One kiss, one word
Malfoy was so annoying. I felt bad for Harry who seemed to hate the guy more than his own cousin. Still, first-year Gryffindors only had Potions with the Slytherins, so we didn't have to put up with Malfoy much. Or at least, we didn't until we spotted a notice pinned up in the Gryffindor common room that made us all groan. Flying lessons would be starting on Thursday— and Gryffindor and Slytherin would be learning together.
"Typical," said Harry darkly. "Just what I always wanted. To make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy." I sympathetically patted his shoulder. He wasn't the only one who had been looking forward to learning to fly more than anything else.
"You don't know that you'll make a fool of yourself," said Ron reasonably. "Anyway, I know Malfoy's always going on about how good he is at Quidditch, but I bet that's all talk."
Malfoy certainly did talk about flying a lot. He complained loudly about first years never getting on the house Quidditch teams and told long, boastful stories that always seemed to end with him narrowly escaping Muggles in helicopters. He wasn't the only one, though: the way Seamus Finnigan told it, he'd spent most of his childhood zooming around the countryside on his broomstick. Even Ron would tell anyone who'd listen about the time he'd almost hit a hang glider on Charlie's old broom. Everyone from wizarding families talked about Quidditch constantly. Ron had already had a big argument with Dean Thomas, who shared their dormitory, about soccer. Ron couldn't see what was exciting about a game with only one ball where no one was allowed to fly.
Neville had never been on a broomstick in his life, because his grandmother had never let him near one. Privately, I felt she'd had good reason, because Neville managed to have an extraordinary number of accidents even with both feet on the ground.
Hermione Granger was almost as nervous about flying as Neville was. This was something you couldn't learn by heart out of a book— not that she hadn't tried. At breakfast on Thursday she bored us all stupid with flying tips she'd gotten out of a library book called Quidditch Through the Ages. Neville was hanging on to her every word, desperate for anything that might help him hang on to his broomstick later, but everybody else was very pleased when Hermione's lecture was interrupted by the arrival of the mail.
Harry hadn't had a single letter since Hagrid's note, something that Malfoy had been quick to notice, of course. Malfoy's eagle owl was always bringing him packages of sweets from home, which he opened gloatingly at the Slytherin table. I also had been getting gifts of which I was slightly afraid— they were anonymous. Even grandpa D. didn't know who was sending them to me. Many times I got jewelry and clothing... but those were all things I wouldn't use so i'd give most of it to the other girls in Gryffindor. When I got sweets, I would give it to the Weasleys and Harry. I didn't want any gifts.
A barn owl brought Neville a small package from his grandmother. He opened it excitedly and showed us a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke.
"It's a Remembrall!" he explained. "Gran knows I forget things— this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red— oh..." His face fell, because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet.
"You've forgotten something..."
Neville was trying to remember what he'd forgotten when Draco Malfoy, who was passing the Gryffindor table, snatched the Remembrall out of his hand.
Harry and Ron jumped to their feet and I slowly got up as well. They seemed to be half hoping for a reason to fight Malfoy, but Professor McGonagall, who could spot trouble quicker than any teacher in the school, was there in a flash.
"What's going on?"
"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor."
Scowling, Malfoy quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table.
"Just looking," he said, and he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle behind him, but not before winking at me.
At three-thirty that afternoon, Harry, Ron, me and the other Gryffindors hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for our first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under our feet as we marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.
The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. I had heard Fred and George Weasley complain about the school brooms, saying that some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left.
Our teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk.
"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."
I glanced down at my broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles.
"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!"'
"UP!" everyone shouted as I simply stared.
I looked down at my broom, narrowed my eyes and thought, "Up."
My broom jumped into my hand at once like Harry's did, but we were one of the few that did. Hermione Granger's had simply rolled over on the ground, and Neville's hadn't moved at all. There was a quaver in Neville's voice that said only too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet on the ground.
Madam Hooch then showed us how to mount our brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. Harry and Ron were delighted when she told Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years.
"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "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, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.
"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle— twelve feet— twenty feet. Harry saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom. I instantly zoomed up into the air and caught him on my broom before he could fall. But just as he got on, he somehow managed to take control over my broom and make it go crazy just like his had done. Not able to keep a firm grip on the broomstick, I fell off, hitting the right side of my body onto the statue bellow. I heard a nasty crack as I went through the impact and let out a loud whimper.
I looked up at the sky and quickly brought my wand out with my uninjured arm and pointed it at Neville who was crash diving.
"Immobulus!" I thought. He froze in the air for a few seconds before he quickly started to fall, completely immobile. I quickly rummaged through my brain looking for a better spell. Then I remembered.
"Arresto Momentum!" I thought. His whole frame along with the broomstick started following the movement of my arm as I slowly made them descend. The moment he touched the ground, everyone rushed over to me as I sighed in relief but then stopped myself short as a loud crack reminded me what I had been ignoring three minutes ago.
My eyes widened before I let out an ear piercing scream and clutched my right broken arm. Suddenly darkness started to gain on me in a way it hadn't done in a long time...
Harry's P.O.V.
"Well, what are you all waiting for?" Madam Hooch barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."
I glanced down at my broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles.
"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!"'
"UP!" everyone shouted.
My broom jumped into my hand at once just like Delilah's, but we were one of the few that did. Hermione Granger's had simply rolled over on the ground, and Neville's hadn't moved at all. Perhaps brooms, like horses, could tell when you were afraid, I thought; there was a quaver in Neville's voice that said only too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet on the ground.
Madam Hooch then showed us how to mount our brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. Ron and I were delighted when she told Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years.
"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "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, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.
"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle— twelve feet— twenty feet. I saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom. Delilah instantly zoomed up into the air and caught him on her broom before he could fall. But just as he got on, he somehow managed to take control over her broom and make it go crazy just like his had done. She fell off, hitting the right side of her body onto the statue bellow. I heard a nasty crack as she went through the impact and let out a loud whimper.
Everyone looked up at the sky. I looked back down at Delilah and saw her quickly bring her wand out with her uninjured arm and point it at Neville who was crash diving.
Whatever spell she had done, was useful, but only for a few seconds. He froze in the air before he quickly started to fall, completely immobile.
She then did another spell that was entirely successful this time. His whole frame along with the broomstick started following the movement of her arm as she slowly made them descend. The moment he touched the ground, everyone— me and Ron being the first— rushed over to her as she sighed in relief but then stopped herself short as another loud crack emerged from her body. Then realization seem to hit her.
Her eyes widened before she let out an ear piercing scream and clutched her right arm. Her scream then died out as she fainted.
Madam Hooch bent down over Delilah, her face gone completely white.
"Oh my Godric... Broken arm and leg," I heard her mutter. "Who knows what else she broke in that fall. Come on, boy— it's all right, you get," she told Neville while picking up Delilah in her arms.
She turned to the rest of the class.
"None of you is to move while I take these two to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."
Neville, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had gently cradled Delilah's delicate body in her arms.
No sooner were they out of earshot than Malfoy burst into laughter.
"Did you see his face, the great lump?"
The other Slytherins joined in.
"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Parvati Patil.
"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy Parkinson, a hard-faced Slytherin girl. "Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies, Parvati."
"Shut up. At least she's brave enough to stick up for him, like Delilah was braver than you'll ever be and went to save his life!" Ron snapped, and for a moment, I think I saw worry cloud Malfoy's face too.
"Look!" said Malfoy, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."
The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up.
"Give that here, Malfoy," I said quietly. Everyone stopped talking to watch.
Malfoy smiled nastily.
"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find— how about— up a tree?"
"Give it here!" I yelled, but Malfoy had leapt onto his broomstick and taken off. He hadn't been lying, he could fly well. Hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak he called, "Come and get it, Potter!"
I grabbed my broom.
"No!" shouted Hermione Granger. "Madam Hooch told us not to move— you'll get us all into trouble."
I ignored her. Blood was pounding in my ears. I mounted the broom and kicked hard against the ground and up, up I soared; air rushed through my hair, and my robes whipped out behind me— and in a rush of fierce joy I realized I'd found something I could do without being taught— this was easy, this was wonderful. I pulled my broomstick up a little to take it even higher, and heard screams and gasps of girls back on the ground and an admiring whoop from Ron.
I turned my broomstick sharply to face Malfoy in midair. Malfoy looked stunned.
"Give it here," I called, "or I'll knock you off that broom!"
"Oh, yeah?" said Malfoy, trying to sneer, but looking worried.
I knew, somehow, what to do. I leaned forward and grasped the broom tightly in both hands, and it shot toward Malfay like a javelin. Malfoy only just got out of the way in time; I made a sharp about-face and held the broom steady. A few people below were clapping.
"No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy," I called.
The same thought seemed to have struck Malfoy.
"Catch it if you can, then!" he shouted, and he threw the glass ball high into the air and streaked back toward the ground.
I saw, as though in slow motion, the ball rise up in the air and then start to fall. I leaned forward and pointed my broom handle down— next second I was gathering speed in a steep dive, racing the ball— wind whistled in my ears, mingled with the screams of people watching— I stretched out my hand— a foot from the ground I caught it, just in time to pull my broom straight, and I toppled gently onto the grass with the Remembrall clutched safely in my fist.
"HARRY POTTER!"
I was now the seeker of the Gryffindor Quidditch team and what only made me feel better was when Professor McGonagall went to ask Delilah to be a chaser. I was extremely happy when I learned that she accepted even if she hesitated a bit.
The moment Professor McGonagall left, Ron and I rushed over to the bed which's curtain was pulled close followed by Hermione who I just realized was here too.
I went first, peeking through the curtain. I pushed the curtain a bit further away and hesitantly leaned in a bit more.
Delilah was waiting for us, her face calm and smooth. The haggard, gaunt look was gone, but only a careful blankness took its place. There was no animation in her eyes that were now a chocolate brown.
It was hard to look at her face, knowing that she was in pain even if she didn't show it. I loved her. That was the only explanation for these feelings. I'm eleven years old and I am madly in love.
Her body had been covered with a quilt. It was a relief not to have to see the extent of the damage.
I stepped in as all I could see was her. Just her and I alone.
"Hi, Deli," I murmured.
She didn't answer at first. She looked at my face for a long moment. Then, with some effort, she rearranged her expression into a slightly small smile, shocking me. I never thought I would see those full pink lips curl up into a smile, even less have it addressed to me. I suddenly had the urge to kiss her, but I had no time to think any further as I was wrenched away.
"Oh Delilah, I'm so happy you're alright," Hermonie said going over to hug her. Delilah flinched away and just as she did, she instantly froze for a second before whimpering lowly.
Hermione quickly stepped back, blushing. "Sorry, I forgot you were injured."
Delilah nodded, smiling another small smile, shocking Hermione as well.
She looked over at Ron. "So glad you're awake Deli. Can I call you Deli?" she nodded. "We've been worried sick, when Madame Hooch brought you in here, you were hurt pretty badly. Thought Madam Pomfrey wouldn't be able to help," he said. He smiled but then was equally shocked when she smiled back a small smile at him too.
The smile might've been small but it was extremely beautiful.
Back to Delilah's P.O.V.
I felt like shit. Pardon my vocabulary, but that was the only way to put it. The arm I had first broken ten years ago, it just had to break again, didn't it?
I was now a chaser in the Gryffindor Quidditch team along with Harry who was now the seeker for some reason that is completely unknown to me. Harry, Ron... and Hermione came to see me at the hospital wing right after McGonagall left. It was quite funny to watch. Painful, but really quite funny.
Harry came first, peeking through the curtain. He then pushed the curtain a bit further away and hesitantly leaned in a bit more.
He stepped in and there was just the two of us here. I wondered where the two others were.
"Hi, Deli," he murmured in a way I found kind of adorable.
I didn't answer at first. I looked at his face for a long moment. Then, with some effort, I rearranged my expression into a slightly small smile, without a doubt shocking him. I guess he never thought he would ever see me smile, and honestly, neither did I. But there was something about this place, about these people that just made me feel again. Despite the nightmares I'd been having about my past, Hogwarts and the people I was hanging around with were really making me feel almost... human. Like a normal human. Suddenly, he was wrenched away.
"Oh Delilah, I'm so happy you're alright," Hermonie said coming over and was about to hug me, but I flinched away and just as I did, I instantly froze for a second before whimpering lowly at the pain of my injury along with the reopened old scars.
Hermione quickly stepped back, blushing. "Sorry, I forgot you were injured."
I nodded, smiling another small smile, shocking Hermione as well.
I looked over at Ron. "So glad you're awake Deli. Can I call you Deli?" I nodded. "We've been worried sick, when Madame Hooch brought you in here, you were hurt pretty badly. Thought Madam Pomfrey wouldn't be able to help," he said. He smiled but then was equally shocked when I smiled back a small smile at him too.
After that, the two decided to leave, leaving Harry and I alone. We stared at each other for a few seconds before he came to sit onto the side edge of my bed.
"How are you feeling?" he mumbled. What a stupid question.
I rolled my eyes, grabbed my wand within my left hand and wrote in the air, "A little stoned. Madame Pomfrey is not sure about what else I need, so she is going with trial and error. I heal really fast, but she does not want to believe it. Think she overdid it."
"But you're not in pain."
"No. At least, I can not feel my injuries," I wrote, smiling warmly again though I just realized he wasn't looking at me. He was just staring down at his feet.
I narrowed my eyes, put my wand back on the night table and leaned in closer to him, ignoring the pain shooting through my right arm. I put my hand under his chin and pulled his face up only to see that he had been crying. But before I could grab my wand and write anything else, Harry leaned down and... kissed me.
This was... my first real kiss. I didn't know what to do, I didn't want to make him feel bad. He moved his hand to my cheek and I still didn't know what to do. He pulled away, but before I could say anything he walked away with his head hung low.
"Harry," I whispered, but he was already gone...