Emotion Prompt: Exhausted
Characters: Alicia Spinnet
Summary: Alicia just can't go on anymore.
Alicia felt like she was about to die.
Her lungs were short of breath, her heart was thumping as loud as a drum, her whole body was sticky with the sweat that kept pouring out of every pore of her skin. She could hear the rush of blood thundering in her ears. Her body screamed out the message to her — STOP! But she knew she couldn't stop. There was simply no choice. The only thing she could do was run.
Her legs felt heavier than lead with every footfall, her muscles groaning as she exerted them, stretching them to their limits. Alicia let her lips part and gulped down air, trying to keep up with her rapidly depleting supply of oxygen. What she wouldn't do to fall down on a bed and sleep! She was completely exhausted, dead tired. She couldn't run any more. She was sick of running. She was tired of it.
But she couldn't, of course. She had to keep going. She could hear heavy footsteps behind her, even beside her, running, chasing. And that meant that there was no way she could stop. Oh Merlin, how she wished she could just drop down. She would drop down, if she didn't stop soon.
Just a little more, she told herself, And then it will be over. Just a little longer. And so she ran, ran with everything she had, until...
Until she saw the line. And with a bound which felt as if it would cost her her life, she crashed to the ground. And another body fell on top of her, and another, until Alicia was at the bottom of a great pileup.
"Guys... Move!" she managed to mumble, loud enough for everyone to hear, so that, thankfully, she was drinking in the air within seconds.
"Two.. Laps!" she gasped. "Oliver... Mad!"
Said Quidditch captain was beaming down at her, looking as fresh and unfazed as ever.
"And Alicia stands first!" he announced. "Look at her, lazybones. You could learn some speed from her."
"I'd like you to do that," Angelina glared at him. "You were simply hovering with your lousy butt on the broom."
"What's the benefit of running on the pitch anyway? This is quidditch, not some stupid muggle game," Katie demanded. Oliver opened his mouth to reply, but Fred beat him to it.
"But of course," he said, "Our dear captain wants us to look our best at all times —"
"— so that we look in fine form even when we are on the ground after falling from the broom," George finished, his cheeks red from exertion, while his twin mimed his words.
"Shut up, you two," Oliver grumbled. "I want the team in the best form this year. We must win the cup this time. And with the sort of pathetic seekers we get every year," he glared at Saunder Adams, who was currently flying high in the air, still looking for the snitch which had been released twenty five minutes ago, "We'd better have the rest of the team to make up for it."
"I still don't understand why we need to do two laps of the pitch," Alicia protested. "No other team does that."
"It's because I, as the captain, say so!" Oliver exploded. "And you, as my teammates, will follow! Now up! I want another lap before you take to your brooms."
"But Oliver —"
"Two!" the captain snapped. Everyone groaned.
"Bloody captain," Alicia heard George mutter as they miserably shuffled to their feet. She agreed with him completely on this one. It looked like her poor legs would be completely out of order by tomorrow.
Whoever becomes seeker next year, she prayed, trying her best to ignore the tiredness growing over her again as she started to jog, You'd better be bloody good.
A/N:This story is set in 1990, that is, the year before Harry entered Hogwarts and became Gryffindor seeker.
