Hello Goodbye

Chapter 4: Hello Goodbye

Buggeration!

Within one minute of liftoff, Hermione's knuckles had turned white from gripping the broom handle with such force. Within five minutes, her hands had cramped and frozen into their vice-like positions. She doubted she could pry them from the wood even if she'd wanted to, although the very thought of such action made her sick.

It required all of her concentration to stay atop the loathsome stick, leaving little energy left for steering. She had chanced a look at the ground, and that act of insanity had confirmed two things for her: one, she was about to toss the packet of crisps she'd eaten at the meeting; and two, she didn't seem to be making much progress with leaving the perimeter of the clearing.

In truth, her attention was being unfairly diverted by her recent meeting with Snape. She found herself replaying their bizarre encounter when she really ought to be focusing on her flying, and those images blocked all thoughts of her eventual destination. Had he departed the clearing, or was he still watching her? She swung her head around, starting at the sight of a dark form rocketing through the sky towards her.

Her jumpy reaction caused her broom to dip forward, and she jerked her head back around. The rapid movements were too much for the broom to accommodate, and she soon tilted too far to the right. A nauseating view of the ground filled her vision. Heart pounding, she yanked the broom back to the left. And overcompensated. Violently. She swung all the way around now, until her own momentum had her spiralling through the air, performing two complete mid-air corkscrews before toppling from the broom entirely.

Panic snaked its icy fingers around her throat, refusing to release its stranglehold for what seemed like an eternity as she plunged towards the ground. Years might have passed before rational thought returned. She fought the wind whipping at her robes and grabbed for her wand. Her hair snapped around her face, and she had to squeeze her eyes together as loose strands sliced at her.

With sudden force, she slammed against something hard. She cried out in fright, waiting for the pain to take hold. The ground had seemed very far away...she couldn't have reached it already. Blackness enveloped her senses, confusing her and inviting the return of panic. Still, she waited for the pain, and still, it did not materialise. How could that be? Was she dead? Impossible: she was still moving. Her descent had definitely been slowed, though...she was no longer free-falling. If anything, she felt as if she was moving backwards. And she still couldn't see...she could barely breathe. She struggled against the black shroud that covered her face, trying to throw it off while still searching for her wand.

"Hold still," hissed a voice. The panic fled, but her brain was frustratingly slow in piecing together the rest of the puzzle.

She couldn't tell which end was up, but she had a feeling...confirmed by the rush of cold air against the backs of her thighs...that she had been plucked from the air in the most unladylike manner possible. Some part of Snape (an arm, perhaps?) was wound around her chest, crushing her lungs and making it damn near impossible to breathe. Some other part of him (please let it be another arm) was squeezing her hip, and she felt as though she were folded in half.

Her assessment was confirmed when all motion stopped. She heard nothing but the sound of Snape's boots landing on the grass, followed by a stifled chuckle. Her feet and hands met the ground at the same time. She wobbled sideways and realised she was indeed folded over: her forehead was even with her toes.

Cold air rushed against her legs. She felt completely inside out...her legs, thighs, and arse were exposed to the elements, while her arms, shoulders, and head remained covered by skirt and robes. Judging from their positions, she'd apparently been tucked beneath Snape's arms like a sack of flour. There was no possible way to picture the scenario without her arse being prominently displayed before his face.

She swatted away his hands when he attempted to assist her and somehow righted herself into a standing position. There ensued a chaotic flailing of skirt, robes, arms, hands, and hair, until she was more or less put back together. Steeling herself, she turned her gaze to her ... rescuer.

He was laughing at her. She supposed she had expected some form of mirth...a smirk or a smile, perhaps. But no, this went far beyond mere glee. The bastard was so overcome with humour, he practically had to hold his sides. If she hadn't been so miffed over inadvertently mooning the world, she might have found the sight rather incongruous.

"Are you quite alright, Miss Granger?" he managed to choke out after a few moments.

She glared and fisted her hands on her hips. Perhaps the impropriety of the situation might embarrass him enough to sober. "Did you enjoy the view, Professor Pervert?"

He smiled. "Yes, Miss Granger, the view was lovely," he said. "Blue is suddenly my favourite colour."

So much for her plan to embarrass him. Her cheeks burned scarlet when she recalled the pair of silk knickers she'd worn today were, in fact, a deep sapphire blue.

"How dare you!" she fumed. "I wouldn't have fallen in the first place if you hadn't come swooping after me like some overgrown bat!"

The bat reference erased his smile at last. "Is that any way to thank someone for saving your life, you ungrateful little twit?"

"Saving my life?" She stomped her foot against the ground. "I had everything under control!"

"How silly of me not to realise that," he said with a snarl. "I suppose plummeting to your death was simply one facet of your brilliant plan?"

"I was retrieving my wand!" she answered. "I would have had time to cast a Hover Charm if I hadn't been snatched from the sky." Perhaps.

"I see," he said. He remained silent for several moments, until she began to squirm beneath his familiar glare. "You are the most obstinate creature I've ever met. And seeing how you'd rather risk your own foolish neck than accept my help, I will gladly leave you alone with your pride. Have a pleasant journey back to Fieldstone, Miss Granger."

She received a curt nod and a view of his back as he turned and walked away. Her anger evaporated as she considered his words. He quite likely had just saved her life...or at least spared her immense pain...and she had responded like a spoiled child. She closed her eyes and sighed, regret adding itself to the strange parade of emotions she'd experienced today.

One glance at her broom confirmed it had been reduced to kindling, leaving her stranded yet again. The thought of walking the great distance to Fieldstone had her hurrying after Snape, speaking to his back as he retreated.

"Wait ... please." She was relieved when he stopped in mid-stride and turned to face her.

"Yes?"

"Umm..." Damn...would the humiliations never cease?

"Well, what is it?" he asked. "I have better things to do, Miss Granger."

She drew a deep breath and said, "Thank you," then watched him stroll closer.

His dark eyes danced. "Could you repeat that?" he asked softly. "I'm afraid I didn't hear you."

She knew full well he had heard her the first time, but with a sigh of resignation, she supposed she deserved a little bit of spite for her behaviour. A very little bit.

"Thank you for catching me when I fell," she said. Although I would have been fine. Probably.

She watched his face, noting the smirk of self-satisfaction and preparing for the onslaught of insults meant to make her feel incompetent, stupid, and clumsy.

"You're welcome," he said. The smirk turned into a smile.

Hmm. She waited for a trap...surely it couldn't be this easy. When no malice materialised, she returned his smile and drew another breath. She'd managed the apology, but she still had to ask for help in getting to Fieldstone.

"Do you... um... that is, can you... um..." she began, at a loss for how to phrase such a request. She watched his amused expression spread as he folded his arms across his chest.

"Will you... help me get to Fieldstone?" she managed at last.

"And how exactly would I accomplish that?" he asked, evidently unwilling to make this any easier.

"I was hoping perhaps... you could give me a ride?" she asked, faltering over the image of Snape riding her in ways that had nothing whatsoever to do with flight. Her face was heating rapidly as he stared at her in silence, his slight smile still firmly in place.

"Please?" she added for good measure.

It seemed to be the only thing he'd been waiting for. "Certainly," he said, dropping his arms to his sides as he advanced on her.

He moved so fast...too fast...and she stumbled back without thinking. He froze.

His ensuing burst of laughter held no humour. "I believe you'll actually need to touch me if this is going to work."

Appalled by her own response to him, she said, "Yes, of course. I just hadn't considered... how..."

Her voice faded while she tried to overcome her trepidation. She raised her arms towards his chest, hesitated, then lowered them.

You're being ridiculous! she chided herself.

She moved closer and tried again: she raised her arms, hovered, and then lowered them. Then raised and lowered them again. And again. And still once more, until it began to look as if she were performing some sort of bizarre interpretive dance.

The thought of throwing her arms around his neck...of holding onto him while they flew to Fieldstone, bodies pressed together...was simply too much to contemplate. It made her stomach jump so high she feared it might leap straight out of her body. Touching him in this manner was just so personal ... so familiar. Like a close, intimate hug. And Severus Snape just wasn't her idea of a huggable sort of wizard.

I owe Karelia lots of chocolate and wine for her lovely, fast beta skills on this story!