A/N: Back with more. This is one singular chapter. Draco is blind because of a curse that hit him in the war, but he's also an international quidditch star.

Kissing the Clouds

"Once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been, and there you will always long to return." -Leonardo da Vinci

Chapter 1:

Hermione stared dazedly out of the window over the kitchen sink, taking in the glimmer of the blanketed dew in the garden. The sun was just rising as she sipped her tea, the cup warming her chilled hands. Her night had been restless, her mind racing in overdrive as she tossed and turned.

She'd been offered a job as the head Healer for the Falmouth Falcons, a position that would afford her many new opportunities in the future. It was a chance to get out of the confining walls of St. Mungo's, to travel more and see the world beyond London. She felt overwhelmed as she contemplated every angle to an agonizing degree. Taking the position would mean uprooting her life, leaving the security of the hospital, and dumping her longtime boyfriend.

Hermione had fallen hard for Neville Longbottom in the days after the War. The teenage romance she had harbored for Ron had fizzled out in their tardy final year at Hogwarts, never progressing past awkward into searing. When he took an apprenticeship with the Aurors at the Ministry, Hermione had accepted a residency at St. Mungo's that promised on-the-job training. She did rounds in each department, but it was when she served long days in the Janice Thickey Ward that she stumbled upon Neville.

He visited his parents most days, taking time to read to them and to tell them tales from the War. She would tend to them and just listen to him speak, sometimes adding her own story or two. So taken by the sweet and kind man that he was, Hermione found herself pleasantly surprised when Neville had brought her a bouquet of the strangest magical flowers and an invitation to dinner.

Now, ten years later, Hermione often wondered where that endearment had scampered off to.

She could hear the creaking of the stairs and the swishing of Neville's joggers as he made his way down to the kitchen. Hermione closed her eyes, cringing at the interruption to her tirade of thoughts. The prospect of breaking things off with Neville to further her career was a lot easier when she didn't have to stare him in the face. His footsteps padded quietly behind her and he wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed along her shoulder. "Why don't you come back to bed, love?"

Sex was the last thing Hermione wanted to think about. They'd fallen into their routine, and she saw no reason to deviate from it as she was in the middle of a mental crisis. Turning in his arms, Hermione kept her teacup hugged to her breast as she sighed. "Nev, we need to talk."

Neville studied her face for a brief moment before he dropped his hands to her hips. "I don't like that look."

"I'm afraid you may not like to hear what I have to say," Hermione admitted, taking her bottom lip between her teeth.

She pushed gently on Neville's chest to move from his embrace, heading toward their chairs at the kitchenette table. Behind her, he stirred his tea, each clank of his fork against the porcelain making her heart race with increasing speed. "Out with it then," he prompted, still standing at the sink.

Hermione let out a long sigh, reserving herself to have the impending conversation. "You remember I said that Brimley wanted to talk to me about a new job opportunity?"

Neville slid into the chair across from her, his brow furrowed over the cup as he took a sip of tea. "Yes."

"Well, we spoke," she began slowly, fiddling with a loose thread in the tablecloth. "He offered me a position as the Head Healer for the Falmouth Falcons."

"The...Quidditch team?" Neville looked at her, his mouth slightly agape as he raised one brow. "But you don't even like Quidditch."

"No, you're right about that. But it would be an excellent opportunity to study the lasting effects of injuries on players' bodies. Start at the source and carry everything I learn into the hospital. Perhaps come up with solutions and preemptive courses of action to reduce or eliminate such injuries. Brimley said St. Mungos is looking to launch a larger sports medicine wing."

"And this could be your big break to become Head of the Department while saving the poor Neanderthals from concussions and bone regrowth," he quipped, dropping his forehead into his hand as his understanding came to fruition. "But the teams travel all over Britain and Ireland. Further if they go to the Cup."

"Quite a bit. I'd be gone for most of the season."

"But it's only for a season—a few months, really."

Nibbling her lip until she tasted the coppery tang of blood, Hermione shrugged one shoulder. "Perhaps. But...perhaps not. It's hard to say for certain now."

"When do you start?"

"I've got a trial run today. If I determine that this is something I want to do, I let Brimley know and we will negotiate my salary and compose my travel itinerary. It's still preseason, but their first real game is in Wimbourne in a week."

"I'm sure we can work through it," Neville cupped his hand over hers, responding with such optimism that Hermione felt her stomach tie into painful knots.

~O~

Hermione snapped the last player file closed just as Harold Brimley knocked on her office door. "Are you ready to meet your new coworkers?" he teased, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed.

An intimidatingly large man, his face was boyish and playful. Hermione nodded, stowing the files into her bag as she checked her watch and stood. "I can't believe I'm even considering this. I've never cared for such barbaric displays of dominance."

Brimley laughed, his whole belly jiggling as he did. "Of course not. But maybe it'll grow on you."

"Fat chance," Hermione replied, extinguishing her office light and following Brimley into the corridor.

He brandished a tiny replica snitch, a portkey that hovered in the air between them. As they waited for the tell-tale glow to signal their transportation was ready, Brimley put one hand over the snitch, ready to take hold. "I suppose the more important question is, will you be able to put aside schoolhouse differences to make this work?"

Hermione tilted her chin up and sniffed stiffly, insulted that he would even insinuate such childish behaviour from her. "It's been ten years. I think I can manage."

Still, despite her words, Hermione felt an annoying flutter of anticipation in her belly. She knew she would be working closely with him, as he had perhaps the most intriguing injury of any player on the team—hell, on the League. He had been in the spotlight many times over the last decade, for every reason spanning his lost inheritance to his sordid affairs with ritzier members of society. Hermione couldn't help but wonder if he had truly changed from the snarky, arrogant little fuck he had been in childhood.

"Let's hope," Brimley replied, nodding toward the portkey. Let's.

They both clasped their hands around the tiny ball and there was a squelching behind her belly button as she was sucked into the air. When she landed in the middle of the stadium, the fresh smell of the sea greeted her. She listened, but the Bay was far too calm to hear from this distance. Brimley put a hand on her back. "Shall we take our seats?"

His question was drowned by the whooshing of air around them as the players emerged from the locker room on their brooms, flying faster than she'd ever seen even Harry go. The team all jeered and howled at their presence and Brimley waved them away. "Okay, okay. Get back to your practice, you buffoons."

Hermione darted in between them as they circled one last time, still cheering and whooping obnoxiously. Plopping down on the second lowest bench, she fought the urge to pull out her files or notes. She'd always taken to reading in the stands instead of paying even one ounce of attention. Now, however, it would be her job to track injuries and assist with recovery, so she had to keep a keen eye on each one. She looked out over the players, trying to spot a glint of white gold hair.

What she was searching for caught her eye not from the sky, but from the ground. Draco Malfoy was walking out of the locker room at a leisurely pace, pulling on his gloves. His face was trained downward, but there was a little smirk on his lips as two of the Chasers circled him. "Hurry it along, Malfoy. We haven't got all day!" one of them screeched, pulling into a loop as he flew away. The other Chaser, a lithe female with raven hair, gave Malfoy a pat on the back and said something to him that caused his smile to broaden further.

Though she knew it impossible, Hermione felt as though Malfoy shot a look in her direction as he mounted his broom and kicked off swiftly. While the others flew with unearthly speed and eased agility, they weren't nearly as graceful as he was. She watched as he flew with very little effort on his part. There would be plenty of days to watch and learn the maneuvers and techniques of the others, but she found herself fascinated by him. This would be the first time she would see the legend come to life.

Once in the air, Malfoy flew around the perimeter. He was close enough when he circled that Hermione could see that his eyes were closed. One hand was bracing him against the handle of his broom, while the other was relaxed on his knee. The other players appeared to be bashing into each other barbarically below him, though he was wholly unaffected by the chaos.

After what seemed like hours to the inexperienced Hermione, he raised the handle and flew at lightning speed toward the other side of the stadium and with amazement, she saw a glimmer of gold catch in the sunlight. Her jaw dropped in awe and Brimley laughed next to her. "First time?"

Righting her countenance, Hermione cleared her throat and straightened her posture. "I'm shocked is all."

Brimley lifted a leg and rested his foot on the seat below them, slinging his arm over his thigh to lean forward. "He's really something isn't he?"

Hermione watched as Malfoy released the snitch and flew a few loops while he waited for it to hide. She couldn't wait to sink her teeth into him. Into learning about his condition. "It's certainly a testament to his tenacity, to take the time to relearn the sport."

"He's better now than he ever was before. He didn't relearn the sport—he perfected it!"

For the rest of their practice, Hermione repeated that phrase in her mind. He's perfected it. After the hardships he'd faced in the War and immediately following, he hadn't retreated into the shadows of despair. Instead, he put everything he had into perfecting a skill. It truly was admirable and she found herself thoroughly impressed as the players touched down.

The excited buzz of their chatter dissipated as they entered the locker room. "What do you think? Is this something you might like to take on as your next project?"

Hermione bit her lip,admitting to herself that she had enjoyed watching the team play and was more than eager to meet them all. Neville's face flashed in her mind's eye and a wave a guilt crashed over her, sobering the experience. "I don't know."

"If you do this and bring back plausible and proven theories and solutions to the various injuries suffered in the air, I have no doubt that you will one day lead the newly expanded Department. From there, you could become Head of the hospital. If you really wanted to."

Recalling how stale her evening with Neville had been and how enticing and enlightening the last few hours had been, she slowly nodded. An opportunity like this didn't come around too often and her entire body was alight with the need for change. "Okay. I'll do it."

"Excellent. We should meet the team then."

They climbed down from their seats and took off across the stadium grass at a leisurely pace to give the players time to freshen up. Brimley began preparing her for what was to come, pleased as punch that she accepted the offer. "Their first game is in Wimbourne next week and you'll be expected to be at the hotel and ready to care for them and tend injuries they may sustain at practice the day before. Injuries ranging from sore muscles, to sprains, to concussions, to broken bones. Once you think you've seen it all, something new comes along and the challenge will arise anew."

"Should I start earlier?"

Brimley looked over at her, surprised. "Do you want to?"

Hermione didn't fancy being at home while Neville moved his belongings out. Any time spent with her mind occupied and her body away from their home would be good. "I'm available as early as tomorrow."

Brimley's smile widened and he clapped her on the back, rocking her forward in the way that Hagrid always did. As they approached the locker room, the players spilled out. They were every bit as energized as they had been when they entered. The coach, a handsome man with an olive complexion and wicked smile under waves of black locks, was waiting for them. "Hermione! It's a pleasure to meet you. Brimley here has so many wonderful things about you."

With that he brushed his lips across the back of her hand. She felt her cheeks burn as she nodded. "Cyril, I presume? It's good to put a face with a name."

"That it is," Cyril replied, dropping her hand as his players surrounded them. "Here's the crew."

"Our new Healer! Where you been girl? I've got a muscle cramp in my arse cheek that just won't go away!" a large burly wizard teased.

"This is Gideon. Beater, if you couldn't tell by his brutish attitude." Brimley pointed to the raven-haired Chaser. "This is Selma. Chaser. Her partner is Zek."

The players began to Disapparate as he said their names. "Where are you all going?" Brimley chided, frustrated that they took off.

"Sorry, Hermione. After-practice party at the Merry Mermaid. It's tradition. Two-knut firewhisky until three am," Cyril replied with a guilty shrug. "Would you like to come?"

Once again thinking about Neville waiting for her at their cottage, she shook her head. "Sounds like we will be seeing plenty of each other. I really have a few things I need to do before starting."

Cyril nodded understandingly. "Our loss then. Until next time."

He Disapparated and Hermione was left alone with Brimley once more. "We'd better get back and return this portkey. It's burning a hole in my pocket," he mentioned, lifting his robes to stick his finger through a singed ring.

"Actually, I'd like to stay if you don't mind. Malfoy didn't come out and I'd like to go ahead and get 'the Talk'" she made air quotes and rolled her eyes, "out of the way early."

"Well, you know how to get home from here. I'd best be going." He tossed the tiny snitch from hand to hand as it seared his palms.

Hermione nodded once and then Brimley was gone, leaving her alone on the field of the stadium. Without the players there to hoot and holler, there was a calm about the place that steadied her. She closed her eyes and began to play various scenarios in her mind of how she could break it to Neville that her taking this position meant a permanent break for them.

"You can stop pacing at any time." Malfoy's voice broke through her thoughts and she noticed that she had been pacing a path outside of the locker doors. Startled, she took a few steps into the locker rooms. From her left, she heard the sound of water trickling as someone moved within a bathtub.

Draco was lying in the bathtub, resting his head against the wall behind him. Tendrils of steam rose around him, curling around him like a blanket. The steam made the tiles around him slick and she nearly slipped as she took a step back. "I'm sorry, Malfoy. I didn't realize you were still bathing."

Malfoy lifted his head from the wall and opened his eyes. His eyes, a striking grey in childhood, had morphed into an ethereal shade of aqua. She suspected it was only an aftereffect of his aunt's curse, but to have his eyes trained solely on her took her breath away. She knew he couldn't see so much as the outline of her, but she felt as though he were staring straight into her soul, searching for something she could only begin to guess at. "It's no worry, I'm getting out now anyway."

With that, he placed his hands on either side of the tub and pushed himself up. He stood to his full height and reached along the wall until his fingers closed around a towel. Hermione's eyes boggled and she fought to look away from his naked figure. She put a hand over her eyes and sputtered over her apology. "I'm sorry. I, uh...yeah. I'm sorry."

Malfoy chuckled to himself as he toweled the water from his face. "Have you never seen a naked man before? And here I thought you were a Healer."

"I've seen plenty," she managed, opening a space between her middle and ring finger to steal another quick glance. But none quite as fit. "Of patients, that is."

Merlin, help her. She had already memorized every inch of his physique. From the playful way his flaxen locks fell over his forehead and droplets of water slid down and over a chiseled jaw to the way his arms flexed without an effort as he dried off. Drips dancing over a rock solid abdomen and as her gaze lowered, her mouth watered and she wondered what exactly he could do with his...

"Granger?"

Hermione jumped as he moved around her. Catching a glimpse of his arse before he wrapped the towel around his waist, she hummed. "Yes?"

"I asked how you've been?"

Blinking rapidly to clear her mind of such naughty and wholly unhelpful thoughts, she followed him to the mirror where he pulled a comb through his hair. Unable to see his reflection, he turned and leaned back against the sink basin and crossed his arms. He had a smile that was far too playful for their history and she wondered at exactly who Draco Malfoy had become. "I'm doing better than ever. I can't say that working with a Quidditch team was ever a dream of mine, but I'm more than happy to be here."

"We need someone talented and intelligent. The last Healer was an ignoramus," he told her with a laugh. "He had us practicing with exploding bludgers—the sound nearly took my hearing, too. And then where would we be?"

She raised a brow at how cavalier he was in speaking of his disability. "I can't lie, Malfoy, I almost didn't take this job," she began, but he cut her off.

"Granger, I can't apologize enough. For everything—"

"Let me finish," she admonished and his worried look faltered with a half-hearted smile.

"Still as bossy as ever." She crossed her arms and tapped the toe of her foot. He gestured for her to continue. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'll grovel in a moment. Please go on."

She pursed her lips, though a smile tugged at one corner. "There will be no need for groveling. I want to put everything from the past behind us and let it stay there. We're coworkers now and we need to work cohesively. This is the last time we need to speak of our history. I forgave you years ago, for myself if not for you."

Malfoy blew out a rush of air and leaned forward on his knees as he braced his lower back against the sink. "You don't know what it means to hear those words."

"Yes, well." She straightened up and reached a hand up to hook her finger under his jaw and lift his face toward hers. "What I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted is that I nearly didn't take this position. But your condition intrigues me."

"You and everyone else."

"Not just for your Seeking abilities. If you don't mind, I'd love to really study you. Learn about the potion your aunt used, possible cures, and your process of recovery." Hermione looked into his unseeing eyes. Aside from the striking colour, they gave no other hints as to his blindness.

"I'd be happy to be your little play thing," he replied, his grin turning playful once more. "It's a relief to have someone interested in my blindness for the science behind it as opposed to the stardom it's earned me."

Quickly becoming all too aware that he was still clad only in a towel and she was standing close enough to feel the warmth of his breath—hotter than the bath's steam—she took a step back. "Your mates are out partying. Shouldn't you be joining them?"

"I think I rather fancy a night in. If I'm going to ruin my hard work with rubbish, I'd rather do it with food than the empty calories in alcohol. What about you, you didn't want to get initiated the proper way?"

Hermione checked her watch and grimaced. It was getting late and Neville was likely cooking dinner. "I have some business to attend to at home. It was nice talking to you, Malfoy."

"Yeah. Can't wait to discover how well we work together."

Hermione swallowed harshly and wrung her hands dread settled over her. She had no reason to stall her breakup with Neville. "See you tomorrow, then. If you could wear some clothing that would be great."

Malfoy let out a hardy laugh, a sound that made her insides dance and tickle. "No promises."

~O~