AN: Thank you for all the support! It is very deeply appreciated!

Hermione wasn't sure how to clear her mind when all she could think of were the consequences of her potential failure. What had started as a means to obtain a job she'd always wanted had become a mission to spare Severus from someone who saw him as nothing more than an evil ex-Headmaster, and to save herself from a life of being patronized by a new colleague. Somehow, she had to fly, but how could she do it when her mind darted between needing to fly, and hexing her former friends?

Their looks of pity flashed in her mind before she could refocus her efforts on flying. A few years ago, she wouldn't have blamed them for believing she was pitiful. When the healers told her how bleak her life was to become if she was not cured, she believed them. Once she realized her life of searching for a cure was already too bleak to bear, she decided to change tactics. After achieving self-acceptance, her life had improved, even if nobody believed her when she said as much.

"You're overthinking this," Severus interrupted her thoughts.

She expelled all the thoughts from her mind, only for the pain of her leg to make itself known. A spasm shot up her body, causing her to wince and let out a squeak.

"Hermione?"

She didn't answer. Instead, she focused on wanting to fly, needing to fly, yearning to fly despite everyone's doubts and her own fear of heights.

"Hermione, you're trying too hard."

"How would you know?" She opened her eyes, only to exhale. "Right, you know I wasn't focused because I answered you."

"That, and your expressions are easy to read," he answered. "I can tell when you're relaxed, and when your mind is racing a thousand kilometers a minute."

"You're right," she slumped. "I'm not doing an adequate job of clearing my mind."

"If you would like, we can try this again when you are in a different mental state and not in so much pain." He moved his chair closer to her. "It may be best not to add to the frustrations of the day. We could do something else to clear our minds and return to this at a later date."

"No," she argued as she sat up straighter in her wheelchair. "I have to learn to fly when I'm distracted and in pain. Those may very well be the conditions under which I must do my demonstration. There will be days when I am stressed after a rainstorm as well. At some point, I have to learn to fly when I am not at my best. I may as well start now."

He hummed and nodded.

"Besides, your flying lessons were probably done under just as stressful an environment, and you managed to do it."

"That would be an understatement," he admitted. "Between my desire to please Voldemort and my desire to take him down, I was extremely stressed when learning to fly."

"How did you learn to fly then?" Another jolt of pain radiated from her leg to her body.

"Have you not been paying attention? I'm teaching you the method now," he snapped.

"Yes, I know your method, but why did Voldemort teach you?" She asked.

"I was his second in command," He lowered his voice. "That is all that needs to be said."

She opened her mouth, only to close it. There may be some things she was better off not knowing, such as what it took to get into Voldemort's inner circle.

"Was he patient with you?" She asked in a gentle voice.

"Why do you care?" He furrowed his eyebrows.

"I want to encourage myself to do this. If you could learn it under adverse circumstances, then I can do this under adverse circumstances as well. If you can do it, so can I since I'm not afraid of being hexed for failing."

"You are much luckier than me in that regard," his eyes shifted to the ground.

"Yes, I'm lucky to be taught by a good friend."

"I wish I'd had a friend teach me," he admitted. "I wish I'd known what friendship was."

"You do now."

He glanced up.

"You know what friendship is now, or," she placed a hand on his, "I hope you do."

"I know what it means to have a friend through you, and sometimes Neville, yet you two are the exception," he replied. "Everyone else only sees me as a Death Eater who would destroy them at any minute. Nobody wants to take into consideration the spying I did during the war, nor do they want to see the person I am now."

"One aspect of you becomes who you are. There's one component of your identity that nobody can look past until it becomes all you are." She rubbed her spasming leg.

"I think you're the only person who understands what that's like." He took her hand and squeezed it.

"I do." She felt a wave of calm go through her. His skin was smoother than most people realized, not that many people dwelt on what it would be like to touch him. Still, if anyone knew how secure yet gentle his touch was, they would envy her for gaining his trust.

"If you must know why I was taught to fly, Voldemort selected me because I had potential as a spy," Severus' voice was quieter. "He kew that out of any of his followers, I was the one most likely to fight Dumbledore. He wanted me to be prepared for that moment. That, and he wanted to show gratitude for giving him the prophecy."

"Did he harm you?"

"Not as much as you may think."

She bit her lower lip, her stomach churning at the idea of Voldemort hurting him at all.

"Voldemort was patient up to a certain point," Severus continued. "He knew if he cast a Crucitas too much, I would become too overwhelmed with fear to learn how to fly. Still, if he suspected I didn't come to a lesson prepared, or if I was falling behind, he was not above hexes to encourage me to try harder."

"I'd imagine avoiding pain was quite the motivation."

"The desire to become powerful was the more powerful motivator, especially when I realized that he needed to be stopped. Once I realized he wanted to kill Lily, I learned to fly to gain information on him and perhaps overtake him." He shook his head. "I failed on both accounts."

"Yes, but we won, in large part because of you."

"Harry lost his parents because of me."

She twisted her lower lip.

"Sometimes I wonder if I would've joined the Death Eaters if I had not been so obsessed with revenge against James. My life would have been better had I never met him, or any of the Marauders."

"Perhaps, but there's no point in dwelling on what could have happened. All we have is now."

"Yes, but there's so much more I could've done for the Light. If I'd been better as a spy, or if I'd had the freedom to save more people, I could have been a bigger help. I could have," he glanced at her left leg. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?" She glanced at her leg.

He looked into her eyes. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you when Bellatrix tortured you. If I'd had any idea you were captured, I would have found a way to stop her. If I had found a way to stop her, you would not be in the situation you're in."

"Do not ever apologize for my disability again," she replied as her muscles tightened.

He swallowed.

"I like who I am now. For the first time in my life, I am at peace with myself."

"Yes, but wouldn't you have preferred that peace without her torturing you?"

"I will admit that I wish I hadn't been tortured." Her stomach clenched as the sound of Bellatrix's laughter echoed in her brain. "But I don't regret my life as it is now."

"I know, but it must be disheartening to be treated the way you were today. That was not the first time you were treated horribly, and I fear it won't be the last."

"People patronize others for a variety of reasons. Perhaps Angelina, Terry, and Ernie would not have been so patronizing towards me if I wasn't disabled, but others would have found reasons to behave poorly towards me."

"It baffles me that anyone could find a reason to treat you poorly."

"I can think of a few reasons, such as being a muggleborn. That doesn't matter to most people, but old prejudices die hard."

"That shouldn't be the case."

"No, it shouldn't be, but there's also the fact I'm difficult and bossy. People don't tend to like that."

"You're assertive and state what you want. You don't play games, which I appreciate."

"I know, and I appreciate your acceptance." She gave him a small smile. "Some days, I think you're the only one who has ever accepted me completely."

"How unfortunate for you." He deadpanned.

"No, how fortunate that I've found a friend I can confide in and who I know will always be there when I need him."

"I will remain by your side for however long you want me to be there."

"How about the rest of my life?" Her voice was softer.

"I will be there until death then," he rubbed his thumb against her hand.

"If you ever worry about my disability and whether I'd be the same person had I never been tortured," she rubbed her leg. "I spend my summers with my parents. Who's to say I wouldn't have gotten into a car accident and had a similar disability?"

"If you weren't disabled you could be Minister of Magic," he answered.

She burst out laughing. "I'm sorry, but the idea of me dealing with all that bureaucracy is enough to make me want to retreat to a warm desert and never return."

"I feel the same."

"See, there are certain blessings to being who I am. When I developed my disability, I learned who my true friends were, and who I could trust. It's knowledge I would have learned in a much worse way had I not been disabled."

"You already learned it the hard way."

"Yes, but before my leg began shaking, Ron and I had been considering marriage. Had I not developed my disability, I would probably have been going through the most public divorce in the Wizarding World."

"Would you say you're happy then?"

She relaxed. "I'm happy because I'm with you."

"I make you happy?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Yes," she answered.

He gazed into her eyes. "I am happy to have you in my life as well."

She kept her focus on his eyes. There was a glisten of affection in them. He didn't look at anyone else the way he looked at her. Was he grateful for her friendship, or was there something else, something deeper neither wanted to acknowledge?

More importantly, why did her chest warm every time she was in his presence? How could a few words from him calm her, make her feel like she was the most important woman in the world? Why did she feel her relationship with him was the most valuable thing in her life, and the one thing she never wanted to lose?

"Of course we must be careful," he purred.

"Oh?" Her throat was dry.

"Indeed," he leaned back. "If anyone knew I was capable of happiness I would be ruined. Best keep my sentiments between us."

"Agreed," she answered. "If too many people thought you capable of happiness, they would strive to make you happy, which may involve more blind dates."

"So you see why I cannot have such a dangerous misconception floating around."

"I couldn't agree more." She released his hand, ignoring the pain shooting up from her leg.

"Do you want to try flying one more time?"

"Yes."

"Okay," he took a deep breath. "Clear your mind, then focus on what you want your body to do."

"I can do that." She closed her mind and relaxed. Once her mind was cleared, she remembered the feeling of Severus' arms around her, the way her body was weightless, how secure she felt in his embrace. She wanted that more than anything. If she could find a way to give herself that, she would be proud of herself, feel as if she'd accomplished something amazing.

Her body jolted upwards.

She opened her eyes. Below her, Severus was grinning wider than he ever had. No longer was her back against her wheelchair. Instead, it was against nothing but air. She kicked her leg, but met no resistance from metal footrests.

"I'm flying," she breathed.

"Indeed you are," he answered.

"I'm flying!" She raised a fist. "I'm finally flying!"

"You are."

"Yes, and," she glanced at her wheelchair. It was smaller than it had been minutes ago. It also wasn't holding her body. She had an idea of how much force it could take, and it would not be sturdy enough for something to crash into it from above.

The concrete ground was no better. All the desks had sharp edges which could give her a good scrape if she hit them. There was no safe place to land.

"I'm flying." Her face paled before she yelled, "and I have no idea how to get down!"