This is Why I Was Born.
Snakeskins
Flying Lessons
Lovino's care packages were part of what helped snub the loneliness of staying at the school. It wasn't that Feliciano lacked people to talk to, but there was an isolating effect of being so far from home for so long.
The weather was different, the food was different, the language, the culture, the architecture, the people themselves: all so different.
Not bad!
Just, not like home.
So it was nice to have Lovino scream at him in their language through an enchanted letter. Would a phone-call have been nicer? Obviously. But electronics didn't work in the castle and leaving the school was forbidden until Christmas break. Professor Malfoy had already spoken to him about the Howlers once however, and Feliciano had made a point when mailing back the completed government paperwork that his brother had to keep out words in Italian that were recognizable in English: bastard being the top priority.
The delivery of important documents from Rome was surprisingly light this week, the equivalent of Lovino sending him "no homework" to do on top of light readings and essays for Hogwarts classes. Feliciano was happy enough about this that he tapped the last cannoli with his wand and charmed it to stay fresh for England, laughing with Scorpius about the huff the other nation had stormed off in before they left the great hall and followed the winding corridors down to find the doors leading out to the quidditch pitch.
"You really like quidditch, don't you?" It was a long walk from the castle across the grounds to the towers of the quidditch stadium, but Flying lessons were for first years only and Professor Desford had a passion for the wizarding sport that matched most of her students'.
When England and Rose Weasley showed up five minutes late with a note from Professor Longbottom excusing their tardiness, Feliciano almost fell off his broom before they were even in the air.
"Detention? You?" Rule-abiding, honour-bound, never-in-a-fight-he-couldn't-win Arthur Kirk-?
"Yes, me!" England sniped, green eyes doing a thing that was kind of scary as he snatched the school broom out of Feliciano's hands and made him go back to collect a different one. Meanie. "Shut up about it and I'll tell you everything later."
Professor Desford was a spry witch with blonde hair she kept pinned and bundled up behind her head, flying goggles on her forehead and robes cut white and black like a racing flag. She was probably their most excitable teacher, always smiling, and eager for any opportunity to get herself and the rest of them off the ground.
"Relays today!" She was also the school's representatives from the Quidditch League, something that made Feliciano slightly uncomfortable. If Hogwarts lost its status the way he'd threatened back in July, her job would be one of the first ones cut. "First years can't play quidditch, but we can still toughen you up for next year!"
The objective for the day was simple: with a wave of her wand Professor Desford called up several dozen multi-coloured smoke rings on both sides of the quidditch pitch, ranging in height from just above the ground to way up over the goal posts. They were each one solid colour in a rainbow gradient from deep dark crimson all the way to a neon violet all the way at the other end. The rings formed two oscillating loops, so hopefully neither set of students would go flying into each other.
"A seeker skill-builder!" She exclaimed, almost as happy as some of the more quidditch-apt students in both Slytherin and Gryffindor robes. "There are two golden snitches buzzing around on a set course through these hoops, your job is to catch it before completing the circuit! When you catch it, swap out, and if you fail, swap and wait for another chance! Whichever team gathers the most points before time runs out will win ten house points!"
Flying was one of those awkward skills that Feliciano both enjoyed and yet wanted to stay away from. He loved the speed and the power of it, swooping and diving and being in control, but at the same time there was something about a broomstick that was utterly alien to him and he couldn't say he liked it.
He'd flown his air force's jet fighters, he'd sailed ships for centuries, building up cars and racing them against his brother and the other nations was one of his favourite adventurous pass-times.
A broom was just a big stick with a stocky end. There were proper ways to hold your feet but they were nothing like mounting a horse. The control aspect came more from shifting the body's weight like on a motorcycle, but there wasn't enough bulk underneath like a real engine to ground the rider and keep the motions stable.
It was a little bit too much like controlled falling...
But that didn't mean he wasn't going to do well.
"Bet I catch a snitch before you do." He teased, trying to get England to brighten up just a little bit where he was a furious, scowling mound of hatred clutching his broom and standing in line behind him.
"Bet you eat dirt and go back to the dorms crying." Rude! "Take a look over at Gryffindor: we're flying against Potter and his mother played for the national team."
"You're still rude." Feliciano scolded, turning back around as Higgs kicked off into the air and went screaming at a very awkward angle trying to hit the first ring without swooping too wide.
"Rest your weight, Charles, come on..." And Scorpius was practically on his toes behind Eliza, bouncing and muttering under his breath showing just how much he knew about the sport and technique.
Remembering something as it looked like Higgs was trying to take his time and fly straight instead of fly fast, Feliciano tug the enchanted sweet out of his pocket where he'd wrapped it in a napkin from the great hall. Offering it behind him, England didn't seem to notice it for a minute or two before finally taking it.
"...Thanks."
"They're better than chocolate!" Flashing a grin over his shoulder once Eliza was off, it was cute watching England's young, round little face try and get a proper bite out of the cannoli and chew without being spotted by their professor.
"One point, Gryffindor! Release and let the next one go!"
"C'mon, Gamp!"
"Point to Slytherin! Get on your broom, Mister Malfoy!"
He didn't need telling twice and Feliciano thought he felt a backwards gust of air before Scorpious was off with his lean body hugging the broom as Eliza Gamp stumbled with her broom in hand, cheeks flushed and grinning at the rest of them.
In the air, Scorpius went too fast and missed the first ring, but corrected for it and began swooping and diving to get back in line with his target.
Now that there was no one in front of him, it was a lot scarier seeing just how steep some of the dives and turns were. This really wasn't his sport.
"Don't let Potter beat you, I wish it was Weasley, but-"
"He's got it! Go, Vargas!"
His hands were looking for handles to rev and keep him grounded, he wanted more than the silent half-hum of the broom under him as his thighs closed and awkwardly slipped around the too-slim body of the shaft. Awful things, broomsticks.
He kicked off and felt the wind hiss between himself and the stick, a cushion of air that would slow him down but keep him stable as he rose straight up off the ground and refused to look down as his head passed through the first dark red band of smoke and he threw his weight around to the left before breaking into a spiralling dive.
He didn't get dizzy easily, and the forces trying to rip him off the broom just gave him a sense of stability as his eyes focused on the next ring and he passed through that by pulling out of the dive. Orange fell behind him and he came around wide to slide through yellow when something thunked him between the eyes.
A walnut-sized piece of gold bounced off his forehead with a painful crack and Feliciano completely forgot that he was supposed to try and catch it, he had a harder time getting his eyes open again and pulling his limbs in close when he felt the broom going straight up in the air instead of following a smooth angle down towards the light green ring. Growling under his breath, he set his chest and belly against the polished wood and rocketed forward, knowing he couldn't turn around and hoping the snitch was faster than he was and would make a full circuit first.
"Faster! Faster!" How much faster did they want him to go? All three green rings passed in a blur and the first blue was so far down his elbow almost skidded across the grass before he zig-zagged over the ground to hit the next two, the first purple ring blossoming ten feet over his head when he kicked off the ground and shot straight up.
This time he saw the snitch, catching sight of its yellow glitter against the second to last smoke ring. Instead of rushing him this time, the enchanted ball sped away.
"Oh no you-" Faster? Fine, he could do faster, eyes narrowed against the wind and hands twisting around the head of the broomstick like he could work more speed out of it like the handles of a motorcycle, ankles tucked in hard as if imagining a horse's flanks.
It was a straight-away to the final ring, and that was when something wrong happened.
The snitch was enchanted to follow a path through the rings and just keep doubling back and forth, but it went from being the bull's-eye in the target of the last indigo ring to firing off across the pitch leaving Feliciano with a clear view of the ring and the watching crowd of students down below.
Instead of the bell she always used for relays, Professor Desford blew her whistle.
And for a reason Lovino would give him hell for next week, Feliciano followed the snitch.
He cut across the air and when the snitch dove he followed it again, spinning around until his right side was parallel with the ground and he felt his core muscles straining with his legs to let one of his hands up to reach and make a grab.
The snitch shot left and his ankle hooked under the broom jerked the back end up like the rear wheels of a race-car, the stick drifting sideways before finding the magical equivalent of grip and shooting him straight again.
His fingertips brushed the gold case and then everything crashed with an explosion of gold pieces and shredded turf.
The last thing he knew he saw was two snitches hovering in front of him, and then a lot of sky before he shut his eyes and felt himself tumbling rapidly across the ground, his shoulder screaming before an awful stab lanced him through the side and he was crashing over and under another fast-moving body.
His broom was gone and his arms wrapped around something big and heavy before he flipped over one more time and his shoulders slammed the ground, skidding with dirt and grass everywhere, and finally came to a stop.
"Vargas!" He couldn't breathe. He couldn't see anything but brilliant light and the hazy outline of the goal-posts. "Potter! You there- Higgs! Fly up to the infirmary- fourth floor!"
There was blood in his mouth and that was why he couldn't breathe: it was going down his throat- or was it coming up it? He had to get the weight off his torso, his mind thinking of shrapnel and the carnage of a wreck before he remembered broomsticks didn't have debris.
His hands hit something too soft for twisted metal and then stopped. If he was injured, then so was the child resting on top of him. He wouldn't die from this, but humans were much more fragile.
"Albus! Albus oh my god!" Feliciano must have crossed into the Gryffindor circuit; it was the only explanation he could think of as he closed his eyes against the bright white sky and used one shaking hand to wipe his mouth. Don't let there be blood, and don't let the child die for his mistake.
"Vargas? Feli can you hear me?" That was Scorpius' voice and his small hands grabbing Feliciano's shoulder. He reached up and touched the boy's arm, trying to nod his head a little and waiting for the throbbing in his skull to go away. Albus' weight was taken off of him and that made everything a lot better.
His mental catalogue started working. Nothing broken, just a few bruises; his shoulder was sore but the muscles remained whole. He'd nearly snapped his collarbone, but he'd landed just right on the ground and he'd be alright.
Something had tried to impale his side and left one side of his leg numb. When his other hand touched the place where a black bruise had tried to puncture him, it was just the right size for a broomstick's rounded head.
"Bit my tongue." He lied, rolling over before Desford could tell him not to and spitting blood out on the grass. The bleeding was from deeper inside, but he couldn't conjure up the memories or the know-how right now to say it was safe to receive a magical healing.
"Potter caught the snitch!"
"Albus, can you bend your wrist?" He was in a lot of pain, but when he opened his eyes this time it was already starting to go away. He could see better, enough to know that he had to take the handkerchief someone handed him and quickly spit as much of the blood in his mouth out onto the grass before wiping the residue away. The bleeding would stop in a few minutes.
"N-No, ma'am..."
"He caught the snitch!"
"Just stand up slowly now... Alright. Vargas, let me have a look at you."
"Professor! Professor Desford, Albus caught the snitch, that means we get an extra point, don't we?"
"A point?" There was a sudden drop in volume when Desford asked her question, her hands on Feliciano's shoulder trying to make him roll back over so she could get a look at him when she froze. "An extra point? You're asking me about points when two of your classmates are injured and one of them is bleeding out his nose, Mister Thomas? Fine then: five points from Gryffindor for atrocious sportsmanship, does that satisfy you or should I take more?"
"My cousin just snapped his wrist in half and all you care about is winning a stupid relay?" That voice sounded like Rose Weasley, but Feliciano was distracted by Professor Desford looking down and telling him to lay on his back again so she could do a quick check. If he hadn't been pint-sized, Feliciano might have mentioned how pretty her grey eyes were: much nicer than looking at the sky, but he preferred it when she smiled.
"Ve... Professore I'm sorry." Speaking was hard and he felt the blood come up a little higher, but he forced himself to swallow it and saw the concern rewrite itself over her face. When he tried to pick himself up, she immediately pressed down on his shoulders. "I can get up, I'm alright. I should say sorry for hitting Potter."
"You landed on your neck, Mister Vargas, you aren't moving until Professor Malfoy gets here." His neck was perfectly fine though, he knew what a snapped spine felt like: he just couldn't say as much without causing an even bigger scene. "And you didn't hit Potter: it was the other way around."
"I flew into his space-"
She didn't want him to talk because she really did think he was seriously injured. Paralysis could be fixed with magic- sometimes, and Feliciano was almost embarrassed by her concern until he heard footsteps and saw Albus Potter come and stand over him. He could see part of his reflection in Potter's square glasses, and that was enough to remind him that he didn't look like a man to Professor Desford, he was just a very small boy who'd just been pummelled into the ground.
"I... I'm really sorry, Vargas." Albus was holding his wrist awkwardly, his other arm supporting the limb with Rose standing right behind him. She wasn't pushing her cousin forward though, it was more like she was hiding behind him as Feliciano noticed England sitting behind him over his shoulder, watching both of them very carefully. "I dove without looking ahead, my mum'll be so mad when she finds out: it was careless. I'm sorry."
"Va bene, Potter. It only hurts a little bit. Is your wrist-?"
The stare he got from the professor shut him up for good this time, but Feliciano kept a close eye on her as he very slowly lifted one arm up, reaching without letting his shoulders come off the ground for Potter to take his hand and shake. He was in more pain the longer he laid and let the bruises form and muscles stiffen up against the cold ground, but whatever had torn and bled inside him was beginning to clot and fix itself up already. Nations didn't make a habit of staying down for long, especially not from sports injuries.
Professor Desford stood all at once and swept away, giving England the opportunity to quickly hunch down over his head and whisper at him.
"How much more time do you need?"
"I'm fine, really." He could have stood up at the same time Potter did, but now England was giving him a rotten scowl.
"You skidded back almost ten yards after being slammed directly from above. You're not that resistant!"
"Shows what you know!" He hissed back.
"Kirkland! I just told you not to touch him!"
England's face vanished and Feliciano was left looking at the bright sky again, a bit of black hair telling him Potter was still lingering while Higgs was off trying to get Gamp to stop crying again. It was nice to know a pretty girl like that was worrying, but when he heard students parting it was hard not to look up at Professor Malfoy.
"I thought you said the students were following a circuit?" Scorpius' father was speaking to Professor Desford, but although it looked like he acknowledged Potter's injury, he knelt next to Feliciano first.
"The snitches broke free, and screamed right at each other. Of course the boys followed but I have no idea how it happened."
"We'll deal with it later then." And then those cold grey eyes came down on him properly. Professor Malfoy's flaxen hair was pulled back as always, not moving even when he knelt down with his wand in one hand and flicked a speck of dirt off Feliciano's robe. "Taking a nap in the middle of class, Vargas?"
"Just a short one, sir." The wand touched the middle of his forehead, then pulsed again over his throat. It was a bead of warmth that was a little uncomfortable because it soaked straight through his skin. Invasive in nature but intimate in purpose, it got harder to breathe again when the wand tapped the talisman under his clothes and the normally cold cross went hot.
Of course the professor noticed the reaction. He looked Feliciano dead in the eye again, said nothing, and brushed it off as just a good luck charm before tapping again over each of his shoulders and then sitting back up.
"He seems alright."
"Are you sure?" Professor Desford didn't sound like she was criticizing him, just baffled. "Draco these boys came hurtling at each other at full speed!"
"And Mister Vargas has the bruises to prove it, especially here." If he'd been able to see Professor Malfoy's hand moving he would have done anything to stop it, because the Healer pressed two fingertips hard against his side and the nation yelped loudly and spasmed trying to get up away from the pain. England was right there to take his hand when Feliciano was clawing for something to help lever him up, and he made it all the way to his knees before hearing Professor Malfoy chuckle behind him.
"If the soreness is too much then he can come up to the infirmary for proper treatment. As for the blood, he either chipped a tooth or bit his tongue, and as we can all see he speaks just fine despite it. Potter..."
Feliciano stopped listening, he was too busy padding down his robes looking for his wand, still on his knees and covered in crushed grass and wet dirt. If he didn't get rid of the metallic taste in his mouth he was going to be sick.
"Oh just open up," He looked around and saw England's wand pointing at him.
"Ve- aaagah!"
Coughing hurt! Coughing hurt a whole lot! Coughing made his tender ribs rub the wrong way and set his shoulders and back on fire! It didn't help at all that he was choking on a stream of cold water that England shot right at his mouth!
"Better?"
Feliciano had to think all the way back to Lovino's howler before, in Italian, he told England exactly what kind of friend he really was.
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Next update tomorrow!