FIC: Extra Handy Skill 1/1

Title: Handy Extra Skill
Author: Sare Liz
Claim: Viktor/Hermione
Prompt: (07) Quidditch
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Prompt from Potterverse 100. Characters the property of JKR and associated persons and corporations.
Notes: This scene occurs in the late spring, during year four, just before the third trial in the Tri-Wizard Tournament. This is a part of my Firebolt Ring series. For those of you who have been following along with the series and not the prompts, this skips waaaay ahead.

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Most of Hermione was thrilled – an opportunity like this was rare, and rare opportunities to learn underneath the tutelage of masters were things that she did not give up lightly. But there was a tiny slice of her, say 2.7% of her, which wondered what on earth she’d gotten herself into. By the time Hermione had walked over to the abandoned Quidditch Pitch, however, she’d managed to squash that niggling 2.7% like a bug. After all, much of her clandestine activities throughout the year had led to this moment. It was vaguely reminiscent of last year, when she thought about it. She had used the time turner all year long, and then had saved Buckbeak and Sirius with it at the end of the second term. All this year she’d been flying with Viktor, and now… Now she was going to fly by herself – admittedly saving no one’s life in the process, but wasn’t it nice to have a calmer year, a year in which the only clandestine activities had been to help Harry with the tournament and sneak out to see her boyfriend?

That same boyfriend was standing just on the inside of the pitch, near the door, Firebolt in hand. He was, she thought briefly and not for the first time, just amazing. She found him handsome (though not in any sort of traditional sense), intelligent, sensitive, athletic (not normally something she found appealing in a person, and yet he had converted her in this sense), and well, just plain appealing. It was the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, the way he held her when they rode on his broom, the way boldness was a better fit than subterfuge for him, and the way he cared about who she was and what she felt. The fact that he was an absolutely lovely kisser had nothing to do with her high opinion of him, of course.

Smiling at him as she got closer, she held out her hand to him at the last and they twined fingers as she took her final step toward him. Hermione took a deep, contented breath, breathing in the glorious late spring air of the mountains, and Viktor.

“Hi,” she said softly, looking up into his face.

“Hi,” he mirrored, leaning down slightly to kiss her. Their lips met and, briefly, the touch was simple. Within the space of three heartbeats, though, he had inhaled, and with it opened his lips. He did not have to beg long at the entrance of her mouth, if at all, and the same thrill that had become an old friend in the past months shivered through her body when her tongue slipped around his.

Slowly, gently, they parted and spent a moment together that was simply quiet. In a movement that seemed almost sudden in comparison, Viktor grinned and tugged on her hand, pulling her along to walk next to him until they got past the sandy end of the pitch.

Hermione watched as Viktor let go of her hand and stood to face her. With both hands on his beloved Firebolt, and holding it vertical in front of him, he closed his eyes and muttered something that was certainly not in English or Latin. She didn’t dare speak until he opened his eyes and let his concentration lapse.

“What was that?”

“Broom has some spells on it. I make it okay for you to be riding on it, for little vhile.”

Hermione took a moment to digest this and tried to figure out what sort of spells Viktor had on his broom. She’d never noticed before, but then it probably hadn’t mattered before – he was always on the broom with her, before. She’d have to think about it later, look up a few things, because just now he was handing her the broom. She swallowed thickly, and was suddenly just this side of slightly apprehensive. This was not lost on Viktor.

“Remember, Hermione – Firebolt is your friend. It vill not throw you or fail to obey you. Is good broom, and you,” he paused for emphasis, “are good flier. Remember?”

She took a deep breath and fixed a look of determination on her face. “Yes, I do,” she answered decisively.

“Good. Ve put you through paces, then I teach something new. Is okay?” She nodded and he continued his instruction. “Okay. So. You mount broom, like you see me in time before. Then you do two circles round entire pitch, then return.” Viktor motioned as he slowly spoke. “First circle von vay, next circle other vay. This is doing four things,” he said, holding up four fingers, and ticking them back as he made his list. “Von, you varm up. Two, you make big turn. Three, you make little turn. Four, you stop. Basic to fly. Go fast or slow, votever.”

Hermione nodded wordlessly. This wasn’t tough, and it wasn’t a test. But if that were true, why were there butterflies in her stomach? On the broom was easy – at this point the Firebolt really was her friend, and did actually do as she told it to – but it did feel rather odd to have the entire broom to herself with no large, soft-spoken figure holding her from behind. Still, it was comfortable in a new way to be able to stretch along the length of the stick, as it was made for such riding.

She tried kicking off without actually kicking. Riding tandem with Viktor she had felt him do it time and time again. He seemed to simply hold on tight with hands and legs, and throw himself slightly forward. Hermione followed suit, but added to the mix an intense desire for the broom to move, just in case that helped. She was rewarded with actual, bonified movement. Soaring around the pitch in delight, Hermione was grinning ear to ear when she heard Viktor call after her.

“Faster than that!”

She didn’t dare turn her head to scowl at him for fear that she might actually turn the broom as well, but instead she took a moment to analyze her speed. Well, now that she was looking at it objectively, she was going at the equivalent of a saunter. Perhaps she could go just a tiny bit faster. She leaned forward – it always seemed to work for Harry, after all – but found that she was just uncomfortably stretched without going any faster, and resumed her former and reasonably comfortable riding posture.

How on earth did you make the thing go faster? How could it be a racing broom if it didn’t go?

Hermione decided to try willing it to go faster, imagining herself zooming, the wind on her face. She was quite successful – unexpectedly so – and gave a little yelp as the goal posts loomed rather closer than she had expected. Before she knew it she was finished with the tasks Viktor had set her, and she’d even managed to stop the broom herself – bit of a panic moment, there at the end – rather than plow into her handsome instructor. Then he had her do zigzags side-to-side going down the field, and then zigzags going up and down as she came back, all indicated with his hands, as words failed him. She raced up and down the field four times, as fast as she could dare, and practiced a sort of stop that Viktor had no word in English for, but that stopped her on a dime when she finally mastered it, and whipped the broom around in the opposite direction. She beamed when she had perfected that one, and when she returned to him for further instruction he gave her a well-deserved kiss.

“You now have all basic flying skills to play Qvidditch,” he announced. Hermione thought it there must be rather more to it than that, and didn’t fancy being in any place where bludgers were likely to strike without warning, but she smiled, happy nonetheless.

“Many extra skills, but I teach my favorite, okay?” Hermione nodded and he continued. “Fly vit no hands.”

Hermione blanched, visibly.

“Is good skill, not just for Seeker, not just for Qvidditch. On broom, many things could be doing vit hands.” Viktor gave her a meaningful look, and while she wasn’t sure what image he’d meant to convey, all she could think of was what Viktor had been doing lately with his hands while he flew on the Firebolt. She blushed. He smirked.

“I teach you now, okay?” Hermione nodded. “Sit on broom, like vhen you fly.” As he’d been talking she had been sitting up straight with her feet dangling, but she adjusted herself and waited for his instruction. Viktor took a step closer and put his hand on her shoulder.

“Vhen fly vit hands, much… em, veight is on hands. Just sit on broom, and do no vork.” Hermione gave him a disbelieving glance. If he thought this was no work, he really didn’t have the faintest clue of how much she was exerting herself. He continued to teach, ignoring the faces she was making at him. “Vhen fly vit no hands, must balance. Hold vit muscles.”

At that, Hermione had to interrupt. “Viktor,” she said in a complete deadpan, meaning every word of it. “I don’t have any muscles. Perhaps you’ve noticed. I get winded if I run down the hill to Hagrid’s.”

“Hermione,” he said, looking at her in the eye, “You are alife. You have muscles.” He nodded his head. “You don’t…” he said, pausing to find the word, “stress them much, so vhen you try something and use muscles, they say no! Ve vill not!”

Hermione giggled at the completely ridiculous high-pitched voice that Viktor had designated for her muscles.

“Is true. You know, is true.”

She just rolled her eyes and nodded. It was, sadly.

“So,” he continued on, undaunted. “Vhen fly vit no hands, must hold vit mucles. Here.” And with that Viktor commenced to indicate exactly which muscle groups Hermione had to use. He held one hand on her stomach and one on her lower back for a moment. “Here, tight.” When she only nodded, he said more intently, “Now, you are making tight.” His hands squeezed her slightly for emphasis.

“Good.” His hands left her torso and she felt one hand on her foot. “Tight against. Both. Good.” Viktor was slightly behind her now, and reach around so that one hand was on the outside of each thigh. “Out and in, make both tight to hold broom.” Hermione could feel the slight shift against his hands as her legs flexed. Suddenly his hand was on her tummy, patting it harshly. “Tight!” She scowled. It wasn’t easy, but she tried to keep all of the muscle groups he’d mentioned tight, while breathing.

“Good,” he said, and she could tell that the torturer was smiling. “Now, let go.”

Hermione gritted her teeth and flexed her fingers. She tightened all those muscle groups one more time and let go of the broom, her hand hovering just bare centimeters off their target. She was doing it – she was doing it! Hermione lifted her hands from the broom completely and hung suspended – rather like a Seeker mid-flight – and whooped with joyful laughter at her accomplishment.

And then she fell off.

Or, at least she began to fall the moment she started laughing and not paying attention to holding tight with her muscles. Thankfully, Viktor was there, hands high on her ribcage, and it didn’t deter her in the least. She kept laughing.

“Did you see? Did you see?”

“Yes,” he responded, a huge grin on his face. He had set her back on the broom, upright, but his hands lingered on her waist. “Ve continue?” Hermione smiled at him in the affirmative, and he put a hand gently over her heart. “Stop, Go, Go fast, is all from here.” Viktor moved his hands, sliding the one at her waist down over the curve, resting it over the back pocket of her jeans – and making her inhale slightly – and placing the other on the top of her thigh. “Left, Right, Up, Down, is all from here. Tight against vit feet and hold vit legs.”

He made some motions with his hands, indicating certain moments and parts of the broom to indicate the physics of it all. Her thighs were the fulcrum and her feet were the leverage against the brass bootbraces. It was all very logical the way it worked out. The only problem, really, was Hermione getting her body to cooperate in a consistent manner.

To that end, Viktor had her work through all the previous drills without using her hands. Suffice to say she didn’t get far using the muscles in her abdomen and back to keep her up, and so she was allowed to rest her elbows on her thighs, but she did manage to learn to navigate the broom with her legs, which she later counted as a major coup. By the time the lesson was over, she was mentally and physically worn out, but exceedingly pleased with her progress. When she finally hopped off the broom she barely had time to shake out her legs before she was gathered up in swoop and swung around in a circle.

“Hermione, you vere brilliant!” It seemed all like all of his enthusiasm had been postponed while he was instructing her until this moment, when he finally let himself go. Hermione laughed out loud, still held somewhat aloft in his arms, holding tightly and smiling hugely. As she settled back to earth, leaning heavily against his form, she basked in the moment, just beaming. After a while she registered a look on his face that she had gotten to know rather well. It was the Viktor Wants To Kiss You look, and as fate would have it, Hermione found it rather irresistible. Before anything of the sort could happen, however, he pulled away slightly, snagging both her hand and the still hovering broom and tugged her toward the stands.

“Come,” he said softly. “Ve talk for little vhile.”

END.