Doves (a short story)
Oct. 22nd, 2007 04:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mary_j_59TitleDoves
Authormary-j-59
genre Short story, complete, about 800 words.
rating, warnings, etc G-rated, not quite genfic (a parallel universe Christopher stoy. Does not fit with the rest of the series; in this one, Severus survived AND regained his magic and is teaching Defense at Hogwarts, and Chris, a Squib, is at choir school at home in Yorkshire. His sister, who doesn't come into this story, is a third-year Ravenclaw.) As always, concrit welcome (especially from pigeon keepers!) The story follows the cut:
Christopher had wanted to get rollers originally, but they had dissuaded him. "They can't defend themselves when they spin, can they?" Jane had said. After some thought, Christopher had agreed. So his pair were ordinary homing pigeons, after all. Severus was sure this one was Mercury, because of the silver sheen of the feathers round his neck. Chris had named him, and Jane had instantly named the other bird, the blue one, Freddy. Christopher had accepted the name, staring wide-eyed at his giggling mother.
Chris had trained the birds himself, bringing them out on his bike in a carrier basket. "You have to go further and further every day, see, Dad? They need to learn the way home." Eventually they had used the car. By the end of the summer, the birds had known the route perfectly.
Now Mercury walked on his desk, toeing in and making the soft, melodious sound pigeons make. "Come here, you," Severus said to the bird, and closed his hands gently round its body. It was perfectly calm, but its heartbeat was rapid under his fingers. He felt for the little tube on its leg and took out the letter, hearing himself crooning to the bird as he did so. In his mind's eye, he saw his little boy, so many miles away, stroking Mercury's feathers and then kissing the bird's head as he opened his hands to let it fly. His own lips touched the tiny head and the bird stared at him with a bright, dark eye as his fingers brushed the feathers on its chest. It was a marvel that the creature was so tame with him. Christopher was another story; he loved animals, and the beasts seemed to sense that and love him in return. He was fearless with his pets, and gentle, and could do anything with them. His father could hear his voice in his mind's ear, quiet and musical like running water. If Chris were here, he would feed this bird. He'd be talking to it the whole time. "Are you hungry?" Severus heard himself asking, and held out corn in his cupped hand. The bird came to him and pecked at his palm, and the man's lips curled upward, partly because of the way the creature moved, jerking its head up and down like a wind up toy, and partly because it tickled. When it finished the grain, he captured it again and slipped his own letter into the tube on its leg. Then he carried it to the window and opened his hands to let it fly. "Go," he told it, "Go home to Christopher."
Mercury rose sharply, in a flurry of wingbeats, and then banked and turned, flying steadily south. Severus stared after it till it vanished in the distance. It was astonishing, what that bird could do; there were human beings who wouldn't be able to navigate so well. In awhile it would be flying into its coop at home, and Christopher would be talking to it, just as his father had, and taking out the letter it carried. Those birds trusted Christopher, and did their jobs perfectly. But who wouldn't trust Christopher?
They trusted him, too. That was the really amazing thing. So many human beings still looked at him with doubt and suspicion, and yet a bird, a half-wild, winged creature, came to him and ate from his hand. It happened every week; it had happened just now, but he could still barely credit it.
And, as always happened, he felt a small pang of loss once the bird had vanished. While Mercury was there, on his desk, it was as if Chris were there with the bird. That was why it trusted him; he just did what his boy would have done, and it accepted him the way it accepted Christopher.
Sighing, he turned from the window and sat down at his desk. Chris's letter, still tightly rolled, was at his right hand. He picked it up, unrolled it, and felt himself smiling at the untidy, higgeldy-piggeldy script. Chris had many skills, but penmanship wasn't one of them. He smiled again as a sketch at the top of the letter caught his eye. A bird in flight, quickly drawn, and underneath it the words, "Dad! don't forget. Give Mercury some corn."
Authormary-j-59
genre Short story, complete, about 800 words.
rating, warnings, etc G-rated, not quite genfic (a parallel universe Christopher stoy. Does not fit with the rest of the series; in this one, Severus survived AND regained his magic and is teaching Defense at Hogwarts, and Chris, a Squib, is at choir school at home in Yorkshire. His sister, who doesn't come into this story, is a third-year Ravenclaw.) As always, concrit welcome (especially from pigeon keepers!) The story follows the cut:
Christopher had wanted to get rollers originally, but they had dissuaded him. "They can't defend themselves when they spin, can they?" Jane had said. After some thought, Christopher had agreed. So his pair were ordinary homing pigeons, after all. Severus was sure this one was Mercury, because of the silver sheen of the feathers round his neck. Chris had named him, and Jane had instantly named the other bird, the blue one, Freddy. Christopher had accepted the name, staring wide-eyed at his giggling mother.
Chris had trained the birds himself, bringing them out on his bike in a carrier basket. "You have to go further and further every day, see, Dad? They need to learn the way home." Eventually they had used the car. By the end of the summer, the birds had known the route perfectly.
Now Mercury walked on his desk, toeing in and making the soft, melodious sound pigeons make. "Come here, you," Severus said to the bird, and closed his hands gently round its body. It was perfectly calm, but its heartbeat was rapid under his fingers. He felt for the little tube on its leg and took out the letter, hearing himself crooning to the bird as he did so. In his mind's eye, he saw his little boy, so many miles away, stroking Mercury's feathers and then kissing the bird's head as he opened his hands to let it fly. His own lips touched the tiny head and the bird stared at him with a bright, dark eye as his fingers brushed the feathers on its chest. It was a marvel that the creature was so tame with him. Christopher was another story; he loved animals, and the beasts seemed to sense that and love him in return. He was fearless with his pets, and gentle, and could do anything with them. His father could hear his voice in his mind's ear, quiet and musical like running water. If Chris were here, he would feed this bird. He'd be talking to it the whole time. "Are you hungry?" Severus heard himself asking, and held out corn in his cupped hand. The bird came to him and pecked at his palm, and the man's lips curled upward, partly because of the way the creature moved, jerking its head up and down like a wind up toy, and partly because it tickled. When it finished the grain, he captured it again and slipped his own letter into the tube on its leg. Then he carried it to the window and opened his hands to let it fly. "Go," he told it, "Go home to Christopher."
Mercury rose sharply, in a flurry of wingbeats, and then banked and turned, flying steadily south. Severus stared after it till it vanished in the distance. It was astonishing, what that bird could do; there were human beings who wouldn't be able to navigate so well. In awhile it would be flying into its coop at home, and Christopher would be talking to it, just as his father had, and taking out the letter it carried. Those birds trusted Christopher, and did their jobs perfectly. But who wouldn't trust Christopher?
They trusted him, too. That was the really amazing thing. So many human beings still looked at him with doubt and suspicion, and yet a bird, a half-wild, winged creature, came to him and ate from his hand. It happened every week; it had happened just now, but he could still barely credit it.
And, as always happened, he felt a small pang of loss once the bird had vanished. While Mercury was there, on his desk, it was as if Chris were there with the bird. That was why it trusted him; he just did what his boy would have done, and it accepted him the way it accepted Christopher.
Sighing, he turned from the window and sat down at his desk. Chris's letter, still tightly rolled, was at his right hand. He picked it up, unrolled it, and felt himself smiling at the untidy, higgeldy-piggeldy script. Chris had many skills, but penmanship wasn't one of them. He smiled again as a sketch at the top of the letter caught his eye. A bird in flight, quickly drawn, and underneath it the words, "Dad! don't forget. Give Mercury some corn."
