Yuuri Katsuki had a terrible secret.

He was, in nearly every way, the perfect student, a model Ravenclaw, having never received anything less than ninety percent on any piece of homework. His robes were always immaculate, he dutifully wrote to his parents every week, and he always sat at the front of his classes, fighting his inherent shyness to answer the professor's questions. He had won points in his very first lesson for being the first to cajole his feather into floating through the air.

And yet, Yuuri could never tell anyone the dark and dreadful guilty secret that kept him awake at night, and which caused him to break into a sweat whenever anyone mentioned their timetabled lessons for Wednesday afternoons.

Yuuri Katsuki was afraid of flying.

Every time Wednesday afternoon came around, and the first years were scheduled to go down to the rolling green quidditch pitch for their lesson, Yuuri would surreptitiously duck behind a pillar and unwrap one of the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes 'Skiving Snackbox' selection. Usually, it was a fainting fancy, which Madame Pomfrey treated only with an hour's bed rest and a cold flannel (the first time, Yuuri had taken a puking pastille, learning the error of his ways when even after secretly taking the antidote he had been made to swallow some spectacularly unpleasant potions). He would come down with whatever ailment he had chosen for that day, and rush away to the hospital wing, where he could stay firmly on solid ground.

The other first years in Ravenclaw, Yuuri's best friends Phichit, Guang Hong and Leo, began to suspect something was amiss after the fourth consecutive week when Yuuri became ill at exactly twelve thirty on a Wednesday afternoon.

No one brought it up until that evening, when Yuuri (miraculously recovered) was sitting with the other first years on the deep blue armchairs in the airy, circular Ravenclaw common room, poring over a fairly complicated potions essay by the light of the candles which hung above them in the shapes of all the major constellations, which cast a bright and cheerful illumination throughout the room.

Phichit, the de facto mouthpiece of the small group of boys, dropped into the armchair next to Yuuri, forcing him to squash up to make room. The others looked up expectantly, wondering what Phichit would say; he only ever invaded one's personal space quite so blatantly when he had a burning question.

"Yuuri," Phichit piped, his voice light and deceptively innocent, "Are you feeling better?"

Yuuri mumbled some sort of affirmative reply, hiding his mouth in the robes which were bunched up around his shoulders.

"That's great," said Phichit, smiling brightly, his brilliantly white teeth glinting. "So now will you tell us why you've been avoiding flying lessons like they're going to give you dragon pox?"

Yuuri jumped, and sat up straight, his notes sliding out of his lap and on to the floor, where they were promptly used as a bed by Guang Hong's cat.

"I…I'm not…!" Yuuri protested weakly, his voice stuttering over the lie. He looked into Phichit's bright smile, and knew that there was very little point denying it; when Phichit found a mystery, he would stop at nothing to uncover it, as Yuuri knew very well by now (his secret chocolate stash had been secret for all of seven minutes before Phichit had sniffed it out).

Leo and Guang Hong were looking on from the opposite armchair, clearly interested in his answer. Yuuri knew that even if they thought his reason was stupid, they were good friends, and they wouldn't laugh at him. Probably.

"I'm…afraid of flying," Yuuri confessed, his cheeks turning beetroot red and his eyes lowering to the floor to avoid the other's gazes.

"Is that all?" asked Leo, his voice kind.

Yuuri looked up, surprised; the other three were looking at him sympathetically.

"I had to practically be strapped to a broom to make me fly the first time I tried it," Leo said, his brown eyes warm and understanding.

"Me too," chimed in Guang Hong, ever ready to agree with whatever Leo said. "They practically had to promise me extra dessert for a year, and it still took me forty five minutes to be brave enough to get the broom to move."

Phichit rolled his eyes, and said "Well of course I wasn't so nervous, but that's because the first time my parents put me on a broom, I was four and had no concept of mortality." He wriggled slightly closer to Yuuri, putting his arm around his shoulders and leaning into the squashy depths of the armchair. "Want to talk about it?"

And so, Yuuri finally confessed the secret that had eaten at his soul since the first time he had heard about their flying lessons, when he had developed his scheme. He told them of his fear of falling, and of his overwhelming certainty that he would make the biggest fool of himself since Hogwarts had been founded. His friends listened, making sympathetic noises whenever he paused, and Yuuri felt slightly less wretched about the whole thing.

"And I wanted to do so well at Hogwarts, like my sister, but I can't even do the stupid flying lessons, and if someone finds out I'll be kicked out and it'll all be ruined!" Yuuri finally finished, his voice getting suspiciously watery, as he sniffed.

Phichit rubbed his shoulder, and Yuuri felt as he had every day since he had first been Sorted; that he was so lucky, so grateful for these boys and their daily presence in his life.

"I think I have an idea," said Phichit, his voice cheerful, trying to infect Yuuri with his eternal optimism. "Why don't you go down to the broom shed on your own one day and try flying when no one is watching? It's the idea of making a mess of it in front of everyone that's really bothering you, right?"

Yuuri nodded, a small bubble of hope blossoming in his chest.

"So then!," Phichit continued, "You just need to go down after dinner one day, and try flying around it a few times to get the feel. The ceiling is only about twelve feet, and even if you fell from that distance, you won't do much damage. And then when you're a bit more confident you can stop skipping the classes. What do you think?"

"I…I don't know," said Yuuri, his voice still a trifle wobbly. "Won't I get in trouble if I'm caught?"

"Nope," said Phichit, popping his lips around the final 'p' with a percussive sound. "I specifically asked Madam Hooch and she told me that it was always left open for students to practice before curfew."

Yuuri nodded, his mind whirring. This way, he could make sure that he wasn't going to fall to his doom the first time he ever got on a broom in front of half his year, and even if he was terrible at it, at least it would be in private…

"I think I will," he said, small voice firm. "Thank you, Phichit. And everyone. I'm really sorry I didn't tell you, it's just…"

The others all smiled at him, and went back to their work. When Yuuri went to sleep that night, he made a vow to himself that the next day would be the end of his quidditch-phobia. He turned over, hearing Leo's soft snore through the dark blue hangings of his four poster, and was quickly asleep.

The next day raced by, with the only notable happenings being Leo setting fire to his Charms textbook when practising the new 'aguamenti' charm they had been given for homework, and Phichit discovering that Jean Jacques Leroy, captain of the Gryffindor quidditch team, was now dating the Hufflepuff chaser Isabella Yang. Phichit lived in an ever evolving world of information and gossip, and this, he assured Yuuri, was Big News (though Yuuri remained baffled, he could hear the capital letters in Phichit's speech, so he dutifully made a mental note of the relationship).

All too soon, for Yuuri, they had finished their meal in the great hall, and he had waved to his friends as they ascended the familiar staircase up to the Ravenclaw common room. Yuuri walked briskly in the opposite direction, wrapping his robes about himself as protection from the slightly autumnal air as he hurried down the sloping lawn, towards the broom shed.

When he reached the door, his dinner now feeling like a lead weight in his midriff, Yuuri pushed it open slowly and was immediately enveloped by the smell of the linseed oil that the Quidditch teams used to oil their armour, and the woody aroma of the brooms that lay stacked in brackets against one wall. The space was largely open, about fifteen feet high, and the brick walls looked reassuringly solid; Yuuri could not fear the open sky here, where it was so obviously excluded.

Sighing, he unpinned his cloak and hung it against the door, walking over to the rack of brooms. Yuuri picked the one that he thought felt most friendly, as it hummed in his sweaty grip.

Walking over to the middle of the floor, Yuuri allowed the broom to hover in mid air, and swung one leg over it, feeling faintly ridiculous.

He was, he suddenly realised, flying, albeit a few inches above the ground. Gaining confidence from the steadiness of the broom handle and the lack of an audience, Yuuri cautiously nudged the broom a few inches higher, and it responded meekly, drifting about a foot over the wooden floor.

Yuuri began to smile. He had thought that the experience would be somehow more dramatic, and now he was chagrined to find that it was, in fact, an enormous anti-climax.

He nudged the broom higher still, and then began to fly slowly from wall to wall, like a swimmer doing lengths. Yuuri's stomach no longer felt like a bowling ball, and he began to be slightly more daring, moving faster and hopping over the beams that supported the ceiling, weaving through the air with increasing speed. He let out a whoop of exhilaration, and began to fly laps around the room, knocking the odd beater's bat over but overall, he thought doing rather well considering he had been mortally afraid of brooms only yesterday afternoon.

There was the sudden noise of a door handle turning, and just as Yuuri passed the door, he felt himself catapulted into the air, and landed with a winded huff in the pile of yellow Hufflepuff team robes that lay in one corner.

There was a gasp, and the sound of quick footsteps on the wooden floor, and Yuuri felt himself being extracted from the pile of robes, lifted gently up by the armpits.

He found himself staring straight into a pair of sky blue eyes, set in a pale face which was currently twisted with concern.

"Are you alright?!" asked an urgent and silvery voice. Yuuri thought it sounded like bells.

He nodded, slightly dazed, unable to look away from the blue gaze he was trapped in, dangling apparently effortlessly as the stranger held him up by his armpits. Yuuri recognised him as being a fifth year Slytherin.

The newcomer set him down on the floor, and crouched slightly to look him over, eyes running over Yuuri's head and face as if checking for damage.

"What were you doing in the air in here? If you wanted to fly, you should have been outside!"

Yuuri blushed, regaining his sense of equilibrium as he broke eye contact with the stranger, and finding instead his sense of embarrassment.

"I was…I was practising," he half whispered.

"Practising?" asked the stranger, his voice incredulous. "Practising for what?"

"For flying lessons," said Yuuri, voice now almost inaudible, the tall boy's eyes still on his face, the blush burning Yuuri's ears with its intensity. "I was afraid of flying in front of everyone without practising first, and I was doing so well, and…" To Yuuri's horror, he felt his throat begin to burn and a hot tear escape from his lowered eyes. He shut his eyelids tightly, trying to stop himself making a further spectacle in front of the older student.

The student blinked once in astonishment.

"You're afraid of flying?" he asked, his voice kind. Yuuri just nodded, still fighting the urge to sit down and sob as he wanted to; just as he had finally done it, just as he had finally conquered his fear, it had all gone wrong!

"Would you like me to help you learn?" asked the stranger. Yuuri looked up at him, shocked out of his misery, tears still streaking his cheeks.

The stranger laughed at Yuuri's shock, his voice warm. "It's only fair," he said, "Seeing as I was the one who interrupted your practice session and knocked you out of the air!"

Yuuri, too surprised to even think of refusing, nodded, his eyes wide. This boy was a fifth year, and must be on the Quidditch team, judging by the double border on his green tie.

"Wonderful!" said the stranger, sounding as though he meant it. "I'd feel terrible if you hadn't let me make the fall up to you. Shall I meet you here tomorrow night at seven thirty?"

Yuuri, still stunned into speechlessness, nodded again.

"See you then," said the boy, turning to the racks of practice snitches and choosing one, its golden wings beating in vain against his clenched hand. "I'm Victor, by the way, Victor Nikiforov".

"I'm…Yuuri Katsuki," replied Yuuri, his voice small.

"On your way then, Yuuri Katsuki, it's nearly curfew," Victor said, his long silver ponytail flicking as he moved to hold the door open for Yuuri. "Seven thirty tomorrow, back here. Don't be late!"

Yuuri murmured his thanks, and fled, not stopping until he reached the Ravenclaw common room, the eagle on the door seemingly taking pity on him and asking an easy question.

He dropped into one of the armchairs where his friends were sitting, having clearly waited for him.

"So?" said Phichit, his voice excited, "How did it-" He stopped mid sentence, noticing the tear tracks on Yuuri's face and his wide, shocked eyes. "What happened?" he asked, moving closer, expression concerned.

So Yuuri told them everything, the fun he had had, the fall, and the stranger knocking him off the broom. The others exclaimed at this, until Yuuri reassured them that he wasn't hurt, only winded. Then, he told them that the stranger had agreed to teach him in recompense for the fall, and that he had said his name was Victor Nikiforov.

The others sat stunned. Phichit whistled, low and impressed.

"Victor Nikiforov agreed to give you flying lessons?"

Yuuri bristled, "He didn't agree, he offered. Why? What's so special about him?"

Phichit began to laugh. "Oh my dear sweet child, he's the Slytherin Quidditch Captain. He made Captain in his third year, and they won the cup, and again in his fourth. Now he's a fifth year, and Slytherin are favourite to win again this year. He's probably the best player in the school."

Yuuri blinked, surprised that the friendly boy who had offered to teach him was apparently such a famous figure in Hogwarts.

"I heard," said Leo conspiratorially, leaning closer over the arm of his chair, "That the Russian national squad have already talked to him about playing for them when he graduates. You know, he was born there, so they'll let him play for them."

Phichit whistled again, and Yuuri began to feel the faint stirrings of panic.

"But…he's going to be teaching me! And I have no idea what I'm doing!"

Phichit leaned over, and grasped Yuuri's face between his two warm hands.

"Yuuri Katsuki, by all that you owe me as your friend and as your blood sworn brother-" ("that's not true", muttered Leo, but Phichit ignored him with lofty indifference to such trifling details as the truth) "-if you do not allow Victor Nikiforov to teach you, I shall place a different potion in your breakfast every day for a month, and believe me my child the effects will be the stuff of nightmares and legend, passed down from Ravenclaw to Ravenclaw from now until the end of ti-"

Phichit abruptly broke off as the cushion thrown by Guang Hong found its mark. Their discussion soon devolved into a general cushion throwing fight, only ending when the candles above them dimmed, indicating that it was time to be in bed.

Yuuri did assure Phichit before they went to sleep that he would go to Victor's offered lessons, however. He had seemed kind, and it would be rude not to. And, after all, it might really help him to fly better.

Phichit flung his arms around Yuuri, delighted for this chance to access sources of fifth year gossip previously undreamed of, and fell into bed planning the next expansion of his information empire.

Yuuri fell asleep thinking that maybe flying wouldn't be so bad, if he had a kind teacher.