"Oh no, no, no..." Hermione whined as she stared at the board.
"I'm sure it will not be that bad," Harry tried to reassure her, although he wasn't feeling confident himself because this was just a recipe for disaster waiting to happen.
"This is bad," Hermione said and started to pace a small circle next to him, fiddling with her hands, "This is terrible."
"Can you even imagine," Hermione said after a few laps, "What catastrophic consequences this could have?"
Harry sighed at the pinned note on the corkboard. They were going to have their first flying lesson in a few hours, and making matters worse; they were going to have it together with the Slytherins.
"Yeah..." Harry said solemnly, "What were they thinking? Pairing Gryffindors with the Slytherins?"
Hermione stopped her pacing and frowned at him, "What? No," she shook her head and resumed walking the circle that had at this point been imprinted into the soft rug, "Flying, Harry, we are going to fly on brooms."
Harry tilted his head and regarded her curiously, "Yeah? so?"
"On brooms!" she said exasperatedly and waved both of her hands impatiently above her head as she resumed her pacing, "Out of all stupid, moronic, idiotic-"
"I didn't know you were afraid of heights," Harry injected in a surprised tone.
"I'm not afraid of heights!" Hermione protested indignantly. Harry wanted to argue back, but seeing that she was almost literally walking a hole in the rug, he changed his mind.
"Hermione," Harry interrupted her, unable to hide his smile, "What's the matter?"
The distressed girl looked at him as if he had told her that Santa was real, "What's the matter?" she asked incredulously, "Oh, I don't know, Harry. Maybe because I don't fancy the idea of sitting on a broomstick where you can crash and die if you so much as sneeze!"
"Yes," Harry said, furrowing his brows and turning his voice grave, "Sneezes can be deadly, indeed." and promptly ducked at the incoming pillow Hermione had snatched from the couch.
Harry grinned sheepishly at Hermione, who looked as if she wanted to strangle him, "Relax," he said with ease and puffed up the poor mishandled pillow, "I'm sure there is a book about it in the library."
Her eyes widened.
"The library!" Hermione exclaimed, "Of course! Why didn't I think of that?"
The girl with tawny brown tresses had him in her sight as she strode up to him at a brisk pace. He instinctively slowly backed away but wasn't able to take more than a few steps before she had grabbed his arm in a vice-grip. She dragged him towards the Fat Lady, "Where are we going?" he asked rather unnecessarily.
"To the library," she said over her shoulder, her eyes fierce with determination, "I'm gonna make sure that we survive this ridiculous lesson and live to tell the tale."
Ninety minutes later, after going through the endless halls of shelves with an innumerable amount of books and a very rude and unhelpful librarian, they found a book that had suited their needs.
"I found it!" Hermione exclaimed happily, and he had to steady the ladder so she wouldn't fall when she did a little victorious tap dance on the fragile wooden rungs. She slid down with practised ease and practically shoved the book in his face.
"Quidditch Through the Ages," Harry muttered the title of the book after he had righted his glasses.
Harry opened the book as he walked down the long aisle towards the exit on the other end of the library when Hermione piped up behind him, "Where are you going?"
Harry turned around and saw that she was waiting at their table with a pulled out chair for him to sit on.
Harry's stomach warned him once more that it needed a refill, "I thought we could go through this as we ate some breakfast?" he said, trying to look as pleading as possible since he knew Hermione preferred to read here, "Please?"
She held her stare at him for a few moments before rolling her eyes, and she pulled the chair in back to its rightful place, with more force than needed to let him know that it displeased her, "Fine." she muttered.
Harry grinned over his petty victory, causing her to snort and playfully bump her shoulder into him.
The mood in the Great Hall was in high spirits among the first years as everyone was vigorously looking forward to the first flying lesson. Students were boasting loudly about their previous experience with brooms. Some of them stood on their benches, posturing as if they were riding an actual broom. It was infectious, and Harry found himself actually looking forward to the lesson.
The girl next to him, however, did not.
Hermione had snatched the book out of his hands the moment they had sat down and given Neville in front of them a curt greeting before opening the book.
By the looks of it, Hermione was not the only one who was nervous about the lesson. Neville looked as if he was about to have a nervous breakdown at any moment.
"You alright?" Harry asked as he loaded Hermione's plate and put it in front of her, receiving a mumble of words that probably resembled a "Thank you."
Neville shook his head and gulped as he watched Ron, who, a few seats over to his right, was talking loudly about how he once almost hit a hang glider.
"I've never been on a broomstick before," Neville said when Ron had finished his tale, "my grandmother wouldn't let me."
Harry wouldn't say it out loud, but he felt like his grandmother had made the right choice if the sheer amount of accidents that Neville seemed to get himself into was any sign.
Hermione, who had ignored her breakfast completely, tugged on his arm impatiently, "Now listen closely…" and started to quote tidbits about all the different ways to control and handle a broom as a beginner.
Neville was practically leaning over the table to not miss a single word over the loud noise in the Great Hall.
After ten minutes, she got interrupted mid-speech about the importance of not over-steering your broom when a screech erupted in the hall, letting them know the arrivals of the owls.
Hedwig was easy to spot among the sea of all the various shades of brown and grey, and she landed in front of Harry and Hermione with practised ease. His loyal companion did not have any letters with her this time and just wanted some company, or that's what he liked to believe.
That brief flicker of optimism was shattered when Hedwig simply hopped over and pecked his hand. When Harry merely raised an eyebrow, the owl hooted at him as if he was the one who was acting immaturely.
Harry broke off a piece of bacon and offered it to Hedwig, "This is your fault, you know?" he said to Hermione, who was not paying attention. The owl hooted and hopped over to the next person to beg for food.
"Huh? What? Oh, hello Hedwig." Hermione smiled and immediately offered the snowy owl a piece of her bacon. Harry rolled his eyes and pointed to the smug-looking bird, "That. She never used to beg for food like that before. Until," he said with great emphasis on the last word, "You started to feed her."
Hermione merely waved his accusations away and petted Hedwig, "You don't beg. You're just hungry, aren't you?" she crooned.
Hedwig hooted and happily purred in affirmation.
"I don't believe it," Harry said dejected, "My own familiar have shifted allegiances."
"You're just dramatic," Hermione said with a shake of her head, offering the bird another piece of bacon, which she happily accepted before flying off.
"Oh," Neville suddenly said, holding a translucent sphere filled with white smoke, "Gran sent me a Remembrall!"
Hermione canted her head and peered at the object with interest, "What does it do?"
"It tells you if there's something you have forgotten to do," Neville explained, "If you hold it tight like this, and if it turns red… Oh."
Harry choked on his pumpkin juice as the smoke inside the sphere turned into crimson red, and Hermione patted him on the back.
"Could I give it a go?" Harry asked between coughs and gave Hermione a grateful smile.
Neville handed it over, deep in thought, "What could I possibly have forgotten?" he said to no one in particular.
Harry copied Neville and held the translucent glass ball tight in his fist. The red smoke turned into ghost white.
"Look at that," Harry said, impressed by the magic of it.
"At least, you have forgotten no homework," Hermione supplied as she peered the glass orb closely.
"Well," Harry grinned at her, "I have my own Remembrall right next to me."
Hermione blinked in confusion, and when the realisation hit her, she rolled her eyes and hit him softly on the shoulder, "Prat." and hit him again when he wouldn't stop laughing, "You're the worst."
Harry bumped into her as he casually tossed the ornate ball to her, "I know." he said with a grin as she caught it, "Try it, see if you have forgotten anything."
Hermione gave him an unamused side-glance as she traced her fingers along with the intricate engravings around the glass marble. She sighed when he wouldn't relent and closed her fist around it, "I'm sure I haven't…"
The ghost-white smoke quickly turned into crimson red.
Hermione let out a sound that was a mix of a whimper and a disbelieving scoff.
Harry bit his lower lip and watched Hermione in anticipation of her reaction. She blinked a few times before staring somewhere in the distance and then blinked a few times more. It looked like her brain was stuck in a loop and restarting itself repeatedly.
He wished that he somehow could take a picture and frame it. He had never seen Hermione like this before, and it was hilarious.
Suddenly, Hermione turned hastily in her seat to face him, "We finished the Transfiguration homework last night, right? It wasn't just a dream?" she asked, deathly serious.
Harry clasped his hands behind his head, enjoying the show, "If you mean the one where you spent half of the evening correcting my mistakes, then yes."
Hermione blinked a few times, another restart, "and Charms?"
"We did that the night before."
Hermione knitted her brows together and looked back at him again, "History of Magic? Defence Against the Dark Arts? Astronomy!?" she said, each question getting more and more desperate as he nodded in affirmation to each one.
"You're already done with those?" Dean asked, who sat next to the still befuddled Neville, "Wait, Defence against the Dark Arts? We got that one yesterday!" he said in bewilderment. Ron and Seamus merely shook their heads, and Harry thought he could hear Ron mutter, "Mental."
Harry merely lifted a shoulder with a sheepish smile before turning his attention to Hermione, "Maybe it's your birthday today, and you forgot?" he joked.
Hermione shook her head impatiently, "That's not until next week," she responded and waved it off as if it wasn't important.
For the second time that morning, Harry choked on his pumpkin juice, "Next week?" he asked, horrified. Why hadn't she told him anything?
Hermione waved his question away, "It's on the 19th. Potions, we are going to do tonight-"
Harry couldn't pay any attention as she listed off things on her fingers. 19th? That was just seven days away!
Dread filled him as it sank in.
What was he supposed to get her? He knew from observation through the years that gifts were a must on someone's birthday. But they had barely known each other for two weeks. Surely she didn't expect something? But what if she did? And how many was he supposed to get her?
From an outsider's perspective, it would look like Hermione and Harry were engaging in one of their usual debates about schoolwork. Harry was listening carefully to Hermione, his brows knitted in concentration while Hermione rambled on.
In reality, Hermione was panicking about something that she supposedly had forgotten about, and Harry's mind was a whirlwind of a mess of incoherent thoughts to which his brain tried to make sense of.
"-And I'm sure that I returned the book about the Gargoyle Strike of 1911 yesterday." Hermione finished with an annoyed growl, drawing him out of his thoughts.
Harry shook his head to clear the cobwebs, "Then what about your parents-", as soon as the last word had left his mouth, an idea struck him.
Hermione slowly turned to him with wide eyes, "My parents. I forgot to write a letter to my parents!" and she hid her face behind her hands, "Oh no, they must be terrified!"
Harry glanced at the clock and, judging that they had just enough time, he grabbed his book bag, "Come on, let's go." The idea he had was desperate, very desperate, but he did not have enough time to find another solution.
"Where are we going?"
Harry urged her on, "We're going to write a letter to your parents. We have just enough time if we hurry."
Hermione only hesitated for a moment before quickly grabbed her stuff, and the two students dashed out of the Great Hall.
The Gryffindor and Slytherin students stood in separate lines opposite each other, with a broom between each student. Madam Hooch, their instructor, walked between them with her hands clasped behind her back.
Harry couldn't help but feel unnerved every time she redirected her yellow hawklike eyes to him. She looked terrifying. Neville was to his right, rigid as a statue, and trembled like a leaf every time she strode past them, eyeing each student up and down as if she was assessing them for something.
Hermione was on his left. Rather than having a broomstick separating them like between him and Neville, she had positioned herself to be at his immediate side instead. It was oddly comforting and did surprisingly wonders for his nerves.
Madam Hooch finally stopped at the end of the pitch and swirled around, her eyes narrowed, and her lips thinned, "Stick out your right hand over your broom," she called out, "and say 'UP!'"
Harry did as instructed and shouted the command. To his immense surprise, the broom shot up in his hand immediately. He grinned with delight when he realised he was one of the few that had managed on their first try, and Harry couldn't help but feel extra triumphant when he did so before Hermione.
Harry watched patiently as Hermione tried resolutely to get her broom move. She made it wobble to the sides twice, but that was all. He could feel the sense of victory slowly drain away as her frustration became more and more apparent. A slight stab of guilt hit him as he just stood there and watched her getting increasingly more desperate after each unsuccessful attempt.
He recalled how patient she was with him during their very first Transfiguration lesson, "You have to be more precise with your wand, Harry. Here, let me show you."
He could feel himself smiling as he lost himself in the memory. How Hermione had calmly instructed him until he had finally got it right. Then she made him do it repeatedly until the match was at last transfigured into a perfect silver needle.
"You did it, Harry! I knew you would!" Hermione exclaimed proudly and squeezed his arm as she gave the newly transfigured needle a closer inspection, "It's perfect!"
A whoop of delight from the Slytherins broke him out of his reverie. Hermione's face fell dejectedly, and something twisted in his gut.
This wouldn't do, Harry decided.
"You need help?" He asked carefully, treading lightly to not sound as if he was gloating.
Hermione's outstretched hand fell to her side, and she gave him a shrug, "I don't know what I am doing wrong! The book says you need to say it in a clear and concise tone, which is exactly what I am doing!"
Harry looked around. Neville and a few others were still struggling to get any reaction out of their brooms. He wondered if there was a common denominator to why some students were struggling. When he saw that Neville's hand was still shaking, it clicked.
"I think the broom responds to fear," Harry said and continued on before she could protest, "I think the broom can feel when you're scared to use it."
That only seemed to deflate Hermione even more.
"Maybe," Harry continued on, "if you replace the feeling of fear with something positive instead, like reading or visiting the library, it will work?"
It was a complete stab in the dark, but he figured that anything was worth a try.
Hermione looked doubtful for a moment before giving him a reluctant nod. She gave him one last glance before moving her hand above the broom once more.
Her expression turned peaceful as she relaxed, and a small but determined smile tugged her lips, and after what felt like an eternity, she called out, "UP!"
No sooner after the words had left her mouth, the broom shot up from the ground in startling speed right into her waiting hand.
Harry stared agape at her, and Hermione looked at the broom in her hand with disbelief written all over her face, "I-it worked." and she looked at him, the shock still apparent on her face, "We did it, Harry!"
He had the strongest urge to do a fist pump in the air to celebrate her success. He could feel his cheeks hurting from the grin he was sporting, "You did it, Hermione!"
That seemed to bring her out of her stupor and her face split into a wide smile as she flexed her grip on the broom, seemingly to check if it was real, "I did it!"
"I knew you would," Harry said proudly, reiterating the exact words she had said to him after he had transfigured the match.
Hermione ducked her head as if embarrassed, her tawny tresses hiding her face as she quietly said, "Thank you, Harry."
Harry smiled as he gently elbowed her arm, "Of course, we help each other, right?"
Hermione lifted her head to reveal a radiant smile on her face and gave him a shy nod.
"So what positive thought did you use? The library or reading?" Harry chuckled.
"I imagined I was in our common room, studying with you," Hermione whispered after a minute of silence.
Harry could feel his cheeks go warm, which was strange considering that the morning air was chill and breezy, "Oh."
"Now," Madam Hooch shouted after Neville finally succeeded, although he didn't seem happy at all about it, "Mount your brooms!"
There was a flurry of movement as the students did as instructed. Hermione threw him a nervous glance, and he tried to give her a reassuring smile. Madam Hooch walked up and down the rows, correcting everyone's grips, including his and Hermione's.
"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," Madam Hooch said and gave the crowd a stern look, "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly."
"You ready?" Harry whispered as their teacher counted down from three.
"No," Hermione said weakly.
"And kick off from the ground!" Madam Hooch shouted before blowing the whistle as if her life depended on it.
Harry kicked off from the ground, and to his absolute astonishment, he was actually floating in the air! His attention got diverged when Hermione let out a panicked squeak and when she rose too quickly, she grabbed his arm before she got out of reach.
"I got you," Harry said reassuringly and held onto her elbow, "Relax."
The look she gave him told him she was anything but relaxed.
"Don't you dare let go of me," She warned him in a trembling voice as her fingers dug into his arm. Harry tightened his hold on her elbow to let her know he would not let her fly away.
Harry shot a withering glare to a Slytherin on their other side that guffawed loudly at Hermione's distressed state and gave her a reassuring smile, "I won't." to which she gave him a grateful nod. He could completely resonate with her because hovering in the air with nothing to support you was a kind of scary feeling.
Harry leaned back slightly to ascend. Hermione tightened her hold on to him momentarily before doing the same, and together they repeated the process a few times until both of them got comfortable with the practice. It surprised him at how easily the broom responded to one's movements; the broom did nothing you weren't in control of, which was very reassuring.
"This was actually pretty fun!" Harry said jovially when they touched the ground.
"Very, I'm shaking from excitement," Hermione said sarcastically, more than happy to be back on solid ground.
"Come back, boy!" Madam Hooch shouted. Harry turned around to see what the commotion was. To his horror, Neville had lost control of his broom and was rising steadily up in the air. At thirty feet, he slid sideways off the broom, and there was a collective gasp as his classmate descended in a free fall to the ground.
Harry shut his eyes as Neville made contact and flinched at the unmistakable sound of bones breaking and Hermione's hold on him tightened.
"Broken wrist," Harry heard her mutter, "Come on, boy - it's alright, up you get."
She turned to the rest of the class, her face deathly serious as she warned the students to stay where they are unless they wish to go home.
As soon as they were out of earshot, "Did you see his face, the great lump?" Malfoy burst out laughing, with other Slytherins joining in.
Harry had the urge to plant a fisted hand to Malfoy's face, and he probably would have if he didn't have Hermione next to him.
The two houses were throwing insults at each other when Malfoy suddenly darted forward, "Look!" and snatched something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."
"Destroy it!" Crabbe guffawed.
"Give it to me," Harry said with more confidence than he felt, and when everyone quieted and looked towards him, he kind of wished that he hadn't said anything. Feeling bolstered that he couldn't back out now, he held out his hand and asked nicely again, "Give it to me."
"Or what?" Malfoy sneered and looked at Hermione with pure loathing, "You're gonna send your girlfriend on me?"
Like a switch, Harry's emotions had taken over, and within two quick strides, he was up in Malfoy's face, "Give. It. To. Me."
The blonde boy's expression faltered until his classmates cheered him on, and he scowled, "if you want it, come and take it!" and took off before Harry could stop him.
Before any ounce of logic or sense talked him over, Harry had mounted his broom and kicked off hard from the ground and shot up towards the black spot in the sky that was Malfoy. The air rushed through his hair as he realised with delight how easy this was, the feeling, the instinct; it all felt natural to him. The broom obeyed every flex and twist of his wrist as he climbed up in altitude.
Within what felt like seconds, Harry was at level with the Slytherin boy high in the sky. The two boys stared at each other before Harry laid flat on his broom and shot towards Malfoy like a missile.
Malfoy barely had any time to tip himself backwards to swerve out of the way.
"Give it here," Harry called, "or I'll knock you off that broom!"
Malfoy righted his broom, and they were once again staring down at each other, waiting for the other to make the first move, "Oh, yeah?" Malfoy sneered.
Harry tightened his hold on the broom for a split second before pushing his body against it, and he barrelled towards Malfoy, who barely got out of the way in time.
Harry gritted his teeth and turned sharply, ignoring the cheers and claps from the ground below.
Malfoy looked far less confident than what he did moments prior, "No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy." Harry called, preparing himself for another launch.
Malfoy seemed to have come to the same conclusion, "Catch it if you can, then!" he shouted and threw the glass ball high into the air and streaked back toward the ground.
Time seemed to slow down as Harry followed the trajectory of the tiny ball, and when it made its way downwards, it was almost like he knew what to do.
Not allowing himself to think, he leaned forward once again and tipped the handle downwards to follow the rapidly descending glass ball. The wind blasted against his face as he gathered speed, and Harry pushed himself even harder against the broom as he streaked towards the solid ground. The elusive little ball was right in front of him, just out of reach. He stretched out his hand, and a little more, little more, he could just barely graze it with his fingertips.
He lunged forward, someone screamed, and at the very last moment, he pulled his handle up as hard as he could, and it was just enough to allow his feet to make contact with the ground. Unfortunately, he didn't have sufficient balance to counteract the force of the impact, and he ended up toppling over clumsily, landing face-first into the grass.
It wasn't until his fist hurt painfully he realised he had actually caught Neville's remembrall! When he held it high with a grin plastered on his face, his classmates let out a roar of cheers and charged towards him across the grounds.
"HARRY POTTER!"
The sense of triumph had vanished quickly as it came. Every muscle in his body froze, and Harry felt fear like he never has felt before. Everything became deathly quiet as everyone watched Professor McGonagall come running towards them. With trembling hands and legs, he got himself up on his feet, but he didn't dare to look up at Professor McGonagall.
"I have- never- all of- Hogwarts-" Professor McGonagall sputtered.
Harry swallowed and hung his head even lower as the guilt and shame threatened to swallow him whole. After a moment of silence, he mustered enough courage to look up and where he was expecting a livid seething Professor, was instead a frightened one.
"It wasn't his fault, Professor McGonagall." Parvati piped up.
Ron stepped forward, "Malfoy took Neville's ball, Harry ju-"
"That's enough." Professor McGonagall said briskly, some of her colour returning, "Follow me, Mr Potter." she said with finality and turned around.
Harry gave Parvati and Ron a small smile in appreciation, but it immediately fell upon seeing Hermione. She was even paler than what Professor McGonagall was, and her face was one of utter complete shock.
The guilt threatened to consume him, and he forced himself to look away and follow the Professor. What would happen now? Was he about to get expelled and had to say goodbye to his first and only friend? The thought made him tremble.
They had rounded the corner and out of sight from the students when Professor McGonagall suddenly stopped and leaned slightly against the stone wall, taking deep shuddering breaths.
Harry looked nervously around. The courtyard was empty. He was about to open his mouth when Professor McGonagall held up her hand, "I'm a-alright, I just need a moment."
He fiddled anxiously with his hands as he watched his Professor with trepidation. After a moment, she rounded on him, suddenly looking furious, "What were you thinking!? You could have broken-"
But the sound of feet clacking against the stone tiles interrupted her tirade, and Hermione appeared, panting as if she had been running a marathon.
"Professor-" Hermione tried,
"Miss Granger, what's the meaning of this?"
Hermione briefly glanced at Harry before taking a much needed deep breath, "If you're going to give Harry a detention, then you should put me in there too-"
"Miss Granger-"
"Because I could have stopped him-"
"Miss Granger, I am not going to-"
"I stood right there, I could have grabbed him or done something-"
"Miss Granger!" Professor McGonagall warned sternly, and Hermione immediately shut her mouth.
Harry just realised how close Hermione was standing, almost protectively between him and their Professor.
Professor McGonagall looked at them, and the hard mask cracked as she let out a weary sigh, "I am not going to expel Mr Potter or put him in detention."
Harry couldn't believe what he just had heard, and rendered him speechless. Which was probably a good thing.
"You're not?" Hermione asked anxiously, not taking her eyes off from the ground.
"No, I am not Miss Granger. Though I admire your courage to take part in the blame, that's not something you see very often, if at all." she paused for a moment before continuing, "No, I have something else planned. Follow me, Mr Potter. You might as well join us too, Miss Granger, though I have a feeling that you would do so regardless."
Hermione grabbed his arm and started following their Professor. Harry gulped when he noticed how angry his friend looked, and not a moment later, she laid right into him, "You have any idea how foolish that was?" she hissed under her breath.
"I know-"
"It was reckless!" Hermione exclaimed, her free hand shot up in the air, making wild motions, "Irresponsible!"
Harry hung his head, "I know."
The two students were quiet as Professor McGonagall led them into the castle and through the different hallways. He could see that Hermione was still fuming.
"You could have been seriously injured, Harry." Hermione said with less sting than before, "Or worse, you could have… died," the last part came out in a whisper before she looked away.
The sad tinge in her voice made him feel even worse. He wasn't sorry for defending Neville; he hated bullies with a passion, and the blond boy has been nothing but pleasant to Harry. He couldn't just let Malfoy get away with it. Though, in hindsight, he knew Hermione was right.
It was reckless. And irresponsible.
Hermione deflated and her grip on his arm loosened as she moved closer to him, "But, it was a courageous thing you did, standing up for Neville like that." she whispered.
If they could see Professor McGonagall's face at this moment, they would have seen her smiling by their exchange.
"What's this?" Madam Hooch appeared from a joined hallway. They had just passed and looked at Harry and Hermione before turning her attention to Professor McGonagall. The two teachers spoke in hushed tones; Madam Hooch gave Harry a stern stare that made him shrink, and then her brows shot up, giving Professor McGonagall a disbelieving look, "No…"
Professor McGonagall nodded and smiled, actually smiled, "I've seen nothing like it."
"Are you going to…?" Madam Hooch inquired curiously, and Professor McGonagall gave Harry a brief glance before nodding, "Yes."
Professor McGonagall stuck her head in and asked, "Excuse me, Professor Flitwick, could I borrow Wood for a moment?"
A moment later, a burly fifth-year boy that he had seen around a few times came out of Flitwick's class looking confused.
"Follow me," said Professor McGonagall, and without skipping a beat, she turned and walked along the corridor. The older boy was looking at Harry and Hermione curiously, being just as clueless as they were.
Professor McGonagall stopped by an empty classroom, "In here."
When everyone was inside, she closed the door and turned to face them, "Potter, this is Oliver Wood. Wood - I've found you a seeker."
Wood's expression changed from puzzlement to delight, "Are you serious, Professor?"
Professor McGonagall clasped her hands and gave the fifth-year a smile, struggling to hold her excitement at bay, "Absolutely, the boy's a natural. I've never seen anything like it. Was that your first time on a broomstick, Potter?"
Harry gave a hesitant nod. What was going on?
Professor McGonagall pointed to the small glass ball he still had in his hand, "He caught that thing in his hand after a fifty-foot dive without a scratch, Charlie Weasley couldn't have done it."
Wood was now looking as though all his dreams had come true at once, and his face split into a wide smile. He turned and rubbed his hands together and gave Harry a closer inspection, looking like he had found a long-lost treasure, "He's just the build for a Seeker, too."
Harry shifted uncomfortably on his feet under Wood's scrutiny; Hermione looked affronted when Wood walked between them, forcing her to step back.
"We'll have to get him a decent broom, Professor - a Nimbus Two Thousand or a Cleansweep Seven, I'd say."
Hermione asked quietly, "What's the difference between those and the ones we used today?"
Wood looked at her as if he just remembered that she had tagged along, "The ancient Shooting Stars? They're very slow and incredibly jerky, not fit for a Seeker at all."
Slow? Harry wondered. That was considered slow?
"Cleansweep, and Nimbus, especially the newer models," Wood continued on, "Are built for speed and more speed-"
Hermione let out a strangled sound.
"- allows the Seeker to catch up with the Snitch; that's the ball you're going to find and catch, Harry." Wood said, paying no heed to Hermione's unhappy expression.
Harry nodded slowly, trying to wrap his head around the situation he found himself in. Only a few minutes ago, he thought he was on his way to pack his trunk, and now they wanted to draft him into the Quidditch team?
Almost like Hermione was reading his mind, "So you want Harry to join your Quidditch team?" she asked.
Once again, Wood looked surprised at her presence, "I'm sorry, who are you?" he asked.
"Hermione Granger, I am a friend of Harry's."
Harry couldn't stop the brief smile that appeared at the title. He wondered if he would ever get used to someone calling him their friend.
"I'm afraid it's my fault, mister Wood," Professor McGonagall injected, "I allowed Miss Granger to accompany Potter because I knew it would be a fruitless endeavour to try otherwise."
"Right," Wood said, looking very confused and not noticing the red cheeks of the two younger students, "Right, yes. If Professor McGonagall says what happened is true, I would very much like for Harry to join the Gryffindor Quidditch team."
Professor McGonagall canted her head and peered at Harry over her glasses, "What do you say, Potter? Interested?"
"Uhm…"
Hermione stuck her hand up as if they were in class.
"Yes, Miss Granger?"
"I assume there is a training schedule?"
"Most certainly." Professor McGonagall replied and turned to Wood with a questioning brow.
"We train five times a week, 90 minutes per session." Wood answered simply.
Hermione frowned and stared at Wood as if he was sputtering complete nonsense, "But what about his studies?" she asked in the all too familiar bossy tone.
He sighed and rubbed his brow, "When you sign up for the team, you accept that the training will cut into your studies." he said the last word as if it was nothing of importance.
Hermione looked as if he had asked if they could go and burn down the library, "But his studies must take precedence," she exclaimed, "Losing five evenings a week, that will be nearly impossible for him to keep up!"
Impossible to keep up with her, he thought with amusement. Five evenings a week that he would have to give up, that he otherwise would spend either in the library or inside of their corner in the Common room with her.
The two students were staring daggers at each other, standing as if they were about to duel. Harry didn't know if Hermione was protesting because it would mean less time they would spend together, or she was worried about his studies taking a beating. The sentiment that she was fighting on his behalf warmed him.
Ultimately he realised, as Hermione was making points with her fingers for extra emphasis, that this was his decision to make. He only had the chance to test flying for such a short time, but the feeling of wind rushing through your hair, the power he felt as he soared high in the blue and the sweet taste of freedom were nothing in the sky was off-limits.
His heart started to beat a little faster at the thought, craving another bite of the opportunity to glide around in the air.
Harry wanted this. Badly.
Harry had missed the tail-end of Hermione's tirade when the older Gryffindor Captain pinched the bridge of his nose to ward off an oncoming headache, and Harry noticed a hint of an amused smile on Professor McGonagall.
Harry realised he had witnessed this situation, albeit under different circumstances, countless times before. His cousin, Dudley, used to have a daily fit about his studies and his Aunt had to come up with compromises so Dudley would do his homework, which more often than not, Harry did for him.
"Actually," Harry said with a weaker voice than he intended. He swallowed when six pairs of eyes looked at him, "Would it be possible if we try for a week or two with your schedule and then adjust it accordingly afterwards?"
Wood seemed to have an intense internal debate whether he should push for his schedule and risk losing a potential Seeker or going along with it. The latter part seemed to have come out victorious because he asked, "If I say yes, will you join?"
The hopeful tone in his voice was unmistakable, and Harry turned towards Hermione without answering his question, "Would that solution be alright with you?"
Hermione seemed momentarily taken aback at being considered. Still, she gave a reluctant nod, "It's your choice… Harry." and she averted her eyes away from him.
Harry smiled at his new Captain and said, "Then yes, I'll join."
Oliver Wood, for a moment, looked eerily like Hermione when she was about to attack him with a hug, and Harry let out a breath of relief when he clearly restrained himself. The fifth-year Gryffindor extended his hand and grinned, "Welcome to the team then, Harry."
Harry grinned back and excitedly shook it.
"Your father would have been proud," Professor McGonagall said, smiling, "He was an excellent Quidditch player himself."
Harry's eyes widened. His father had been on the team? And now his son would also join, following in his father's footsteps? Another flutter of excitement encapsulated him, and he could not hide the wavering in his voice as he asked, "Really?"
"Oh yes," Professor McGonagall said with a pleased nod, "One of the best chasers we've had, he was."
"We'll start training next week, Harry." Wood said, clapping him on the shoulder, "Can't wait to see you in action!"
"I'll try to not disappoint you," Harry responded, nervousness finding its way in from the revelation of his father being in the Gryffindor team.
Hermione was walking behind Professor McGonagall as they walked out of the classroom, but as soon the Professor was out of sight, Hermione turned on the spot and stared hard at the older student, "I'll hold you personally accountable if anything happens to him." and left without another word.
Try as he might, the smile was unstoppable. A proper birthday celebration was indeed in order for his friend because, by merlin, she deserved one.
Oliver Wood stood frozen in the doorway. He looked at Harry with a hesitant smile, "She, uh, was just kidding, right?"
Harry had a feeling that she didn't and gave Oliver a sympathetic half-smile before leaving the classroom. He could hear Oliver mutter to himself, "What have I gotten myself into?"
Harry swallowed nervously as he glanced at the clock that was barely visible over the bookshelves surrounding their study nook in the common room. As the hand on the clock counted the seconds down, he inspected the table that he had spent the last hour on.
Well, there were only four things; two presents, a lone birthday card and a cake. Setting them out took three minutes, followed by fifty-five minutes of trying every single combination to make it look presentable.
Because it had to be perfect.
Footsteps against the wooden floor made him jump, and he spun around to peer through the shelves to see if it was Hermione. It was with a slight disappointment that it was just Ron and Dean heading out, laughing something about seeing Filch making Malfoy scrub the floors as part of his detention.
He adjusted the birthday card so it would align more symmetrically with the two presents with colourful wrappers. His fingers twitched, wondering if he had enough time to re-do the silver bows that looped around the gifts.
"Harry?"
He swirled around so quickly that he nearly lost his balance, "Hermione!"
Hermione stood frozen at the entrance to their study nook, watching the table warily, "What's this?" She breathed.
"Uh," Harry said hesitantly, suddenly unsure if he had made a mistake, "You mentioned last week that today was your birthday so, I thought we might celebrate it here…."
Hermione fiddled with her fingers as she alternated, looking between the contents on the table, "You remembered?" She said, surprised.
Harry risked a small smile as he nodded, feeling bolstered that she hadn't bolted yet.
Hermione walked to the table with a blank expression, studying the birthday card that balanced on top of the two gifts. She carefully picked it up and looked at him with creased brows before reading it.
Harry nervously bit his lower lip as he watched her, and a surge of panic almost overwhelmed him when her eyes turned glassy, followed by a sniff.
"I just wanted to let you know…" he mumbled, trying to repair the situation. This was not at all how he had imagined this would go. He had made his only friend cry. He could feel his gut wring itself with guilt, and he was about to go over there to her when an unstoppable force halted him in his tracks.
"Hermione!" He gasped.
In a flash, Hermione had closed the distance and flung her arms around him, essentially rooting him to the spot.
"Harry…" Hermione sniffed against his chest where she had buried her head.
His body tensed when she let out another whimper while squeezing him harder. Why is she crying? He thought desperately, letting his hands hang uselessly in the air behind her back.
"Did I do something wrong?" Harry asked.
Hermione let out a teary laugh on his shoulder, "What? No!" and Harry let out a breath of relief, "But… w-why are you crying?"
Hermione squeezed his body in response, "Because- I'm happy -Harry!"
Harry blinked at the chipper response mixed with sniffs and found himself unsure of what to say.
After a minute, she let him go and stepped away from him as she wiped away the tears with a cheery smile. She carefully put the card on the side as if it was the most precious thing she owned.
"How?" She asked him in wonder as she inspected the cake with strawberry red frosting; it had "Happy Birthday Hermione!" written on top, surrounded by candles.
Harry was still feeling a bit dazed, and it took a few seconds before his brain restarted, "How? What do you mean?"
Hermione gave him a "Are you daft on purpose?"-look and motioned to the contents of the table.
"Oh," Harry chuckled and nervously rubbed his neck, "Your parents. I sent a letter to them explaining what I wanted to do. They thought it was a great idea." Harry said, smiling sheepishly.
Judging by the response he got, they seemed like they were over the moon because he wanted to celebrate their daughter's birthday.
His neck reddened as he remembered how many times her mother had gushed on what a sweet boy he was.
Hermione's expression softened to something akin to awe. For a moment, it looked like she was ready to tackle him with another hug before she redirected her attention to the gifts, "and these? Are they from you?" she asked cautiously, but hopefully.
Harry instinctively rubbed the nape of his increasingly warm neck, "Yeah… I wanted to get you something. Since it's your birthday and all."
Apparently, that did it. She couldn't hold herself back anymore, and the rapidly growing smile on her face was the only warning he got before she slammed into his chest with another hug. Once some air had made into his lungs, and he regained some of his bearings, it was impossible not to smile at seeing how happy Hermione was.
Harry rubbed the scar on his brow with his free hand, frowning. It didn't hurt, at least not nearly as much as it did on the Welcoming feast, but it was still prickling as if someone was tapping on it with tiny needles. A slight distortion in the air in front of him shimmered, but it disappeared just when he noticed it. When Hermione let him go, he shrugged it off as a trick from the sunlight that was easing into the room.
Hermione sat down on her birthday chair. He had tied some balloons with a variety of different colours. Harry laughed when her eyes flicked between the presents and the cake as if she couldn't decide which one to go for first.
In the end, they went for the cake that her mother had made, which, in Harry's opinion, was worth dying for. After a bit of prodding from Harry's part, Hermione shyly smiled as she finally reached for the present in front of her.
Hermione chewed on her lips as she held the periwinkle wrapped gift in her lap.
She unwrapped it slowly as if she was trying to savour the moment. Her eyes widened, and she let out a gasp of delight when the first side got revealed.
"Harry…" Hermione breathed.
Harry held his breath as Hermione kept staring at the somewhat unwrapped gift, and the foot that was nervously tapping against the floor was about to come off and run away.
"This is… beautiful," she said in reverence, and in an instant, the crushing weight vanished, and he felt he regained the ability to breathe again.
"You don't think it's boring?"
Hermione's head snapped up, "What? No! Harry, this is perfect!" and removed the rest of the paper, revealing an elegant-looking quill that hovered inside of a display case. The feather was onyx with silver stripes that had its edges adorned with a shade of emerald-green. It relieved him to see that her parents had bought the one he had requested in his letter.
Hermione delicately lifted the tiny little golden latch to unlock the small glass door and removed the feather, "Oh, it's so soft!" she said in amazement and held it as she would with a regular quill, "And so comfortable to hold!"
Hermione looked at him, "This is amazing, Harry! How did you come up with this?"
"Oh," Harry chuckled weakly, "I heard you saying a few times you didn't really like the way quills felt in your hand, so… yeah."
To his surprise, Hermione averted her eyes and smiled sweetly to her lap as her cheeks pinked, "You listened to me." she said in barely a whisper.
Harry scratched the surface of the table with his nail to have something to do, "I catch a word or two sometimes."
She was still not looking at him, but the smile grew wider at his response, and she let out a chuckle. When she looked up, her eyes immediately fell to the other wrapped gift that laid patiently on the table. She peered at the colourful box with interest and gave Harry a hopeful look, "Then that must…"
Harry chewed on his lip and gave her a sheepish smile.
Judging by his expression, she had fussed out what the next gift was because her eyes widened with excitement. With a lunge, she had snatched it from the table. The sound of glass clinking from within confirmed her suspicions, "Yes!" she said in pure joy, and the air was filled by the sound of paper getting torn to shreds.
"This changes… everything." she gasped.
There on the table laid a simple wooden box with a see-through lid that contained a set of five ink bottles, each with a different distinct colour.
"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed with glee, and Harry swore he could hear her feet dance under the table.
Harry leaned back with relief and watched her with a contented smile while she rambled up all the various ways she could colour-code their homework. A warm feeling spread in his chest, as it always did when she referred something to theirs.
"Now I can underline everything you get wrong on our assignments!" Hermione said, a bit too happy for his liking.
"W-what?" Harry sputtered, "I don't get stuff wro- You know what? I'll take this back!"
As Harry attempted to snatch back her gifts, she quickly grabbed them out of his reach and narrowed her eyes, "Never! These are mine now."
Harry crossed his arms and huffed. He tried to look annoyed, but the smile he could not wipe off from his face betrayed him.
She slowly made to put them back to the table only to snatch them violently away again when Harry made another attempt to grab them, "Harry!" she laughed, "Stop it!"
"Only if you admit I do not get things wrong!" Harry grinned as he tried to reach above her head, where she firmly held the ink bottles out of his grasp.
Hermione kept laughing, a sound that became so infectious that he couldn't help but laugh himself, "B-bouncing bulbs. Harry!" she squeaked as he nearly took them. She quickly twisted her body and hunched over to shield her precious new possessions.
"One time!" Harry exclaimed and lightly poked her in the ribs, causing her to squeal, "I was wrong one time!"
He knew it was a complete and utter lie. If it weren't for Hermione, he wouldn't do nearly as well in his studies. That was a simple truth that he couldn't dispute.
"I admit! I admit!" Hermione shrieked when he wouldn't give up, "Harry Potter does not get things wrong!"
She kept her face straight to her credit as she said the words, though her eyes told a whole different story.
Hermione sighed with a smile and put down the bottles with narrowed eyes that held no malice but filled with delight.
They spent the rest of the afternoon in their little snug study nook, testing out the new quill and the coloured ink. True to her word, Hermione went straight to underline the things Harry had got wrong for the homework that they would turn in first thing tomorrow. He watched her underline, circle, cross, highlight and all other various shapes and forms he didn't understand on the assignment they had started on the night before. If anyone were taking a peek, they would think Hermione was making a drawing, only using the colour red.
Harry sat comfortably in his chair, hands clasped on top of his cake-filled stomach, and watched contently as Hermione rendered his homework unreadable. He wasn't angry or irritated that he would have to do it all over again. Hermione did it because she wanted him to do well and not settle with mediocre work.
Serenity. That was what he was feeling at this very moment. A complete and fulfilled calmness. What was it Aunt Petunia used to say to Dudley, "Good things come to those who wait."?
Harry looked at Hermione, who was inspecting her 'drawing', and he would have to agree. He had been waiting for as long as he could remember, and the good thing was right in front of him.
A friend—a genuine friend that cared about him.
Harry smiled at the thought. He was happy.