Ficlet: "Pitch Perfect" (Kingsley/Gideon)

[ceria-taliesin.livejournal.com]

Title: Pitch Perfect
Character Pairing: Kingsley Shacklebolt / Gideon Prewett
Prompt: Let the tempest howl.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 820
Author's Notes: Thank you, westwardlee, for the quick beta. All mistakes are my own because I keep tinkering with it.



"Why are we meeting on the Pitch?"

Instead of answering, Gideon folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the wall. Ever impatient, Kingsley tapped his foot, huffed, then tried to leave the changing room. Except that Gideon had prepared for that and charmed the door to lock and not open until he released it.

"Let me out, Prewett, if you're not going to tutor me."

"Transfiguration, Shacklebolt," Gideon asked one more time. "What's the difference between inanimate objects and magically altered ones?"

"Some are magical and some are not," Kingsley said, each word accompanied with a yank on the door that wouldn't open.

"You have no idea, do you? No wonder you can't pass."

"I am not failing! My scores just aren't as high as yours."

"And my job is to make sure your next test has the same score as mine," or else Gideon wouldn't be allowed to play in the next Quidditch match. Unfortunately, he believed McGonagall was vindictive enough to actually try and follow through with that threat.

"Why does she like you so much?" Gideon asked, curious as to her demands that he spend this much time tutoring Shacklebolt.

"Who?"

"McG."

"That's disrespectful, don't call her that."

Well, that explained a lot. "I hear you want to be an Auror."

"What do you care, Prewett?" Kingsley had finally given up on the door and moved to the windows, climbing onto the storage boxes that held his next lesson, even if he didn't know it yet. With a small smile, Gideon waved his hand at the box, removing the lid and Shacklebolt fell into it, his flailing legs scattering protective Quidditch equipment everywhere. Only his quick reflexes saved him as he grabbed the windowsill, his legs finally stilling as he pulled himself up, trainers looking for traction against the wall.

"Well, at least you can think on your feet, so to speak."

"Fucking snake," Kingsley said, kicking away from the wall, he let himself fall, landing on his feet facing Gideon.

Shrugging his shoulders, Gideon ignored the slur; he'd heard worse. "Ready to begin now?"

"Oh, you mean you actually have a lesson for me?"

Gideon folded his arms again, finally getting irritated. He didn't have all the time in the world to wait for this obstinate boy. "I have to tutor the firsties in thirty minutes, but she doesn't have equipment to fit them. So you and I are going to make it fit them before the lesson."

"What did you do to get in so much trouble with McGonagall?" Kingsley asked, still staring at Gideon.

"None of your business."

"It must have been huge, else why would you be stuck with a Ravenclaw and the first year…" It didn't take Kingsley long to guess from there. "Oh! You were behind the tables melting all over the Great Hall and you got caught! What do you know, Prewett, I didn't think you had that much imagination."

The corner of his mouth turning up, Gideon didn't answer. He wasn't responsible for it actually, but he had been blamed for it, and he wasn't going to squeal on anyone in his House.

"What do I have to do?" Kingsley asked when he realized that Gideon wouldn't answer him.

Finally. Gideon showed him the wand movements and hid his laughter at Kingsley's frustration when he didn't manage it immediately.

"You need to be more precise, Shacklebolt. These are already magically altered to protect the player, which makes it harder to them change again. Watch one more time."

He didn't have any idea where the time went as they worked on the forearm and shin guards, Kingsley's wand waving getting more precise as he practiced. The children banging on the door made Gideon flinch, but he ignored the strange look Kingsley gave him at that. Silently waving his wand, he undid the charm blocking it; unable to hide his smile from the eleven-year-olds as they poured into the locker room, excited to play Quidditch with a seventh-year.

He'd meant to tell Kingsley he was free to leave, but the younger man stayed by his side, fitting up the children, teasing them, reminding them the rules of the match as they followed Gideon from the locker to the Pitch.

An hour later, Gideon dropped his broom, collapsing on the ground with Kingsley standing over him, laughing.

"You're not a bad sort when you stop howling, Shacklebolt," Gideon admitted, covering his forehead with his hand to block the bright light from the setting sun as he looked up at Kingsley.

"Neither are you," Kingsley said, holding his hand out to help Gideon stand. With a groan caused by sore muscles, Gideon let Kingsley pull him off the ground. They stood there for a moment, staring eye to eye but not speaking, until Gideon finally pulled his hand free and turned. Gathering the remaining equipment, Kingsley helped him return it to the Pitch to put it away, completely silent for once.