"You're so insufferable, I hate you!" Hermione exclaimed, disdain filling her eyes.
"The feeling's mutual, you stupid... Muggle-born." Y/N retorted, Hermione's nose twitching out of frustration.
...
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On the vibrant expanse of the grassy pavement, Y/N and her fellow first-year students assembled, an array of broomsticks positioned neatly in front of them. The day was accompanied by a gentle breeze that rustled through the air, its touch barely grazing their ankles as they stood poised for what lay ahead. The collective gaze of the group turned as a figure of assertive authority approached – Madam Hooch, a presence known to command respect.
With short, tufty grey hair that gave her a distinctive air, and yellow eyes that held a hawk-like intensity, Madam Hooch greeted the young witches and wizards with the first rays of morning sunlight. As she reached the front of the line, the students offered polite acknowledgments of her presence.
"Welcome to your first flying lesson," she declared, her voice carrying a no-nonsense tone. Her eyebrows knitted slightly, her hands resting firmly on her hips. "Well, what are you waiting for? Everyone, step up to the left side of your broomsticks," she instructed, her words a call to action that resonated within the hearts of those gathered.
The students complied, each taking a step forward, their expressions varying from eager anticipation to cautious curiosity. Y/N, however, appeared distinctly unaffected, her gaze carrying a certain boredom as she glanced at the broomstick positioned beside her foot.
"Stick your right hand over the broom and say 'Up'," Madam Hooch directed, her movements animated as she demonstrated the action.
With an air of determination, Y/N spoke the word aloud, "Up!" The first attempt bore no fruit, the broomstick remaining resolutely in place. Undeterred, she repeated the command, this time with a note of stern authority.
Her eyes, a striking shade of red, pulsed with a surge of energy, the broomstick responding to her demand. Y/N's gaze flicked briefly to Draco, whose smug smirk conveyed his satisfaction as the broomstick obediently came to his hand.
Among the trio of Draco, Harry, and Y/N, it was evident that their proficiency was unmatched, their broomsticks responding with remarkable speed. The repeated invocation of the word "Up" reached a point where its sound lost its familiarity, its repetition transforming it into a mere cadence that underscored the transformative magic taking place.
Y/N's attention shifted to the side, her chin comfortably propped on the end of the broomstick. A subtle smile tugged at her lips as her gaze landed upon Hermione, who was engaged in a valiant struggle with the simple task at hand.
The word "Up" was repeated with an almost comical cadence, the broomstick responding with an erratic dance, as if determined to challenge Hermione's command.
Hermione, her determination mingling with a touch of frustration, threw a sideways glance in Y/N's direction, her expression conveying a mixture of annoyance and pride. "What're you laughing at, Crimson?" she spat, her words sharp with a hint of irritation.
Y/N raised her hands in a mock-surrender, her smile undeterred by Hermione's retort. "No need to be so snarky in the morning, Granger. Flash me a smile," she teased playfully, a glint of mischief dancing in her eyes.
