A/N:

This one shot has been written as part of a challenge set by the lovely people over at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments).

Task: Write about a Quidditch team or someone learning to fly.

Chocolate Frog: Gold – Draco Malfoy – (Challenge) Write about Draco Malfoy

Gringotts Prompt Bank: Prepositions: Before; Emotions/Feelings: Disappointment

Flying lessons

"Dobby, go and get my broomstick," seven year old Draco commanded, giving the House Elf a swift kick in the stomach, before entering the large garden of Malfoy Manor.

Today his father had promised to start teaching him to fly and Draco was beyond excited; he couldn't wait to have some proper father-son bonding time with Lucius who was always too busy to do activities with Draco because of 'work commitments.'

"Master Draco," squeaked the House Elf, "I have your broom Sir."

Dobby held the broom up as high as he could to his little master and kept his head bowed down. The last thing he wanted was another beating for looking one of his masters in the eye; he still hadn't recovered completely from the last one.

The young boy snatched the broomstick from the House Elf, and dismissed him.

Whilst he waited for his father to show, Draco wandered aimlessly around the perimeter of the garden, occasional kicking a rose bush in frustration the longer he was kept waiting. He glanced at the watch that had been a birthday gift from his parents last year; he was sure that his father had said ten o'clock sharp, and it was now half past.

Where is he? Draco thought to himself, refusing to believe that his father had forgotten about their arrangement.

Just as Draco was about to march back into his house and demand to know where his father was, his mother came rushing out into the garden with her own broomstick in her hand.

"Where is father?" he asked cooling, trying with all might to mask his disappointment that once again his father had let him down.

Narcissa gave Draco a sad smile. She knew how much it hurt her son when her husband reneged on his promises to him. In fact she had spoken to him about it on more than one occasion and his answer was always the same "The boy needs to learn that things don't always go to plan."

"Draco," she whispered sensing her son's hostility. "The ministry just called and he has urgent business to attend to. Your father sends his sincerest apologies."

Draco couldn't help but wonder what business was so urgent that he meant he couldn't teach his only son how to fly.

He wished that his mother had just listened to his father when he talked about getting him a professional teacher in from the Falmouth Falcons, at least they would not have let him down.

Narcissa drew a breath and then said, "You know Draco, I was quite the flier when I was at Hogwarts. In fact I still am."

His mother quickly manoeuvred herself onto her broomstick and kicked off the ground, and performed a wide variety of tricks as her son watched on in awe; Draco had only ever seen professional Quidditch players fly like that.

After several minutes of showing her son that learning how to fly from her might not be so bad after all, she landed gracefully in front of him.

"I want to learn how to that!" Draco exclaimed to his mother.

Narcissa smiled at her son and replied, "All in good time Draco, but how about we just master the basics first."

"Excellent grip Draco," Narcissa praised; after nearly two weeks of 'flying lessons' he had finally mastered how to hold his broomstick correctly, and she was keen to move onto the next stage, as was a highly impatient Draco. "Now, whilst keeping that grip I want you to mount your broomstick like this."

Narcissa demonstrated what she wanted Draco to do, and then watched as he clambered carelessly onto his broomstick. With some work she knew that her son would master this, as he had his grip.

For the next half an hour she drilled her son on the correct and most efficient mounting technique, before she moved onto teaching him how to hover a few feet off the ground.

"Mum, when will dad start teaching me?" Draco asked at the end of his flying lesson. He had finally mastered the art of stopping his broomstick in mid air at a moment's notice. It had taken him the better part of five weeks, but Draco had managed it

Narcissa looked down at her young son and the expression of hurt and longing on his face broke her heart in two.

"He's been very busy Draco, but I know he wants to," Narcissa said, moving to her son to embrace him tightly.

Draco pushed her away and said, "Don't lie to me mother. I know that he doesn't love me."

Narcissa watched as he threw his broomstick down to the ground and ran off back into the house.

A/N:

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