Round 10
Written for the QLFC, Season 5, Round 10
Position: Beater 1
Position Prompt: 1960's: Theme From 'A Summer Place' — Percy Faith
[because I'm taking inspiration from a piece of easy listening, I went with the theme of 'escape from a difficult situation']
Title: Oops
Word Count: 1,000
Beta(s): The Wanderers (Aelys Althea, DinoDina, and RawMateriel)
Prompts:
3. (object) Ring
11. (dialogue) "This couldn't have happened at a worse time."
Blood. There was so much blood. His head hit the ground so hard that it felt numb. He only realized that it was more than a mere bump of the head when the streams of blood running down his face began to blur the vision in his left eye.
He was being guided to the path by worried passersby;
"He just jumped out of nowhere!"
"What's your name, son?"
"Are you okay?"
"Is he drunk, he looks drunk…"
A young man appeared in his line of sight, "What's your name?"
"Ce...Ceh..." It was difficult to speak, but he felt it would be rude to stay silent and leave all these people wondering. He didn't want to say anything at all; he felt numb, and sick, and had no idea what was going on. But he tried nonetheless. "Cedric…"
People talked some more but he wasn't sure what they were saying. Cedric tried desperately to remember what happened.
He and his father were to Apparate to London to see his aunt and… he hit the ground. Fast. Had he been splinched? Or had he really hit his head that hard? Why were they seeing his old aunt? Oh, oh, of course.
"I'm… fine, I'm okay… I have to go…" He wanted to get up, but his body would not move, and the Muggles (at least he was pretty sure they were Muggles) around him protested immediately. Their mouths were moving, sounds were coming out but he couldn't understand a word they were saying. "I'm fine, I'm fine…" He mumbled - words falling out of his mouth before he could catch them.
"Where were you going? Do you want us to call your parents?"
Questions, questions, so many questions! He didn't want to answer - but he couldn't help it, he was too polite, too afraid of them realizing just how awful he truly felt. He couldn't stand to seem more vulnerable than he already did.
"I was… going to school," he lied. "My parents aren't home."
They must have seen him hit the ground. He was sure they were describing how ghastly the wound on the side of his head was. Why did they keep asking him questions? Surely they knew he was in shock? Yes, they were terribly worried and probably thought this was somehow reassuring - for themselves, most likely, not him.
"I'm okay, I'm…" He felt sick, the vision in his eyes were getting worse, he wasn't sure if he would pass out or get sick — maybe both.
The whole world seemed to go out of focus around him, and all that was left was the cold, numb feeling in his body. Things were happening, people were still talking, but the only thing he could hear was a calming melody — a sharp contrast to the chaos around him. It was in his head — he knew that for certain.
In his mind, he couldn't help but follow the temptation to escape deeper into the escape of the sweeter daydreams his mind was summoning up to soften this too sharp moment. Dropping into the haze he was reminded of lemonade, and easy listening.
He had been badly hurt and could do nothing about it but sit, and wait for the Muggle ambulance, and reassure his saviours that he didn't feel as bad as he looked (probably). He wanted to get up and leave, Apparate back home but —
Where was his wand?
He patted himself down and felt his wand tucked safely away in his inside jacket pocket. When had he done that? His feeling of reassurance didn't last long, however, as dread washed over him anew. He'd spotted the ambulance pulling up beside the path. All thoughts of escape were disrupted, it was hard to focus on the brighter distant corners of his numb mind with all the hot, red blood pouring into his line of sight.
He looked around at the Muggles frantically, trying to spot a fellow witch or wizard in the small crowd to no avail. He was still speechless, still in shock as the paramedics knelt down beside him and attempted to pull something away from his face.
He flinched and yelped, and curled into himself as he heard the words: "It's caught on the skin, we'll have to bring him in."
"Please, please, it's fine, I'm fine…" Where was his dad? His mum? Surely they weren't too far away. "This couldn't have happened at a worse time…" Cedric whimpered. It was his aunt's birthday, and he had been too arrogant and stubborn to Apparate with his father.
"Hey, hey, it's okay. We're here to help." One of the paramedics placed a hand on his knee. "Can you tell us what happened? Do you remember anything?"
Cedric lapsed into silence again, this time choosing to let them assume he was still too shocked to speak - when in reality he couldn't think of a good enough lie to tell them. If he said he didn't remember, they might keep him overnight. He would let the Muggles fabricate the story on his behalf, and he would roll with it. He was an injured wizard, Merlin only knew what he might accidentally do in this state — seventh year student or not.
"Do you want us to give your parents a ring before we take you off?"
Cedric frowned. "A… ring…? Why… why would you give my parents a ring?" He was well versed in Muggle culture, most wizards his age were, but he had never heard that turn of phrase before. Or was this a Muggle custom? Was he dying? He felt dazed, confused and oddly calm given all the apparent chaos — but he didn't think he was dying. Perhaps this was what dying felt like. It made sense, he supposed.
That fuzzy warmth seemed to flow in and he allowed his eyes to close. The simple moment of escape led to another.
Calm, numb, drifting away…
"That's my son!"
Cedric eyes snapped back open and he was abruptly pulled back into the moment.
"Amos, settle down! You'll scare the Muggles!"
Cedric blew out a shaky sigh of relief at their approach and the warm rush of tears joined the blood on his cheeks. He even smiled as his mother and father appeared in his line of sight. He wasn't entirely certain what happened after that. He remembered his Father's warmth though, and the cool rush of his Mother's healing charm over his skin once the crowd had moved along.
The ordeal was enough to have him never Apparate on his own for a long while yet — even if it meant his freedoms were far more restricted.
After all, his father wouldn't always be there to save him.