Minerva grabs for the Quaffle, but it slips from her fingertips, plummeting to the ground below.
"No, no, no!" Rolanda cries, exasperated as she zooms for the ground, touching down with enviable grace. Minerva follows, much more sloppily.
"I'm rubbish," the younger girl sighs, head hanging in defeat.
"You're not. But your form is terrible."
Minerva straightens her back instinctively as the other girl circles her like a bird of prey. Rolanda pauses behind her, moving closer so that their bodies touch. "Relax your body," she instructs softly, her hands resting on Minerva's shoulders. "You're more prone to injury when you're tense."
Relax? How can she relax like this, with so little space between them? Minerva shivers, and she gives a shaky nod.
"Still tense."
"It can't be helped," the younger witch grumbles, blushing deeply.
Rolanda circles again, coming to a stop in front of Minerva. Her lips quirk in amusement. She knows. "Why did you want my help?" she asks quietly. "I never knew that sports appeal to you."
They don't. You do.
But Minerva doesn't dare say this aloud. Instead, she shrugs, keeping quiet.
With a grin, Rolanda mounts her broom. "Ten minutes," she says, kicking off.
"Pardon?"
"If you can go ten minutes without dropping the Quaffle, I'll take you on a date."
Minerva still blushes, but she doesn't protest. Mounting her broom, she follows the other girl into the air.
The two fly, passing the red ball back and forth, Minerva's concentration now sharp. With her new motivation, it's much easier, and the ten minutes go by, barely even noticed.