Day 7: Word: Accuracy
She held up her back elbow and used her other arm to aim. With careful precision, she released the bow, and the arrow flew across the field and landed only fractions of an inch away from the center of the target.
"Not bad."
She turned slowly, knowing that voice anywhere. "Thanks," she responded curtly. "What do you want?"
He smirked, eyeing her up and down casually. "Just wanted to see you; that's all," he drawled.
"Fine, you've seen me. Now please get out."
Of course he didn't listen. He stood behind her, running his long fingers through her red ponytail. "You need to lift your elbow a bit more when you're aiming or else you'll never get your perfect bull's eye."
"I don't need your help, Malfoy," she spat. "My accuracy is fine."
"Fine, Weasley," he responded carelessly as he sauntered away.
Once he was clearly out of earshot, she began muttering under her breath about stupid gits who needed to mind their own business.
She did, however, lift her elbow a bit more.
