The Bucking Broomstick

The first years were in something of a line out on the grounds of Hogwarts. There was a hum of apprehensive chatter as Madame Hooch dropped a broom before each student. At the far end of the line a small red-haired girl and a sallow-complexioned boy huddled together with a nervous air.

"I don't know, Sev," said the girl, looking rather dubiously at the brooms lined up before them, "we can really fly on these things?"

"'Course," said Severus offhandedly. "Now that we're here at last, this is the least of the wonders we'll see, just wait!"

Despite his attempt at knowledgeable nonchalance, he was regarding the situation with as much, if not more, apprehension as his best friend, Lily. Sports were not his exactly his field. To be quite honest, he had yet to come across a sport that he was decent at.

Madame Hooch was now marching up and down the row of first years.

They'd soon have to summon their brooms, when she suddenly cried out, "POTTER! What do you think you are doing?"

James Potter, his broom quivering in his eager clutch, froze with one leg dangling over his broom.

"Drop it immediately!" she hissed.

"Just trying to get things started," he said, cheerily. "We aren't all girly wimps about a little flying around."

He gave a nod in the general direction of Severus and Lily.

Lily glared, but James cut in, "Sorry--I meant Snivelly, not you. You are a girl, so 'girly' is rather redundant for you. But he looks like he's about to puke, doesn't he?"

"Snivellus always looks that way, if you ask me, mate," said Sirius lazily.

"Between you and Potter, you're enough to make anyone sick!" snapped Lily, eyes flashing, but not before several of the girls--and James--giggled.

Severus did in fact feel sick; his already pallid complexion had blanched further in his deep mortification and inarticulate anger.

"Ah, now, you're not bad; you're a Gryffindor, be a sport!" said James, mock-hurt.

"Sport! Sport! Yes, that's it, Potter. Let's see how long you can go without making a sport of everyone, shall we?" cried Lily, voice creeping up indignantly. "Life's not a joke, Potter, even if you are!"

"Enough! Five points from Gryffindor for disruption, and I'll make it twenty, Potter, if you so much as touch that broom again before I tell you to!" yelled Madame Hooch. A look of reluctance crossed her face, as she was obviously about to tell them to now. "Right. Call your brooms on my count of three. Ready, everyone. One... two... THREE!"

James had recovered and returned to smirking rather unpleasantly at Lily at the three, when his over-eager broom flew up and smacked him in the face.

"Bloody--!" he yelped.

"Profanities, Potter! Watch your tongue or another five points off!" said Madame Hooch sharply.

Severus and Lily were collapsing in giggles. Sirius evidently did not consider laughing a breach of his loyalty, because he too was choked with laughter, doubled up on his broom for support.

James glared at all of them, but the corner of his mouth twitched up.

"All right, I'm off from the lot of you!" he yelled, leaping onto the broom, and, quite suddenly, he was.

Rocketing to the sky, his yell of surprise turned to exhilaration and he circled them once, twice and whipped around the side of the castle out of site, to the "OOoooOOOH!" of the students.

Madame Hooch was speechless. It was obvious that she was alarmed and furious, but even more evident was her shock, and Severus thought he glimpsed admiration lingering in her wide gaze.

He and Lily had both stopped laughing abruptly, and Sirius had let out a low whistle, as all the students gazed at the spot where James had disappeared. A full five minutes elapsed in stunned silence.

"Someone... quick! Give me a broom! I'll have to save him!" cried Madame Hooch, gathering her senses and remembering her responsibility. "Idiot boy probably crashed into the side of the building...!"

"Well, he must've done pretty well for recovery," said Sirius wryly, gesturing towards the other end.

The students all turned on the spot, to see James come flying around the other side of the castle, hollering and whooping.

And quite suddenly, the students were cheering, laughing, and gasping.

Lily was determinedly not saying anything, but her eyes were large in wonder.

And Severus, whose eyes had immediately flown from James to Lily, felt something inside of him plummet and burst into flames.

"I can do as much," he blurted out.

His eyes widened in surprise, even as Lily's lit up. He hadn't meant to say that, but resentment had swollen over at Potter for taking even Lily's attention with his fantastic flying.

She turned to him, eyes bright, and looked spectacularly delighted.

"You can? You're wonderful, Sev! And to think that they're all making such a big fuss of him!" she said, tossing her red-gold hair.

He gave an uncertain laugh, a flush creeping to his cheeks, and he averted his gaze. Her face was so trustingly triumphant. He didn't want to take it back: he wanted to be wonderful.

But he wasn't. His parents certainly didn't think he was. Lily's sister, Orchid, or whatever her name was, seemed to share Potter's view that he was akin to something like shredded slug, stir-fried. Everyone except Lily, in fact, seemed to hold that view.

And yet...

And yet, Lily's was the only one whose view mattered. If he had the others' regard he would throw it to the wind for that one girl with the earnest green eyes's admiration.

"Yeah, I can, but I'm... I'm a bit out of practice," he finally muttered.

By this time, James had landed, and the students were rushing to him, headed by Madame Hooch, who was brandishing a fist in conviction.

"James Cornelius Potter," she said, trembling, and then grabbed his arm, and began dragging him towards the castle.

"What? Hey! Where're you taking me?" he protested indignantly, but even so he couldn't wipe off his ear-to-ear grin.

"THAT WAS BRILLIANT!" yelled Sirius, pushing through the rest of the mob, and grabbing James's other arm.

"James, I've never seen someone fly like that first time, I reckon he's right, you ARE brilliant!" cried Perry Wilkes, a lanky Gryffindor, trotting behind.

And so James Potter was escorted up to the castle, trailed by his new fans, basking in the glow of his newly discovered natural talent.

Only Lily and Severus stayed behind, Lily shaking her head scornfully.

"Like sheep!" she said.

"Brawny over brainy," sneered Severus, "that's all those drooling masses care about."

"Of course, you're both then," said Lily, peeking at him rather slyly.

Severus's heart seemed to expand out of his chest, and he wondered for a moment if that was what Potter felt on his broomstick--soaring.

"Do you think... do you think it'd be okay to go ahead right now?" said Lily, hesitantly. "Maybe just to practice. I don't want to go in front of everyone and fall off. Could you teach me, a little?"

"Teach you," Severus repeated. He felt curiously excited, just as he had when he first told her about magic. But this was different, wasn't it? He'd had only one ride on a broom before and that had been--he forced his mind away from the memory, and looked at her eager face.

With his help, she was just as likely to fall off her broom.

He reminded himself that brooms were magical objects, and he loved magic; it was steeped in magic that he felt at home. He ran his fingers along the handle, and jumped on.

"I'll go first," he blurted out, "watch me first, I need to warm up."

"'Kay," said Lily, agreeably standing back.

Severus flung himself over the broom, forcing back a surge of fear, and kicked off. The broom kicked back, quite indignantly.

It rose three feet off the ground and began bucking violently. He wrapped his arms around it, and kicked his legs in an attempt to propel it up.

Quite abruptly, the broom shot up another thirty feet, and he... shot off. It simply left him behind, twenty feet in the air.

As he plummeted a flood of images swept him up... his last distinct thought was that his life did seem to flash before his eyes. The rushing of wind filled his mind and ears and he fell into the memories of that night when he experienced his first time on a broom.

His father, towering over his mother, brandished the broom over her head.

"You wouldn't dare," she whispered, eyes watering in hatred, but she was hunched in fear.

"Going to hex me, witch? Who's going to provide for you afterwards?" he bellowed, and raised the broom. His mother flinched.

Crack! The broom whipped out of his father's hands and began thumping him over his own head.

"YOU BITCH!" screamed the man, beating it off, and then lunging for her throat.

She fell over a chair, sending it flying, and Severus, who had been hiding behind it, went scrambling.

His mother cried out, "No! It wasn't--me--I swear--Toby!"

He lashed out at her again, and suddenly Severus, tears streaking his thin face jumped up.

"IT WASN'T HER!" he yelled, trembling violently.

And suddenly the truth dawned on both of them.
His father's face, blotchy with rage, darkened several shades ominously. His mother, trembling in the corner suddenly froze in shock.

"Severus," she hissed. "Don't be a fool... Severus!"

Severus and his father glared at each other and there was such loathing in the air that it seemed to shimmer with tension.

His father might have beaten him to death that night, drunk with fury and fear as he was, but his mother bound him magically. Her own anger had been overridden by her fear for Severus's life. She had taken Severus and the broom outside.

She thrust the broom at him.

"Get on this," she spat, livid.

Severus frantically shook his head.

She took his shoulder and placed the broom in his hand. "Get on it now, you stupid boy! You've driven your father raving mad, and he'll probably kill you if he sees you again... that was foolish. Very foolish!"

A sob of angry hurt broke uncontrollably from Severus, and he hated himself for it. His mother looked disgusted. She clutched at his shoulder, eyes averted, and hissed, "Listen to me. If there is one thing I can teach you in the world, it's not to let your emotions get the better of you. You'll only get yourself hurt. Learn some control, Severus. Only fools wear their hearts on their sleeves."

His name came out of her mouth hovering like a curse and a plea. Then she straightened. "Let me handle your bastard father, and I'll send for you when it's safe. Off, now!"

Severus swung his legs over the broom and kicked off, still shaking with anger and fear. His mother sent a steadying spell after him, but even so his broom wobbled and swerved into the night, as uncontrollable as his emotions...

"Severus!"

He started violently, but it was neither his mother nor his father. Lily's compassionate green eyes swam into focus, wide with worry. As he gazed back, disoriented, he thought he must be dreaming for the passionate tenderness that was written all over her face.

"Sev!" she said again, intent and concerned, a lock of red hair had slipped from behind her ear, but she didn't notice. Her hands were on his shoulders, gentle but firm.

As he gazed at the warmth in her eyes, he felt anchored. A sudden, overwhelming swell of emotion flooded his body. It was, if anything, even more disorienting. It was altogether unfamiliar to him... the contentment, peace, and fierce tenderness that flushed through him.

How strange that his name could come from her like a salve and from another like a curse.

How wonderful... and some as of yet infinitesimally conscious part of him would realize in later years that this was the most wondrous magic he would ever find in all his studies and life.

"Speak to me, Sev!" said Lily, almost sobbing.

There was no way to convey the complexity of wonder he was feeling, no words to express the world... but perhaps two syllables.

"Lily," he simply whispered.

And Lily pulled him up and hugged him almost aggressively; she tucked her head around his and breathed deeply, so she missed the smile that crept to his lips, for once beautiful and undisturbed.