1. Falling With Style (Michmak)

Chapter One: Falling with Style

by Michmak

From Michmak: this is a SASS-y production and will be written round-robin style be several SASS-y wenches. We have no idea where it is going or how it will get there, but what the heck...the journey is half the fun. Chapter One is written by me and I believe the wonderful Goblynn is in charge of chapter two....please R&R and let us know what you think.

She had always hated flying – an irrational fear of falling kept her feet firmly planted on the ground. She didn't even like to fly in planes, for Merlin's sake, and flying by broom was far worse. For one thing, brooms didn't have seatbelts. For another thing, they didn't have windshields, and Hermione was less then fond of swallowing bugs or having them get stuck in her teeth. Harry had told her if she would just keep her mouth shut when she flew bugs wouldn't be a concern, but she was too busy screaming at the time to pay any attention to him.

It grated on her nerves that flying was the one area in which she truly failed as a witch. She just didn't get it – didn't understand the thrill her friends seemed to get at liftoff; hated the way the wind made her hair even bushier, as if she had just walked backwards through a wind tunnel; detested the way the air chapped her face and made her ears pop incessantly.

No, flying was not for her. Never had been, never would be. She had decided at the end of her first year to leave the flying for the birds and the other bird-brains who seemed to love the thrill of rushing hundreds of feet above ground; the only thing between them and certain death a thin piece of wood jammed in the crack of their collective asses.

*~*~*~*~*~*

They were at it again. Quidditch and brooms! Brooms and Quidditch! As if there weren't more important things in life than chasing after some small golden snitch on a piece of wood. Hermione was doing her level best to ignore Ron and Harry as she re-read her notes.

"But that's just an urban myth, isn't it?" Harry asked Ron. "It didn't really happen, did it?"

"Didn't happen? Harry!" Ron rolled his eyes, "Of COURSE if happened. I'm telling you, Bill was there – he saw it all. Too bad, too. Bill says if it weren't for his tragic accident, Filo Fabrizius would have been the best Quidditch player ever – better even than Wronski."

"I don't believe you," Harry stated flatly. "It's just not possible. How does anybody FLY headfirst into a gaggle of Canadian geese? During a pick-up Quidditch match? In the middle of Batavia. Do they even have Canadian geese in Batavia?"

Ron shrugged, "I'm just telling you the story as I heard it from Bill and he swears it's the honest truth. Man, I would have loved to have been there!"

Hermione slammed her book shut and looked at her two friends in annoyance, "Honestly, Ron – you really would have wanted to see a man plummet over 1000 feet to his death? And Harry – have you learned NOTHING in Hagrid's classes? Of course, there are Canadian geese in Batavia – what do you think the Batavian Snaggle-Toothed Dragon eats? Now, are you two going to study or are you going to sit there all night wasting my time talking about Quidditch and flying?"

Harry looked at her and grinned, "You're just angry because you can't fly."

"No, I'm angry because you two are idiots and you're going to fail potions if you don't get your assignment done. And why would I want to fly, if there are hoards of dangerous geese out there, waiting for an opportunity to knock witches and wizards out of the sky?"

"I don't think the geese killed him on purpose, Hermione," Ron replied. "I mean, they have just as much right to enjoy a quick fly-around as the rest of us do. Really, I think it must have been Filo's fault – he should have looked where he was going."

Hermione wanted to hit him with something and quickly considered smacking him with her book, before deciding the poor book had done nothing to deserve such treatment. "Who said it was the geese's fault? Certainly not I! I think any fool who...who...larks around on broomsticks....invading the territories and natural environments of actual flying creatures – whether they are geese or...or...or....Snaggle-Toothed Dragons – deserves whatever happens to them!"

Harry smirked at Ron, who was looking completely befuddled at Hermione's outburst, "Don't worry about it, Ron – she's just angry because she can't fly, like I said. She can dress it up all she likes, but the reason she doesn't fly is because she can't, not because she doesn't want to 'invade the natural environments of actual flying creatures.'" This last part he said in fair imitation of Hermione's voice.

"Harry Potter – you are a PRAT!" Hermione yelled. "Go – go – go fly into a gaggle of geese, why don't you and leave me alone!"

The two boys watched her storm out of the Gryffindor common room with surprised looks on their faces.

"What's wrong with her?" Harry asked Ron in bemusement. "I was only teasing."

Ron shrugged, "Never tease Hermione, mate – especially about flying. I think it bothers her that she can't seem to get the hang of it. You just hit a sore spot with her, that's all."

*~*~*~*~*~*

Perhaps she could get some studying done on top of the Astronomy Tower. She knew neither Harry or Ron would ever look for her there, and since Harry no longer had the Marauder's Map they wouldn't be able to find her either.

She knew she had flown off the handle a few moments ago, but honestly – how much could one person put up with? They knew she hated listening to talk about Quidditch all the time and they knew she wasn't fond of flying, so why did it seem that was all they ever talked about?

Sighing, she pulled her hair back off her face and quickly fastened it into a pony-tail at the nape of her neck. It got pretty windy on top of the astronomy tower and she didn't want to be brushing out gnarls for a week.

It was already quite dark out when she finally reached her destination. Muttering a quick illuminating spell over the pages of her book, she sat with her back against the turret wall and tried to finish reading.

The words all blurred in front of her. She hadn't yelled at Harry because he was right, had she? She was far too sensible a girl to actually let Harry's comment about her not being able to fly get to her, wasn't she? It wasn't as if he was even saying something that wasn't true – she couldn't fly and everyone knew it. It didn't bother her in the least.

Did it?

Sighing, she closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the cold flagstone. She had flown on Buckbeak's back in third year with Harry and Sirius and had found the ride quite invigorating. Was riding the back of a Hippogriff really all that different from riding a broom?

Well, for one thing – Buckbeak's back was far broader than a broomstick could ever hope to be. There had been something rather sizeable there for her legs to grip to and while they were flying, when she looked down she didn't feel as if there was nothing underneath her.

Brooms were so...so...unbalancey and insubstantial. Just look at what a strong gust of wind and the Whomping Willow had done to Harry's old Firebolt. There hadn't been a piece left that was big enough for Hagrid to even use as a toothpick by the time the twins had retrieved them all. How was a girl supposed to feel secure perched on something so slim?

It wasn't as if she was scared of heights, after all she was currently sitting at the top of the highest tower at Hogwarts, with only a thin battlement keeping her from being practically on the edge of the tower. If she stood up and peered over the wall, would it make her faint? Give her vertigo? She was pretty sure it wouldn't.

Slowly moving to her feet, she stood on her tip-toes and tried to look over the flagstone walls to the ground far below, but found she wasn't tall enough to see anything.

Just how high up was she, anyway? Gingerly placing her notebook near her feet, she pulled herself up the wall by her arms and leaned well into a wide crevasse between the bricks. If she twisted to the left just so and tilted her hips sideways, she should be able to see the ground quite easily.

Foot here...other foot there...hand on this small outcropping and voila! The wind was whistling through the large crack she had managed to stuff herself into, buffeting her face and robes and Hermione grinned into it. This wasn't bad at all – felt good, actually. Now all she needed to do was stick her head out of the wall...

And that was when she saw him – a solitary shape, a black shadow sweeping across the face of the moon. His robes were streaming out behind him, swirling with the force of the winds around him. She watched in awe as the shadowy figure shot straight up in the air, before abruptly changing direction and plummeting straight downwards again. She could almost swear she heard the sound of deep chocolate laughter racing towards her on the wind.

She inched forward a bit more, hoping to get a better glimpse of the mysterious man, intent on learning if it really was laughter she heard streaming behind him and not the abject screams of terror one would expect from a man plunging to his death.

Where had he gone to? She had lost track of his downward trajectory as she had moved forward and she could no longer see him. Scanning the sky anxiously, she tried to control the roiling in her stomach as it occurred to her that maybe he hadn't been able to turn his broom before hitting the ground.

Where was he? Inching forward a bit more, she chewed her lip worriedly and adjusted her legs so that she was now almost standing, giving her more mobility in her upper body and enabling her to lean out just a bit further.

Where was he?

Where was he?

Where...

"Miss Granger! What in all the circles of Dante's Hell are you doing crawling through the wall at the top of the Astronomy Tower at midnight!" It wasn't the voice that scared her so much as the sudden appearance of its owner, hanging in the air a mere three feet in front of her. Snape? He was the mysterious flyer?

Jerking upwards, she cracked her head viciously against the top of the hole she had managed to insert herself into, screaming. Letting go of the bit of protruding rock she had been holding with her right hand, she swiftly brought it to her head in an automatic motion of protection, bending forward even more so as she did so. Her other hand had flown to her chest in an effort to keep her fast-beating heart from exploding in shock.

The wind was whipping around her and Professor Snape was staring at her in horrified disbelief as she smiled at him weakly. "Professor Snape, you fly beautifully," she managed to murmur before she passed out, slowly somersaulting from the crevasse in the astronomy tower and plummeting to her death.

________________________________________________

A/N: LOL – evil cliffie. Please keep in mind, crazy meds and lack of sleep will make anyone nuts – not just me.

Learning to Fly – Pink Floyd

Into the distance, a ribbon of black

Stretched to the point of no turning back

A flight of fancy on a windswept field

Standing alone my senses reeled

A fatal attraction holding me fast, how

Can I escape this irresistible grasp?

Can't keep my eyes from the circling skies

Tongue-tied and twisted just an earth-bound misfit, I

Ice is forming on the tips of my wings

Unheeded warnings, I thought I thought of everything

No navigator to guide my way home

Unladened, empty and turned to stone

A soul in tension that's learning to fly

Condition grounded but determined to try

Can't keep my eyes from the circling skies

Tongue-tied and twisted just an earth-bound misfit, I

Above the planet on a wing and a prayer,

My grubby halo, a vapour trail in the empty air,

Across the clouds I see my shadow fly

Out of the corner of my watering eye

A dream unthreatened by the morning light

Could blow this soul right through the roof of the night

There's no sensation to compare with this

Suspended animation, a state of bliss

Can't keep my eyes from the circling skies

Tongue-tied and twisted just an earth-bound misfit, I