge on xoxLewrahxox's Forum.
"Write a 100 or 500 word fic about a HP character (or characters) and one or more of the classical elements : Earth, Water, Air and Fire. You can relate the character to one of the elements (eg, Dumbledore = Air) or write about something dealing with the elements (the fire in the potions chamber in the Philosopher's Stone.)
So here is . . . an effort . . . from me. I'll be honest, it was written in 20 minutes and posted on a whim. It's definitely not my best effort! (Title is especially bad. *winces*)
Oh, and . . . he isn't named, but chances are the third character is easy to guess. Especially for those that know me. ;)
Sirius is sixteen.
Two weeks into September he finds himself in the Quidditch stands, watching Slytherin and Ravenclaw wage war. It doesn't take him long to pick out the slight figure in green.
(It has always surprised him, that air is his brother's element.)
Regulus hangs in mid-air, and though Sirius knows his knuckles will be white against the wood, his brother seems at ease on his broom. Motionless, almost lazy . . . a marionette awaiting animation. The crowd overlooks him, their interest snagged instead by the bright bounce of the Quaffle, the dull thwuck of a well-aimed Bludger.
Regulus drifts forward apparently unconsciously, his head tilted thoughtfully to one side. A foot, two . .. He might as well be daydreaming.
A grim smile tugs at Sirius's lips, and he squashes it with effort. It won't do to draw attention to himself, not when he's trying so hard to go unnoticed. He doesn't even know what he's doing here.
Not really.
So he keeps a tight hold on his emotions, and focuses instead on the boy beside him. He is thin and freckled, with sandy hair, watching the game with a sort of intensity which just doesn't seem right to Sirius. (Frankly, it's giving him the creeps.)
The boy stiffens suddenly and leans forward in his seat, shoulders hunched. He licks his lips, and then - before the crowd around them realize what has happened - he inhales sharply - and Regulus plunges into a dive.
Sirius is on his feet in an instant. The figure in green slices through the air, one arm outstretched, a blur of hope and fear and expectation. There are screams, grunts, two burly blue shapes which speed towards him all too slowly .. . and then the crowd roars, a slowly swelling rumble which speaks of hope and bloodlust and surging, animal adreneline.
In the crush of it all, Sirius stands frozen. The air hisses through his companion's teeth – faster than Regulus can fall – and the boy's knuckles tighten against the stands.
"Come on," he hisses. "Come on, come on . . ."
Yes, Sirius thinks, locked inside his own head, something painful splitting his chest in two. Come on. COME ON.
The air parts like a knife, sharp enough to tear skin from flesh - but Regulus keeps going, momentum carrying him on, pitching him off his broom and into the air -
For a moment shock seems to hold him aloft, as though Sirius has stopped his fall with sight alone.
He hasn't, of course. Their fists clench at precisely the same moment, useless.
Reg throws a protective arm in front of his face -
He slams into the earth, and the entire stadium winces.
Waits.
Waits.
And then the crumpled figure raises one closed fist to the sky, and the silence shatters. It becomes a screaming, howling, solid thing, a hurricane.
At the eye of the storm, still dazed, but smiling now - his brother is submerged by his teammates and borne aloft.