The Perfectionist
By Mykerinos
Chapter Fifteen: Time flies...
when one's having fun?
Days went by, and every night they
practiced. Back flips, turn-overs, loopings, all things else and endless
combinations of it all. There were still moves she didn't like, and judging
from the moody and dissatisfied comments of Snape, who had still remained
a cold and sarcastic bastard, it was far from perfect, but Hermione's flying
skills had improved immensely over the past few weeks.
And she had to admit that she probably
would have never reached that with Madame's Hooch flying lessons, not even
with a year of training. Because, if Snape had been the cheesy type of
man to have motto's, his most certainly would have been, 'There's always
room for improvement!'
Never would he let Hermione go away
with just the tiniest of a mistake. Always would he be critical and tell
her to hold her arm still or move around somewhat more graciously for once.
But Hermione would follow the advice (or orders, as some might call it),
until there was just nothing left for Snape to comment on.
And this silence, after the 185th
looping or the 327th corkscrew move, Hermione would consider a compliment,
as she knew she shouldn't expect any literal compliments from the man.
After nights of practicing with one
and the same person, you do get a bond, Hermione could confirm that. Even
if
that person is perhaps the most loathed and dislikeable human being in
the entire universe.
Hermione sometimes wondered where
Snape had learned to fly so well. She had never considered him the broom
type -- even though he had refereed Quidditch matches various times. Had
he been in some Quidditch team when he had been young perhaps?
"We have just two weeks till the
contest," Snape said one night, as they entered the gate to the Quidditch
field. "It's time to put those moves together. Follow me,"
And he took off, Hermione following
closely behind.
- -- - -- - -- -
As they landed on the solid ground,
Hermione handed the broom back to Snape, and decided to break the usual
silence for once. "I quite like it," she said, glancing up at Snape. "The
entire thing, I mean," He frowned. "No, really," she said again.
There was a silence, and when Hermione
didn't expect him to respond to her comment, he did so anyway.
"Thank you,"
It was short, and it had sounded
formal indeed, but it had still been a thank you. So he was capable of
showing appreciation after all!
"You're welcome," she smiled, and
looked up at her professor as they walked back to the castle.
"What are you staring at?" Snape
growled, meeting her gaze.
"Nothin'," she grinned, and turned
her head back to the castle in front of them. Almost all the lights were
out, most people were asleep now.
Nothing. Tonight had been hard and
it had been difficult, but at the end of it she had liked it. And now she
actually felt like she could do it. They could win that contest. She wanted
to win that contest. With Snape. So what was wrong then? Nothing. She was
feeling just fine.
TBC