AN: Thank you so much for all the support! It is very deeply appreciated!
Severus had never seen Hermione so relaxed. With the exception of her left leg, her muscles were still, her jaw relaxed, and her eyes shut without squeezing together. It was much needed progress on a night when they could both use some.
"Good," Severus began in a soft voice, standing over her. "Are you thinking anything?"
She did not answer. He smirked. A few times in the last week, he'd scolded her for answering him because dwelling on what he said constituted a thought. She was a quick study, a fact which had annoyed him when she was a student, but was comforting now.
"Now, I want you to think one thought and dwell upon it," he continued.
She didn't move.
"Focus on the thought, 'I want to fly.'"'
The change which overcame her was instant. All her muscles tensed. The spasms in her leg intensified. Now, her eyes were squeezing.
"Hermione?"
She exhaled and opened her eyes. Then, she frowned. "I didn't do so well then, did I?"
"In the end, no."
She bowed her head.
"Still, there is some hope of success. You managed to clear your mind before I spoke. That is the hardest part."
"Yes, but I lost focus once you asked me to think of flying." She slumped in her wheelchair and looked at him.
"Did you lose focus, or did the idea of flight scare you?" He asked as he sat at a chair beside her.
"I may have panicked a little," she admitted.
"Why?"
"I told you," she shook. "I'm terrified of flights. I want to fly, until I realize it'll be going into air, which terrifies me."
"Okay," he exhaled as he turned from her.
"I thought of being in the air, and having no ground underneath me, nothing to cushion my fall. It was more than I could take."
"Of course it was," he grumbled.
"I'm sorry," she began. "But when I though 'I want to fly,' something came over me. I…I panicked."
"This isn't the time to panic," he snapped. "The only way you're getting this job is if you can maneuver around the classroom. According to you, the only way that's possible is if you fly. No flight, no job. We both know that."
"Flight would be the easiest way," she admitted. "There aren't many other ways of maneuvering around without my leg becoming an issue other than flying."
"Then why are you frightened? You wanted to fly, so why are you sabotaging yourself by recoiling in terror at the thought of leaving the ground?"
"I told you, I'm terrified of heights. It snuck up on me. I thought I could handle it until I couldn't."
"This isn't the time for fear. You either need to recover from your fear of flight or decide this job isn't worth the effort we're putting into you getting it."
"Of course this job is worth our efforts!"
"Then find a way to recover from your fear, preferably sooner rather than later. Otherwise, we're both on a fool's errand."
"This isn't a fool's errand."
"Then stop treating it like one!" he argued. "Start wanting to fly. Stop being terrified and face your fears. The next time you clear your mind, think about how badly you want to fly. With every fiber of your being, you need to want to fly!"
"What the hell is your problem?" Hermione snapped.
He scowled.
"You're acting the same as you did when you were a professor and I was a student. Why are you losing patience with me over one small setback?"
"This isn't a small setback! If you do not want to fly, you will never be able to do so."
"I'll try harder to want to do it when you stop acting like my former professor and start acting like my friend."
"Don't you understand? I am your former professor," he retorted. "I was your right old bastard of a professor who lost patience with anyone who could not instantly grasp a lesson. I was also the one who terrified Gryffindors into submission, whose glare could keep even the Carrows at bay. The fact that you so often fail to notice who I am is to your detriment."
"You aren't that man around me, at least not until now."
"Perhaps I've been too nice to you. I may need to be harder on you in order for you to understand what it will take for you to learn to fly."
"Do you honestly think treating me cruelly will get us what we want?"
"Being kind is having mixed results."
"I cleared my mind! You said that was the hardest part, and I did it."
"You're right you did clear your mind. Still," he took a deep breath. "Clear your mind so we can resume."
"No."
"No?"
"No," she answered. "I'm not having a lesson with you while you're acting like a snarly viper."
"I told you, that's who I am."
"No it isn't! I've seen who you are for years, and you aren't the man barking at me right now."
"It's clear nothing productive will come of this evening." he got off the chair and began to walk away. "We'll resume when you're ready to focus."
"Don't you dare walk away from me like this," Hermione wheeled herself onto his cloak, pulling him back. "We're going to talk this over."
"Do you delight in dirtying my robes?" He retorted.
"Only when it helps me get my way."
He turned around to bark at her. Something about her hardened expression gave him pause. No longer was she the wilting student weeping in the hallway because she was unable to meet his expectations. Instead, he was facing a confident woman who was going to run him over with her chair if he continued throwing a tantrum.
"Fine," he motioned for her to move. "I'll stay and discuss my behavior with you, but first you need to back up."
She began to back up, only for the wheels to get stuck onto the fabric. Her eyes grew as she paled. Sighing, her undid his cape and allowed it to fall onto the ground. Then he bent and looked into her eyes.
"Lucius visited me last night," he began.
"Oh?"
"He couldn't give me any details on who else was applying for this position, but he did say a good majority of them were from Dumbledore's Army."
"That doesn't surprise me."
"Yes, and to you that's of little consequence. They were your classmates, the people trained by you to fight the Death Eaters."
"But they may your life a living hell when you were a headmaster, meaning you have a stake in them not getting hired."
"Yes, and I would prefer my life not be any more complicated than it is."
"I can understand and respect that sentiment."
"Still, this isn't right," He exhaled and shook his head. "I am not being fair to you. This job is about you proving yourself, not about the fears I have facing former students who are destined to be my colleagues."
"No, but I needed to know what is in this for you," she answered.
"No, you didn't. Your employment should only be about you, not anyone else."
"How can it be given how involved you are with all this? From the beginning, I've dragged you into helping me get this position. The least I can do is help you out now that we're in it together."
"Yes, but this is too much pressure. You should be focusing on yourself, not feeling as if you must save me again. I'm putting you under a ridiculous amount of pressure, which isn't fair," he exhaled.
"Perhaps she took his hand, but it's a good kind of pressure," she replied.
"How is any additional pressure good?"
"Because I need a reason to face my fears and keep fighting, even when I'm overwhelmed."
"Are you overwhelmed now?"
"No, but this morning I woke up and everything I'm facing came crashing down on me. I don't have a degree in Defense Against Dark Arts. I have experience in training people in Defense Against the Dark Arts, but I did so before developing my disability. Then there's my fear of flight. Under most circumstances I wouldn't dream of flying. The only reason I flew on Buckbeak was because it was necessary. Otherwise, I hate brooms, and I want to remain on the ground." She took his hand. "When I become afraid, I need to remember that people are on my side and want me to succeed. There are people counting on me to do my best and overcome my fears."
"I am glad I could be a motivator, but if this is too much pressure, I understand." He squeezed her hand.
"It isn't," she answered. "Even if my first instinct is to recoil at the idea of flight."
He released her hand. "That's because we're doing this wrong."
"What?"
"When I learned to fly, I knew I wanted to soar. It came intuitively to me, but it doesn't come intuitively to you."
"I'm sorry…"
"No, don't be, because we need to get your body used to what it's going to be asked to do," he began. "Then, when your mind comes to it with the desire to fly, it is not afraid because it knows the sensation of flight."
"What are you saying?"
"I mean," he took to the air, "I need to get your wheelchair off my cloak."
"I'm sorry about that."
"Don't apologize, just trust me.'
She stared at him.
He lifted her wheelchair a meter off the ground before he began getting the fabric unstuck from the wheels.
"You could have warned me before you did that!" She shrieked.
"No, when you first fly, your body will jerk upwards suddenly. It happened to me, and it happened to Voldemort."
"Fine, but can my chair fly?"
"Nope," he set the wheelchair down. Before the tension left her muscles, he raised her a meter off the ground, eliciting another yelp. Then, she squeezed open her eyes.
"You need to open your eyes," he began.
She squeaked.
"Fine, don't open them, but feel the way your body is floating."
She stilled herself.
"Feel the way your magic is flowing through you, from the crown of your head to your toes," he began in a low voice. "Feel the way your body is hanging in the air, how there's an element of weightlessness. You're body is free of gravity, free of the constraints which once held it back."
"Okay," she whispered.
"Just focus on what you want your body to do," he continued. "Trust that you want to be this way, to feel yourself like this."
"I don't feel my leg shaking," she noted. "I mean, it is shaking, but there's no weight on it. It almost feels like it did before Bellatrix hexed me."
"Do you like that?" he asked.
"I," her eyes glistened. "I love it. There's no pain, no tricky balance. I…I want to feel this way forever."
"You can give this sensation to yourself." He lowered her back onto the chair. "You can give yourself this gift."
She looked at him. "Do you think I can?"
"If I didn't think you could fly, I wouldn't be spending my spare time in your Muggle Studies classroom teaching you how to do so," he answered before landing and rubbing his shoulder.
"Goodness, I hope I wasn't that heavy."
"Actually, you'd be surprised how much easier it is to lift things mid flight," he answered. "You can redistribute your weight, so it's easier to carry things."
"I suppose so." She took a look at his cloak. "I hope I didn't rip that."
He picked it up. "If you did I know the spells to repair it."
"Still, I feel horrible about it."
"Don't be." He gave her a small grin. "I was acting like an arse and needed someone to call me on it before I said something I could never take back, something which would have been difficult to forgive."
"I wouldn't hold anything you said against you forever," her eyes gleamed. "Perhaps I'd let you squirm for my forgiveness for a few days, but I would not abandon you over a few words said when you were under stress, not when you've been so fantastic to me."
"I will do my best never to test your resolve."
"I would appreciate that very much."
A comfortable silence fell between them.
"Thank you for telling me about the other applicants," she began. "I needed more motivation."
"Do not use it as your sole motivation. My past is my battle, not yours."
"You say that now, but if anyone were to hold anything against you, well, let's just say getting one's foot run over by a wheelchair wheel hurts like hell, at least that's what the healers said when I did it to them."
"Duly noted," he chuckled.
"In the meantime," she sat up straighter. "Do you want a Halloween Riesling? I just opened a new bottle, and I know you don't like being alone on the holiday."
"Halloween does not bear the trauma it once did," he replied. "To be honest, the date slipped my mind."
"It almost did mine too, but when you began barking at me, I wondered if that played a role."
"It didn't, but I never could pass up a good glass of Riesling."
"Indeed."
Before Severus could offer a comment, a misty cat appeared before him. "Severus, you are needed in my office immediately."
"Great," he groaned.
"What does she need you for?" Hermione asked.
"I do not know, nor do I care to know."
"But she's going to hunt you down if you do not go."
He moaned. "It's probably another date, because as we all know, Halloween is the worst day in the world to be me. Obviously I need some warm body to comfort me in my greatest hour of need."
"I can go with you for emotional support."
"You do not need to."
"No, but her office is on my way to my quarters, and I can scare away anyone who dares to get too close to you."
"How do you plan to do that?" He raised an eyebrow.
"I can still fire hexes, perhaps leave her a little present if she becomes too affectionate with you," she replied.
"What kind of present?"
"Whichever hex impresses Minerva the most."
"Then I suppose you should lead the way."
"Thank you," she wheeled herself out. Behind her, Severus shut the door, wondering what fresh hell Minerva was about to inflict upon him.