Author's Note: Thanks to Johnathan and Pinky Brown who told me that feet (not meters) are used for measurements in England. So I will edit the first chapter to say feet and not meters.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
Falling
Chapter 3: To Fly Or Not To Fly
The first week of December arrived and Hermione still had not tried riding a broom. No matter how strongly she convinced herself that she should just do it, her fear always won out. The debate raging in her mind over 'to fly or not to fly' was nearly as strong as the debate over whether or not she had developed a crush on Fred Weasley.
Hermione pondered these thoughts for what felt like the millionth time, only to be led back to the same place: she was afraid of falling out of the sky and falling for him.
Ginny dropped her books in front of Hermione and sat next to her in a secluded corner of the nearly empty common room. "Okay, what's going on with you?"
"What?"
Ginny tried in vain to find patience. "You won't talk to Ron and can hardly look at him without glaring. Harry's afraid to even ask you what's wrong."
"So they sent you over to find out for them?" Hermione closed her book; she wouldn't be getting any more work done tonight.
"No. I asked Harry what was wrong with you and he didn't know. So I came to find out for myself. Although, come to think of it, he's been acting strange lately too."
Hermione rolled her eyes and wondered how Ginny could miss Harry's obvious feelings towards her. Perhaps this was a Weasley family trait.
"I'm fine."
"Do not try that line on me, Hermione. I am the closest girl friend you have so spill." From the look in Ginny's eyes, Hermione knew she had no choice. "Is it because my brother has practically sewn his lips to Lavender's?"
"I am not jealous of Lavender."
"But I thought you'd fancied Ron for years."
"I did. But at some point this year, before Lavender happened, I just…moved on."
"That's excellent news, but why the constant glares if you aren't jealous of her?
Hermione dropped her head to the table and out came the muffled response, "I'mjealousofRon."
"What was that?"
Hermione raised her head up. "I am jealous of Ron. I'm jealous that he has someone and I don't."
Ginny shifted her eyes. Hermione could see the gears in Ginny's mind turning dangerously and waited for the inevitable result. Hermione's skin betrayed her, blushing even before Ginny's question came. "You have a someone in mind, don't you?"
Hermione decided that this conversation should end now before she admitted that the someone was another of Ginny's brothers. "I need to get some sleep."
"Fine, you don't have to give me a name now. But you have to stop acting like this around Harry and Ron. Pretty soon they will think you fancy Ron."
"Point taken. Goodnight." Hermione gathered up her books and tried to retain some dignity while running away from Ginny as fast as she could.
*****
Hermione had two goals for the week following her conversation with Ginny: 1) start behaving normally around people again; and 2) try flying own her own. The first was nearly met by the end of the week. Hermione had managed with great effort to stop glaring at Ron and could almost hold a conversation with Lavender. Ginny was the only one still looking at her suspiciously.
Hermione knew that she could not return Fred's note until her second goal was complete.
A bit of her wanted to try flying on her own, to try facing her fears. Another bit wanted to be able to tell him that she tried, maybe even that she succeeded. But a lot of her wanted to see if it was flying alone or flying with Fred that was so wonderful.
And so, Hermione was now standing alone on an empty Quidditch field, a broom laying on the ground next to her feet.
"I am not afraid," she said to the broom.
"I know that if I fell from several feet above the ground I would likely not be hurt at all."
The broom silently mocked her.
"And if I did fall, which I probably would not, I am perfectly capable of making a pillow to land on."
If the broomstick had eyes, they would have rolled.
Hermione's entire body tensed and trembled at the same time. She mustered all of her strength into one word. "Up."
The broomstick obediently raised into her outstretched hand. She sat upon the broom and gripped the handle until her knuckles were paler than Nearly Headless Nick.
"Alright. Very good. Now, let's take this one foot at a time." The trembling began to creep into her voice.
The broom once again obeyed and gently raised about one foot.
Hermione tried valiantly to maintain a logical line of thinking, knowing this was her only chance at staying focused. Ahead of time, she had decided the best way of doing this was to rate her fear level. This way she could track her improvement over time.
On a scale of one to ten, she called one "feeling as safe as on the ground" and ten "Merlin save me! I'm going to die!"
At one foot off the ground she was at a solid one on the Fear Scale.
"You see," she said to the broom. "I'm not afraid."
The broom wondered how long that would last.
"Up another foot please."
The ground was noticeably farther away now, but not out of reach. She decided that was about a one and a half on the Fear Scale.
"One more foot please." She was now as high up as a small child was tall. But this was still only about a two on the Fear Scale.
Hermione now felt her confidence returning. She was in the air and remaining calm. She even allowed herself a smile. She decided to try flying the broom around a little before moving up farther.
After a few small circles she stopped and said, "Another foot, my dear broom."
Who would have known that one foot could make all the difference? Well, who besides maybe the broom.
All of Hermione's well-earned confidence went, for lack of better words, flying out the window.
Desperately trying to regain rational thought, Hermione returned to the Fear Scale. "A solid five, I think. Yes…this fits the criteria of 'I would really like to get down now'."
Unfortunately, Hermione had decided beforehand to push the limits of her phobia. And so she shakily asked the broom to raise another foot.
She was five feet up in the air, nearly her own height. And she was held up only by a broom, which now seemed very small and thin and perilous.
Although she was reaching a nine on the fear scale, she was determined to keep some control.
"I am fine. I am safe."
It's amazing how unconvincing your own voice can be once fear has captured you.
This was not working. Hermione wracked her mind searching for a solution.
"Apparently flying alone was not wonderful," she thought. "Then it must be flying with Fred."
Then she tried to imagine Fred sitting with her. She imagined the feel of Fred's arm around her waist and his body behind her. She listened for his voice and heard it say, "'Mione, you are safe."
She breathed deeply and whispered, "One…more…foot."
Six feet high, farther than Hermione thought she would reach. Looking down, she was at a solid ten on the scale and decided that was enough for now.
Author's Note: To those of you not scared of heights, Hermione may seem almost ridiculously scared at only 6 feet off the ground. But when your scared of heights and climb on a ladder for maybe the first time it can be very very scary.