Fixing to Fly
Chapter 28
Author's Note: Yay, less than two months this time! See? I'm slowly decreasing the delay time until it'll be down to a chapter a week! Or maybe even a day! … Er, okay, maybe not a day… ;) Two things: Josie, sweety, I didn't know I published the last chapter on your birthday! Believe me, if I had known, you would've gotten a special dedication note too. In fact, as my (very) belated birthday gift, I hereby dedicate this chapter to you. ;) And to all the rest of my reviewers, you have no idea just how much I adore and appreciate each and everyone of you—yes, dragonflames, that means you too. :) You guys have been my constant source of encouragement and inspiration, and I can't thank you enough. Love you guys! *hugs reviewers… in a non-sex-offender-ish way, of course*
Hum, don't think I've done any shameless plugging for a while, so… Anyone up for a Cedric fic? It's got sexy Hufflepuff Quidditch players! *wink* Not to mention snark, witty arguments, jealous Cho action, and oh-so-much more. It's called Melt, if you're interested, and you can find it on my author profile page. Cuz I'm too lazy a prat to put the link here. ;)
Oooh, angst ahead folks! Time to meet StressedOut!Darcy…
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"Why is it…"
A set of Astronomy textbooks whizzed through the air, landing in a crumpled heap at the far side of the Gryffindor seventh-year girls' dorm.
"… every time…"
Several pairs of clean school robes and a random blue sneaker soon joined the books.
"… you really need something…"
At last, a satisfied sigh was heard, and the blonde girl whose torso was previously submerged into the depths of her trunk eased slowly to her feet. In one hand she triumphantly held a small green glass bottle, half-filled with a dark liquid. "… it's always in the last place you look for it," she completed to the empty room, and without further ado, freed the cork from the bottle and downed its contents in one long, grimacing gulp. Darcy made a face at the bitter after-taste.
But at least it'll get rid of this damn headache, she thought, and massaged once more at the slow throb pulsing behind her eyes. Not that the pain was anything new; she'd been getting a lot of headaches lately.
Initially they'd been sporadic, starting the first week of the new year, after everyone had returned to the school. Usually they came in the mornings, but sometimes one would sneak in upon her halfway through the day or in the evening. It wasn't till halfway through January that they took on a distinguishable pattern, and by the first of February, they were practically an every-day occurrence. The worst seemed to come to her on Thursday and Friday mornings, during her Magical Medicine class. There had been one day in particular when she'd been assigned to attend to a third-year who'd had the bones of his left arm shattered when he'd gotten too close to the Whomping Willow. He had been halfway through the painful process of mending them when he was put in Darcy's care. A burning ache was already present in her temples when she'd started to his bed, and she'd gotten only three steps toward him when blinding pain swept suddenly through her skull, knocking her to her knees with its ferocity. As her classmates and Madam Pomfrey rushed to her side, she smashed her fists against her forehead, as though attempting to keep her brain from exploding out at the sheer agony. The rest of the day was a blur to her, though she remembered waking up in a hospital bed herself, several hours later. That had been the worst to date, though there were several close runners-up.
She had convinced herself they would stop eventually, but that hope was becoming less and less likely as it was now midway through March and they'd only gotten more consistent. Darcy knew she really should see Madam Pomfrey, especially as she'd just finished the last of her headache potion and somehow she couldn't see Professor Snape donating her the ingredients to brew more out of the goodness of his heart.
The first spring league Quidditch game is the thirtieth, she mused, raking her fingers wearily back through her hair. If these bloody headaches haven't quit by then, I'll go see Pomfrey. And in the meantime, I'll just… deal.
But that was easier said than done, of course, as the ache lurking currently behind her eye sockets gave a demanding throb. Most of her headaches came down upon her swiftly and suddenly; this one, however, had been growing on her all day, distracting her as she attempted to finish the Transfiguration essay she had due first thing the following morning.
Standing in the middle of her dorm, Darcy glanced around at the mess she had created during her hasty search. Luckily, it was indistinguishable from the disasterpiece that was normally Keely's portion of the room and she chose to let it remain as such for the time being. At least until she felt a bit better.
Her eyes wandered over to the unfinished essay still stretched across her desk. She suppressed a groan; yet another thing she desired to abandon until later. But she stumbled her way back across the room anyway, knowing that if she didn't finish it now, odds were she never would. And that, of course, would not sit too well with Professor McGonagall. The last thing she needed at the moment was to be on the bad side of her Head of House.
She flopped ungracefully down into her chair, nearly upsetting her ink bottle as she grabbed for her quill. Her Transfiguration text was still open to the appropriate page, six long, wordy paragraphs bordered by her own scrawled notations. Darcy squinted at the tiny words and attempted to recall where she'd left off.
"Ah, yes. The ancient origins of the Vericio spell. How could such fascinating material have slipped my mind?" she remarked aloud, smirking at her own wry humor. Out of habit, she licked the nib of her quill before pressing it to the paper and had made the first stroke of her next word when, without warning, a nauseating wave of fresh pain swept through her head.
Immediately she dropped her quill, jamming her knuckles against her temples, willing the ache away. At last it subsided, but on its heels rode a sense of inexplicable dread that settled into her stomach like lead.
Something's not right.
The thought infused itself through her body, sent adrenaline pumping through her veins. Something had happened... something was very, very wrong… she knew it to the deepest depths of her heart…
Almost unconsciously, she bolted to her feet and had taken a few jerking, uncertain steps toward the door—when she realized she had no idea just what was wrong. But she was given no time for contemplation as the door to her dorm crashed open, revealing a pale, out-of-breath Brian. The terrified expression haunting his features sent a chill straight down her spine.
Urgently, he panted, "Keely… hurt… playing Quidditch… hospital wing…" He broke off, doubling over as he gasped for air. Darcy got the distinct feeling that he'd sprinted all the way to her. He swallowed heavily, and managed to add, "You have to come."
In a split second she was in motion, sweeping past Brian, taking the stairs down three at a time, ignoring the voices that called out to her as she dashed through the common room. She sprinted through corridors and down stairwells, utilizing every single shortcut she knew till at last she skidded to a stop outside the heavy double doors of the infirmary. Standing on the threshold, she froze, her gaze moving to the only occupied bed. There Keely lay, unconscious, with Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey whispering over her in hushed tones.
"Oh god…" the words ghosted off the Seeker's lips as she paced to her friend's bedside. The air felt heavy, as if she were moving underwater, and it seemed a lifetime before she could reach out and take the ice-cold hand of the brunette.
"Take a deep breath, Miss Reed, she's going to be fine." The voice of the Transfiguration professor made Darcy jump, wide blue eyes dancing up to meet McGonagall's steady gaze. "As soon as Mr. Keeler… ah, there he is." Footsteps could be heard moving swiftly up the hall before Brian appeared in the doorway a moment later. The professor motioned him to join.
The male Beater shuffled over, flopping into a nearby chair as fought for breath. "Brought her… quick as I could, Professor."
"I guessed as much, Keeler," McGonagall mused, a slight smile quirking her lips. "I don't suppose you managed to explain to her Miss Merath's situation?" Brian shook his head. "Very well, I shall save you the effort." She turned to Darcy, fixing the girl with a calming stare. "Keeler here and Miss Merath were on the Pitch—getting in a bit of practice for your upcoming spring league, I would assume. Apparently, one of the Bludgers got away from Miss Merath and she took a rather nasty blow to the head."
"Right in the back," the now-recovered Brian interjected, rubbing at the posterior of his own skull for demonstration. "Knocked her off her broom." He stared over at Keely, gaze going distant as he relived those fearful few moments.
Darcy glanced over at Madam Pomfrey, trying to decipher the older woman's frowning visage. "What's her diagnosis?" she queried softly.
A meaningful look was traded between Pomfrey and McGonagall, one that sent a chill of uneasiness through the Gryffindor. "Well, it's a bit difficult…" the nurse began, then glanced once more at McGonagall. "Minerva… if you would, please…"
The professor sighed. "It's like this, Reed. I'm sure you know this is not the first strike your Beater has taken to her head."
Slowly Darcy nodded; if she remembered correctly, this was in fact the fifth time Keely had suffered such a blow.
Mirroring her nod, McGonagall continued, "Yes, well… the way I understand it, because of this fact, Miss Merath has quite a lot of cumulative damage to her brain, and this particular strike has… been the worst. If she were to ever receive another such blow… the consequences would be devastating. And for this reason, it is in her best interests that she must be kept off the Quidditch field."
"Wait, Professor… are you telling us Keely can't play anymore? That she has to quit the team?" Brian gasped. The color drained slowly out of his face at McGonagall's nod.
"There's no other way around it, Keeler." She patted him sympathetically on the shoulder, but her concerned gaze lay on Darcy, who had yet to say a word, to show any sort of reaction.
The Quidditch captain's heart had sunk down into her stomach as she stared down at her teammate—her best female friend. Being able to play as a Beater had always been one of the most important things in Keely's life. There was an aura of confidence, a glow, that always seemed to surround the Scot when she was up in the air on her broomstick, Beater's club in hand. To think that Darcy would never see that again…
"I can't tell her," she murmured, shooting a glance between Pomfrey and McGonagall.
"I'll tell her," said the nurse, giving the Gryffindor girl's shoulder a soft squeeze. "I'll explain it to her, as soon as she's awake." She sighed, sent a last glance at her patient. "Which won't be for a bit yet, I'm afraid. I've still a bit of work to do in my office until then, so if you'll excuse me." She gave a departing nod the seventh-years and McGonagall before bustling off to disappear through a doorway at the room's far end.
The professor glanced at her students. "I'll see you both in class tomorrow," was all she said, before she, too, swept out of the infirmary.
Numbly, Brian met Darcy's gaze. "I should go… let Loren and Toby know about… I should go. Are you staying here with her?" She nodded. "I'll be back to see you then, later. Maybe she'll be awake by then too." He lifted himself wearily to his feet, stopping beside Darcy and resting his head against her own for a moment. "I'm so sorry, babe. I didn't… I'm sorry."
"It wasn't your fault, Brian," she answered, but something about the way he stiffened at her words told her that wasn't the reason he was apologizing. But Brian said no more, giving Keely's forehead a kiss and Darcy's back a departing rub before hastening out of the room.
The blonde sighed. Her head still ached.
* * *
Dusk had fallen upon the castle by the time Brian returned to the infirmary. The golden flicker of torchlight illuminated the area around Keely's bed, and the slender Seeker asleep in the chair Brian himself had occupied just earlier that day. She woke instantly at the sound of his footsteps, conjuring a weary smile as he took a seat beside her on the edge of the mattress.
He glanced down at the still-slumbering Scot. "She's not awake yet?"
"She was a while ago," Darcy answered, stretching the cramped muscles of her legs. "But then Madam Pomfrey explained about her… condition… and its effects." She frowned slightly. "Needless to say, Keely didn't take it well. Pulled her usual Scottish barbarian routine and started bellowing that she would never be kept away from Quidditch. Pomfrey decided to give her a bit of a sleeping draught when she tried to escape the infirmary."
Brian laughed. "That sounds like Keely all right."
"Yeah…" Her smile faded a bit. "I'm going to have a hell of a time keeping her off the Pitch. Especially since she's not the only one who wants her to still be able to play." Sighing with frustration, the Seeker slammed her fist against the arm of her chair. "Goddammit, Brian, why'd this have to happen now? Seventh year. Best team we've had. First Kotter—and for all the asshole he was, he was still a damn good Chaser. Now Keely? Just when I'd started to believe we might actually have a shot at the Quidditch Cup." She gave a sad chuckle, shooting a glance over at her friend. "You know what I mean?"
But Brian refused to meet her gaze, his mouth set in a thin line as he stared at the wall. "You know, you're not making this any easier for me, DC," he murmured.
Her expression softened. "I'm sorry, sweety, I'm not even thinking. You must feel as awful as I do, seeing as she's practically your partner and—"
"That's not what I meant."
At the tone of his voice, her words died on her lips, a horrible feeling seeping through her like ice water. She placed a hand uncertainly upon his arm. "What is it, Brian?"
A weak chuckle rose from the Beater, and slowly his eyes leveled with hers, guilt and remorse running thick through their emerald depths. "You know what the best thing about playing Quidditch has always been for me? It's you. The love you have for the game, and for us. The way you put your heart into it. If you hadn't already been on the team, I don't think I ever would've played. You make me want to win…" He took hold of her hand and laced his fingers through hers before whispering, "I have to quit, Darcy. I can't play anymore."
The words hit her like a shock wave, rocking her slowly backward in her seat. For a long moment, her mouth refused to form words. "What—do you mean, you… can't…"
He sighed painfully. "Professor Dumbledore called me into his office last Friday. He had… some concerns about my grades… and whether or not I'd be able to pass my N.E.W.T.s. We talked, and he'd, ah… already spoken to my parents, and we came to the agreement that… unless I quit Quidditch and devote all my extra time to studies, I'm not going to be able to pass this year," he finished in a tortured voice. "Sorry, Darcy."
She simply blinked back. She felt sick to her stomach, as though someone had delivered a fierce punch to her gut. Everything was so perfect… the thought drifted like a shadow through her mind as she stared at her best friend.
"Darcy… please… say something," he pleaded.
The hand holding her own squeezed, and Brian was forced to wait through another tense moment of silence until at last she said, "If you're looking for somebody to tutor you in Potions, count me out."
Relieved laughter rolled through the Beater as he dropped to his knees in front of the seated girl, hugging her tightly around the waist, his head pressed to her chest so he could hear her heart beating. "God, DC, for a minute there, I thought you were going to curse my right to breathe or something," he chuckled, tugging playfully at her red-and-gold-striped school tie.
She cocked a skeptical eyebrow. "I thought about it," she teased, "but then I remembered I love you to much to hate you." She smiled. "Besides, when it comes down to it, I'd much rather have you seated beside me in a chair on graduation day than seated beside me on a broomstick during the Quidditch Final."
"I'd hoped that's what you'd say." Flashing her a grin, he got to his feet, dusting off the knees of his gray uniform slacks. "And now that I know I won't have to spend the rest of my nights fretting over the fact that you hate me, I'd best be off. I'm supposed to start doing that 'studying' thing with Toby and Loren tonight."
"Fun, fun," Darcy quipped with a smirk.
"Yep. Just like gouging your own eyes out with a spoon," he replied, and gave her a last hug before heading out. He paused at the doorway, turning back to her. "Hey, DC?"
She glanced up at him. "Hmm?"
His expression was a mixture of affection and sobriety as he told her, "You're a great captain. You're still going to win the Quidditch Cup. And I'll be the first one on the field to congratulate you when you do." He smiled. "Right?"
"Right," she agreed, and watched him disappear into the darkened hallway. As Brian's footsteps faded, so did her smile. She wasn't mad at him… but she wasn't particularly happy, either. A heaviness had settled into her chest, a sad acceptance of forces she had no control over.
And just when I thought things couldn't get worse.
Wearily, she sent a glance over at Keely. In her usual fashion, the Scot was snoring loudly, a lock of curly brown hair flipping in and out of her mouth with each breath. Darcy had gotten a quick glance at the sleeping draught Madam Pomfrey had practically poured down Keely's throat; it was decidedly one of the nurse's more potent blends. Darcy knew it would still be quite a while before Keely would wake again.
She stretched to her feet, groaning loudly at all the unexpected aches and pains the day had brought her. She groaned even louder when she realized her half-finished Transfiguration essay was still waiting for her upstairs.
Bloody hell, what next? she thought cynically, but didn't dare say it aloud. She'd already had enough trouble for one day, she didn't dare jinx herself further.
She sent a last glance down at her slumbering friend and patted the other girl lightly on the shoulder. "I'll take extra notes for you tomorrow in Charms class, huh? Just get better soon," she instructed, then let her weary feet carry her out of the infirmary and back toward Gryffindor Tower.
It was at an open corridor somewhere along the fifth floor that she suddenly paused, a subtle sound playing at her ears, something beyond her own echoing footsteps. Intrigued, she cocked her head, listened closely, and soon pinpointed the noise to a slight tapping on a nearby window. A sigh flowed through her when she recognized the distorted image of an owl through the stained glass, and quickly she moved to allow the bird entry. She started a bit in surprise when her own barn owl, Manhattan, swooped easily through the window and landed on her shoulder.
"Didn't see you at breakfast this morning," she told the bird reproachfully, stroking a hand over the smooth feathers of his wings. The owl hooted softly at her and, as if to explain his absence, thrust at her the scroll of parchment tied neatly to one leg. "Ahh, I see. Unexpected errand." She freed her letter and waited for Manhattan to take off… when she realized the owl was staring at her expectantly. She frowned. "What? I don't have any treats on me right now."
Indignant, the barn owl screeched at her.
"Okay, okay! Find me tomorrow at breakfast, I'll give you some bacon or something. Okay?" she offered, running a fingertip placatingly along his head. Appeased, he nipped her ear affectionately and took off once more into the night.
Darcy closed the window after him, then stared down at her letter. For a moment she considered tucking it away in her robes, waiting till she was back in the comfortable warmth of the common room to read it. But curiosity soon got the best of her and, moving into the glow of a nearby torch for sufficient light, she broke the wax seal and let her gaze drift down over the familiar script that spanned the page's length.
Darcy,
I have great news for you! Your father got pulled aside today by Amelia Bones—she's Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, in case you forgot—and she told him you've been accepted into next year's Auror Training Program! Well, pending your N.E.W.T.s, obviously, but your father and I were just so excited, we couldn't wait to tell you! Your father practically had a fit when he found out. He says he can't wait to have to have his girl working side by side with him. We're so proud of you, sweety! Would it be alright if we had a bit of party for you over Spring Break next week? Just for friends and family of course. Send a note back with Manhattan as soon as you get a chance, okay? We love you, Darcy, and we're so proud of you.
Love,
Mom
For a long moment, Darcy stared in mild horror at the sheet of parchment, appalled by news that would have made anyone else dance in delight. But anyone else might actually have wanted to be an Auror; Darcy did not. The idea of wasting away the rest of her life chasing around bad guys for the Ministry of Magic made her feel sick to her stomach. She knew it was what her parents had always wanted for her… to follow in her father's footsteps… She'd never told them differently, not wanting to disappoint them, and secretly believing she'd never make it into the Auror Training Program to begin with. But somehow she had…
Whatever traces of good humor she might have still possessed for that day vanished as she tossed the letter onto the torch, watching it flame and curl into ash. She walked the rest of the way back to the tower in a daze, barely noticing the slow tears brimming just behind her eyelashes.
Only four faces greeted her when she stepped into the common room, perhaps the only four faces she would have wanted to see at that moment. Seated in front of the fire, Oliver and Percy Weasley were in the midst of a game of wizard's chess, flanked by the avid gazes of Percy's younger brothers, Fred and George. The twins were delighting in sabotaging their sibling's efforts by rearranging his pieces whenever he wasn't looking, while Oliver tried his best to repress a smirk of amusement.
Suddenly quite exhausted, Darcy shuffled over to them, dropping onto a nearby loveseat.
"There you are, love, I've been looking for you all…" Oliver trailed off as he caught sight of her dejected expression and worry instantly filled his own features. "Darcy? What's wrong?"
The Keeper's words brought instant curious glances from the Weasley twins and a concerned frown from Percy, who proceeded to study the blonde in a very contemplative manner. "It's not been a good day for you, has it?" he said suddenly.
A choked laugh escaped Darcy's throat. "And you, Percy Weasley, win the Understatement-of-the-Year Award," she quipped, though the humor fell flat next to the twin teardrops slowly making their way down her cheeks.
Oliver moved up onto the couch next to her, drawing her into his protective embrace as Percy and the twins scooted closer as well. "Tell me," was all the fourth-year had to say, and suddenly every terrible detail of the long day was spilling from the Seeker's lips, anger and sadness and fear pouring out until at last, she collapsed back against Oliver, utterly spent.
A long moment of heavy silence stretched after her final words.
"So… does that mean we get to be the main Beaters for the rest of the year?" Fred finally spoke up, and immediately received a smack from his twin.
"Git, now's not the time to bother her with that!" George smiled apologetically up at Darcy. "Sorry, love, apparently I was born with the conscience side of our brain. What my twin meant to say was, you need to get away from things for a bit. Take some time just for yourself. You should come stay with us at the Burrow over spring break."
"Now that, my dear brother, is indeed a spiffing idea," Fred interjected approvingly.
"Actually, that really isn't a bad idea," said Percy suddenly, surprising his brothers with the fact that he'd actually agreed with them. "Charlie's going to be home, and I know he'd love to see you. And mum, as well—I'm sure she'll make quite the fuss over you."
"Oliver, you should come, too," Fred added. "It'd make for great backyard Quidditch."
Tiredly the blonde blinked at them all, letting the offer sink into her head, even as Oliver answered that he'd love to come and then gazed expectantly down at her. Her parents wanted her to come home over break and have a party, to celebrate the 'good news' of her Auror Training acceptance. They wanted to brag to all the family about their daughter, the future Auror. They wanted to ask her about Kotter and hear her say how things were great between her and her future husband. They wanted her to play the role she'd been playing her entire life. And because of this, she would be miserable the entire week.
At the Burrow, she would be pampered, fed, chatted up, and loved upon, no strings attached.
Darcy hesitated exactly two seconds before gratefully accepting Percy and the twins' offer.
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Whew. Longish chapter. 4300-some words the last time I checked. Yay for chapters with actual plot instead of just fluffy smut! Although I do adore my fluffy smut… ;)
Can I ask a favor of you lovely, lovely people? You see, I wanted to get myself a Live Journal for my 18th birthday (it was July 3rd) as kind of a gift to myself. But I didn't realize you had to pay unless you knew someone. And as I only just turned 18, I don't yet have a credit card to pay. And I didn't know anyone. Sooo… does anybody have an LJ code they'd like to donate? *puppy eyes* Pweese? You'll have my eternal gratitude and I promise you an LJ filled with Harry Potter cookies and Arby's rants. ;) Feel free to go ahead and e-mail me if you want to hook me up. And even if you don't, feel free to e-mail me anyway. I like e-mail. :)
Hum. Think that's about enough out of me for one day. Lurve you all! ~ Adele