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────────────── 'VERTIGO' ──────────────
♡
As Harry rummaged through the small storage shed on the sidelines of the quidditch pitch, searching through the brooms typically used for first-year flying lessons, Mina leaned against the doorframe, holding his Firebolt for him.
She surveyed its polished, sleek design as it almost glinted in the afternoon sun; notably one of the best brooms available. It almost seemed too precious—and expensive—to be held, or even looked at. Peering into the shed, she watched in amusement as he silently debated between two virtually identical brooms for her—one in each hand, comparing them.
"Are they really that different?" she commented, and he tossed one of the brooms aside to a large pile on the dusty ground, the black string of his locket poking up over the collar of his white shirt.
"Some of them are pretty dodgy," he moved toward her, eyeing the broom in his hold. "A lot of people leave their old brooms in here when they get new ones, which is great—except when they should be scrapped," he closed the shed door, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled to his elbows, and the two began walking to the centre of the sunny pitch.
"Before he got his own, Ron used one of the shed-brooms, but it turned out to be jinxed and did its own thing when he flew. It was going everywhere—it took us, like, twenty minutes to get him down," he laughed, the light wind ruffling his hair, though at her wide eyes and slightly agape mouth, he added, "this one won't do that, though. It seems to be in better condition than all the others—but if you're not comfortable, I can write to my dad to find one of my old brooms and—"
"No, no its fine," she smiled, unsure of how to react to this sudden generosity. "Thanks, though," she looked over to see him already looking at her, green eyes bright in the sunlight, and she averted her gaze as her cheeks tinted pink and their arms brushed.
They reached the middle of the expansive field and swapped brooms. The handle of the shed-broom was significantly less smooth than the Firebolt—and she winced a little as a splinter met her palm. "How come I don't get the fancy broom?"
"Go for it," he said, jokingly holding it out. "Although, I should warn you that it goes ten times faster than the shed one."
She rolled her eyes playfully. "Don't you have a team to train? How come the oh-so-great Gryffindor quidditch captain is wasting his time teaching a Hufflepuff with zero flying experience?"
"Because the Hufflepuff-with-zero-flying-experience lost a bet," He laughed, running a hand through his hair. "Besides, Lee, games don't start for another two months, and proper team practice is on weekends—or in the morning if we're desperate," Harry carefully put his Firebolt on the grass beside them. "So, for a couple afternoons every week, until you can fly, you're all mine."
Her heart thumped rapidly within her chest, and she couldn't tell if it was due to anxiety at the thought of such heights, or the way his last three words could be interpreted.
"Mina?"
"Hm?"
"First thing you do is mount the broom," Harry said, and she did, already growing tense even with her feet still firmly planted on the ground. "Okay, so now you—"
"What if I fall?" Mina blurted out.
"You'll be fine," he rationalised, stepping closer. "Hold it like this," he casually put his hands over hers, adjusting them so that her dominant hand was further up the handle, only stimulating more butterflies to erupt in her stomach at the sudden contact.
"I'm definitely gonna fall," she swallowed nervously, looking up at him, feeling the absence of his hands as he let go.
"You're not gonna fall—"
"What if I go up really high and can't get down?"
"You won't," Harry laughed. "Seriously, Mina, you'll be fine." At her–very unconvinced—expression, he put a hand on the small of her back and continued, his voice low and comforting. "These brooms aren't designed to go super high, so it won't—and it's not jinxed, I checked it. They take a while to speed up, and even once they do, they're really not that fast. Besides, I have my Firebolt. I can catch up to you really quickly if anything did go wrong."
A moment passed, but finally, she let out a breath. "Okay," Mina nodded tentatively. "I'll do it."
"That's our Mina," he grinned, stepping back, the lowering sun adding warm colour to his skin. They'd been out much longer than she'd thought. "Hold on tightly. When I say 'go', kick off hard from the ground, keep the broom as steady as you can, and hover. Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Okay...go!"
Doing as he said, Mina kicked off from the ground, letting out a small sound of surprise as both of her feet left the safe haven of the grass below—albeit very slowly, leaving her to hover for about a second.
However, as a result of her trembling hands and vertigo, the broom fell back down, leaving her to stumble a little back onto the ground, and into Harry, who held her wrists, steadying her; the two bursting into laughter; red marks on her palms from clenching the broom's handle so tightly.
"You did it!" he grinned, elated at her progress—despite getting barely a metre and a half in the air. "You're shaking!"
"It's scary!" she laughed, thankful to use adrenaline as an excuse over the fact that he was standing so much closer than usual; that if she just moved her face a little closer to his then there would be so space left between them. That the golden light complemented his complexion so well her heart skipped a beat. That his eyes were in hers and his smile made her melt. That his hands lingered over her skin for a little too long before he let go, and moved back, and the moment was gone.
