𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬- 𝐚 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐏𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

Harry- 2. Backflip

House: Gryffindor

Warnings: None

_

September could never be bad. With a tattered, old book in hand, a thin, warm sweater over the shoulders, and a dancing fire in front of eyes- told you, it never could have been bad. At least for Potter.

And so, he didn't even notice when the portrait hole opened and when a highly exhausted Gryffindor plonked beside him. All thanks to the Prince.

It was only when Merlin knows what fell on his feet, he was yanked out of Prince and his little secrets.

"Oh- so sorry, Harry!"

The girl beside him plunged from her armchair to the rugged floor, hastily picking up the books that now sprawled within half a metre (his mind often exaggerates, and he admits it).

It took a minute for reality to hit him before he jumped to his feet. He had been lying in the common room for almost all day with Ron, who decided to ditch him and move to the Great Hall for some food. Not like he complained, though.

But her friend, who was currently plucking her scattered books, didn't look as fresh as he did. The reason, of course, was that she agreed with Hermione to waste her only holiday in the library (he is more than greatful that Hermione isn't an Occlumen, otherwise, she would have killed him before Voldemort did).

"Are you alright?" He asked her carefully as she fell back beside him, not minding that the rim of her feet brushed against the protuding stack of books.

"Yeah, just sneaked out of the library," she rubbed her eyes furiously as she avoided direct contact with the clicking flames. "If I'd gave opened another book, I'd have scorched my eyes for sure."

A smile crept into his face as he nodded in her direction. And definitely, she wasn't exaggerating (unlike him). Hermione had dragged her soon after their breakfast, and, by now, the sun was almost out of sight from the demarcations of the castle.

She did have a hectic day.

"Why don't you, maybe rest?" He advised, silently hoping she would decline it.

She did, but it wasn't what he even thought of.

"I think, I'm heading out. No, you aren't coming-" she was quick to halt his actions and gave out a small laugh. "Your nose still looks a bit displaced."

He silently rolled his eyes at the antics of his friend. She was almost completely out of sight before she appeared in front of him again.

"Erm- I was just thinking if you can lend me your Firebolt? Won't sabotage it, I swear."

And he was bumfuzzled. She was never interested in Quidditch, let alone be flying. He always saw her completely ignorant whenever a certain match was hotly discussed.

And now, it was of course impossible for him to stay put in the common room.

No surprises, he was always indulged in out of bounds.

At least four, he counted.

At least four times he had to clean his glasses to believe what was unfolding before his eyes.

The girl he had known for six years was nothing what he ever imagined.

The way her slender fingers left and gripped the broom in perfect intervals as she somersaulted within the deadly narrow range of the Firebolt almost made his heart do a backflip.

Wicked.

And again.

This was nothing he ever saw a wizard performing. The flips, the jumps, the movement of her limbs...they were magical.