A/N: Hermione decides to get over her fear of brooms and teach herself how to fly. RxR. FxF.
Submission for: The Animal Challenge/Competition: Crane: Independence. Write about Hermione.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
Hermione slipped out of bed one night, mindful of her light footsteps as she nibbling hopped across the war-zone that was Ginny Weasley's bedroom. But she never had to use too much care, besides just avoiding stubbing her toes. Ginny would never hear her: Ginny could sleep through a tornado and a volcanic eruption combined.
Ow! Hermione did stub her toe. She hopped on one foot, almost stumbling over the very thing that she had just made contact with: Ginny's discarded broom. Normally it was in the shed, but somehow it found its way over Ginny's shoulder and now Ginny's floor. Hermione bent down though. This was what she was looking for.
Picking up the broom, Hermione exited Ginny's room. Now this was where her volume would matter. The rest of the house was quiet, only the rattling of the ghoul in the attic and soft sound of snores met Hermione's ears. She knew the boys would never hear her but she would have to be wary of Mr and Mrs Weasley. She didn't want to wake them out. She would feel so ashamed, and Mrs Weasley would no doubt wake the whole house, making Hermione feel worse.
Hermione made it to the backyard, shutting the door quietly behind her but making sure she could still get back inside. Breathing in the cold night made what she was doing more real and she started to get a fluttery feeling in her stomach. She took a deep breath before walking out to the clearing a few yards away. She could do this.
Hermione Granger was good at many things. She was the brightest witch of her age, the Gryffindor Princess, best friend of the Boy-Who-Lived, currently Gryffindor's amazing Seeker and the new Gryffindor Keeper. Not to mention a Gryffindor Chaser, Gryffindor Beaters, and a past Gryffindor Chaser and Seeker. She was surrounded by Quidditch Greatness, she practically knew the whole Quidditch team, and she couldn't even sit on a broom without falling off.
Not anymore. Hermione was going to do something about it. She knew she wouldn't be first pick for any Quidditch games, but was definitely going to get into the air tonight. She could worry about perfection later, which she knew she probably would. But baby steps, Hermione.
She stood in the centre of the clearing and looked around her. She was completely alone. Her quick breathing was light, sometimes lost when a strong breeze picked up the high grass around her. The night was slightly overcast, the shining half-moon lighting the way around her whenever it peaked out from behind a cloud. She slung her leg over the broom and looked towards the sky, angling the stick upwards. She closed her eyes. You can do this, Hermione. Do you remember when you rode your first bike and how you rolled straight into Mum's blueberry bush? Just stay calm and concentrate.
Hermione kicked up gently, slightly wobbling as the broom rose a few feet from the ground. Hermione felt the tall grass brush the tips of her toes before she decided to open her eyes. She looked down and almost lost her balance, her grip tightening on the broom handle. Don't look down, Hermione. She looked back up at the moon, currently hidden behind a particularly fat cloud. That will be your beacon, your lighthouse. It will ground you, so to speak.
Hermione levelled out the broom and floated lazily, trying to find the best spot to balance her body and her bottom on the broomstick. How did her friend's sit on this thing for a whole Quidditch match? Her bottom was already hurting. She imagined her friends on their brooms, their faces and postures during their most intense games and she noticed, they always leant forward. Like galloping on a horse, they hardly sat down among all the action around them. Quidditch was a very fast paced game, time couldn't be wasted just sitting and watching.
Hermione leant forward on the broom tentatively. As she did so, the broom tipped forward and Hermione quickly righted herself, the broom jolting under her. Okay, that was not right. She tried again, this time keeping her head and body parallel to the broom, her bottom raised off the broom as she held it between her thighs. The broom moved forward to her bidding, moving faster as she leaned further.
Hermione leaned slowly to the right, executed a wobbly, stuttering turn and going to the furthest end of the clearing. This wasn't too bad, Hermione thought as she glided above the clearing. She sneaked a peek down at the ground, careful to keep her posture on the broom. She was easily 10 feet above the grass and could probably looked straight into Ginny's bedroom window if she flew closer to the house.
Feeling more confident, Hermione leaned to the right again, this turn much smoother than the last, and headed towards the Weasleys orchard. She flew above the orange and apple trees, all their blossoms closed for the night, but still fragrant in the air. There would be no fruit for at least a month but Hermione hoped at least before the start of term. Hermione missed the Weasleys apples, and Mrs Weasley's apple pies.
Whump! Hermione smacked right into an outstretched apple tree branch, falling a few feet down onto her back on a very prickly bush. Hermione groaned, her muscles sore from hitting the tree and her skin itchy and irritated from the thorny stems underneath her. It was the blueberry bush all over again. Hermione had even been thinking of her Grandma's blueberry pies at the time as well. Ginny's broom dropped close to her right hand and Hermione was just happy that she hadn't damaged it with her secret night fly.
Hermione pulled herself and the broom off the bush and onto the mossy floor under the trees. It was always very cool and damp under her but right now, Hermione just wanted to get back inside. The moon was lower now and her body was now sore and very itchy. She would have to take a shower to soothe her itchy skin.
She slung the broom over her shoulder and walked the distance back to the Burrow. Even with the unfortunate ending, Hermione couldn't help but smile to herself. This wasn't bad for her first attempt. She could see why her friends liked it, why anyone would like it. She could see why someone like Harry, who had never really known freedom before Hogwarts had automatically loved flying. Flying had made her feel free, untethered and unrestrained. Without even realizing, she had been flying without even thinking about it, her mind even disconnected from her body for just a moment. She would definitely have to come back out here tomorrow night and that time, no more thinking about pie.