FALLING SLOWLY IV: Falling Slowly
The first day, they flew until Hermione could barely feel her fingers or toes. They also never rose higher than ten meters off the ground. When the clouds broke into a chilled rain, James called it a day.
"Fancy another cuppa?" he had asked.
"Perhaps tomorrow. I really should be going. My cat will be hungry," had been her excuse.
She couldn't tell him the real reason she didn't stay, of course.
Six days left…
Six days to go before her flight test and the very real chance she would be forced to quit her Ministry job, perhaps the Wizarding World, altogether.
What else are you staying for, besides Harry?
Hermione washed her weariness away with a hot shower and tried not to dwell on the inappropriate thoughts she'd been avoiding, ever since tearing herself away from Potter Manor.
Harry would go ballistic.
She groaned and finished rinsing her hair before turning the knob and pushing the curtain aside.
Most drying spells caused Hermione's curls to poof into an even more unmanageable fuzz. Tonight she was grateful for the ritual as she donned her bathrobe, moused her hair, and bound it in terrycloth.
Her hand fluttered over her cheek as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her skin gave off a faint glow. When was the last time she'd felt enough for her magic to react like this?
When was the last time I truly felt?
Crookshanks meowed from the other room. Something rattled and then thumped.
It was enough to send Hermione barrelling through her room, wand in hand, and a hex at the edge of her thoughts.
A familiar owl fluttered its wings against her closed window and Hermione sighed.
Crookshanks scowled at the winged creature, as though offended by its very existence and Hermione chuffed as she opened the way for the owl to enter her living room.
After several swoops about the area, the creature landed on her kitchen counter.
Hermione followed with a narrow-eyed glance for her familiar. "Be nice."
The half-kneazle licked his paw in lieu of a response.
Hermione snatched more carrots for the Potter's owl before snatching up her letter.
She frowned as the owl made himself at home. "Suppose you were asked to await a reply, then?"
The owl blinked and ducked for another treat.
Her breath quickened as she recognized James's handwriting.
Hermione,
Congratulations! You have just completed your first day of training under the James Potter School of Flying for the Gifted & Beautiful. I hope you plan to get plenty of rest tonight because I won't go easy on you tomorrow.
Seriously, I know you only left a few hours ago, but I was sitting in my empty kitchen, drinking my third cuppa of the day, and trying to think of other ways to get you to stay longer.
It's been quite some time since I made a new friend, you see. I'm rather out of practice and had hoped you might agree to coach me. That would ease your conscience, wouldn't it? I will teach you to fly if you will teach me how this friendship thing works? Think about it, I dare you.
James
P.S. Bilbo's not leaving until I have an answer. I am very bored tonight.
Hermione covered up her snort and glanced self-consciously from Crookshanks to Bilbo the owl.
Has he read Tolkien?
She chewed on her lip and fingered the parchment another moment. His humor was infectious, and Hermione itched to chase that feeling.
She had a pen on fresh parchment before she was fully aware, and paused.
Remember that thing you didn't want to think about earlier?
Right, this is a bad idea, her conscience added.
Why? It's not wrong to make friends, and he's right. This will make the whole affair...thing, feel fairer.
Decided, and luminous once more, Hermione began.
Dear James,
I find your offer most agreeable. I spent most of my youth coaching your son just so, as you may recall.
But that isn't the only reason I am agreeing.
I feel it my solemn duty to safeguard the world against a bored Marauder, after all.
Sincerely,
Hermione
P.S. I will feel more worthy of congratulations on a day when I haven't fallen on my arse five times, thank you.
The next morning, Hermione donned a high-neck wooly jumper, joggers, and trainers, and Apparated directly to Potter Manor at precisely eight-o-clock.
The sight of the sprawling home stole her breath just as surely as the sharp gust of wind tugging curls free from her braid. Yesterday she had been more than a little distracted from her Wizard host. Today, the path leading to the manor was empty, and Hermione stole the opportunity to drink in the refurbished home.
Harry once told her how the original manor was nearly burned to the ground during the First War. It had taken his father and uncles years to return it to this state, and the thought made her ache.
To have lost his wife, his home, one of his best friends...Hermione wondered how James had been able to carry on and rebuild.
Her fist clenched around her wand until the trembling in her limb eased.
If he could pick up the pieces after losing nearly everything, so can you.
Hermione lifted her chin.
"Beautiful, yeah?"
Hermione jumped and screamed as magic flooded her wand arm as she turned to press the tip against the neck of the Wizard behind her.
James Potter wore nothing but a jumper, jeans, and a slowly growing grin as he said, "Sorry, couldn't resist."
Heat built in her veins, of a different kind, as she noted the broad sweep of his shoulders, the tapered waist, and the way his jeans clung perfectly over toned thighs.
Oh gods, stop it!
Hermione rolled her eyes and scoffed as she slipped her wand back in its holster. "Do you always greet Witches like this, or am I a special case?"
A flash of something wicked passed through his hazel eyes as James adjusted the Nimbus in his hands. "What if I said it's just you, love."
Hermione blinked and her breath caught in her chest as she cast her gaze to the swaying grass at their feet. "Well, there's no need. My reflexes are more than adequate since...James, why aren't you wearing shoes?"
"I prefer to fly without them in the mornings." James flexed his socked feet and caught his broom with his other hand before offering her his arm. "Fancy a cuppa?"
She snorted and tried to ignore the firm muscle beneath her fingertips as she replied, "On one condition…"
"The lady only needs to ask," James replied with a wink. His broom floated idly along his opposite side. The chilled dewy grass didn't seem to bother him.
Does he fly like this every morning?
He smelled like the wind and magic.
Hermione shook the errant thought and kept her gaze ahead. "You need to promise not to sneak up on me again. Not unless you want a hex between the eyes."
James chuckled and there was warmth in his tone she could feel in her bones. "So long as you actually keep your promise to never call me Mr. Potter again."
She narrowed her gaze at him and failed not admiring the stubble along his square jaw. She should agree with him, she should nip whatever-this-is in the bud this very moment.
"It would seem we're at an impasse, Mr. Potter."
Hermione couldn't seem to cease smiling during morning tea, much to her chagrin.
James Potter was an affable host, far more capable of keeping the conversation flowing and interesting, a trait his son had not inherited. Still, the more time Hermione spent in his company, the more she could see how people could compare Harry to his father. Much of their looks were similar, not to mention their manners. Yet where Harry was often rash and emotional, James kept a smile on his face and feelings close to his chest.
There were moments, between laughter when James's smile lines strained, his hands faintly trembled, or he appeared lost to the present.
Hermione hadn't bothered with social niceties since she'd graduated from Hogwarts. Yet she found herself attempting to fill the rare silences in a way she never did with anyone else.
"Did you take off work today as well?" she asked as they walked out the back door.
James's mouth curled up in one corner in a smile he hid with a tilt of his head to the sky. "What makes you think I work?"
Hermione frowned as she realized she didn't know what her best friend's father did for a living. "Well...Prof—Remus is the DADA professor at Hogwarts, and Sirius consults for the Auror Office. I just assumed…"
"That I slaved away in some office somewhere all day? Where would the fun in that be?"
Hermione frowned at the borrowed broom in her hands and shrugged. "I thought Harry said...never mind, it's not important." She glanced up with a smile which faltered upon realizing their proximity.
This close, she could see the way his sage jumper brought out the green flecks in his eyes, the fine smile lines at the corners as he replied, "I keep busy. I may have also taken this week off."
Her mind blanked and her skin pinched against the wood. "Why?" she whispered, although she already knew.
Why would he do this?
"You're my son's best friend." James shrugged, effecting nonchalance, but there was a heat in his eyes illuminated by the dawn, in the way he reached to tug at a loose curl.
Of course, he'd do anything for Harry, you ninny. Stop reading into this.
Hermione took a step back and nodded. "Right, suppose we get started?" She didn't wait for his reply.
The wind blew heavily as Hermione straddled the handle and focused on her magic, the way James had shown her yesterday.
Breathe. Feel it…
She felt the wind, the oncoming chill of Autumn's approach, the magic in the earth at her feet, and the wards stretching far beyond. She felt the darkness that had happened here long ago, and the light that permeated from the Wizard watching her a meter away.
It has nothing to do with you. He did this for Harry.
You're doing this for Harry, too.
Her magic buzzed through her veins a scattered frenzy. She couldn't seem to catch it the way she should.
What would Harry think if I…
Shut it! Focus.
Hermione deepened her breaths.
A warm hand pressed against her lower back and she shivered at the contrast. "It's all right, Hermione. Let it go. You don't have to prove anything or be anyone but yourself. Just breathe."
She nodded as her heart picked up its pace, and her flesh tingled where his hand pressed against her. Still, she felt the rush of magic, the same joy she'd felt as a child, flush through the broom, lift her off her feet. As long as he kept touching her…
"Brilliant," James murmured.
Hermione opened her eyes to find him facing her, his arm stretched up to continue clasping her back.
She smiled and his gaze fell to her lips. Her breath stuttered as his hand spasmed against her. "Oh," she breathed.
James blinked and shook his head as he removed his hand and pasted a polite smile on his face. "Right. H-how do you feel?" He ran a hand through his windswept hair, just like Harry.
Hermione wavered on the broom. Without his touch, she wasn't nearly as steady. She missed the way his touch had grounded her, even up in the air. She bit back her disappointment. "Better today."
James nodded and paced around her hovering form. His hand adjusted her knees and the way her trainers rested on the foot bars.
Hermione bit her lip. It was the most anyone had touched her since Ron…
"If you're up for it, we could fly about the grounds?" James lifted off one-handed beside her with a strained smile.
She nodded. "Can we go slowly?"
His smile softened. "Whatever you need."
Hermione swallowed past the lump in her throat. She leaned forward and the broom carried her.
James kept pace beside her, never pushing faster, never wavering, a solid, silent presence.
They flew in silence, and Hermione found the quiet comforting rather than dreadful.
Her magic hadn't settled, and her hands continued to twitch, and she could hear the distant echo of screams the longer they rode side by side.
She blinked back tears and startled as a firm hand covered hers. They came to a stuttering stop.
Hermione straightened to find them far from the house, bordering a forest.
James squeezed her hand. "Hop on with me?"
She frowned. "But your broom…"
"Never mind that. I can charm it home." James smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. His gaze followed the trail of her tears.
"Oh," she whispered, reaching to wipe her cheek. "Of course. Yes, that might be best."
James squeezed her hand again, and with his other hand, straddling his broom with ease, he reached to clean the trail on her other cheek. Her lips parted as his thumb briefly caressed her jaw. "I won't go faster or higher than you like."
James helped her to her feet and shifted so she could climb behind him and hook her feet around his ankles.
Only then did she realize how awkward this position could be. She'd ridden on a broom with both Harry and Ron in the past and it had never felt this...intimate.
James muttered a spell to send her broom back to the manor before, then pressed her hand against his chest. "Both hands now, love. I promise not to bite."
Hermione smiled at the back of his head. "Careful you don't, or I will be walking back, Mr. Potter."
James glanced at her over his shoulder and grinned. "Don't tempt me, Miss Granger."
She snorted, then yelped as he lifted off unexpectedly. Her arms snaked about his waist and her cheek pressed to his back. "You did that on purpose," she hissed.
James hovered, his chest shaking with laughter. "We weren't going to make much progress with you barely touching me. I know I'm an old man, but surely you don't find me too repulsive?"
Hermione's breath caught and she realized she was pressed tightly along the length of him. Her heart soared even as her chest tightened, even as she told herself this was a favor to his son. But did it matter, so long as no one knew? If James would never see her that way, and she was very careful, was it wrong if she let herself enjoy being close to someone?
"I'm here, aren't I?" she finally replied, a mite tremulously, despite her best effort.
"Against all odds, thank Merlin." James released a long breath and he pressed a hand to hers over his torso. "We'll go a bit faster, and a bit higher than before. Would that be all right?"
Hermione nodded and closed her eyes as they began to rise.
"Don't think about how high or fast we're going. Just listen to the sound of your breath, and mine," he added, his voice deepening as they picked up speed.
Hermione squeezed his chest and savored the delicious feel of him against her.
Stop thinking for once in your life.
"Feel my magic and yours," James called over the coursing wind. He never removed his hand from hers. "I won't let you go."
She had been afraid every single time she'd flown, be it by broom or magical beast. Every time. Except for a brief, glorious moment the day before.
Except for now, as she listened to the thud of James's heartbeat against her ear, and drank in the way his magic smelled like the skies before a lightning storm.
So long as he touched her, she didn't need to be afraid anymore.
Review: Hope everyone enjoyed a peek inside Hermione's denial. We'll see where that gets her soon ;) Happy reading!
