Author's Note: Hello again! Thank you all so, so much for reading this fic! I love and appreciate all the reviews, favorites, and follows ya'll given me. Thank you so much for that! Originally this fic was supposed to be three chapters long but alas I have a too much gene so now it's four. Without further ado here's chapter three!
Trigger Warnings: Swearing
I hope you enjoy!
Chapter Three
The morning of the match between Gryffindor and Slytherin houses was sunny, however the air had a crisp fall bite to it, marking the impending cold weather to come. This seemed to only magnify the excitement pulsating through the student body gathered in the Great Hall for breakfast.
Hermione tried to embrace these feelings of elation along with her fellow Gryffindors in an attempt to be supportive as the entire group she sat with conducted an animated discussion about their team's new recruits' potential to win the game. Unfortunately, she wasn't able to bring herself to really listen. The large clock that hung right outside the Great Hall stared boldly at her as it drew nearer and nearer to the time she was set to head down to the pitch to meet Malfoy. She managed to stomach a few bits of toast, but beyond that, her focus kept darting off toward those taunting clock hands that seemed to have stalled in their path.
A sudden flash of red crossed her wandering eyes' path before Ginny's radiant face filled her vision where she watched her friend promptly snagged the last half of her uneaten toast to add to her own full plate. Hermione sighed with half hearted exasperation.
"Good morning to you too, Gin. At least I know someone has decided to take over the role Ron played by making sure my leftovers don't go to waste."
Ginny snickered before she lifted the buttered slice to her mouth and took a large bite.
"Aw, I think that was meant to be an insult but I'll be the bigger person and choose to accept it as a back-handed compliment. Well Hermione, ready to watch my team beat the tar out of professor ferret's today?"
Hermione chortled, but at the mention of Malfoy's name it dawned on her that she hadn't told Ginny of his plans yet.
"Actually, I'm meeting him before the game." She couldn't help but peek over to see her friend's reaction.
Ginny's eyebrows, unsurprisingly, arched to the point Hermione was certain they had vanished into her hairline.
"Really? This isn't some sort of 'you better not cheer against my team or I'll stop your lessons' kind of meeting, is it? If the rodent is going to be that petty I may have to have a few words with him beforehand, or perhaps my beaters will during the game."
Hermione snorted.
"I doubt that, even if he did say that, you know I would still cheer for my own House. I think it's something to do with how I should focus on learning the techniques of throwing the quaffle while attending the game instead of reading like I always do. Anyway, I'm going to be leaving to meet him soon so I won't be able to walk with you down to the pitch."
Her friend looked her over with a very studious look.
"Hermione, did you do something different to your hair?"
It was difficult not to reach up and touch her locks, but even more challenging to keep her face from blushing a deep red.
"I…Lavender found a new hair curling spell she wanted to try out on hair that's already naturally curly. She wanted to see if it would be able to make my hair a bit more manageable, that's all."
"Hang on, is that, is that mascara on your eyes?" Ginny questioned in a half-whispered voice.
There was no hiding her evident embarrassment now as Hermione's entire body turned very hot suddenly under her friend's scrutiny.
"Pravati didn't like it, so she asked if I'd like to try it."
All this had been true, even if there had been a secondary, unacknowledged reason for her to do these things, but Hermione noticed a strange look pass Ginny's face before she pointed her fork tines right at her.
"I don't believe it, you like him, don't you?"
Incredulity rocked through Hermione's frame at the unprovoked question and she knew her mouth was hanging agaped.
"What do you mean by that, Ginny?"
Ginny set down her utensil, folding her hands in front of her, as she gave Hermione a smug knowing look she was convinced resembled her own face when she had correctly answered all the questions in a History of Magic exam.
"I have seven older brothers and I've seen them all lovesick enough times to write a whole series of books on how to tell when someone is completely smitten and you, my friend, are disgustingly obvious."
Ginny's head cocked to the side, her gaze piercing and perceptive, as if she were the walking embodiment of veritaserum that sought to gain the truth from her, forcefully if need be.
"Is that why you made this bet with Malfoy, Hermione? So you could get closer to him? If it is, I'd say bravo because it was a bloody brilliant idea."
Hermione's stomach did an absurd amount of flips.
"Of course not! I honestly wanted to get my hands on that poor book Malfoy has no regard for or appreciation of its importance. I-"
She stopped herself from continuing her tirade of justification. She couldn't lie to Ginny and tell her she wasn't gaining any personal satisfaction out of the time she was spending with Malfoy. On the contrary, she was enjoying his company tremendously, so much so that the attraction she'd felt for him prior had been steadily becoming exceedingly difficult to ignore each time she skipped down to the pitch to meet him.
"There," Ginny's sharp voice pulled her from the Malfoy induced daydream she hadn't noticed she fell in, "there's the look. I should conjure up a mirror so you can see the dazed moon eyed face about you."
Hermione scrunched her nose at her friend before prissily setting aside her plate of uneaten food.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Ginny. Malfoy and I have a wager between us and no further connection than that. I find it rather presumptuous of you to insinuate I have any other reasons besides improving my chances to win as to why I would ever facilitate my lessons with him."
Ginny's eyes couldn't roll any harder, picking up her fork once more.
"Tell yourself whatever you like, Hermione, to explain away your choices. If you asked me, which I know you didn't, if you and ferret ever do decide to be something more than whatever this gambling partnership is, I think you two would be nauseatingly adorable together. Merlin, that sounds so wrong to say," Ginny feigned a gagging sound, forking her food to shove into her mouth as if she needed to cleanse her pallet.
Thoroughly flustered by the images of her and Malfoy being, well, more than what they were now and what that could entail, Hermione excused herself to read. She wished Ginny and her teammates all the best luck, promising to see her friend at the match that was sure to be an epic battle to witness.
An hour later when her little alarm clock's pesky hands indicated it was five minutes before she was meant to leave for the pitch, Hermione decided to not wait any longer. She slipped on her obligatory red and gold striped cardigan, the same one she wore to every Quidditch game, and crept through the crowded common room unnoticed.
It wasn't long before she was walking along the familiar foot path that led from the school to the pitch. When she arrived, instead of heading to the center as she usually did to meet Malfoy, she made her way over to the tall wooden structure adorned with large festive green and silver banners on all sides. As she rounded the corner where they had agreed to convene, Hermione was brought to a startled halt when she saw the man in question was already waiting for her there.
Malfoy was leaning with his back against the wooden frame, completely decked out in his Quidditch seeker attire for the upcoming game, and his hands held some type of cloth bundle. When he noticed her, he pushed off the wooden planks to make his way toward her direction.
"Good morning, Miss Granger. I assumed correctly that you would be a little early to meet with me today. While that would usually be admirable of you in a typical classroom setting I must ask, would it kill you to be a little late on a Saturday? I barely had a chance to finish my meal before I saw you head off."
Hermione frowned at the little jib.
"Good morning to you too, Mr. Malfoy. Haven't you heard the phrase, 'to be on time is to be late'?"
He frowned right back at her.
"That sounds like something someone with too much time on their hands would say as an excuse to make sure others aren't late."
A small laugh escaped her lips because honestly, that was probably exactly why the saying came into being.
"I suppose we best get on with this lesson," she said as she sighed away her last giggle, "if that's what you're calling it. So, what am I doing here?"
Malfoy grinned, the exact same dimple inducing clever look he'd made the day she'd asked him after the book. Merlin, it was almost criminal of him to look so handsome when he smiled like that.
"Here," he replied, holding out the green pile in his hands, no doubt expecting her to take it. When she didn't due to the fact she couldn't stop staring at his distracting face, his grin faltered.
"Typically when one offers something to another person it means they wish for you to take it, Miss Granger."
His comment finally drew her eyes back down to his hands and her brows knitted together.
"What is this and why do I need it?"
He sighed.
"If you must know, it's clothing. You'll understand better why you need it when I explain what you'll be doing today but I can't do that until after you put this on over your jumper."
Not very convinced with the direction of this lesson, Hermione took the mystery item from his outstretched hands and rearranged the fabric to decipher what in the world he was attempting to make her wear. Recognition dawned on her face as she recognized that it was another jumper, but this one was much different than her own.
"Mr. Malfoy, this is your quidditch jersey. I-I can't wear this!"
There was no way he was being serious. He must know her fellow Gryffindors would throw a tizzy if she strolled into the actual lion's den with this enemy memorabilia anywhere near her person. Malfoy huffed, a bit impatient it seemed with her lack of cooperation because he took the thick knitted material from her and forced it over her head, much to her protest.
"Oh, stop it, Miss Granger. This is my old jersey that is much too small for me. Now hold still while I-there, that's better. Good lord, how short are you? It's practically down to your knees."
Actually, she thought primly, it fell to about the top of her knees thank you very much. Her hands ran along the soft fabric, solid green in color except a broad silver threaded stripe across the middle. A quick glance behind her revealed a boldly knitted 'MALFOY 07' that graced between the shoulder blades of the jersey. Lovely. Well, she supposed her hair could hide most of it from sight. At least it was warm and comfortable against the late fall weather. After giving her back a thorough look over she turned her pouting attention back toward him.
"Mr. Malfoy, why are you having me wearing this? To practice dodging hurling objects being pitched at me by my friends? Seamus is likely to set me on fire if I show up in the stands wearing this and you know how talented he is with pyrotechnics."
Malfoy chuckled, removing the grey and green striped scarf he'd draped around his neck and began to wind it in large swaths around hers.
"Reconnaissance, Miss Granger. You're going to wear this and take notes such as how each player flies solo and their techniques to throw the quaffle midair while sitting with Pansy in the Slytherin stands."
…What?
"Mr. Malfoy, I can do my observations just as well from the Gryffindor stands."
He smirked, like he'd expected that response.
"Perhaps, but I won't be able to find you in the jumping crowd of buffoonery to ensure you're actually adhering to the lesson. At least in the Slytherin stands we sit so everyone is able to spectate the game without having to clamor over each other to get a decent view."
She scowled at his barb about her friends but the idea of his thought process for her to sit with the Slytherin crowd was rather curious to her.
"So, you'll be looking for me then, Mr. Malfoy?"
"Of course," he replied, "when I'm able to. However, I do have a game to win so Pansy will be my eyes on the ground to ensure you don't pull out a book even if you become bored to tears with the gameplay. And don't even think about trying to slink away either; she has a sixth sense for knowing when someone is scheming something."
Well, that explains why he'd chosen Parkinson to be her de facto substitute professor, she thought bitterly as he finished wrapping his scarf around her neck once more.
Satisfied, he took a step back to admire his handiwork, resting his hands on his hips as he did so.
"Hmm, do you know I believe green compliments you well, Miss Granger."
Hermione blushed furiously at the compliment, unsure if he'd meant it to be one or not but taking it as such all the same. Malfoy chortled quietly at her apparent embarrassment before he did something she hadn't expected. He watched her struggle for several moments to release her hair from the layers of scarf he'd wrapped around her.
"Here, let me," he said, seemingly unannoyed.
Instead of impatiently batting her hands away as he would sometimes do when she was stubbornly trying to revert to old broom handling habits, he gently moved her hands aside to assist in pulling her hair free of the scarf and even helped arrange her rambunctious curls around her.
"There, you're all set, Miss Granger."
He paused a moment before picking up one of her curls as if he were examining it.
"You've done something with your hair today. It looks lovely."
Hermione was practically combusting at these odd compliments and observations Malfoy was making of her today. Again, she had no idea how to react to it so she decided to ignore the compliment for now.
"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy, I'll be sure to return your jersey and scarf to you in the condition you lent them."
His lips split into a brilliant smile and just when he was about to retort with something most likely very witty, when the sound of a distant bell brought their attention to their surroundings. Much of the student body it seemed had arrived during their meeting for the match. Malfoy sighed before dropping the curl he still held.
"I better be going to get ready, before my teammates wonder where I've run off to and Pansy should already be waiting for you. I'll see you shortly, Miss Granger. I expect a full report afterwards on what you've learned today. Go on then."
With a slight muttering of 'yes, Mr. Malfoy,' under her breath, Hermione turned on the spot and marched off, feeling a bit slighted at being dismissed as such. Nevertheless, Hermione made her way around the corner and began ascending the staircase.
This was yet another thing Hermione despised about Quidditch. Why, why in Merlin's name did there have to have so many stairs? Couldn't they have installed elevators, she whined silently.
After whinging every step of the way about this, Hermione finally managed to reach the top level of the tower. It took her a few minutes with her hands on her knees to catch her breath before she had cooled down enough to walk down the short hallway and through the entryway to where the actual seating area was located.
The Slytherin crowd was, as Malfoy said, quite different from those in the Gryffindor stands. She could see them across the way, the entire student body of red and gold was on their feet, jumping and cheering even though the game hadn't begun. In contrast the mass of Slytherin students, still as riotously loud as their counterparts, were all in their seats talking amongst each other. She was surprised to see that while they were all decked out in House supportive attire, hardly any of them had the eccentric paint covered faces or large signs she was used to seeing that danced around her as she quietly tucked into the corner of the stands to read a book.
It was a convenient contrast for her because it took no time at all to find the short raven haired bob that she knew only one Slytherin girl sported as she sat halfway down and right next to the stairs. Hermione walked tentatively toward her match companion, trying to ignore if anyone stared at her as she went. It was rather hard though to ignore the first years' gasps of 'it's Hermione Granger!' that followed her. When she made it to the row Parkinson was seated Hermione stood on the steps half paralyzed. Pansy Parkinson had always been a bit hostile and sitting in her beautiful black tweed dress with lovely green tights and a simple black cardigan with the Slytherin emblem on the breast didn't forebode well for her to be the most inviting of people.
After several awkward minutes in which Hermione hem hawed about how to approach the Slytherin classmate, Parkinson glanced over in her direction, at last deciding to acknowledge her. Then, as if this whole experience wasn't bizarre enough, Parkinson gave her what could be mistaken to be a pleased smile.
"Granger, so nice of you to join the winning team's side."
Hermione snorted. Ginny's team was supposed to be pretty formidable this year. They'd have to wait and see.
"Well, come on then," Parkinson said, tucking in her legs, "have a seat."
Hermione carefully stepped past Pansy to settle into the empty seat beside her.
"You know Theo and Blaise, of course." She said, gesturing to the seats on Hermione's other side.
Hermione gave a polite greeting to the two Slytherin boys who were eyeing her from where they sat beside her. Unsure of what else to do, she folded her hands in her lap and sat awkwardly in silence, surrounded by the chatty trio who talked back and forth past her about the game. Eventually the sound of the crowd picked up into a roar as the players began to fly out of their respective team locker rooms into the sky above.
As Hermione had been instructed to do, she began to take mental notes of each player's own unique style of flying, and how they differed between them. The chasers and seekers for both teams all met in the middle around Madam Hooch whilst the keepers made their way toward their respective goal posts. Her eyes though were all on Malfoy. He looked damn delightful in his quidditch uniform. Those dastardly thighs stood out even from this distance without use of any omnioculars.
"Draco tells me that you've become exceedingly better at flying, Granger."
Hermione brought her attention over to Parkinson who was now facing her with an unreadable look, making it difficult for her to decide how she should respond.
"I suppose so. I can get off the ground now and fly at a decent height unassisted."
The Slytherin witch grinned.
"Is that so? Well, congratulations are in order, then. He did mention you were quick to pick up things during your lessons and of course he is very good at what he does, wouldn't you say?"
Hermione couldn't help but grin.
"I would have to agree that he is an excellent instructor. I don't think I would've ever learned to fly were it not for his help, not that I would ever tell him that."
The other girl laughed.
"No, I dare say if you did it would go straight to his already inflated head."
The two were unable to continue their conversation then as the quaffle was released to start the match which caused the crowd began to jostle and cheer so loudly no one could hear each other. Hermione being the ever diligent student started to track the players back and forth across the field, noting certain things such as how Ginny was able to let go of her broom long enough for her arm to retract back but immediately grabbed hold when she threw her weight forward with each throw of the quaffle she passed. The same could be said about the only female Slytherin chaser, Abigail Miller, who exhibited almost the exact same strategy as Ginny in terms of handling and throwing the quaffle while in flight. These were the types of things she assumed Malfoy would want her to make note of and would undoubtedly quiz her on later.
"So Granger, can you explain to us why Draco sent you into the snake pit alone? Pansy won't tell us." Nott asked after several minutes of gameplay had lapsed when the fans noise had settled down to a reasonable level, snagging a bite of the licorice wand he'd brought.
"Because it's none of your business Nott," his friend replied tartly, "and Draco told you to leave her be while she's here."
Nott's dark brown eyebrows raised.
"I think Granger is capable of deciding whether or not she wants to share with us, Pans. Besides, since when have you ever done anything Draco told you to do? Wasn't it you that said you'll follow directions from a siren before you'd ever listen to him tell you what to do?"
Parkinson sniffed, but didn't correct him either.
"That's what I thought," he replied snarkily, "now, Granger, please indulge us. We're dying to know his reasons."
"Oh," she stuttered, "um, he wanted me to study how each of the players ride their brooms. I'm taking notes of their different techniques and skills to help improve mine, I suppose," Hermione finished explaining with a slight shrug.
Zabini, usually the quiet and observant one from what she'd seen, shot Nott a look before leaning toward Hermione.
"Really? That seems unusual since Draco is well versed in every type of broom riding technique conceivable."
Nott nodded in solemn agreement.
"Quite, I think you'd gain more knowledge practicing them with him rather than watching others perform them. Might I suggest starting off by requesting he show you the hot seat technique?"
Zabini shook his head at his friend.
"No, no, that's much too basic even for a novice like Granger. Ask him to show you the hidden serpent move."
Parkinson's eyebrows narrowed slightly as Nott waved his hand dismissively at Zabini.
"Well, if she's going to learn more advance tips then he might as well show her the butter churner-"
"Theo, Blaise, that's enough," Parkinson admonished, glowering threateningly at their innocent faces.
"What? We're only trying to help Granger so she can impress Draco with her knowledge of different riding styles, Pans. Don't be such a bore," Nott teased, pouting when he realized Zabini had stolen his licorice when he wasn't looking.
The raven haired girl's eyes rolled, turning her gaze to a befuddled Hermione.
"Don't listen to those two complete morons. Just do as Draco instructed you to; watch and learn."
Whatever the two boys had told her it was aggravating enough that Parkinson threw a threatening look whenever they tried to engage Hermione in any type of discussion. Instead, she distracted the Gryffindor by offering small tidbits about the game, pointing out how Ginny's youngest chaser, a second year she believed was named Arthur, was sitting incorrectly on his broom, his torso almost halfway over the end of the broom.
"Watch, he'll try to send the quaffle half the way down the field to impress his teammates but because he hasn't taken the time to familiarize himself with his spacial differences on an actual Quidditch regulatory length broom versus your average traveling broom he'll offset himself and misthrow." The Slytherin girl explained with a hint of glee in her voice.
Sure enough several minutes later Hermione watched in wonder as a physical rendition of Parkinson's prediction played out before her when the Gryffindor chaser put all of his weight behind the field long throw which meant his forward motion was rapid and his boom length was indeed shorter, almost making him fall were he not able to catch himself and barrel roll upright. Unfortunately this mistake cost him his aim trajectory and one of the Slytherin chasers was able to intercept the ball with ease.
Hermione's agape face turned to look at Parkinson who gave a coquettish shrug.
"You didn't know I've been recruited every year since second year to join the Slytherin Quidditch team, did you? I would join but my nails are so brittle and the quaffle tends to break them."
Nott snorted next to Hermione as he muttered, "Yes, it had nothing to do at all with them refusing to let her redesign the uniforms."
Parkinson's eyes flashed ominously at the pale boy beside Hermione who acted as if he'd said nothing as he turned the opposite direction of them. Hermione decided it best to follow Nott's lead and pretend she didn't hear anything.
"I had no idea you were so fond of the game, Pansy. You always seem so…so…"
"Prim and proper? That's because I am. However, I'm not so hoity toity that I can't be called upon to find amusement in something I'm actually very good at. We're not all what we seem to be, as it turns out." Parkinson leveled her a peculiar look that made Hermione feel they were no longer talking Quidditch.
"I suppose not." She replied, suddenly disinterested in chatting and instead diligently returning to the game to complete her observations.
The two sat in amicable silence for a while as the Gryffindor team continued to rack up score after score much to the bemoaning calls of the Slytherin crowd. It seemed Hermione was correct that Ginny's team, though new, was in fact quite a formidable opponent for Malfoy and his veteran team. Even though she spent most of her time following along the players who handled the quaffle, her eyes continued to return to watching him as he hovered above most of the gameplay, ever looking for the tiny gold ball to bring the match to a close before the Gryffindor's outscored them.
"You know Granger," Parkinson began suddenly which made Hermione jump to attention lest she be caught ogling, "I don't think you realize how much Draco looks forward to all of your lessons together, do you? In fact, I can always tell what days you do and don't have your little flying get togethers simply based on his mood."
Hermione had no idea what to say to this unprovoked insight nor did she want to assume Parkinson's thoughts were meant to have a deeper meaning than to restart a conversation with her.
"Well, I look forward to them as well. Actually, I feel like I have a real chance at winning this wager now."
Parkinson's sharp, green speckled eyes seemed to be reading something on Hermione's face because a sly grin began to spread up her cheeks, giving her a rather feline catching a mouse look.
"Yes, about this bet. Have you considered why Draco even considered offering you this little wager, Granger?"
Hermione felt a flicker of deja vu cross her mind. Hadn't Ginny questioned her about this very thing?
"Not really. He said he was bored so I assumed he needed something to bide his down time this year."
Parkinson waved her hand flippantly.
"That's utter nonsense, Granger. Draco has almost as many N.E.W.T. classes as yourself and he's captain of the Quidditch team. Why would he need more on his plate than that? I'm not sure how he balances it all and still manages to find time to meet with you several nights a week for all these lessons you're taking."
Hermione's face found it difficult to remain unaffected as she digested this knowledge. Parkinson tilted in close to Hermione, glancing over at the boys who were thoroughly engrossed in the game and not listening to the two of them have their little girl talk.
"In fact, he stays up quite late every night in the common room keeping up with his studies but he doesn't seem to mind that a bit."
Hermione blinked several times. She hadn't considered any of this before now and it was suddenly bringing up a whole host of concerns. The fact that he had a full class schedule, Quidditch practice, and Quidditch captain duties it begged an answer to a valid question; why did he offer to take up this wager with her and agree to teach her to fly? Was it affecting his schooling to accommodate her like this?
"Has he said anything to you as to why he'd agreed to it?" she asked.
Parkinson hummed noncommittally.
"Perhaps that's something you will need to ask him for yourself."
Hermione was about to ask more probing questions when her gaze was drawn to the right of Pansy's face. There was no mistaking what she'd seen. It was fluttering around the edge of their stands, gold with hummingbird fast wings.
"I see the snitch!" Hermione whispered excitedly, pointing in its direction for Parkinson to look as well.
Just then the crowd around them began to clamour loudly. Both girls glanced to the right to see Malfoy racing against the Gryffindor seeker across the pitch in their direction, arms extended. Unfortunately for the Gryffindor seeker, Malfoy had the added gift of torso length which was all the difference he needed as his fingers wrapped around the snitch that was still fluttering not far from where Hermione had spotted it
Elated shouts and hollers rang out across the Slytherin crowd; they'd won.
Hermione clapped politely, glad she didn't have to delve any further into the conversation with the witch beside her who had lost a bit of her proper etiquette by jumping up and down excitedly, dragging her to her feet as well. Hermione couldn't help but join her in celebrating. Well, she supposed this was one of the more fun parts of Quidditch. It was then Malfoy, who'd risen high above to show off his claimed victory, turned to face his House's stands, scanning the crowd until he found her. He smirked with a bit of cockiness, making her inside flush in delight that he did, in fact, look for her in the crowd.
But then, just behind him, another pair of wide blue eyes focused on her face. Hermione's smile faded into a look of dread as the absolutely beaming face of Ginny Weasley appeared right next to Malfoy, staring her down. Hermione wanted to duck behind Parkinson but it was no use now that she'd been caught standing in the wrong stands wearing the wrong colored jumper.
She watched in horror as Ginny turned her broom to face Malfoy and reached her hand out, an obvious sign to congratulate him. As his hand engulfed hers Ginny leaned forward to whisper something into Malfoy's ear. Whatever she said seemed to dampen his celebratory mood as his face became rather serious when he replied back to her. Ginny didn't say anything for a long minute, still shaking his hand before she gave a quick nod and said one final thing. Malfoy's eyes darted to the side to meet Hermione's embarrassed gaze before he returned to look at the Gryffindor captain, making a final comment while he released the fellow captain's handshake, and flew off to the Slytherin locker room alone.
Later that evening Malfoy met her at their usual practice time, tossing the snitch he'd caught earlier up and down in his hand as she made her way across the flat grassy field.
"Congratulations, Mr. Malfoy. That was a spectacular play."
He smiled pleasantly.
"Thank you, Miss Granger."
She noticed, which she seemed to be doing more frequently these days, that he'd changed out of the sweaty uniform and recently showered. When she stopped at his side she was shocked as she watched him pick up her left hand, turn it over so her palm was upright, and press the snitch into her grasp.
"I only saw it first because I was looking for you and noticed you pointing it out. I suppose, by that logic, it's technically yours and therefore you should keep it."
She glanced down at the snitch and its fluttering metallic wings, tickling her skin with its featherlight movements.
"Mr. Malfoy, you don't have to give this to me. You earned this."
He shook his head.
"I have dozens of them sitting in my trunk as we speak from other matches where I feel I actually deserved the win."
"Well, thank you," she said, pulling the treasured object back to hold against her chest.
Malfoy seemed very distracted with her hands doing this but eventually he cleared his throat, shifting on his feet as he did.
"How was your time with Pansy?"
Hermione thought about everything the raven-haired girl had said and the fact that she found her to be quite the enigma she hadn't realized her to be.
"Insightful. She has an incredible gift but it's too bad she doesn't play."
He hummed in agreement.
"Pansy much prefers to boss people around then participate. She'd make a great coach if she was ever inclined to it."
"She did say something that I think we should discuss," Hermione began trying to sound nonchalant as she examined the snitch, "she mentioned how busy you are with all your studies and your Quidditch captain responsibilities. I got the impression that my lessons might be causing your schedule to be stretched a bit thin. I was wondering if that's the case and if so then perhaps we should scale my lessons back?"
Malfoy's happy countenence immediately darkened as he scowled slightly.
"Pansy is nosy and you shouldn't listen to her. I wouldn't have agreed to any of this if I didn't know what I was getting myself into."
Hermione frowned a little, her arms crossing in front of her.
"Mr. Malfoy, academics are exceedingly important, and I don't want to affect your studies with these lessons or your other obligations. If it's too much we can stop them and I can find other means to finish learning how to fly and throw the quaffle before our wager date."
Malfoy's entire body seemed to stiffen but his face held that same owly look.
"I assure you, Miss Granger, I'm not over taxing myself. It's a few nights a week for an hour at the most. If I can't handle that then I should have my position stripped. Your friend is not only Quidditch captain for Gryffindor she's also Head Girl and manages it all while keeping up with her curriculum. I think if she's capable of handling that workload I should think myself to able to handle a similar one, wouldn't you agree?"
True, she reasoned to herself. He had a point and if he thought these were too much then she assumed he would have said something before now. Perhaps Parkinson was simply being an overprotective friend.
"Well, I stand by my statement, if it gets to be too much, I demand that you say something, agree?"
Malfoy gave an exaggerated eyeroll.
"Yes, Miss, Granger, I will agree to your unnecessary condition."
"Good," she nodded, satisfied.
Her teeth chewed on her lip as she mulled over her next question but Hermione knew she couldn't pretend she hadn't seen the interaction between Ginny and him at the end of the match.
"Speaking of Ginny, I was wondering what it was she said to you after the game was over? You two looked like you were having quite the conversation."
She could see his face had changed to the exact same look he'd given her friend whilst they were speaking.
"Not much, she congratulated me on the win and mentioned how excited she was to see your progress soon."
Well, that sounded like Ginny, but she highly doubted that was all she'd said to him. He didn't give her a chance to ask any further questions as he leaned down to pick up his discarded broomstick and placed it between his legs.
"Alright Miss Granger, enough chatting or we'll never leave before midnight. We'll run some laps then after that we're going to start spending most of our time working on teaching you how to throw the quaffle and reviewing what you learned today."
A little disappointed that he was trying to drop the subject, Hermione brought the broom Ginny had given her to borrow between her own thighs.
"We better get started then if I'm ever going to have enough time to learn."
Two weeks.
She had two weeks left and still hadn't mastered balancing while holding the quaffle. She'd been practicing on the ground for the entirety of the past month, holding Ginny or Malfoy's broom handle with one hand while using her dominant arm to balance the ball before throwing it over her head. Even Malfoy had commented that she'd be a decent chaser if she could replicate that throw midair. In the air though? As abysmal as her first attempt to pick the broomstick up off the ground.
Malfoy was again showing his maturity and ability to be an excellent Quidditch captain as he waited patiently for Hermione to adjust on Ginny's broomstick once more as the pair of them floated in the air, clenching her already burning thighs around the mount as she'd seen the two Keepers do during the match.
"Let's try it again, Miss Granger. Balancing on a broom is the first step in throwing a quaffle. Taking one hand off at a time will be the easiest way for you to learn. Your center of gravity is in your hips so make sure you are tilting far enough back but not so much that you'll topple over. Once you've settled hold on with one hand and stretch the other out like this," he demonstrated by lifting his right arm horizontally to his body, then mimicking the action with his left arm, leaving him to only keep hold of his broom with those well trained muscular thighs of his.
"You see? You'll do the same and balance there for as long as you can."
Hermione tightened her already burning thighs around the narrow wooden handle that she sat on. Like Malfoy had instructed she started off by reaching one arm out to her side so it was flat. Once she felt confident her balance was where it should be she cautiously let go of the broom with her other hand and slowly stretched the limb out. Steady…steady…
"Excellent. Now, I'm going to toss the quaffle, try to catch it without falling."
Hermione brought her arms in slowly, focused on keeping herself centered as she waited for his throw. When it came her eyes were honed in on the spinning red ball, aimed slightly to the left of her. Her hands reached out and caught the ball a bit clumsily with her thighs rubbing against the wood painfully hard but she managed to hold onto the red ball and keep herself in place. Malfoy's cheer almost startled her enough to fall over but she held the pose, grinning delightfully.
"Well done Miss Granger, that was a spectacular catch. Do you want to call it a night?"
Riding high on genuine happiness she shook her head
"Not yet, if you don't mind. I think now that I've got the hang of it I should try it several more times to make sure I don't forget."
He simply nodded, the smile still visible in his eyes.
"That's fine, we can stay a while longer and practice throwing."
Hermione moved up and down and back and forth across the field several times, laughing with Malfoy at the few times she missed, tossing him a snarled look with her tongue out when he purposefully overthrew, and enjoying the time she spent being in his company. It's too bad, she thought wistfully, that their time together was going to have to end soon.
