Author's Note: Hello and thank you for reading my short Dramione Quidditch fluffy smut fic! There's one more chapter after this one so I hope you're liking the story so far. Thank you for all the follows, favorites, and reviews. I really appreciate every single one of them more than I can say!

Trigger warnings: some swearing and sexual content. Suggested reading age is 18 plus so reader discretion is advised.

Enjoy!


Chapter Two


What was she thinking? Had she lost her ever living mind? Why on earth did let herself get swept up in the moment instead of asking for more time to think about the ramifications of agreeing to this stupid wager?

These questions plagued Hermione as her steps carried her swiftly out of the Great Hall, up several flights of rotating stairs, through the portrait of the fat lady, and into the overcrowded Gryffindor common room. Her eyes whipped across the sea of bobbing heads, looking for one in particular. The only person whom she trusted implicitly to help her in this self-made crisis. Now come to think of it, why hadn't Hermione asked for her help to learn how to fly? Well, it's too late for what ifs and buts. It took a few sweeps but eventually she found whom she sought where they were sitting with a few other friends in a circle of overstuffed velvet chairs. A deep sigh of relief past Hermione's lips as she made a beeline in her direction.

"Ginny, can I speak with you, privately?"

Hermione's auburn-haired friend rotated her upper body to face her from the conversation she'd been engaged in with Dean Thomas. Her blue eyes sparkled to match her smile until she took in Hermione's comportment which promptly made her brows furrow.

"Hermione! Oh, are you alright? You look dreadful."

Ah, wonderful. If Ginny noticed then that meant most likely everyone else could probably tell something was amiss, too. Wasn't that just peachy?

"Seriously Gin, I need to speak with you, preferably alone."

Ginny seemed to find something off in Hermione's voice or perhaps it was the way she spoke because she made her excuses immediately to the others before she stood to leave.

"Should we go to my room?" Ginny offered kindly.

Hermione considered agreeing to the offer but the idea of someone barging in on their private discussion, even with a silencing charm in place, was too risky. It would be best if they kept the wager and the terms she'd agreed upon between the two of them. Instead, she pulled Ginny away from the curious observing eyes of their friends to an isolated corner of the common room.

"If you don't mind, I'd prefer to discuss this where no one else might overhear us. Mind coming on a walk with me?"

Ginny shrugged indifferently before indicating Hermione should lead the way to wherever she'd like to go. The two of them exited back through the annoyed fat lady's portrait door, who grumbled about people needing to decide if they were staying in or going out, down the winding staircases, out the front doors, and along the path that rounded the castle in complete silence.

"Er, Hermione? Are we going anywhere in particular or is this secluded enough to talk?"

Hermione stopped herself when she realized she'd mindlessly walked them across the school grounds, almost as far as the row of green houses, on the edge of the property. Frustrated with herself, she turned to face Ginny who stood a few paces back with her arms folded across her chest, a look of growing anxiousness crowded her features.

"I'm sorry, I'm very preoccupied at the moment. I've really gotten myself into a bit of a situation and I need your help."

Ginny's eyebrows rose, practically reaching her hairline.

"Of course, you know I'm here to help you with whatever you need. So, what's the problem?"

Hermione took a deep breath, giving herself a moment to prepare for what she was sure would be a plethora of questions after she explained things as plainly as possible.

"Well, I made a silly wager with Malfoy that if I could fly across the pitch to throw a quaffle into the Quidditch goal post from no less than ten meters away he'd give me the priceless potions book he won in Slughorn's class today, by dubious means in my opinion, and I really, really wanted to win it because it's a priceless rare book I need to add to my potions book collection but he beat me somehow and it's so frustrating that I have to even do this silly little bet because he doesn't give a troll's left nostril about it."

The run-on explanation made Ginny's eyes glaze over before she shook herself awake.

"Whoa, whoa, slow down and back up. First of all, did I hear correctly that you're going to attempt to fly? You, Hermione Granger? On an actual broom? You don't know how! You can barely stand with a broom between your legs without having a coniption fit, let alone fly across the Quidditch field at the height of the goal posts. Did you say that this is a bet you made with Malfoy for a book? A book, Hermione, seriously? What will he win if you lose? Please tell me you didn't shake on your magic."

Hermione frowned at her friend and her rather accusatory questions along with the belittling observations she made about her unsatisfactory history of flying.

"Ginny, hold on! You think I need to slow down, but I'm going to require you to stop talking altogether so I can go back and answer the questions you've already asked. Now then, yes, I made a wager I could fly. Yes, I'm well aware I cannot fly yet and I have a slight fear of flying in general. Yes, this was a bet I made with Malfoy for a PRICELESS, key word Gin, priceless book. I most certainly did not shake on my magic but we did shake hands so it's as good as a magical contract."

"You didn't answer the question about what will happen if you lose, Hermione." The auburn-haired girl observed with a slightly scrutinizing hitch to her voice.

Hermione pouted again at the thought of the consequences for being so impulsive. Ginny would never let her hear the end of it.

"If I lose, I have to clean Malfoy's potion cauldron for the rest of the school year."

Even Ginny grimaced at these terms.

"That sounds like a rotten deal, Hermione. How long do you have until this wager takes place?"

"Three months."

Ginny scoffed, loudly.

"That's not that much time at all. What a cheeky rodent, only giving you three months to learn how to do all that flying and throwing a quaffle mid-air. Even my best chasers take at least the entire first season they play to get decent enough to hold the quaffle in one hand and throw it that far. Well, there's nothing for it, since you already made the deal. You should've told him to wait so you could talk to me. I would've done everything I could to talk you out of this madness."

Hermione sighed exasperatedly, rubbing her temples that gave a slight throb while her mind chanted 'told you so' annoyingly.

"I know, Gin. Believe me I'm aware of how silly this seems, but you didn't see how awful Malfoy was treating the book. He dropped it Gin! Twice! Then he threw it across the table as if it wasn't the great artifact it is. Do you have any idea how few copies of that book exist today, let alone a first edition?"

Ginny made a face, the kind she'd make when she thought Hermione was being a bit dramatic about her book obsession but seemed to decide it was best to not to rile her up any further.

"No, I don't nor do I need you to explain to me any further why you made this wager. It sounds like there's no getting out of it for you, anyway. Exactly how do you intend to learn to fly by then? I mean, I'm happy to help when I can but to be honest I took on a bit of extra workload this year with my Quidditch captain and head girl duties. I'm sure Harry would've helped if he and Ron hadn't opted out of coming back. Maybe you can floo call him to see if he wouldn't mind stopping by a few times to give you some lessons?"

Hermione shook her head, unenthused at the idea of bothering her two friends who were in the midst of their rigorous Auror training.

"No, I don't need help with learning how to fly. Part of our deal is that Malfoy has to teach me."

Ginny regarded her disbelievingly for so long that Hermione thought she'd hadn't heard her at all.

"Malfoy. Malfoy is going to teach you to fly?"

Hermione nodded firmly.

"I insisted that it be a part of our terms of the wager because it makes our odds more equal this way. I refused to agree to anything where he'd have the upper hand on me with something as ridiculous as my lack of ability to fly. This will give me a fair chance to make my winning the wager all the more possible."

Ginny looked deep in thought, focusing after a few minutes on Hermione's expectant cocoa-colored eyes.

"I dunno, Hermione. That's quite the risk, isn't it? Being alone with Malfoy on the pitch? The little ferrity git could push you off your broom and none would be the wiser as he strolled off back to the castle whilst leaving you for dead."

Hermione felt taken aback at the unexpected observation. A slight pang of fear grip her chest before she brushed off the nonsensical feeling.

"Ginny, that's a horrible thing to say! He's not going to do that on school property and risk expulsion after being given a second chance by the Ministry to return here."

Ginny didn't look too terribly convinced.

"I think it's a valid concern given your past history. I mean, why would Malfoy agree to teach you to fly or this wager between you at all?"

That was a great question, one that Hermione only had theories to possible answers, all less likely than the last.

"My best guess is it's because he doesn't have anything else better to do and torturing me during lessons while I flounder will probably give him some amusement. I'm going to surprise him though, and hopefully by next month, I'll be zipping back and forth across the field with the book in my bag."

Ginny snorted loudly as she shook her head.

"Hermione, didn't you hear a word I said earlier? You won't be ready to fly like that in a month, let alone stay on your broom and throw the quaffle that distance. You'll be lucky if you make that three month deadline with all the work you need to do; it's highly implausible."

Hermione's lips drifted down into a slight frown. That wasn't what she'd hoped to hear when she explained to her friend what had transpired Undeterred, she straightened her shoulders and silently reaffirmed her resolve. She may have lost to Malfoy today but she had yet to admit defeat to at least completing something she'd put her mind to and this wager wasn't going to be the first failure she'd be forced to accept.

"I'm sure I'll be proficient enough to win by the time the wager takes place then so that when, not if, I win you can come down to the pitch and marvel at what a wonderful aviation artist I've become."

Ginny's hand rubbed her face before dropping her hand, her shoulders rose and fell with the deep sigh she pushed out.

"Well, even if you think it's safe to take lessons from him, I say err on the side of caution. You never know what that crafty Mustelidae might do or what his true intentions are in agreeing to this."

A few words of reassurance were on the tip of Hermione's tongue but they seemed incapable of leaving her mouth as she thought over Ginny's words.

"Actually, I'm rather impressed you used the word 'Mustelidae' to describe him, Gin. Well done."

Ginny snickered.

"Hey, be nice, you know I'm smarter than Ronald by widths and berths. So, what do you need me for if not to help teach you to fly?"

Hermione scrunched her nose, wondering how Ginny would react to the unorthodox favor she was about to ask.

"Can I borrow your broom for practice and quite possibly your spare Quidditch pads…and your old uniform? The latter two I'll only for the day of our wager since it'll be rather cold by then. I don't need to borrow your broom right away since, according to you, I won't be flying anytime soon."

Ginny rubbed the back of her head thoughtfully.

"That shouldn't be a problem as long as I know ahead of time. Tell that blonde headed prat to schedule your practices soon so I can make notes of them in my calendar."

Beyond relieved, Hermione pulled her friend into a tight hug.

"Thank you!"

Ginny patted her back affectionately as she returned the gesture.

"I hope this book is worth it for you. By the way, when do you start these flying lessons?"

"Tonight."

"Already? Should I sneak over and watch to make sure nothing happens? I'm more than happy to bat bogey hex him the minute he waves his wand in your direction."

Hermione couldn't help but laugh because the look on Ginny's face at the moment, with her hands now on her hips, looked exactly like Mrs. Weasley when she was confronting one of her children for some prank or expellable misdeed.

"No Gin, I don't think he'll do anything, truly. I'll have my wand and if need be I'll send you a patronus if that'll put you at ease."

Her friend considered her offer before nodding in agreement.

"Alright, just make sure you actually send it if you are uncomfortable at all or if he tries to jinx your broom into running laps around the pitch until you fall off."

A breeze rustled past the pair, making them both shiver as they realized they'd been standing outside for quite a bit of time.

"I suppose I should head inside and get ready for this lesson, then." Hermione grumbled.

Ginny grinned teasingly as they began to head back to the common room and the warmth of the fireplace awaiting them.

"I must say Hermione, you've certainly found a way to make your last year at Hogwarts memorable, even without the boys being here."


Hermione arrived promptly at five till nine to an empty dusk covered Quidditch field. Malfoy didn't seem to hold the same value as she that being early is on time and on time is considered late. Instead of standing idly by she began walking in a wide circle next to the pitch with her arms crossed tight and her hands tucked into the folds of the warm, woolen jumper. Her mind began to join her in her wandering as she thought over all the things she'd read in the past about Quidditch and the few things she could recall from the seldom times she paid attention to during a game. She never understood the fascination the wizarding world had for the sport. For one thing, it inevitably had quite a bit of violence, which she'd seen enough of off the pitch to fill her days for the rest of her life. Then there was also how the players were expected to fly in a very dangerous fashion. Aside from requiring them to be wickedly fast whilst holding tight formations, the only form of communication amongst the players, according to Harry, was made by an odd sign language each team captain made up that changed yearly as new captains replaced old ones. How was that entertaining or in the least bit fun?

"You're early, Miss Granger."

Hermione startled with a yelp of as Malfoy seemed to appear from nowhere, hovering a few feet above her, cackling at catching her being caught unawares.

"That's not funny, Malfoy!"

That infuriating handsome grin he seemed to be wearing constantly around her of late appeared, in a dazzling flash of white teeth.

"Ah, ah, ah, that's Mr. Malfoy. I'm your professor now that the lesson has commenced, Miss Granger."

She snorted rather noisily at him calling her 'Miss Granger' like a real 'professor' but his descent and subsequent landing several meters away from her drowned out the sound. As he dismounted his broom she noticed he wasn't in his full Quidditch uniform but he was wearing his thick knitted jersey that were partially covered by his Quidditch pads. A Slytherin green and grey scarf wrapped around his neck and he wore a pair of the cream colored Quidditch uniform trousers. He looked very fetching in the dressed down ensemble, actually. A slight blush, no, a wind driven blush, bloomed on her cheeks as he crossed the short distance that separated them. This was no time for such ninny things. She needed, to her begrudging acknowledgment, to focus on everything Malfoy taught her and not his shapely calves if she were ever going to learn to fly and win that book. Once he stopped beside her she could see his blue eyes were positively gleaming in the rising moonlight, for what reason she was rather dubious to find out.

"So, Miss Granger, are you ready for your first lesson?"

The Molly Weasley knitted jumper she'd chosen to wear didn't seem to be thick enough to keep the chilled shudder from running through her when he called her 'Miss Granger'. Why did that have to sound so oddly pleasing on his lips?

"Yes, let's get on with it, please. I have an astronomy essay due in two weeks that I really must revise this evening to stay on track with my academic calendar."

Malfoy gave her a slight tut with his pursed lips as he shook his head.

"You forget yourself again, Miss Granger. You're to address me by the title with which we agreed upon, remember?"

She stared at him for some time but he simply smirked and waited expectantly, leaning on his broom as if he had all the time in the world. Oh Merlin's armpit, this was going to be an infuriatingly long three months, wasn't it? With her hands firmly clenched at her side she looked into his gleeful face with a forced polite smile.

"I'm sorry Mr. Malfoy, for improperly addressing your persons. May we please continue at a quickened pace with this lesson so I may return to my important academic studies?"

His response was only to grin wider before he threw his broom over his shoulder.

"This way, Miss Granger."

They crossed toward the middle of the pitch as Hermione looked around uneasily. It was getting late and darker. Ginny's words of caution suddenly sprang to the forefront of her thoughts. Where were the lights? As if on cue the entire stadium was brought to light by several large floating orbs surrounding its oval shape, making everything well illuminated. Glancing around curiously at the foreign sight, it was then she noticed Malfoy had done something with his wand by pointing toward the announcer's stand. As she mused over what type of charm would produce these bright orbs whose light could infiltrate the whole area as if it were day, she stopped short when she noticed he'd halted a few strides ahead of her, right smack dab in the middle of the grassy field.

Instead of something she had expected, such as him handing over the broom so she could learn how to hold the handle properly or have her practice jumping to take off, Malfoy instead laid his broom on the ground next to him.

"Your first lesson will be a reintroduction; make the broom float up into your hand."

There was quite the pregnant pause before she began to sputter on nonsensical words of indignation.

"But-but that's what we did during our first lesson in first year!"

Malfoy's eyebrows rose at her tone.

"Correct, and can you perform this task that all the first year students are currently able to do, Miss Granger?"

Her brow furrowed as her mouth pressed into a thin line. She wouldn't answer that, assuming it was meant to be a humbling, rhetorical question. Seemingly satisfied by her quietness, Malfoy dragged her over to stand beside the broom before backing up a pace or two.

"If you can't get the magic contained in the broom to obey you on the ground, how can you expect it to heed your commands in the air? Now, you remember what madam Hooch said, I'm sure. Hold your hand out and say 'up'."

She grumbled a little as she cleared her throat, her arm stretching out with her hand slightly cupped and ready to catch the handle.

"Up!"

Nothing happened. Malfoy shook his head.

"Come on, Miss Granger. It's based on the same methods as any other summoning spell. Try it again and this time say it like you mean it."

Did it count if she meant for the handle to fly past her and smack his smug, attractive face? A deep breath had her holding her hand above the broom once more, pushing all her magical focus into her trembling fingertips.

"Up."

Her voice was calm, assured. The broom twitched a little. Malfoy's chuckle had her whirling in place to glare at him before he strode over to her side.

"Here," he stood behind her, his hands on her hips twisted her a little before his foot kicked both of her feet shoulder width apart.

"You control the broom, not the other way around. Stand like this as if you already have that power and it flying into your hands is a matter of mere formality."

He stayed right against her backside, his torso fitted between her shoulder blades, feet planted on the inside of hers to keep them in place while one hand settled on her waist and his other hand rested atop of hers that meant to catch the broom. She noted how his palm practically engulfed her entire hand, his fingers sprawled their elongated length at least full knuckle past the tips of her own outstretched extremities.

Godric he was…big. That is, his hand and fingers were, she supposed, compared to other men's hands. Not that she'd noticed his elegant hands before now, it was only because they were so close to her at the moment so she could examine them with a more keen eye. What was she meant to do again? Oh yes, the bloody broom.

Hermione took a deep, shuddering breath, silently begging that to the broom that it please, please fly into her hand so he could take a step back.

"Up."

To her surprise it danced a bit on the ground before it settled again. Malfoy pressed in closer, not an inch of space separated them.

"Miss Granger, you need to say it with feeling."

"Up!"

It was a half yelp half squeak because he was so damn near her that she could smell his citrusy cologne mixing delightfully with the musk of his leather Quidditch pads. The broom danced even further, actually leaving the ground for a moment, before returning back down on the grass again.

Fourteen more times she did this. Each time Malfoy adjusted her just so or fixed her feet and posture. By the time they'd spent half an hour standing with him right behind her, it seemed she'd calmed down enough to focus on what she was supposed to be doing instead of hyper focusing on her instructor. If Malfoy was annoyed with her progress he didn't show it, which was a blessing because an hour into her lesson the broom only floated halfway up before gently landing again.

"Oh bollocks!" She swore, stomping her foot which happened to land atop of his.

"Argh, Miss Granger! For bloody sake, watch what you're doing."

"Sorry, sorry!" She offered uselessly, staring in defeat down at the broom.

"Maybe we should retire for the evening."

Malfoy didn't speak at first. She wondered if he hadn't heard her when he walked around to stand in front of her with an odd look on his face.

"You're giving up already, Miss Granger? Can't make it on the first go so you walk off?"

She could feel her magic surge unchecked into her fingertips as her eyebrows narrowed.

"No, it's late, and as I told you before we started this I have homework I need to get back to."

Malfoy observed her before he folded his arms, a smug grin gracing his face.

"Well, I suppose if you want to take the easy way out, who am I to stop you, Miss Granger?"

She felt her shoulders tense. The easy way out? Is that what he thought she was doing? How-How dare he?!

"Listen, Mr. Malfoy, if I'm going to take these lessons from you I expect to receive criticism. I can take constructive critiques all day long. What I won't do is be told how I'm giving up when I simply know I'm not capable of completing the task this late in the evening."

Malfoy scoffed.

"That is the very definition of giving up, Miss Granger."

Sparks flashed in her eyes as her temper's usually subdued embers roared into an inferno within a few heartbeats span.

"Really? Well then, I guess I am giving up for tonight, Mr. Malfoy. I can only hold my hand out so many times," she shot it out to the side angrily, "and yell up bef-oh!"

A hard, smooth item slammed into her palm that she instinctively grasped onto. Startled, she looked down and her face tightened in disbelief at the sight.

The broom was somehow magically in her hand. She didn't speak nor could she fully fathom what had transpired for a solid minute.

"I-I did it."

Malfoy chuckled good-humoredly beside her.

"Well done, Miss Granger. Apparently, all that was needed was to make you tap into your spit fire nature to get some progress with you."

Her awe filled eyes turned to face him as he genuinely smiled at her, seemingly just as pleased as she was by her accomplishment.

"I've never done that before." She admitted honestly.

He snorted, holding his hand out toward her.

"There has to be a first time for everything, doesn't there? Now I believe is a good time to call it a night, Miss Granger."

With a slight touch of reverence Hermione set the broom in his outstretched hand which he took from the bewildered witch and threw once more over his shoulder.

"You better get a move on if you want to get your assignment done before dawn, Miss Granger."

With those teasing words of departure, Malfoy began to walk alone toward the edge of the pitch.

"Mr. Malfoy," she called out.

He stopped his gait, turning to face her whilst she rubbed her slightly sweating hands against her thighs.

"Thank you."

Malfoy stared at her for a few seconds before he nodded.

"Sunday night I'm free again, at nine. We should try and meet at least three times a week so bring your schedule next time. See you then, Miss Granger."

He continued to amble away, leaving a giddy Hermione to look down at the place she had finally accomplished something she had tried to do in secret many times since first year.


Four weeks went by in a flash for Hermione between classes, homework, and thrice a week flying lessons. She hated to admit it, but Malfoy was actually a rather excellent instructor. After she'd managed to retrieve the broom once again from the ground, albeit Malfoy had to make some rather unflattering comments about her Mrs. Weasley jumper, she was able to do it without the taunts by the end of the first week. Once she had that pretty solidly under control he moved her onto takeoff.

Malfoy was practically rolling on the ground in a fit of uncontrollable laughter every time she hopped like a bunny on his broom around him, desperate to make the uncooperative mount lift off. By the end of the third week she was able to push off and float with relative consistency, her toes brushing the ground as she kicked her legs excitedly at her progress.

The four week however, had Hermione at her wits' end.

"Malfoy can't we wait another week, please?"

Malfoy glowered over at her when she repeated the same complaining plea while he tugged off his filthy Quidditch outer robe. As the Slytherin team captain he often had team practice and scrimmages that usually ended right before they would meet for her lessons. By the look on his face and the state of his now discarded robe, it'd been a trying day already, and she'd prefer to not irk her instructor any further with her incapability.

"It's still Mr. Malfoy, Miss Granger, per our agreement, and no it can't wait another week. How long do you think you have to learn to not only take off but also land, move back and forth," he motioned between the two opposing sets of Quidditch goal posts, "across this field, and balance on your broom midair whilst throwing a quaffle? You're running out of time and this is from the man who wants you to lose our wager so I don't have to clean that bloody pewter nightmare my last year of school."

She gnawed on her lower lip. This was the part of her flying lessons she'd dreaded the most out of any of it. Perhaps that was why she was attempting to stall it, even for a few more days, which would give her more time to mentally prepare.

"Well, you see, I'm a bit, that is-"

"Did you catch the tongue tie influenza going around, Miss Granger? Go on, spit it out."

She scowled at his impatient response.

"Well, as it happens, I have a slight phoebia of heights."

Malfoy's face couldn't have looked any less dubious if she'd said she was secretly a Puddlemere United fan.

"You realize how preposterous that sounds, seeing as I know for a fact you've flown on a thestral and a dragon."

A hard eye roll was joined by her arms crossing her chest petulantly while she continued to give him a sour look.

"Those were animals and at least three if not ten times my size. The likelihood that I would've fallen off either of them was slim to none. However; with a broom, I think it's obvious how much easier it would be to lose my balance and plunge to my most certain demise."

He seemed to ponder this new revelation about her. Perhaps he would tell her he couldn't teach her any further, she thought with unabashed excitement. If he couldn't, his only other option would be to concede the victory to her and surrender the book.

"Alright," his voice disrupted her joyful daydreaming, "come on then, we'll both go. You can try steer with me for the time being."

To her astonishment Malfoy strode over to stand beside her, holding his broom out for her to take.

"Hop on, Miss Granger."

Hermione opened and closed her mouth several times but her words utterly failed her. She was positively not going anywhere with him on that thing unless they discussed what exactly this sudden change in lesson was going to entail. Evidently, Malfoy was in no mood to deal with her delay tactics as he swung the broom between her legs himself. His broad frame shuffled behind her and before she knew it his long arms had encased around her as he grasped the handle in front of where her own hands automatically held on.

"Fine, I'll steer for now while you hold on and observe."

"Malfoy wait, perhaps we should take a moment to discuss THIS, AGH!"

He pushed off the grass before she could finish her beseeching, launching them upward into the fall evening sky. Gasping and squealing, Hermione could only clutch on for dear life to the broom handle as they rose higher and higher. Eventually he slowed their ascent once they reached same height as the Quidditch goal posts where they lazily hovered. Malfoy freed one of his gloved hands that had been steering and patted her tight, leather covered grip.

"Calm down Miss Granger, I've been flying since I could toddle. You need to keep still so I can guide us in the direction we need to go."

She froze like a statue at his command, all except her frosted breath that was puffing like an ice dragon's smoke. Her head felt extremely light headed and there was an annoying ringing rising in intensity in her ears the longer they stayed elevated.

"Malfoy, I feel faint, please take me back down."

Even through her distraught wheezing she could hear his eyes rolling from behind her.

"I assure you, Miss Granger, that you're perfectly safe and not actually ill. It's the sudden altitude change and your hyper fixated on your supposed fear of heights that's making you feel this way. All you need to do to remedy the situation is to relax. If you do it will become much easier for you to breathe and you won't feel like you may pass out. Also, you seem to have forgotten we're still in the middle of our lesson which, as I recall, means you must call me Mr. Malfoy."

The rush of vexed fear bubbled up her throat and Hermione couldn't keep it from spewing past her lips.

"Oh, stuff it you rotter and your preferred titles! I'm bloody well a hundred feet in the air and likely to fall to my death! Do you honestly think I give a fig if I call you Mr. Malfoy or fuzzy ferret right now?!"

He immediately pulled up on the handle of the broom to halt their listless midair coasting. After several silent minutes of her hyperventilating her breathing began to slow and she was able to lower her heart rate to a reasonable rhythm. Not long after her body's stiffened limbs found themselves to be more pliable as she worked to regain her composure. All the while Malfoy sat saying nothing, waiting patiently for her to work through her episode. Embarrassment colored her cheeks once she'd finally won the battle against her overwhelming emotions and she found the courage to speak.

"I-I'm sorry Mal-Mr. Malfoy, truly. I shouldn't have said that. I'm very, very terrified at the moment and-"

"Miss Granger," he interrupted, "If you ever want a real chance to be able to fly alone you need to learn how to keep yourself in check, regardless of your feelings. Do you know how many times I've had a close call falling from a high distance? Plenty. If you panic, as you're doing now, you won't be able to think rationally to get yourself safely back to the ground. Now, I'm going to fly us around the outskirts of the stands a few times. Instead of focusing on our current altitude, you need to watch my hands and concentrate on how I use them to maneuver the broom in the direction I want it to go."

Hermione pondered on his lecture as he restarted their flight at a slow-going pace. Well, perhaps he had a point. It was rather imperative for her to learn how to safely leave and return to the ground, so it stood to reason it was even more vital that she be able to keep her mental facilities in an emergency situation. Determined to remedy the uncomfortable mood between them, Hermione cleared her throat loudly.

"So, what should I do if I fall, Mr. Malfoy?"

She could hear the soft snickering in his voice but chose to ignore it in favor of her academic pursuit.

"Well, obviously if you're able to keep a hold of your broom that would be ideal. You'll have a chance then to try and pull it back underneath yourself. With the velocity you'll be traveling you won't have much time and it takes a lot more strength than you would think to do it. The best thing you can do is preventative action. With both of us riding I cannot show the proper way you should be sitting on the broom but essentially, you'll wrap your legs around it in a way to anchor yourself against it while moving.

"When you're idling you won't be able to do this if you intend to be upright to throw the quaffle, which means you'll be more vulnerable to falling. Leg strength can help avoid that as well as being keenly aware of your surroundings. There are other things you can learn as well such as how to tell the signs of the wind change with the telltale flags," he pointed atop the stands to the different colored flags she'd always assumed were merely sporty decorations for the otherwise unremarkable stands.

"If they start to gust you'll know you have about three seconds before the wind hits you and which direction it's coming from. That should give you plenty of time to shift your body to face the wind head on rather than against it which will most likely knock you off."

She'd never thought of any of this. It made Quidditch seem more like a complicated science than a fun sport. When she didn't comment Malfoy seemed to take it as a sign to continue.

"You'll need to be intimately familiar with the physics of Quidditch too. It's essential to know the amount of force your arm will need to produce compared to the distance you're intending to throw the quaffle. That's something you can practice on the ground, but balancing whilst applying that skill will need to happen sooner rather than later to ensure you are capable of doing it without throwing yourself off your mount. It's no different than how beaters need to recognize the right angle to approach a bludger to avoid it swinging back and hitting them instead. Obviously that won't apply to what we're doing, but it all has to do with planning how to move about on the broom safely rather than willy-nilly whipping around without the forethought to what you're doing."

Even though parts of his coaching speech were pointless to her lessons, Hermione couldn't help but be drawn into the excitedness she heard in Malfoy's voice, like a hypnotic spell. How did he make it all sound so interesting? She'd never read any of this in the few Quidditch books she'd taken the time to read. Perhaps it could only be learned through experience and if that were the case it was very impressive that he not only knew his own position so intimately but all of his teammates as well.

"Well, Miss Granger," he drawled, "now that I've bored you into a stunned silence, perhaps you're ready to give steering alone a try?"

Her head snapped sideways to look at him out of her peripheral area where she found he had a slight grin on his face.

"Don't worry, I'll make sure we won't fall while you concentrate on where we're going and steering like I showed you."

Hermione licked her lips, trying very hard to not look down while thinking of an excuse to not have to take over quite yet.

"I don't think I'm quite prepared to do that alone, Malfoy. Could we spend the remaining time of this lesson with both of us steering? That way I know I have a good feeling for it."

Malfoy sighed rather loudly before his shoulders rose in a shrug.

"Alright, but next time you will be the only one steering, Miss Granger. Now, mind that you keep your grip relaxed so you don't mistakenly pull too hard on the handle and lead us off course."

The two of them spent the remainder of her lesson in their continued silence as she attempted to observe how exactly he shifted his hands with each wide pass they made around the field, trying to copy the way he moved. When she felt him press closer into her, perhaps he'd only meant to adjust himself on the limited space they shared, the movement startled her a little, and she yank the broom wildly to the left.

"Woah!" Malfoy yelled, correcting their course quickly as she clung on for dear life.

"Salazar be gentle Miss Granger, this is a delicate instrument and requires a light hand. You can't jerk it like that or you won't get the response you desire."

Hermione felt a blush creep into her cheeks the more he chastised for her over exaggerated reaction. However, there was also the tiny thought in her head, one that she scolded firmly she should not entertain even as it made the blush move stealthily down her neck and across her chest, that couldn't help but wonder which broom handle he was really referring to.


A few days later Hermione still hadn't progressed much further with her ability to steer properly. She kept listing from side to side, prone to move off course, and almost rolled them twice. It may have something to do with the broom seeming knowing her heart simply wasn't very into it.

Or, it could very well have had something to do with the fact her focus kept drifting a little down toward her side. Ever since Malfoy made the comment about how roughly she'd handled the broom it'd led to the rest of the lesson being plagued by random thoughts. She began to focus on things with their prolonged close proximity like how nice he smelled or how his arms felt almost like an embrace as he reached around to hold onto the broom. While those were all distracting thoughts they weren't what made it difficult for her to concentrate on her task.

Malfoy's thick, well worked Quidditch thighs she'd overheard the other Gryffindor girls swooning about during late night gossip sessions were currently pressing her own petite thighs tightly around their shared mount. She could feel the heat of his skin even through the denim material of her jeans, like a furnace that happened to be very appealingly clad in those damnable cream colored Quidditch trousers. It simply wasn't something she'd noticed before, honestly. Now however, she was suddenly very, very distracted by their muscular physique instead of what she was meant to be focusing on during her lesson.

"Staring at my thighs again, Miss Granger?"

His voice startled her right out of her leering as she snapped her attention forward again to where it was meant to be in the first place. Having been caught secretly ogling him she knew her body was probably as red like she'd eaten a pepper flavored Bertie Bott's flavored bean, but she wasn't about to admit that to him.

"No," she quickly replied in an overly loud voice, "I have not been staring at your thighs at all. However, since you've brought it up, they're rather hard not to notice when they're practically squeezing my own legs together to the point of numbness around this wretchedly uncomfortable broomstick, Mr. Malfoy."

He chuckled at her petulant gripe.

"There might be a way to fix that, you know." He offered.

Malfoy leaned in close to her ear, she assumed to give her some sort of expert advice on how to sit this way or perhaps adjust herself that way so it wasn't so painful.

"Perhaps if you learned to lean back and relax your legs, Miss Granger, it'd be a more comfortable ride for you."

Her forward hand slipped off the broom handle and her face would've most certainly met the hard surface had her other hand not caught her. Unfortunately, the forward movement of her upper body simultaneously pushed her arse backwards and firmly against his pelvis.

"E-excuse me?" She half shrieked, reaching frantically to grab ahold of the mount once more whilst subtly trying to scoot herself away from the unintended direction the lower half of her body had traveled and the much too intimate nearness to him.

Malfoy didn't repeat himself nor did he stop her from shifting forward. Hermione's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and confused reflections as she tried to wrap her head around what'd just transpired silently. She didn't acknowledge the none-too-subtle sexual innuendo because-because it's Malfoy and there's no way he felt those kinds of things for her. She was the swotty Granger, the prissy Gryffindor Princess, one of three banes of his existence. Wasn't she? Yes, she definitely was. She must be misreading his words. Wasn't he always telling her how to relax her hands whilst gripping the handle? By that same logic it's very likely he'd intended for that similar advice to apply to her legs as well. It made perfect sense seeing as keeping her legs tense would cause them to cramp up over time and make for a miserable flight.

After another turn around the pitch she was at last able to settle down her internal quandary and give herself a talk down for taking something he obviously spoken with innocent intent and making it into another sexualized statement. At least she managed to relax her legs a little as he recommended which seemed to make his own legs loosen around hers.

"Alright, Miss Granger," he finally spoke, breaking the tension between them, "as I said before it's time you take over and steer by yourself today, no more delaying the inevitable."

Hermione looked nervously down at the broom which meant she had to also notice the height differentiation between her flimsy body and the unforgiving ground below.

"I, um, well maybe we should take one last turn around the pitch?"

A humorous chortle made her feel rather cross with her broom mate that he would find this funny at all. Instead of following up with some cruel joke about her lack of abilities or bravery she felt his hands slide over her own like they had during their first lesson. Only this time the feel of his strong fingers made her physically shiver a little and gasp quietly when they eventually clasped around her glove-covered hands.

"Remember, loosen your grip."

He didn't have to ask her twice to make her fingers slackened beneath his guidance.

"There, remember you need to keep the handle pliable in your hands so it isn't prone to turn so sharply. This is a top of the line model and it responds to the slightest of touches. We don't want to almost be thrown off again."

She rolled her eyes because of course she recalled nor was she surprised that it did. Luckily he couldn't see her face as he continued his lecture.

"Now, you have to try to do this on your own otherwise we'll have spent our entire lesson up here for no reason again and it's getting rather chilly. I promise that if heaven forbid something happens I will intervene to ensure neither of us meets our maker this evening."

Malfoy let go of her hands and began to wrap his arms around her waist this time instead, making her jump at the feel of him touching her much more intimately than he had during their last few lessons.

"Wait, what are you doing?"

"Well," he began dryly, "considering you're steering by yourself this time I need something to hold onto, Miss Granger. As you can see, you're the only other thing on this broom I can anchor to for my safety. You wouldn't want the only person who can land us back on the ground to tumble off and leave you stranded up here, would you?"

She couldn't argue with his logic which made it all the more flustering when his forearms crossed around her midriff, his chest pressed flush to her back.

Godric, it was suddenly very warm in the cooling night air.

"Go on, Miss Granger. I'll step in if need be."

Frustrated because there was nothing else she could do, Hermione inhaled deeply through her nose, and tilted the broom handle forward ever so slightly to begin their flight.

After an hour of this close, heated, extremely distracting because Malfoy's cologne really did smell divine lesson, she'd somehow managed to only steer them off course twice and half barrel rolled them once which he quickly corrected as promised. Somehow the feel of his arms around her and the fact she knew he was so quick to respond gave her a sense of ease so that by the end of the lesson she felt much more confident in her ability to maneuver the broom with limited assistance safely. Finally, he called it a night when she could no longer keep from shivering. Malfoy helped her land , or at least attempted to, which resulted in them both stumbling and almost falling over each other before catching themselves a bit gracelessly. She hopped off fast, a bit too fast because she groaned at her aching backside that spasmed with muscle cramps from the less than ideal sitting position. He frowned as he watched her hobble around in a circle to walk off the pain.

"We really need to get you on a broom by yourself, Miss Granger. You're going to pick up bad sitting habits if we keep sharing my broom which is part of the reason you're so sore."

Hermione, in a fair amount of agony, scowled at him.

"Well, as you mentioned earlier, I'm not quite at the point where I can bring myself to the ground safely, am I Malfoy? I need a few more lessons at least before I get to that point."

He nodded in agreement, his hand not holding his broom cupped his chin thoughtfully.

"Hmm, you would benefit from more demonstrations than my own perhaps. We're running out of time and we still need to work on balance plus your throwing technique with the quaffle."

His eyes widened slightly, and a brightness appeared in them that wasn't from the illuminating orbs surrounding them.

"Miss Granger, I want you to go to the Quidditch game Saturday."

Hermione furrowed her brow for one thing because he was telling her she needed to go rather than asking her if she would. Also, of course she was already going. It was Ginny's first game as captain of the Gryffindor team, and she needed to support her friend.

"I want you to meet me at the back of the Slytherin stands fifteen minutes before the game starts."

Hermione's eyebrows rose.

"Whatever for?"

Malfoy grinned which for some reason gave her a tingling sensation in her stomach.

"You'll have to wait and find out, won't you? See you Saturday, Miss Granger, don't be late."

Malfoy marched off the darkened field, leaving her to sulk.

Hermione didn't much like surprises.