Title: For National Pride
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: G
Length: 690
Content notes: None
Author notes: None
Summary: Ginny needs a bit of assistance from Hermione

      "Come on, Hermione, please?" Ginny stood and twisted her hands fretfully. "I really need your help." Hermione sighed and shut her book impatiently.

      "So you keep saying, but we aren't talking about homework here, or revisions. This is Quidditch." Hermione had very little interest in the magical world's most popular sport, but that wasn't the cause of her reluctance. Her disgracefully poor ability on a broomstick, that made her hesitate. Ginny's brown eyes began to well up with tears, her nose turning a really awful blotchy pink. "All right, don't get upset. I'll do my best to help. What do you want me to do?"

      Ginny scrubbed her eyes with her sleeve and dragged Hermione out of her chair. "It'll be easy, Hermione, I promise." They made their way through the Burrow and outside.

      "So why the mania for Quidditch?" Hermione asked as they crossed the yard. Ginny looked thoughtful.

      "I guess because I've grown up with it. I bet there are Muggle things that you follow. Like that dancing that Muggles do, where they run around on tip-toe." Ginny demonstrated, taking tiny mincing steps with her arms arced above her head.

      "Ballet?" Hermione snorted. "Not one bit. But I do see your point."

      "And I'm good at it, Quidditch. And that feels nice, to be really good at a thing, even if no one else knows it yet." That part, Hermione did understand.

      They stopped at the Weasley broom shed and opened the door. After a moment's careful thought, Ginny pulled out two brooms. She hefted each of them before handing one to Hermione. She then found an old, oddly lumpy flour sack that had a bit of old clothesline poked through the top as a strap. This she handed to Hermione as well.

      "Golf balls," Ginny said as way of an explanation. "They're really good stand-ins for Snitches, and if I happen to miss one, Muggles seem pretty accepting of finding random golf balls laying about in the middle of nowhere."

      "Right, but what do you want from me?" Hermione slung the flour sack across her body. "I'm not much of a flyer, you know." Ginny nodded as she pulled her long red hair into a ponytail.

      "I just need you to get on top of a high point, since it isn't fair to ask you to try to fly and throw golf balls." Ginny tapped her lower lip thoughtfully. "There's an old barn over the hill, out of sight. Do you think you can fly to the roof?"

      "I think so, if we stay low and don't go too fast," Hermione said very uncertainly. Ginny gave a cheerful nod and zipped off on her broom. Taking a nervous breath, Hermione took off behind her. After a few minutes, Ginny reappeared, laughing.

      "Circe's girdle, I didn't know you meant that low and slow!" She dropped to Hermione's side, then hopped off her broom and walked alongside briskly. "I've seen toddlers on their baby brooms go faster and higher than you!"

      "Well, go find a toddler to help you, then!" Hermione cried out shrilly. Ginny laughed again, but took to the air.

      "Just keep going straight, you'll see it soon enough. I'm going to make sure the coast is clear." Ginny zipped away, staying level with the treetops. Hermione swore and coaxed her broom to move a little higher and a bit faster. Still, she was being passed by determined butterflies, and an exceptionally fat beetle added insult on top of injury by landing lazily on the end of the handle. At last, though, she came over the top of the hill and saw the barn. Ginny waved from the top of the roof. With a final burst of speed and altitude, Hermione vaulted to the roof and landed with a thump. Ginny clapped with genuine enthusiasm.

      "Ginny, it's a good thing I like you," Hermione gasped. "Only for you would I even consider doing a thing like this."

      "And the world of Quidditch will honor your sacrifice when I'm on the national team!" Ginny said with a grin. "I do hope you throw better than you fly, though!".