This story was written for the Final Round of the Eighth Season of the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition. I'm writing as Chaser 3 for The Holyhead Harpies.
Name of Round: Ding Dong, You're Wrong
My task this round is as follows: Your character must naively believe something won't be that bad.
These are the prompts I'm using to as a chaser to score some extra points:
1. (word) lucky
2. (quote) "Don't waste your time with explanations. People only hear what they want to hear."- Paulo Coelho
13. (dialogue) "Tell me how to make this right."
Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Harry Potter.
Thanks to all my betas!
WARNING: Gun violence, scars, casual racism, undescribed nudity
Title: A Waning Moon in the West
Words: 3,000 (GoogleDocs)
I wanna be a cowboy, baby.
~End of Author's Notes~
I ain't never died, but the Reaper's come knockin' a heap of times.
He almost busted down the door last night. Found myself under a full moon with a band of brigands and you'd better believe they didn't take kindly to a few hundred pounds of muscle and fur goin' for their throats. The bullets didn't mean much to me at the time, and they wouldn't kill me after, but layin' on hot sands with the sun kissin' raw wounds while I'm too dragged out to muster up much magic to close 'em? It was enough to make a gal resent the wolf what put her in that spot.
I was content to lay there 'til the bullet holes closed up, but my nose was twitchin'. I smelled like crusted blood, sure, but the wind was carryin' somethin' else: A horse and a rider, and I could just make 'em out if I squinted right.
"Howdy, partner," they greeted me as their mount blocked the sun for me. "It looks like you've had an eighteen carat run of bad luck." Their voice was the kind of velvet you didn't find in a smoker, and friendlier than a drinker.
"That's why they call me Lucky," I said. I'd have laughed if it didn't hurt so much. "Y'here to finish the job?" Seemed as likely as anythin'. Between the burns on half my face and the bloodstains on my boots, anyone could've told I was an outlaw, and this stranger happened to have a badge shinin' on their chest.
"Outlaw or not, from the wand on your hip and the fact you aren't dead, I can tell you're a witch. And I'm not in the business of killing anything that's not a werewolf."
Oh, how I wanted to laugh. The thing about livin' the way I did was you had to get by however you could. People'd only hear what they wanted to hear, saw what they wanted to see, and most people thought scumbag when they laid eyes on me. If this stranger saw somethin' worth savin' in me, it was worth playin' along.
"Not even if they draw first?"
They went thoughtful for a second. "Some things can't be helped. The name's Billie, by the by. Billie Flint." Billie pulled out the wand by their six-shooter and started casting the kind of Charms y'could only learn with a proper education, but I could tell they were from Ilvermorny just from how they were speakin'. And that they were a woman now that my vision was clearin'; she could dress in layers and muscles and crop her hair short all she liked, but y'have to get up early to fool a werewolf who's been eatin' well, and my stomach was oh so full that day.
"Thank you kindly," I said when she grabbed my hand and pulled me up; even cleaned my clothes for me. "Guess I'll be goin' now."
"Hold on a second, Lucky." Billie kept my gaze. "I came out here 'cause there were gunshots and the Deputies were too hungover to make it themselves. You look like you might know what went down."
"Might be I do." Because I'd been hungry.
"Seeing as I just healed you, it seems to me like you're in my debt. So, let's say we make this right and you can pay me back my coming back to town, answering a few questions, and I'll see if I can't cover your lodging for a few days until you're back on your feet. How does that sound?"
It sounded like she was too kind for her own good. But I had to admit, with the way she was smilin', it seemed like there were two suns out that mornin'.
We wound up ridin' to Redrock Creek together. Me feelin' half-dead even though I weren't, her happy to talk the ride away with talk about the farms she grew up on 'fore the wizards found her. And I'd be lyin' if I said I didn't slip in a few digs; growin' up panhandling between my monthlies ain't no way for a girl to get a flannel tongue.
Which was a shame, 'cause we didn't get two trots into that ramshackle burg of a town before it woulda come in handy.
"Whoa, there!" yelled some hard case with his back up. "Where d'you think you're goin' with that?" He had a hand on his gun, the other pointed at me, and a twitch in his mustache.
"Howdy, partner. I'm taking her to the hotel, see if she can get some rest, and be on her way."
"Oh, no, no you're not. I know them scars; she and her outlaws came round just a week ago, stole my horse, stole my wife's valuables, everythin' we were gonna use to pay for a trip back soon as the train's built! Hell, they did it to the whole town!" Some woman in a fine dress was watchin' from the saloon porch. Probably said wife; I didn't care to remember their faces.
"I understand that, friend, I do, but way I heard it, she's the one responsible for gunning down the rest of the folks that did it. And if that ain't enough, she's not gonna be able to make it right if she can't recover."
"Oh, she can make it right, at the end of a noose, same as anyone else!" He snarled.
"I can't let that happen," Billie said, cool as cool came. "I'm afraid she's in my custody."
The blowhard squinted at her badge for a second before findin' another excuse. "I don't recognize the badge, and I don't recognize you."
"Don't waste your time with explanations," I whispered in Billie's ear. "People only hear what they want to hear, and what he wants is you gettin' friendly with an outlaw, lookin' for a cut of our loot. Keep ridin' before he gets ideas."
"An outlaw's the same as any of the rest of us." But Billie was stubborn. "If your life went a little different, you'd be grateful for the mercy I'm offering her—"
"Mercy?" The man guffawed. "Nah, I served, and there's none of that left this far West. I tell you now, get her off that horse, or I'm takin' you both down."
"Partner—" Billie cut herself off when he went for his gun. Hers was in her hand before he'd cleared leather and her bullet found a new home between his eyes.
There was a situation after that. People gatherin' round, but nobody made trouble; apparently, he was the fastest draw in town, and his wife watched him get outgunned by Billie. She told me to ride on to the saloon while she settled things, and I was waiting there for ten minutes by the time she got back, grim and with her belt a few dollars lighter.
"What'd you hang back for?" I asked upon seein' her.
"I killed her husband, so I had to make things right. Enough to cover her living for a few weeks and pay for that trip home."
That made me smile. "Never met someone so sweet who shoots so deadly. Didn't expect a werewolf hunter woman to be so good with a six-shooter."
"The firearm's for men. I save my wand for the monsters." Billie took the reins. "Besides, I can't go around using magic in front of No-Majes, what with the statute and all. Let's get this stabled and head inside; I could do with a bath."
Billie paid for a couple of bunks and an hour in the bathroom. She went on ahead of me, and I gave it ten minutes, but only one of us spent the mornin' full of holes. A brush of my fingers knocked the lock on the other side and I wandered in to the sight of a filled tin tub and Billie sittin' in it.
Her hand snapped to the table beside the tub.
"You gonna shoot me?" I asked as I kicked the door shut, locked it up, and moseyed to the free tub.
"I admit, I was expecting some privacy." Billie sunk into the water with her cheeks blazin'. Couldn't help recognizin' the gouges in her shoulder; I'd made plenty of men hurt the same way, though whoever got her didn't finish the job.
"Don't worry about it." I put my fingers on the edge of the tub and dragged them all around the rim. Crystal clear water started flowin' from where I touched. "I've seen myself and more soiled doves than you can count; you ain't special."
"Pardon?" Billie's blush was goin' nowhere.
"Pardon?" I laughed. "Pardon what?"
"You sleep with...sporting women?"
"You bet."
"But...you're an outlaw. Don't they mind?"
"You're awful adorable for a killer, Miss Flint. The scars might make 'em turn their noses up, but it ain't like they love their honest customers either. And I dare say they're glad of not havin' to worry 'bout poppin' out a mouth to feed for a night."
"Oh." That was all Billie said as I undressed. I didn't mind her lookin'; not like most would have an appetite once they saw the tapestry of trauma that my body was. To her credit, she didn't let the silence sit. "That was wandless magic you used, wasn't it?"
"Sure was."
"Why don't you use your wand?"
"'Cause that spell don't work with wands," I told her as I stepped into the warm embrace of my tub. "And 'cause Ilvermorny don't take kindly to kids without the cash to pay for tuition. Matter of fact, they don't take 'em at all. And I only know that much 'cause some Indians found me half-dead when I was knee-high and took pity for a time."
"I'm sorry to hear that, Lucky," she said. "It must have been mighty interesting, growing up with Indians, learning that kind of magic. I can't say I've ever met one."
"Growin' up?" I had a bitter laugh at that. "They taught me enough to survive, that's all. A month or two, before the tribes without magic got uncomfortable seein' some gal a few shades too white hangin' around their camps."
"Still...it's nice that you had that." Billie flashed that damn smile again, and I forgot to be insulted about her brushin' past my past. "It does make a woman wonder where you got your wand from."
"Y'think poor wizards are rare? Nah, count the amount who're flush and double it, then again the further west you get. Most bands of bastards I've ran with have had one or two, and they all ended up as dead as the rest. Mine's from one of 'em; I keep it in case I need a pinch more power someday."
"It's kind of you to keep a keepsake."
"Weren't you listenin'?" What could I do but shake my head? "I keep it in case I need it, I ain't some namby-pamby outlaw with a heart of gold."
"I don't know about that; I think any brigand, bandit, whatever you call them, has a sliver of one somewhere. It's starvation, desperation, that drives a man to that life; I reckon most of them would be getting along just dandy with some food in their bellies and a roof over their head." She said it with stars in her eyes and honey in her voice. 'Cause she was only hearin' what she wanted to.
"That what you're doin' with me?"
"I'm just giving you a chance to make things right. You're nothing without your honor, and since you didn't come in here heeled..." She pointed at the belt on the floor, with my wand and my six-shooter. "I'd say you have more than you think."
It was enough to make a gal wonder. I was called Lucky 'cause of all the times I'd survived things a human shouldn't. It was ironic, 'cause there ain't a werewolf in the world who's lucky. They're lonely, can't stay with folks or else they'll get fond and regret it when someone gets eaten, and that werewolf gets skinned by hunters just like Billie. Except not, 'cause she was a sweetheart. Perhaps I had reason to think Lucky had got lucky.
"An honorable attitude. That apply to the wolves you hunt, Miss Flint?"
Billie's fingers brushed the old wounds on her shoulder, but she never got a chance to finish that thought.
A gunshot sounded outside.
"Billie Flint! Sheriff Silver here. Why don't you come on out with that outlaw for a little discussion with me and my Deputies?" some gravel-voiced bastard barked.
Billie caught my eye and seemed to catch my meanin', 'cause we both got out and dressed in a hurry, but none of it so we could go and meet him.
"Can you Apparate?" she asked as she tugged on her boots.
"Appawhat?"
Billie shook her head. "I can take me and you or me and my horse, but I ain't leaving either of you behind. Stick by me, hold on tight, and don't you go shooting anyone."
I'd have objected, but she grabbed my arm and skedaddled down the hall too quick.
"Sorry for the trouble," Billie said as she ran past the cowering owner, dropping a couple dollars on his counter as she discreetly pulled out her wand and unlocked the door. Her horse was waitin' with its ears perked and its hooves shiftin' impatiently. She saddled up and pulled me with her as a couple of the deputies with their eyes on the stables made our escape known.
"No shootin'?" I asked, my thighs grippin' that seat tight.
"Not if I can help it," she said, and then we rode. The deputies' bullets went flyin' our way, but some quick wandwork hidden on her far side made certain none of them bullets found a home. There were yells, protesting horses, and more deputies comin' round to find the commotion. Her horse was fast, but it weren't bullet-fast, and her spells could only take so much. I looked ahead, and all I saw was the railroad and the half-finished train that sat in the station.
"Y'got a spell to turn this horse into a train?" 'Cause that'd be impressive.
"No. But I have got one that's going to save our lives and a little something my boss likes to call plausible deniability." Billie had her wand in hand. "You could imagine I had a friend waiting on the train, couldn't you?"
"Sure?"
"Well, then." She rode up alongside the train cabs, her wand out and Charms spewin' from her lips. Then the wheels started turnin' by themselves, the train shifted forward, and every cab she passed it got faster, faster, until her horse was strugglin' to keep up. Another couple Charms followed, the train was hurtlin' on, and only a last-second jump got us both through the doors of an open boxcar, and her horse, too.
A couple minutes passed. Bullets rang off the boxcar, but no horse was fast enough to keep up. We were home free, and my heart was racin'. Excitement, gratitude, a whole mess of emotions.
"I ain't never met a woman like you, Miss Flint. And I don't mind tellin' you that," I said, embracin' her freely once she had both feet on the ground.
Billie returned it just as fondly. "Thank you kindly, Lucky. Assuming the Charm holds, we'll be back in civilization before long and I'll be happy to lend you a hand getting your legs under you if work allows."
"Really?" I smiled so hard it made my cheeks hurt. I was feelin' bold as brass, as trustin' as I'd ever been, and if anyone'd overlook it, it'd be her. She'd saved me three times that day, twice at her own expense, and was sweeter than a chocolate caramel. "Even for a werewolf like me?"
Then she froze. "What?"
And from her tone, I knew we were about to face some difficulty. "That's what I am. I didn't choose it, just ended up that way. Nothin's different than when you thought I was an outlaw—"
Billie shoved me so hard I damn near fell out. "Werewolves are different," she said, her gun in her hand and hurt in her eyes. "Werewolves are..." She rolled her scarred shoulder. "Werewolves are monsters." Her other hand grabbed her wand.
"Easy, easy!" I was tremblin', sweatin', a mess on that floor in a matter of moments. "You were takin' a chance on me before, werewolves ain't no different than an outlaw, it's just chance. You coulda been one if the one that got you went for a bite instead of a claw."
Hurt and anger flashed in her eyes all at once. She pulled her trigger and I had a new hole in my chest. Pain was a lot worse without a full moon, but I still tried to pull myself up.
"Don't you talk about that, wolf."
"Why?" I wheezed.
"You haven't got the right. My family, they..." Tears were in her eyes. "You haven't got the right."
"That's just..." I clung to the wall. I wasn't gonna die, but it hurt like Hell. "Another thing that makes us the same. You think I was born an orphan?"
"Stop talking."
"Come on, Miss Flint..." I stumbled towards her, grabbed hold of her shoulders. "I know you've reason to hate me, but...it weren't me who did it…" I looked into the eyes that had been so kind. "Just let me do this your way. Tell me how to make this right."
Another bullet tore through me. Another might have if I hadn't stumbled right out of that open boxcar, hit the ground.
And as I lay bleedin' in the hot sand, I thought maybe I'd had the wrong measure of her. Only heard what I wanted to hear; that the hunter with a heart of gold and limitless compassion had come to save me.
But I sure as shit weren't that lucky.