Okay, I admit it. I love Neville. He's a sweetheart. And the poor boy needs more friends.

And as you can tell by the end of this chapter, no, I will not be putting any first years on the Quidditch team. I love Harry playing Quidditch and all, but that was seriously unfair. And while I love Alan, he's not Seeker material, either.

Chapter 9: Flying Lessons

The moment the notice appeared in the Gryffindor common room that the first years would beginning flying lessons on Thursday, Alan couldn't decide whether to be overjoyed or terrified.

He was pleased to see that they'd be learning with the Slytherins, but he and Harry seemed to be the only ones. Ron Weasley was particularly upset about this, and made several rude comments about what he expected the Slytherins would do that made Alan have to clench his fists to keep from hexing him. Ron wasn't the only person expressing anti-Slytherin sentiments, either: Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil seemed to have somehow gotten into some sort of argument with Pansy, which was unhealthy for anyone who happened to be standing near any of them. Seamus Finnigan had jumped onboard with Ron's dislike of Draco for reasons unknown; Ron at least had the excuse of the Malfoy/Weasley family feud to fall back on. Even Hermione Granger, who was usually very quiet unless offering up an answer in class, had a grudge against Blaise - something to do with library books, which no one had asked for further details about. The only ones who seemed to be staying out of it were Dean Thomas and Neville Longbottom.

Neville was more frightened of the idea of actually getting on a broom than the idea of who would be watching him do it. As it turned out, he'd never been on a broomstick in his life because his grandmother wouldn't let him near one. This had earned him several looks of somewhat-faked sympathy, because it was a well-known fact that Neville was terribly clumsy.

Alan could honestly sympathize with Neville. He'd never been allowed on a broom either, and he was worried that he'd make an idiot out of himself. He hadn't had much luck with methods of travel so far: floo travel made him dizzy, and he'd thrown up after his first - and only, if he had anything to say about it - attempt at being Apparated. At the rate he was going, he was going to fall out of the sky and break his arm on his first attempt to get off the ground.

But at the same time, flying was something he'd always wanted to try. It was one of the luxuries he'd never been allowed. Fudge had always insisted he didn't want Alan to get hurt, but Alan knew the real reason was that he feared Alan would use the first broomride he got to run away.

To be honest, he probably would have.

It didn't help to hear all the boastful stories everyone was sharing for the next several days. According to Seamus Finnigan, he'd spent most of his childhood roaming the countryside on a broomstick. Ron Weasley would tell anyone he could get to listen about the time he'd almost hit something called a 'hang glider' on his older brother's broom. And of course there was Draco, who never missed a chance to talk about himself. He told several long stories about his flying adventures that always seemed to end with him narrowly escaping Muggles in helicopters.

He also complained loudly about first years not being allowed their own brooms, but as he wasn't the only one, Alan was willing to let that slide.

Harry on the other hand, when asked if he'd ever ridden a broom, only grinned wryly. "That's putting it mildly," was all he would say. Professor Pettigrew, who happened to be passing by the Gryffindor table as he was asked, abruptly burst into giggles and patted Harry on the head with a quiet murmur of "Try not to break anything this time, kiddo," that everyone had to strain to hear.

When Thursday morning finally dawned, Alan lay in bed quietly for at least an hour after he'd awoken, unwilling to move. Harry prodded at him at one point, but he only rolled over and pretended to still be asleep until he was left alone. By the time he finally dragged himself up and into the bathroom to dress, the rest of the dorm was empty.

Which is why he was so surprised to see Neville sitting on his bed looking glum when he finally came back out.

"Neville?" Alan asked quietly. "Are you all right?"

Neville startled, looking up at him. "Oh. Um ... Just trying to remember what it was I've forgotten." He offered up the scarlet Remembrall in his hand with a sad smile. "My gran sent it to me this morning."

Alan moved to sit beside him, looking at the other boy for a moment. "Nervous?" he asked finally.

Neville flinched slightly. "N-nervous?" he stammered. "Why would I be - "

"Me, too," Alan interrupted quietly.

Neville stared at him. "You're nervous? But - but - why? I mean, you never have a hard time with anything!"

Alan smiled slightly. "Charms," he corrected. "And History. Transfiguration too, actually."

Neville frowned. "You don't seem to struggle." He looked glum again. "Not like I do."

"But I do," Alan insisted. "I've spent so much time knowing what I'm supposed to be doing, I expect it to happen right away. But it doesn't. And History - well, we all struggle with that."

The corner of Neville's mouth twitched a little.

"And I've never been on a broom before, either," he added reluctantly. "I'll probably make a fool out of myself before you do."

"But I'm a clutz," Neville reminded him gloomily.

"So? Everything I know comes from what I've read. And I only read a lot to keep from getting bored. Books aren't going to teach me how to fly no matter what Granger thinks."

This time Neville did smile. After a moment, he studied Alan with a puzzled look on his face. "Why are you trying so hard to cheer me up? You don't have to."

Alan shrugged uncomfortably. "Because I'd like it if someone would have done the same for me. And I know what it's like to struggle at things." He hesitated. "Besides. You were ... you spent time with me when no one else would."

Neville looked startled. "You remember that?"

He sighed. "Contrary to popular belief, I really don't have many friends," he muttered, looking at the floor. "You were nice to me and didn't treat me like I was different. And when you stopped coming ... " He shrugged a little.

"Gran hated Fudge," Neville said after a pause, his voice quiet. "We stopped going because she thought he was an idiot and didn't want to waste her time with him. I ... I never thought you would miss someone like me."

"You were the first person to talk to me like I was just another kid," Alan told him softly. "Even Draco and Harry were too shy at first until after you did. But you just ... talked to me. I never forgot that."

They looked at one another in silence for several minutes. At last Neville offered a hand with a tentative smile. "Maybe we could try to be friends again?"

Alan smiled back, shaking his hand firmly. "I'd like that."

Then he sighed, looking out the window, and moved to stand. He stretched out his back, then offered Neville a hand up. "Well? Shall we go make fools out of ourselves together?"

Neville giggled softly. "As long as I'm not the only one," he said with a ruefully grin.

Alan threw an arm around his shoulders as they walked toward the door together. "I highly doubt you will be," he promised.

Alan surveyed the line of brooms, ten on each side, warily. To his right, Neville was biting his lip anxiously and trying not to look as terrified as he was. To his left, Harry was making a face.

"What?" Alan asked warily, eying him.

Harry hesitated. "Nothing."

Alan frowned at him.

Across from them, Draco snorted. "He's looking at the sorry state of these awful brooms. Harry doesn't have much, but he does have some taste," he said with a sniff, frowning down at the broom at his feet.

Harry checked to make sure Madam Hooch wasn't looking, then made a one-handed gesture that only a few people seemed to recognize. The ones that did snickered audibly, and Draco gave him a suspicious look.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "And say 'Up!'"

"Up!" they all shouted.

Harry and Draco's brooms were instantly in their hands. Alan's jumped slightly, quivered, and fell back down. Neville's merely rolled over.

Alan scowled down at his broom. "Up!" he snapped in frustration.

This time, it leapt obediently into his grip.

Neville glared at him.

Alan shrugged weakly. "Try glaring at it?" he offered.

Harry snorted. "Don't be afraid of it, Neville, that's your problem," he corrected. "If you're scared, it isn't going to listen."

Neville bit his lip again, frowned at his broom, and tried again. "Up!"

The broom trembled, rolled over, and at last slowly rose into his hand.

Neville beamed.

Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. Harry burst out laughing when she told Draco he'd been doing it wrong for years. Alan managed to hold it in, but the look on Draco's face was priceless.

Draco looked up sharply, scowled, and gave Harry the same gesture Harry had done at him earlier.

"Mr. Malfoy!" Madam Hooch barked, spinning around to glare at him. "What was that?"

"Just scratching my nose, Professor," Draco said innocently, doing so. "I had an itch."

She looked at him warily for a moment before moving on. Draco promptly gave Harry an even darker look that promised retribution. Alan scooted a few inches toward Neville.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, kick off from the ground, hard," Madam Hooch instructed. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle - three - two - "

But Neville had already kicked off, whether on accident or on purpose, Alan couldn't be sure. Madam Hooch was shouting at him, but his broom continued to rise straight up - first ten feet, then twenty. As everyone watched in horror, Neville's broom abuptly rolled, sending him tumbling back down to the ground. He landed face-down in the grass and did not move.

Madam Hooch was already bending over him, her face as white as his. "Broken wrist," she muttered. "Come on, boy - it's all right, up you get."

She turned to the rest of the class. "None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms right where they are or you'll be cleaning the trophy room for a week. Come on, dear." And she hustled Neville away.

There was an awkward moment of silence. At last Daphne Greengrass and Millicent Bulstrode began snickering. Theodore Nott sat astride his broom, looking smug.

Harry ignored them, moving to pick something up of the ground. "Did somebody lose a Remembrall?" he asked.

"It's Neville's," Alan informed him. "He got it from his gran this morning."

Harry nodded solemnly. Then without warning, he threw the Remembrall at Draco.

Draco started, but managed to snag it before it slipped past him. He raised an eyebrow at Harry. "Can't sit still for five minutes, can you?"

"If either of you break that, I'll break you," Alan said calmly.

Harry looked at him in surprise, but nodded again. "We'll be careful, Alan," he promised. He offered a guilty grin. "I'm not going to lose it, but I'm trying not to think about the fact that I'm sitting on a broom and I can't go flying."

Draco on the other hand, took one look at Alan's face and groaned audibly. "Fine. Fine," he snapped. "You and your bloody - whatever." And he threw the Remembrall back to Harry.

Pansy shot Alan an amused look, which he ignored. He knew perfectly well what they were thinking. In his own way, he had just laid claim to Neville as his friend - according to the 'rules' once explained to him by Draco himself. Being that they all knew how hard it was for him to even make friends, they would silently agree from now on that Neville was off-limits to any teasing or torment, despite however they felt about him personally. Being that Neville embodied most of the things Draco hated in people, particularly Purebloods - awkwardness, lack of self-confidence, no social or physical grace, and most importantly a tendency to look pathetic without intending to - this would be especially difficult for him.

Alan didn't care. Draco was his friend, and he would honor the unspoken rule if he wanted to stay that way. And for all his complaining about getting him in trouble, Draco really did value their friendship. While it wasn't as hard for him to make friends as it was for Alan, he was incredibly loyal to the ones he had.

And to be honest, Alan really did like Neville. And Alan didn't like many people.

He was startled out of his thoughts by something whipping by his ear, and heard Draco swear. Without stopping to think about it, he swiftly kicked off the ground, shot after the Remembrall, and snagged it before it could shatter against the building. Throwing it back to Draco harder than was strickly necessary, he glared. "I was serious about breaking it, Draco."

Then he realized everyone was staring at him.

Blinking, he looked down and started slightly as he realized he was hovering a good ten feet off the ground, on the opposite side of the field where he'd been standing. Had he just flown? Without realizing it?

He leaned forward almost instinctively, and shot back toward the rest of the class.

"Sheppard!" a voice bellowed.

He froze.

Madam Hooch stood at the edge of the field, looking absolutely livid. "Didn't I say not to move?! Detention!" she roared.

He groaned, turning to glare Draco and Harry. They both winced.