"Hey, Brittany, could you do me a favor?" Sam asks while keeping a wary eye on the fire crab scuttling about in it’s pen.
"Depends; what is it?" Brittany says while logging their glorified stall-mucking as part of their Advanced Care of Magical Creatures class duties.
"Tell me something about Santana Lopez I can take back to the Hufflepuff guys? They keep harping on me to get information out of you, and nothing I do will get them to shut up," Sam admits, embarrassed.
"I tell you lots of things about her," Brittany smiles, knowing none of it is what the Hufflepuff boys want to hear.
"I tried telling them about her deep, soulful eyes; it got me a wedgie," Sam claims, making Brittany giggle. "Take pity on me, please."
"Tell them I said she’s left-handed."
"Left-handed? Why would that appease them?" Sam asks.
"Tell them I said she’s left-handed, but good with both hands," Brittany says waggling her eyebrows.
"Brittany!" Sam can’t help but laugh. "Do you think that’ll work?"
"Whether it does or not, that’s all I’m giving you. I have to go; flying lesson," Brittany throws over her shoulder as she leaves Sam looking down the wrong end of a fire crab.
Brittany gets there early, but Santana is already there sporting a high ponytail, looking over and talking to a sheet of parchment and not noticing Brittany approach.
"—Jocunda Sykes performed the first ever Atlantic crossing on a broom in 1935. How is this good converse, Rachel? Good conversing?"
"Good conversation," Brittany supplies, and Santana drops her broom and the parchment, jumping back in surprise. "Sorry! Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you," Brittany apologizes.
"You are early," Santana frowns, picking up the parchment and shoving it in a pocket.
"So are you," Brittany smiles, watching Santana pick up her Nimbus 2___.
"You already learn English; you do not need time," Santana complains.
"I like your broom," Brittany tries, still smiling.
"This," Santana says, pointing at Brittany. "This sentence I want to learn. She writes History," Santana says outraged. Brittany starts giggling, and Santana starts swearing up a storm in Russian, then in Spanish. When Brittany stifles her giggles, Santana stops and looks at her, defeated. "God damn it, yes?" she asks sheepishly.
"Yes. Let’s fly."
Santana feels infinitely better flying with Brittany. They spend most of the afternoon in the air, not saying a word to each other. They alternate leading and following easily, Brittany showing Santana her favorite places to fly and Santana exploring new ones. The sun sets and the wind turns chill, and they silently, regretfully agree to return to earth.
They land right next to each other, hopping off their brooms much closer to each other than when they left. Brittany is about to say something, but Santana can’t stand to break the spell of silent understanding they seem to be under. Santana does the first thing that she thinks of to stop Brittany from speaking; she kisses her.