Be Proud of Me PV Finished

Inspiration

Percival gritted his teeth as sweat dripped down his forehead, collecting at his brow. Swallowing thickly as the midday heat beat down on his weary bones. Gaze stuck fast onto his fated opponent ahead of him. It seemed strange for his Uncle to care this much about Quidditch to hire him a private tutor. Far exceeding the simple equipment he had been given to work with in previous years. He could still hear his Uncle's words as the man reminded him that failure would not be tolerated in their household. He had to uphold the regal of the Rainwood family name. Failure not an option. A word unknown to the likes of his Uncle. Percival gripped his bat tighter before flipping it over in his hand. Brows furrowed downward as he squinted through the bright summer sun. How frustrating... Like an itch that burned away at the back of his head. How badly he wished to itch it..

His throat felt dry and he could not help but wish he had something to drink. The bludger whistled through the air, growing closer, reminding him of the dance that he had been subjected too for the last couple of hours. Percival braced himself, gaze flicking quickly right as movement caught his eye. The boy brought his wooden bat back, hitting the bludger with a loud crack. Hurtling it towards his tutor and gaining himself a moment of reprieve from the drasted metal ball. Shaking out his arm and moving back slightly the boy readied himself for what would come next. The buzzing of the summer day seemed to drift away from his ears as he watched the man hit the bludger back as if he was simply swatting away a fly.

Irritation brimmed away at his mind as the metal ball was sent flying away toward him. Percival grimaced as he quickly flew upwards and away from the danger that passed right below him. His hands felt shaky as he gripped onto his broom handle with his single hand. Right, despite the amount of effort he put into trying to hide it. A part of him could not help but feel the nervousness that almost getting pummeled by a bludger seemed to always drag out of him. Irritation pulled into his gut as he heard the drasted ball make its way back around. How badly he just wished he could be done already. Readying his bat the boy cracked his bat upon the metal ball. Hitting it far harder than really needed, and sending the ball sailing toward his instructor.

Percival's eyes would quickly widen as his instructor was struck by the bludger, falling to the ground with his now shattered broom. Cursing inwardly, the boy landed just as a tirade of people swarmed the instructor. Percival walked up to his Uncle who stood off to the side, looking up toward him. Eyes widening as his Uncle handed him a piece of the broken broom a smile on his lips. It seemed weird, when had he made his Uncle smile at him so warmly. When was the last time he had made him proud? His own smile would slowly appear as he took the piece of wood. No words were spoken between them, and yet it felt as if there were a thousand words being spoken all at once. Clenching it in his palm for safekeeping, the boy would hold the piece of wood in his hand. Together watching the man being carried away, not one ounce of guilt held between them.

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