Apprendi sorcier

[gwenchan]

 

Fandom: Hetalia

Character: Hws France

Prompt: Spazzare le scarpe

France sits on the edge of England's broken couch, the one sunken in that he says to reserve to unwanted guests but it's actually more comfortable than sitting on hard bull leather. 

"I thought you said it was urgent" he shouts, not for the first time.. 

Disappeared God knows where England doesn't answer. For all France knows, he  might as well have gone out and let him here in wait..

Maybe a new strategy to sabotage him and the EU, to have him fall behind on work.

Typical. Anyways, there's a broom going back and forth the living room apparently all by itself. A nice trick, he has to admit it, squinting his eyes to see the invisible threads on which the broom must slide. By the way it moves, there must be tens of them, and thinking about it it’s strange not having already tripped.

“England” he calls again,  If it wasn’t that England’s house isn’t exactly behind the corner, even with superfast trains, he’d be already on his way, leaving England alone to deal with his supposedly super urgent matters

Instead he’s watching a broom moving on itself

Undeterred, the broom carries on.

It’s strange, it moves too fluidly for using threads, going full speed from one corner of the room to the other.

When it heads right toward him, France' s theory is hanging by a thread - no pun intended. He pats the couch and himself, only to confirm the obvious: he has no strings attached. And yet the broom moved in his direction.

He could almost believe that … no. He shakes his head. He refuses to believe it's an opera of those ghosts, fairies and what not England claims live in his home.

There must be some other, more logical explanation, and he's tickling with curiosity. 

Maybe it's some cutting-edge prototype of an electric-powered broom, one of those devilry he could expect from Japan or maybe America.

The hypothesis, while strange, is enough to get up and investigate.

"Alright."

And if England is not back in five minutes, he's going to search for him.

Moving around the living room gives France only more evidence of what he had already understood: whatever the trick involved, it doesn't concern any invisible thread.

Of course, it'll be easier if the broom stilted for a moment instead of going back and forth in frantic brushing. By the way he rushes again full speed in his direction, France wouldn't dare to say it's aware he is there.

Well, obviously it isn't. It's a broom, a brainless cleaning tool. A very advanced one, he can admit that, but always a broom.

Yes, nothing more.

And the totally normal broom almost makes him trip when it decides to pass right over his shoes. With even a certain annoyance, he would say. If the thought wasn't absurd, that is

"Hey, would you -"

He catches himself. He's not going to discuss with a broom. 

He is, however, going to tell England a piece of his mind, as soon as he manages to find him.