Chapter 4: Parallel

Friday rolled around and Hermione hadn't so much as received a post from Ron. Ginny, unaware of the offer Hermione refused, mentioned that Harry owled her every day to check in on how the Quidditch team was coming along and how the new professors were. Though she knew her best friend meant well, it irked Hermione. She didn't understand how Harry had more time to write than Ron. She pushed around the food on her plate at breakfast, dreading her first class of the day: Divination.

The climb up the North Tower felt more like pure torture than exercise. Hermione could smell the tea brewing as she hit the landing. Willowy puffs of steam danced out from the door of Professor Trelawney's classroom. She forced herself to enter the class, head held high, trying not to focus on how she had stormed out during third year.

"Oh goodness," the eccentric teacher exclaimed, when she saw Hermione enter. "Your aura is shifting dramatically. I don't believe it knows what it is." She peeped at Hermione over her spectacles. "Perhaps you don't know what you are either, my dear. Is that why you have rejoined my class?"

Hermione ground her teeth together, holding back a retort. Taking a breath to steady herself, she said, "Good morning Professor Trelawney, I've brought my supplies to get started. Do we have assigned seats?"

"You can not assign energy, my dear, so why would I restrict my students?"

"Um...right," Hermione nodded, finding a seat in the front. Thankfully she only need a pass or fail in this added elective. However, as she watched Trelawney greet the other students, she realized obtaining a passing grade was going to rely more on her being able to keep herself in check versus actually gleaming any information of the future.

About twenty minutes into class, the Professor had them making and using their own pendulums for yes or no divination. Hermione had crafted hers carefully and finished before everyone else. She followed the instructions to calibrate the tool. As she held the stringed crystal over the tabletop, she asked, "Am I Hermione Granger?" The crystal swung back and forth. "Is my best friend Lord Voldemort?" The crystal swung side to side, as she expected to signal the correct 'no' direction. Now that her pendulum was ready for use in the class activity, she looked around the room. The others were all still working on stringing their stones and crystals.

Maybe it won't be so bad, she thought. So far it seemed that she had had no issues with her work.

"Ms. Granger." Professor Trewlawney eyed her pendulum skeptically. "Did you create this prior to class in an effort to make your classmates feel infereior?"

"No, of course not, Professor." Hermione felt a sting of hurt at the insinuated insult. "I followed the instructions on page 16, as you asked."

"Ms. Granger," the professor made a 'tsk-ing' sound and shook her head. "I'm afraid you fail to understand how powerful the third eye is, dear." Hermione raised an eyebrow, not understanding. "I can see all that has been seen: Past, Present, Future. You cannot lie to me."

"Professor," Hermione began, feeling slighted. "I'm not lying. You saw me sitting here. I began at the same time as everyone else."

"I'm disappointed in you, Ms. Granger. As Head Girl, I thought you would respect this art and all it has to offer. I'm sorry, but I do not believe you belong among the enlightened, such as myself."

Maybe not.

A few moments later, Hermione was making her way back down the tower steps. Her face flushed her anger, she grumbled profanity under her breath as she made her way to the library. With the exception of Snape, she had never been chided by a Hogwarts professor in class before. She did not like this feeling. She was Hermione Granger, the Gryffindor who solved the mystery of the Basilik, discovered her DADA professor's werewolf condition, and had assisted in locating and destroying Voldemort's horcruxes. She was not the type to get thrown out of class. She was not the type to give up on a commitment. Yet here she was.

Hermione sighed, as she entered the library. She felt defeated. There was only one option now. She wasn't sure how she was going to master flying on a broomstick, but as she wandered down the familiar aisles of books, she knew she didn't have a choice. Returning to Professor Trewlany's class was no longer an option. She had burned that bridge back in third year. There was no going back now.

She located several books on flying. Harry preferred Quidditch Through the Ages, but Ginny had recently mentioned another title to her. She decided she would give it a try, along with a few others. Gathering them up together, she checked them out with Madame Pince and returned to the Head's dormitory. The silver lining of having left the North Tower so early was that now she had a couple hours free before her next class.

Back in the dorm, she sat her bag on the floor and settled down on the couch.

"You're back early," Malfoy commented, as he entered.

Hermione gave him a brief nod. "You are too."

"I had Alchemy," he shrugged. "Got done my first assignment early. How about you?"

"Professor Trewlany accused me of cheating, so I walked out."

"Whoa, watch out! Bad girl, Granger coming through." He teased, flopping into the chair next to her. "Must have felt good after all those years of goody-toe-shoeing."

"I'm trying to study, if you don't mind."

She forced her eyes to focus on the pages in front of her. Malfoy's signature smirk seemed different today. Normally she could see the pleasure he was deriving from someone else's folly. Today, he appeared to be laughing at his own inside joke. The slight distinction made him more attractive. It reminded her of the half-smiles the male models wore in ad campaigns for male lingerie.

Oh, you did NOT just think that, Hermione Jean Granger.

"What are you reading now, Granger?"

"The Witch's Broom: The Craft, Lore & Magic of Broomsticks," she responded, not bothering to look up. She didn't want to look at his face again.

"Why?"

"Since I had to drop Divination. Flying is my only other option."

He groaned, dramatically. "You can't read to learn how to fly."

"Why not?"

"There are some things you can learn by reading and then there are things you just have to do to know. You can't live life within the margins."

She lowered the book to glance up at him. While he still looked like the smug prat she had come to know, there was a seriousness to his tone. She was surprised by how easily she could relate to his words. In first year, she had learned that all of her knowledge, while handy, couldn't replace the fun she had breaking the rules to spend time with Ron and Harry. Being friends with them had opened her eyes to what she had been missing. As an only child, she had been accustomed to entertaining herself, hence her reliance on books and dedication to gaining knowledge. It had been her coping mechanism prior to Hogwarts.

"I'll figure it out."

"Have it your way, Granger." He rose from the chair. Adjusting his satchel on his shoulder, he moved for his bed chamber.

A thought occurred to Hermione. Before she could think it through, she sat up on the couch. "Wait, Malfoy." He paused, pivoting around. "Could you teach me? To fly, I mean?"

His lips curled into a wicked smirk. "Hermione Granger, brightest witch of the age, right-hand of Potter the Savior, asking me, a known Death Eater and Pureblood, for help?"

"Nevermind," she rolled her eyes and turned back to her book, embarrassed. Why do I even bother? She held the book up in front of her face to hide the flush of her cheeks. She was angry with herself for ever considering asking him. She would just need to beg Ginny at dinner to spend a few hours with her over the weekend. Maybe Romilda would help her. She had offered earlier in the week and if the both of them worked together there was a slim chance that-

"I'll do it." Malfoy's statement jogged her out of her thought chain.

"What?"

"You heard me, Granger." He dropped his satchel on the floor, coming over to her. He rested his forearms on the back couch, leaning over to look at her. "I'll trade you."

She furrowed her brow, not understanding him. "Trade me?"

"I got stuck with my own electives: Muggle Studies."

Hermione bit her lip to keep from laughing, but a small giggle escaped. "Mug-Muggle Studies?"

"Obviously, I would have rather picked something like Ancient Runes," he rolled his eyes at her reaction. "Give my past...history, McGonagall thought it would work in my favor, especially given that my parents are currently on trial."

Hermione noticed his face fall at that last part. She had read in the Daily Prophet that Lucius Malfoy was testifying against his fellow Death Eaters. While it meant that many would be captured and brought to justice, it also meant that he and his family were at risk of attack. It also hadn't surprised her. Mr. Malfoy was, if anything, an opportunist. He would be the one to find a way around serving time in Azkaban and ultimately accepting a Dementor's kiss. What did surprise her was the worry etched onto his son's face. She believed Draco Malfoy's relationship with his father to be complicated. And that was putting it delicately. However, when it came to the matter of his mother, she had only ever witnessed deep love and compassion between the two. Harry had confided in her about how Narcissa lied for him in the Forbidden Forest in return for him sharing info about Draco. Hermione could tell that the woman meant a great deal to the Head Boy.

"Have you heard from them?" she asked, genuinely concerned.

"No," he answered quickly. "They are not allowed to have correspondence outside of the Ministry." He paused, briefly before adding. "It's supposed to be for their protection." He scuffed. "As if those idiots could protect them from people like my aunt."

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat at the mention of Bellatrix Lestrange. Malfoy must have noticed. He strolled over, plucking the textbook out of her hands.

"Hey!"

"Come on, Granger. We are not going to stay in here and sulk."

Draco navigated them through the corridors to the seventh floor. He gestured for her to follow, as they walked in a large circle around a large bare wall Finally, after the third pass, he stood by a large bare wall for several minutes. Then the door began to appear in front of them.

"The Room of Requirement?" Granger questioned."Why are we here? Shouldn't we be out on the Practice Pitch?"

"Only if you want a few broken bones."

He watched her nostrils flare in anger at the suggestion. Smirking, he entered the room. As he had mentally requested, the room was expansive and bare with a high ceiling. Aside of the entryway was a broom closet, housing several different makes and models of practice brooms. The majority of the floor was covered in what appeared to be a giant white mattress. It would be a much more forgiving surface than the grounds.

"Over here," he directed her to the closet. He helped her to select a broom and then chose one for himself. He had considered bringing his personal broomstick, but had decided in case anything went wrong during their practice, he'd rather have it in one piece back in his bedchamber. He hadn't seen Granger around a broom since first year, but he had overheard Potter and Weasel making fun of her countless times.

"I feel silly," Granger commented, preparing to mount the broom.

"You look it," he teased, watching the flicker of anger light up her eyes. If anything could get her through this, it would be her need to do it in spite of him. "Seriously, Granger, it's just a broomstick. First years are less afraid of it than you are."

"It's not the broomstick I'm afraid of," she snapped.

"I know you are intimidated by me," he began, noting how she rolled her eyes. "But there's no need to be afraid."

"Malfoy!"

"Granger."

"Y-you-you-you..."

"Forget the English language?"

"Just get on with it!"

Draco mounted his broom, lifted off the ground, and did a loop around the first half of the room. He gestured around him, illustrating how easy it had been. Granger followed his lead. She teetered a bit trying to get off the ground, but managed to rise to his height.

"You need some work on your take-off."

She glared daggers at him. Before she could do more than that (he was concerned she may try to hex him at some point), he took off, doing a larger loop around the room. Granger once again followed. She was clutching the broom so tightly he wondered if she'd snap it in half. For her to excel at flying, she would have to learn to let go a little. He removed his hands from his broom, navigating by simply leaning his body in the direction he wished to turn. Granger watched his movements and slowly sat up straighter. She took one hand off the broom, then the other. Very cautiously and very steadily, she raised each arm, one at a time, until she mimicked his movements.

It lasted only for a few seconds, before she moved to turn and took it too tight, causing her to lose balance and lurch to the side.

Frantically, she reached out, latching on to his left arm and pulling him off his broom as they both fell onto the cushioned ground below.

"Hhmphf."

They landed in a tangled mess of limbs, the brooms bouncing down behind them. Draco could feel the weight of her body against his before he opened his eyes to see her startled and reddening face. Granger had her hands bracing herself against his chest, keeping her upper body hovering over his. Her legs had landed in between his own. Her hair was hanging down around her face, shielding her somewhat from his line of vision. He could still make out the scarlet color that had blossomed across her skin. Even her ears were red. He decided to play it up.

"Falling for me already, Granger?"

She shoved him, as she pushed herself up and walked to her broom.

"Is that a yes?" he inquired.

"You really are daft, aren't you?" she shot over her shoulder at him.

He noticed she was smiling to herself and shaking her head. Though she was attractive when she was glaring daggers at people, he found himself pleased more by the sight in front of him. Her hair was tossed about, curls falling all around her face, which was flushed from the excitement of the fall. Her lean form moved so gracefully. It was her smile, he decided, that was what had him bewitched. Despite her objections, she was still grinning to herself, unaware that he could see her from his position.

It was foolish of him to think they could be friends. They were barely acquaintances. This was a business arrangement. He was helping her out with flying so she could teach him about Muggle culture. It was beneficial for each of them. At least, that's what he told himself. He stole another glance, as she stood there practicing her kick-up and take-off. Her entire posture was rigid and she was beyond concentrated. He smiled, despite himself. She would always be that way, so hell bent on being the best and mastering everything that was thrown in her path.

He recalled how beautiful she had looked at Yule ball in her dress. Viktor Krum had seen it. The Bulgarian seeker had automatically been drawn to the bookworm, staying close to her all year and not surprisingly asking her to be on his arm for the ball. Draco wished he had had the bravery to ask her to dance that night. Instead, he had remained in the back with Pansy, as she whined about this, that, and the other thing. Later that evening, as they returned to the dungeons, he had heard Granger crying. Later he had found out it was because of Weasel.

For the first time in his life, he found himself feeling jealous of Ron Weasley. That red-headed git had no idea what he had or how much Draco would give to have someone as loyal and caring as Granger by his side. Maybe if they had been friends from the start, maybe things would have been different for him. Maybe they could have even been more than friends.

Get a hold of yourself, mate.

Draco needed to get out of the dimly lit room and away from his memories. "Ready to take this outside?" he called to her, as he stood up.

Granger's face paled. "Now?"

"No time like the present."

"But this is the first day. Don't I need more practice."

"Yep. Outdoors."

He led her out of the castle and down to the Practice Pitch. As they got closer, he heard Madam Hooch barking orders at the first years. He realized it was still considered morning period and that they would be on the field until lunch. Granger looked relieved, until he mentioned they could use the Quidditch Pitch because it was vacant. She didn't look pleased, but she didn't back down. They walked in silence down, all the while Draco focused on the fresh air and the scent of the newly trimmed grass. The sun was out with only a few dots of clouds along the horizon. It brought him out of his own head space. By the time they reached the main gates, he had forgotten all about his feelings.

"Now, we're going to fly around the pitch once. We don't have a lot of time before our next class, so just once for today. We can come back down for more practice next week."

Granger nodded, but she didn't move.

"You actually have to get on the broom," he commented, sarcastically.

She didn't rise to his bait. Instead, she slowly lifted one leg over the broom, mounting it cautiously. The color had drained from her face again. "Malfoy, I can't do this." Her voice quivered with each word.

"I'm not going to let you fall, Granger."

She either didn't hear him or she wasn't listening. She didn't look at him. Her gaze was focused solely on the broom handle. He was certain he had never seen her so frazzled. Her hands were shaking and her breathing was coming in short spurts. If he had know it was this easy to get to Granger, he would have brought her out for a lesson years ago.

Seeing her practically hyperventilating over something as simple as flying should have made him pleased or at the very least granted him the satisfaction to know she was not perfect at everything. He felt none of that. Instead, he felt protective.

"Granger, look at me." She didn't move. "Hermione." Her head snapped up. That worked. "I am not going to let you fall," he repeated, slowly in a serious tone. His eyes never left hers. "Do you trust me?" It took her a moment, whether due to an internal struggle or the overwhelming fear of flight, he wasn't sure. Finally, she nodded. "Good. Let's go."

Draco got on his broom, alongside of her. He felt her gripping onto his sleeve, keeping him from moving too far away. "I'll be right next to you the entire time, ok?" She nodded again. "I will not let you fall." She seemed to ease a bit after he repeated himself a third time. "Now, kick up."

He demonstrated, hovering a few feet off the ground. Granger closed her eyes, inhaling and exhaling slowly. When she opened her eyes, she kicked up, triggering the broom to rise. Instinctively, she pitched forward at the motion, her hands tightening around the handle until they were white. Draco leaned over to steady her with one arm.

"Good. Now follow me. We'll take it slow, alright?"

With her brief nod as permission, he flew towards the opposite end of the field, aiming for the central goal ring. He held back his pace, aware of how too much distance cause Granger to slow down almost to a complete stop. It took some time, but eventually, they were both perched in between one of the hoops.

"Not so bad, is it?" He teased, trying to take her mind off their height. Draco noticed she was no longer clenching the broom for dear life. Her posture had improved with her confidence and she sat up straighter.

"It's not," she replied, sounding surprised. She surveyed the pitch, her head turning slightly to take in her surroundings. "It's actually beautiful up here. I can see why you enjoy it so much." She gave him a genuine smile.

Draco felt his chest tighten. The way she was looking over at him made him feel something. He couldn't quite place it, but the warmth spread from his chest throughout his body, rolling through him like a wave. The thought of coming out here with her on a regular basis made me hopeful. For what, he wasn't sure, but he felt as if there was something beginning now. She really does have a gorgeous smile. He realized he was still staring at her and quickly turned away. He missed her blush and do the same.

"Let's hope you as good of a tutor, Granger."

"As if you have to ask, Malfoy."

They headed in from the pitch, so they could attend to their next class: Charms. Granger's mood had improved since he had found her in the dorm. He noted how she walked with confidence, as if she was on top of the world.

"What?" She caught him watching her.

"Pretty proud of yourself, huh?"

"And why shouldn't I be?"

"Guess I shouldn't be surprised. You Gryffindors are always so proud."

"And you Slytherins are always arrogant."

Playful banter he could do. It was comfortable territory. Whatever they had started getting into when above the pitch was something else. Friendship didn't seem to be the appropriate definition. Draco didn't dare to let his mind wander further down that chain of thought. He couldn't think like that. He wouldn't. The only ending for something like that was disappointment. He wasn't some hero, no matter what Granger said about writing their own stories, or whatever line the Ministry was pushing down their throats. He was a Malfoy, an ex-Death Eater, a Pureblood, and a Slytherin to boot. There was no chance in hell that the one third of the Golden Trio walking aside of him would ever see him as anything else.

Hermione Granger was a war hero and a genuinely good person. The way she had instinctively stood up for him and how she had befriended the Greengrass girl were both recent examples of the type of individual she was. Putting others needs before her own was one of the qualities that made her a Gryffindor, along with her lionhearted approach to all problems. Since first year, she had matured. Her wildly curly hair had been tamed. The over-sized wardrobe she had once worn had been replaced with more posh items and she was wearing a hint of makeup on a daily basis. She had come into her own. She was beautiful inside and out.

And she deserved someone better than him.

A/N: I'm trying to keep this as close to canon as possible (with the obvious exception of their relationship). So far, do you think it's too much detail? Not enough dialogue? I'm open to feedback.