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kat_lair***
Title: take you on a skyride
Author:kat_lair / Mistress Kat
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters/Pairing: Hermione, Hermione/Ron mildly implied
Rating: PG
Word count: 445
Disclaimer: Not mine, only playing
Summary: This was just for her.
Author notes: Written for a prompt frompushkin666 : HP & witch’s broom. Title from ‘Joyride’ by Roxette, because sometimes you just have to be a little on the nose about these things. Incidentally, I really, really want a Hermione focused OT3 fanvid to that song. Because the lyrics, c’mon!
“Where are you going?” Ron’s voice drifted from the common room sofa, shortly followed by this head popping up from the back of it. His hair was tousled, eyes still at half-mast from his interrupted nap and Hermione felt a familiar tug in her chest.
It would be so easy to crawl next to him and let the warmth and safety of having her best friends where she could see them soothe her. Harry was still asleep in the nearby armchair, head tipped back at an unattractive angle and mouth open – not so much the boy hero now, just a snoring teenager.
But that wasn’t what she needed at the moment.
“The library,” Hermione answered smoothly, crossing fingers behind her back, “Thought I’d get started on the history assignment we got today.”
“’Mione!” Ron groaned plaintively, “that’s not due for days yet!”
“It’s better to give yourself enough time for research and notetaking before actually starting to write,” she said piously.
“Yeah… Alright.” Ron frowned at her. He and Harry had a less sequential approach to essay writing, one that usually involved panic and late nights rather than meticulously colour-coded notes. “Have fun,” he added, already flopping back on to the sofa.
Hermione bid a hasty goodbye and climbed out of the portrait with a sigh of relief. She hurried through the deserted corridors, passing the turning to the library, heading to the front doors instead. With a whispered silencing spell to mask the tell-tale creak she slipped out, sure that if Hogwarts hadn’t wanted her to leave undetected, or at all, no amount of sneaking around or carefully worded incantations would have made a difference.
The courtyard was still and quiet, not even an owl disturbed her as Hermione crossed the moonlit stones. The broom storage doors opened easily enough with a decisive ‘Alohomora’ – after all, there was little reason for high security here.
Hermione lifted her hand and chose the broom that was the quickest and most eager to snap into it at her summons. In a matter of seconds she was soaring above the roofs and treetops, the wind carding cold fingers through her hair, streaming behind her like a victory flag. Hermione loved her books and research and knowledge, the things she could do with them, the people she could help, but this… This was just for her, not for any purpose other than the sheer, fierce joy of it.
The sky was clear, the deep velvet black of it dotted with millions of stars, and one solitary young witch, riding higher with every loop. Far above the ground Hermione whooped and dove, her heart beating to the rhythm of freedom.
***
Title: take you on a skyride
Author:
kat_lair / Mistress KatFandom: Harry Potter
Characters/Pairing: Hermione, Hermione/Ron mildly implied
Rating: PG
Word count: 445
Disclaimer: Not mine, only playing
Summary: This was just for her.
Author notes: Written for a prompt from
pushkin666 : HP & witch’s broom. Title from ‘Joyride’ by Roxette, because sometimes you just have to be a little on the nose about these things. Incidentally, I really, really want a Hermione focused OT3 fanvid to that song. Because the lyrics, c’mon! “Where are you going?” Ron’s voice drifted from the common room sofa, shortly followed by this head popping up from the back of it. His hair was tousled, eyes still at half-mast from his interrupted nap and Hermione felt a familiar tug in her chest.
It would be so easy to crawl next to him and let the warmth and safety of having her best friends where she could see them soothe her. Harry was still asleep in the nearby armchair, head tipped back at an unattractive angle and mouth open – not so much the boy hero now, just a snoring teenager.
But that wasn’t what she needed at the moment.
“The library,” Hermione answered smoothly, crossing fingers behind her back, “Thought I’d get started on the history assignment we got today.”
“’Mione!” Ron groaned plaintively, “that’s not due for days yet!”
“It’s better to give yourself enough time for research and notetaking before actually starting to write,” she said piously.
“Yeah… Alright.” Ron frowned at her. He and Harry had a less sequential approach to essay writing, one that usually involved panic and late nights rather than meticulously colour-coded notes. “Have fun,” he added, already flopping back on to the sofa.
Hermione bid a hasty goodbye and climbed out of the portrait with a sigh of relief. She hurried through the deserted corridors, passing the turning to the library, heading to the front doors instead. With a whispered silencing spell to mask the tell-tale creak she slipped out, sure that if Hogwarts hadn’t wanted her to leave undetected, or at all, no amount of sneaking around or carefully worded incantations would have made a difference.
The courtyard was still and quiet, not even an owl disturbed her as Hermione crossed the moonlit stones. The broom storage doors opened easily enough with a decisive ‘Alohomora’ – after all, there was little reason for high security here.
Hermione lifted her hand and chose the broom that was the quickest and most eager to snap into it at her summons. In a matter of seconds she was soaring above the roofs and treetops, the wind carding cold fingers through her hair, streaming behind her like a victory flag. Hermione loved her books and research and knowledge, the things she could do with them, the people she could help, but this… This was just for her, not for any purpose other than the sheer, fierce joy of it.
The sky was clear, the deep velvet black of it dotted with millions of stars, and one solitary young witch, riding higher with every loop. Far above the ground Hermione whooped and dove, her heart beating to the rhythm of freedom.
***