V17.2

Broomride

He was a master at flying, that was for sure. He flew with grace, speed, and still kept himself in control. His Firebolt was perfectly maintained and even his practice Snitch was in good shape.

I sat in the bleachers, admiring the almost-perfect quidditch pitch, only seeing a few flaws. The hoops needed a new coat of paint and the locker rooms could have used a little tidying up but it was understandable. There was no quidditch playing that year - or quodpot.

Viktor Krum sure was taking advantage of the empty field, though, and there were a few of his fangirls sitting in the stands, watching, giggling. I was sitting far away from them, working on my plans for the American National Quidditch team's pitch (which also happened to be the quodpot pitch but that was beside the point). I'd gotten a letter from the United States League about getting a job with them and it wasn't because my mother had played for so many years. It was because of my reference from Mr. Crouch! Their only stipulation was to design my own field and I could do that with my eyes closed.

Although I kept getting a little distracted by the seeker flying around in front of me. Viktor was landing, his tenth-caught Snitch in his hands. I hadn't spoken to him since the boggart incident and I was pretty embarrassed still. So I put my things away and steeled myself to talk to him.

"So…" I said casually, keeping in step next to him as we walked towards the locker rooms. I figured that I should probably give his shirt back. "You fly pretty well. I thought it was all hype." Well, maybe I'll give it back.

"Always train," he said modestly, his broom over one shoulder, snitch in hand. I itched to touch him again but I smooshed that feeling down low. "Steel cannoot Reeynoold's Ricochet."

"I learned that the first time I stepped onto a broom," I laughed, remembering how much fun I used to have playing quidditch. "I was the best Chaser on our little league team." I knew that we were both skittering around the one subject we wanted to talk about. "Quodpot was more fun, though. Who doesn't wanna be blown up by a quod while racing to beat the other team?"

He didn't share in my amusement. He got way too serious. "I knoo vhy you stooped," he said softly, to where his fan girls couldn't hear, "boot vhy deed you noot geet back on?"

I blushed, knowing exactly why but not sure if I wanted to tell him. "You've obviously fallen off a broom before." Without thinking I reached up and traced my finger over the bridge of his obviously-broken-many-times nose.

There was surprise in his deep, chocolate eyes. "Da."

"Well…it's scary to get back on. I was five when it happened," I said, feeling as if my entire face was on fire, "and things are a lot scarier to a five-year-old than to, you know, a professional quidditch player." Like a boggart in the shape of your father.

"So you get on."

I'd heard it a million times. 'You've gotta get back on the horse!' But the horse didn't fly hundreds of feet off the ground. "It's been years and I'm fine with staying here. On solid ground. Where I'm safe."

Viktor stopped and stood in place. We'd been very, very slowly moving to get his things but we were in the middle of the quidditch pitch still. He grabbed my arm and made me stop, too. He laid his broom on the well-maintained grass and stood me next to it. "Hoold your hand oover eet and say 'oop'."

"Viktor—"

"Leigh Ann, say 'oop'." His eyes were dark again, kind of like they were last night when he'd forced me to lay back down and go to sleep.

I flushed and looked down to the broom, resigning myself to the worst. I almost said it like he said it, 'oop,' but caught myself before I did. I shakily put my hand over it. "U-up."

"Vith force!"

I glared at him and then said, "UP!" It instantly flew up into my hand.

"Goot," he said, slightly surprised at the way it settled into my hands. "Sit"

"Wh-what?" I demanded, almost dropping the flying death trap.

"Get on."

"I-I can't," I said, suddenly feeling like my five-year-old self, seeing my broom again after I had fallen off. "Really, Viktor, I think you should just take it back and—"

Suddenly he grabbed me again. His hands were around my waist, large and strong, and he picked me up and sat me down on what felt like a pillow. For a moment I wondered in the feeling of his hands around my waist, of his presence near me, but then I realized that I was on a broomstick.

I squealed, trying to grab onto him to get off, but he would have none of it. I started hyperventilating, unable to control my panic. He wouldn't let me move. I closed my eyes, putting my hands over them, still trying to halfheartedly fight him.

"Leahn!" he exclaimed, "open eyes."

I'm okay…Viktor wouldn't hurt me…I'm okay…don't think of hitting the ground…that's not helping… Taking deep breaths, I slowly did as he said. I was— "I'm levitating," I breathed, starting to feel a smile on my face as I levitated a few more inches from the ground. I'm doing it!

He did smile, and it made his eyes crinkle. "Da." His hands were resting one in front of mine, the other behind my back, steadying the broom. "You fly."

My heart fell into my stomach and my breath came faster again. "I-I can't. Really, please, don't make me."

His body was pressed against my right side, holding the broom still. His lips were directly at my ear, and he whispered, "Close eyes…feel broom…feel power beneath you." I shivered as his warm breath caressed my neck. "Eet is living thing. Eet is part olf you."

I did as he said, relaxing into his warmth. I felt the broom's power beneath me and it vibrated subtly like it knew that I was its master. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I recognized that this was much more comfortable than my old broom. Like a pillow. A charm?

He started speaking in Bulgarian, his lips so close to my ear that they almost touched. His words were soothing, and, even though I couldn't understand all of them, (or even most of them, only the simple words,) they gave me strength.

His lips pressed gently to the hollow beneath my ear. Goosebumps formed over my entire body from the chaste kiss of his chapped lips. "Now open your eyes," he whispered, and I did as he said. His hands were now gone, and I was flying by myself, hovering about a yard above the ground.

"I'm doing it!" I gasped, feeling free for some strange reason. And I knew that I could do it. "Can I…take it around the stadium?"

He was smiling widely. His teeth were straight and white and he looked so cute that it hurt. "Slow."

I nodded and willed the broom forward, feeling the wind hit my face. I then reached behind me, tearing my hair out of its bun, letting it fly free. I sped up slightly, wishing that I was playing Quidditch again. Wishing that I hadn't wasted so much time being afraid of an appliance that was supposed to clean floors.

By the time I had taken it around the stadium three or four times, I figured that it was enough for one day. I stopped in front of Viktor, stepping off and standing there excitedly. There was a twinkle in his eyes. Like he knew exactly how I was feeling. It was kind of stupid but I felt very sentimental. I wanted to jump up and hug him, kiss all over his handsome face. Instead I looked to the ground, blushing. "Thank you, Viktor."

He put his hand under my chin and lifted my eyes up to his once more. "You velcome, Leahn."