Chapter 37

The Doctor and Al had History of Magic right before flight lessons. For once, the Doctor had not gotten into an argument with Binns, and Al was a little worried. He had noticed John was a little out of it today. But then, on their way to the flight class, John had ducked into the bathroom. He emerged, exhausted looking, but no longer wincing at everything and nothing.

The Doctor once again mentally thanked whichever Time Lord scientist had figured out how to make analgesics non-toxic to Gallifreyans (a serious problem actually; Gallifrey biochemistry could be so temperamental). The point was, his headache had almost completely faded, and, without the distraction of pain, he was able to clamp down much harder on blocking some of his sensory input.

He and Al emerged from the castle and headed to the field where the lessons would be. They would be taking the class with Slytherin first years. The Slytherins apparently had an empty period before the flight lesson, because they were already there. The Doctor spotted Jack and lead Al over to where he was waiting. As they approached, they overheard Jack and Ash talking. The Doctor winced as he felt waves of stress spilling over Jack's (very human and therefore very limited) psychic shields.

"I meant to ask, is Smith alright? He seems… off," Ash asked.

"Why don't you ask him yourself?" Jack grumbled. He really did not want to deal with Ash's prejudices today; he had had a bad dream about Ianto last night (or was it about Steven? Lately they had been blending into one person in the way that only could happen in dreams), and that, paired with worry over the Doctor, had been building up tension the entire day. Not even the prospect of flying on a broom could dispel his prevailing bad mood.

Ash muttered something about Gryffindor then noticed Al and the Doctor coming up. He flashed a quick smile at Al, nodded curtly at the Doctor, and excused himself. He wandered over to where Richard Prince and Leslie Lancaster were trading childhood flight experiences.

Jack rolled his eyes. "One day," he said to the two Gryffindors in lieu of a greeting, "he might actually say hello to you, Doctor."

The Doctor shrugged. "At least he's talking to Al, right? That's progress."

"More than can be said for Ellie lately," said Al, morosely. He had really thought his childhood best friend would have gotten over whatever her problem was. Instead, she seemed to have gotten worse: she would not even talk to Al anymore because he chose to study with Jack and Ash (and the Doctor where their classes overlapped. Ash always found a convenient excuse to leave the study party at that point, much to Al and Jack's frustration).

The three boys turned to regard the girl in question. She was talking animatedly with one of the other girls from Gryffindor. "Why don't you go say hello?" asked the Doctor suddenly to Al. "Make the first overture of friendship, so to speak?"

"Why should I have to make the first move?" groused Al. "It's her fault."

"Al," said the Doctor and shot him a Look. Al rolled his eyes and wandered over to Ellie. The Doctor wanted to talk to Jack about something mysteriously private. He might as well follow the Doctor's advice and try for some semblance of peace in the meantime.

The Doctor turned to Jack. "Okay, talk. You've been leaking misery all over the place. It was strong enough that it left a residue in Binns' classroom." The black, bitter, tar-like emotion had been faint (a testament to the overwhelming boredom permeating the very walls of the room), but it had made it even more difficult than it already was to even look like he was functioning normally (he was fairly certain Al already suspected something was wrong).

"How could you possibly know it was me?" asked Jack. "Have you listened to Binns' lectures? It could be a lot of students' misery."

The Doctor shot Jack a vexed glare. "It was a very mature, complicated emotion. The type associated with chronic guilt and the loss of a loved one. It's what drips off you whenever you talk about Torchwood lately." Jack winced. "Yes, that emotion right there. Jack, I know you didn't call me to pick you up in the TARDIS on a whim because you were bored. You finally want to tell me what happened?"

"You can't help," muttered Jack.

The Doctor's eyebrows shot up. "Excuse me?"

"I checked after it was all over. It was a fixed point in time. You can't change anything."

The Doctor blinked. Then he figured out what Jack was implying about his offer to help. A wave of intense anger flooded through him (suppressing the outburst that threatened did NOT help his headache). "Jack," he said through clenched teeth, "has it occurred to you that I am more than a pilot of a time machine?"

At that moment, Madam Hooch finally appeared, and the Doctor stalked off to the 'Gryffindor side' of the field, leaving Jack trying to puzzle out what he was talking about.

"Hold your wand hand over the broom and say 'up'," said Madam Hooch. The students before her complied with various results. As several students continued trying to get their brooms to rise to their hands, Madam Hooch continued her explanation. "The spells on the broom act as an extension of your will. You have to really want it to happen. Until you are used to asserting your willpower over broomsticks, you will find it easier to direct the broom by speaking out loud. Using vocal commands such as 'up', 'forward', and 'stop' are quite common among beginners and you should, by no means, feel ashamed for using them until you are comfortable without them."

By this point, most of the class had summoned their brooms. Madam Hooch got them all up in the air, adjusted various grips and techniques and let them slowly drift about on their brooms at a maximum of one and a half meters. She then started helping the individuals who still could not get their brooms up.

Individuals such as the Doctor. Oh, certainly he understood the concept of asserting his will over the silly stick on the ground; it was basically a bigger, less versatile version of his wand. But his head still ached a bit, and the smell of fresh cut grass was overwhelming his nose, and the giddy excitement of the other students (like glitter had been dumped on everything) was distracting and painful (inhaling felt exactly like trying to snort a handful of said glitter). And honestly, he did not want to fly right now. It seemed like a Very Bad Idea. He would fall, or lose control, or a dozen other things could go wrong.

Madam Hooch wandered over. "John, right?" She knew him because she did not know him: he was the only student she did not have in a maths class. She wished she did have him in a class; she was sure they would have an amazing time discussing mathematical theories (it would also be really nice to have a student that actually cared about maths). It would also make it easier to help him with his broom if she knew how he thought. "What seems to be the problem?"

"I just don't think flying is a good idea right now," John admitted.

"Why not?"

"I really don't want to fly…"

Madam Hooch sighed. There was one in every group. "John, being afraid of heights is nothing to be ashamed of—" John snorted in derision. "But rudimentary flight is a required skill at Hogwarts," she continued, wondering what the problem was if it was not fear. "Can you please try? The sooner you prove that you can fly, the sooner you never have to again. That should make you want to get up in the air, right?" It was actually surprising how often and how quickly that reasoning got reluctant students in the air.

John pursed his lips, but finally, "Up," he said. The broom did not even twitch. He looked at her and shrugged. "I just don't want to fly," he said.

Across the field, another student was having difficulty getting his broom to stay up long enough to mount it. "Alright," said Madam Hooch. "Keep working on it. I'll be back soon to help." She strode over to the other student.

Jack grinned. Flying was wonderful. He was not allowed to go fast or high, but it was already exhilarating. He felt as though the stress of the day had stayed on the ground while he went up. Hopefully, the Doctor would feel the same way. But the Doctor was still grounded. Drifting over with curiosity, he had overheard Madam Hooch and the Doctor. His grin picked up an evil quality. He knew exactly how to get the Doctor into the air.

Al was just far enough away that Jack would have to raise his voice to talk to him. "Hey, Al!" Al turned to face Jack. "Is that a broomstick between your legs, or are you just happy to see me?"

The Doctor spun around so fast, it was amazing he did not get whiplash. Al, completely unaware of Jack's ulterior motives, laughed. "For you, Jack, it is never a broom," he joked.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jack saw the Doctor's broom leap up off the ground. Next thing he knew, the Doctor was in the air next to him, clutching his robes and pulling him close. "You are corrupting an eleven year old," the Doctor hissed into his ear. "Stop it."

"Al came pre-corrupted," Jack calmly replied. "Besides, it got you on your broom, didn't it?"

The Doctor's mouth opened for a retort then snapped shut. He turned his broom around and flew off to sulk. Jack snickered, and Al flew over.

"Aw, was he jealous?" Al asked. "Should I go over and let him know that it's never a broom for him too?"

Jack let out a bark of laughter. "He might kill me," he replied.

A/N: bleh tests -.- Sad to say, no more De-aged has been written (though, for some crazy reason, in between classes, I've been writing a Supernatural AU story... De-aged is stored on the computer that stays at home, which is one of many reasons I don't work on that instead. Either way, keep an eye out for that)

Either way, the next update will be December 6th. See you then.