Lessons in Flight ft. Fred & Weasel

Nimble fingers flicked over peeling leather; just-awakened knuckles curling to form creaking fists, with a shoelace held in each. Nemo pulled the laces taught, ducking digits through each loop as he wound trustworthy knots around his boots.

"Stand on the left side of your broom."

Dewy autumn leaves flattened further against the soil, clinging limply to the ground beneath his feet.

"Hold your right hand out."

Fred and Weasel leapt, weaving with one another in the manner of the contents of a lava lamp as they padded swiftly at his side, defying the laws of physics.

"Command your broom."

The Jarveys scurried past as Nemo came to a halt at what he'd declared the field’s midpoint.

He tightened his loose hold around the splintering wood of a barrowed broomstick. It weighed heavily in his palm, but it hadn't hindered him in his trek across the clearing. Its presence was but a lighthearted reminder, in addition to the mischievous excitement that had intertwined with his veins, of the challenge to which the dawn would be dedicated.

"Once you've got hold of your broom, I want you to mount it."

A yawn chased away what remained of Nemo's exhaustion.

7:00AM had set the alarm clock screaming.

"Carefully, so not to slide off the end."

Nemo flexed his fingers around Jack's broom, splaying them across its limited surface area.

He leveled his gaze with the unruly land before him; all grass and weeds and decaying summer.

"Kick off from the ground - hard."

And with brute force he thrust his heal into the supple ground, and with such speed did he propel himself upward upon Jack's broom that he was sent spiraling through the morning's dewy air -

"Hover for a moment, and carefully come back down."

- before gravity grounded him once more with the distinct thud! of a body fallen.

"Da f-ck?!" Weasel inquired, and Fred climbed atop Mount Mortimer, jumping across his chest.

"Oh, shut up, ferrets..." Nemo coughed.

Jack had gone for her daily run, as usual. Conditioning had never really stopped for her. Once she had gotten serious about remaining in good shape for Quidditch, she had stayed serious. Besides, with as many 'adventures' as she always managed to find herself in, being able to run at top speed was helpful.

The sun was stretching itself over the previously dark-stained sky as she came around the corner, stepping into her own neighborhood. She slowed her pace and halted at the front gate. She paused only to drink a gulp of water from the plastic bottle that was her running companion before slipping into the front yard.

She had just reached for the door when she heard Elliot bark. It came from the back field and it was a noise of alarm. Immediately, Jack sprinter for the field, picking up speed as she spitted a figure.

"NEMO!?"

She dropped to her knees next to him, before staggering upright in surprise. He had a broom in his hand and seemed mostly uninjured. "What are you doing with my broom?"

A loud and exasperated sigh betrayed Nemo's lack of enthusiasm towards Jack's return, and was followed shortly by a series of thu-thu-thumps as he beat his limbs in a brief temper tantrum against the ground.

But it was as Jack stooped at his side that his demeanor changed. He interlocked his fingers atop his chest in a patient heap of nonexistent fingernails and scarred skin. And in a chirpy, "top-o-the-morning-to-yuh" tone he greeted her, "Good morning McDonald. What's for breakfast?"

But this new facade was quickly overthrown by his disappointment, and it fell. "This is your fault!" He declared. And with a swift swing of his arm he took hold of the clod of soil that he'd kicked loose and chucked it roughly at Elliot.

"It was supposed to be..." His words trailed off to become an incoherent babble of surprises ruined as he folded his crossed his arms, breaking only every so often to insert a line of understandable English "...told you to be quiet..." "...stupid dog..." "...get off me ferret..."

It was during her approach that Jack noticed Nemo flailing. However, she wasn't too concerned. The man had a taste for dramatics.

He spoke casually and Jack raised her eyebrows, a pursed look on her face, hands on her hips as she waited for the act to slip.

She didn't have long to wait.

Elliot was prepared. As the dirt hurtled towards him, he coolly shrunk into the form of a terrier, and the clod went well over his head. Jack sputtered in surprise as the jarveys cackled with laughter, hurling themselves playfully at Elliot.

Jack's attention, however, stayed trained on Bemoan. "What's gotten into you?...This time?"

The trees that bordered the clearing swayed as Nemo lurched forward, curling dizzily to sit. His vision had yet to steady, and the pang of a blossoming bruise reminded the man of the force with which he'd been forced to land. Not more than ten feet, had he flown.

A challenge this would be, indeed.

Nemo's lips screwed shut in a pout when he clasped a hand over the back of his tender skull and rolled his hunched shoulders. "What's gotten into you?...This time?"

"Shshshsh!" He demanded with the snap of his neck towards Jack, "Just -" his voice dropped to a soft, pleasing pitch as he slid once more into a new role; a characteristic with which Jack had undoubtedly been made familiar. "- rewind... Go back that way, and forget you found me lying in a field, and this still might just work," He suggested with a spreading smile and climbing eyebrows that trumped his earlier frown.

He shushed her and her jaw snapped shut, still utterly perplexed but now a bit miffed at his commands. Nemo, however, was the only one who could really make her obey. She had learned, long ago, that if she simply trusted him and obeyed, he always delivered. She sighed. This was another of those times.

He had better deliver.

Jack shook her head, putting on a forced smile and turned, loudly and robitically saying "Oh. What can that be. Way over there. I had better go check it out." She walked into the front yard, keeping her back to the field as she plucked at her work out clothes. She let out a sigh, awaiting a sign from Nemo.

Ignoring the protests of his abused appendages, Nemo scuffled excitedly to stand while Jack made her retreat from the field. He straightened with a determined huff of foggy, sticky breath and swept the broomstick from the ground, wielding it like a weapon of mass destruction.

He turned, squinting against the sun in examination of the distance that now stood between himself and the back of his sweaty companion.

"Farther!" Nemo shouted along his arched palm in an attempt to throw his squealing voice. "Keep going! Keep going! Getting colder..." He directed, like the alarm of a reversing truck.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Surely, Fred and Weasel had never succumbed to such a laughing fit.

Jack had spotted a small smear if dirt on her wrist. She locked her thumb and vigorously rubbed at the dirt. That was irritating.

Nemo's words reached her ears and she sighed, raising her hand to signal that she would obey him. She walked forward, deciding to go all the way to the front yard, rather than mice three steps, have Nemo tell her to go farther, and then repeat.

The field was large, but the house was small, which meant that there wasn't much between her and her roommate. She laced her hands behind her back and rocked back and forth on her heels.