Chapter 5: Flying

The next morning, when Malfoy felt he had slept enough and stretched, he jumped in bed when a high-pitched squeak came out of his lips instead of the usual raspy sound that always climbed up his throat. But, of course, that wasn't his throat.

Shit. No, it hadn't been a nightmare; he was still in a body that wasn't his own.

He rolled over in bed and buried Granger's face in the pillow, feeling her stupid frizzy hair tickling the back of his neck. He tried to ignore the fact that in that position he could clearly feel her breasts squashed against the mattress, and he was so shocked by the simple realization of that detail that he had the urge to jump to his feet, but his head started spinning and he had to sit down again.

Granger, who was already fully dressed in his Slytherin uniform, turned to look at him with his grey eyes in a strange way.

"Why do you always seem in such a hurry to start the day?" the boy muttered grumpily.

Hermione didn't have time to respond because Parkinson appeared out of nowhere, followed by Harry, and shook her friend by the shoulders. He tried to fend her off with a swat, but Pansy had anticipated his reaction and had moved away just in time. It was strange to witness how her friend's body and her own interacted so roughly in front of her eyes.

"The question is, why aren't you in a hurry? Don't you want to get your body back?" the girl shouted at him, though she seemed more amused than anything else.

"Get those dirty Potter hands off me," he snapped at his friend, who was still trying to slap him playfully.

Harry, who was constantly struggling to keep the girl's sleek, jet-black hair out of his mouth, managed to put on Pansy's typical murderous look quite well. She saw it and smiled, somewhere between surprise and… pride?

She and Harry moved ahead, but Hermione had to wait for Malfoy to get dressed, with everything that entailed. Having someone else handle your body was, to say the least, disturbing, but for them to see you naked was… indescribable.

Hermione suppressed a shudder as she remembered what she had done the previous day with Malfoy's body. She closed her eyes. And the worst part wasn't the fact that she had touched his dick, firm and erect, when she had to make him come… The worst part was that the shudder wasn't one of disgust, but of pleasure. Because yes, she had liked it more than she should have, and all night long she hadn't been able to stop thinking about touching his body again.

That thought accompanied her all the way to the headmaster's office, where there was already a considerable queue formed by all the students who had attended Professor Lockhart's class the previous day. Hermione sighed and looked at the expensive watch on her wrist.

"We're going to be late for class," she said, just as Harry and his companion came out of the office and walked past them.

Pansy pretended to stretch.

"It feels so good to be back in my own skin," she sang, clearly intending to annoy her companion.

Draco made a move to punch her, but the girl ran off, forcing Harry to pick up the pace to keep up with her.

"You guys get along," the Gryffindor commented with clear sarcasm in her voice, though letting a crooked smile escape. "Are you always like this?"

Draco snorted, and Hermione hated seeing herself with such a weary expression.

"No, not really. I think she's just trying to make up for lost time."

"Lost time?"

Draco looked away, as if he had realized he had said too much and couldn't take it back now.

"Pansy and I have been friends practically since we were born," he said wearily, "but Daphne never liked…," he cleared his throat, "her being so close to me, or making jokes, or touching me…"

He stopped abruptly and shook his head, as if he didn't know why he was telling her that.

Hermione raised her eyebrows and formed a small 'o' with her lips. If only Daphne knew that she'd touched Malfoy... down there... And if she was as jealous as he was telling her she was, then she supposed she would collapse.

"Why are you blushing?" he asked just as Hermione was recalling the sensation of having his dick in her hand.

"W-what? What are you talking about? I'm not… I didn't blush," she snapped, frowning deeply and crossing her arms over her chest too forcefully. Malfoy looked at her through narrowed eyes, and Hermione internally scolded herself for becoming so defensive.

"Have you seen my skin?" he retorted. "It's so pale it's almost translucent sometimes. Of course, you can tell when I blush."

But at that moment, it was their turn, and Hermione jumped into the headmaster's office as if she were fleeing from a wild, enormous, and hungry animal that threatened to swallow her in one bite if she didn't run to save her life.

In any case, she preferred that fatal destiny to confessing to Malfoy what had colored her cheeks so intensely… Because without a doubt, he would make a face, wouldn't he? Knowing that she had enjoyed touching him sexually, discovering that she wouldn't mind doing it again if given the chance.

Yes, being devoured by a hungry animal with sharp fangs was definitely a better option.

Later, back in their respective skins, they were the ones who were hungry. Throughout the morning, they had had a surprise exam and two typical end-of-term group tests, so by lunchtime, they felt capable of devouring a dragon between the two of them.

They had rushed to sit down and, without checking if their friends were around or not, had started eating. It was only a few minutes before Blaise approached, followed by Ron, though both were so focused on their food that it wasn't until Blaise spoke that they noticed his presence.

"Why don't you hurry up, mate?"

Hermione frowned when she realized he was referring to her.

"I'm back to being Hermione," she explained.

"Oh, sorry Granger, dear," he said, then turned to his friend and exclaimed, "Come on, man, hurry up!"

"What?" Draco asked, just having looked up from his plate.

"We have Quidditch practice… Let's go!"

Hermione choked on her potatoes, and Ron had to pat her on the back while she tried to drink water from her goblet, coughing all the while. Her heart began to swell in her chest when she noticed that Blaise wasn't wearing his Slytherin robes but the Quidditch gear with the green crest on the chest.

Yes, how funny.

"Damn, I completely forgot," Draco commented, making a move to quickly stand up from the table, but he stopped as soon as he heard the Gryffindor laughing in a strange, almost strangled way. "What's so funny?"

Hermione looked at Draco, then at Blaise, and then back at Draco.

"Oh, this isn't a joke?"

"Dear…" Blaise interjected. "At Slytherin, we take Quidditch practice very seriously…"

Parkinson entered the scene, swaying her hips in tight, stretchy pants that Harry was glancing at out of the corner of his eye, as if he didn't want to but couldn't help it.

"B-but…" Hermione stammered, grabbing Malfoy's arm and pulling him down so he'd sit again. He gave her a murderous look. "Please, no."

"No what?" he snapped.

"You can't do this to me."

"What are you talking about? I'm not doing anything to you."

Hermione shuddered just thinking about it.

"I'm terrified of heights," she whispered so only he could hear, almost as if she were confessing a crime. In a way, she hated trusting Malfoy with her fears.

"Well, it's time to face your fears," he told her.

Then, Hermione made the terrible mistake of uttering the two words the boy had never liked to hear.

"You can't."

It was as if it triggered something in his brain, something that made his blood boil. Draco Malfoy had always had what he wanted; no one had ever denied him anything, and now for her to come along and tell him he couldn't do something… it was beyond him. Plus, he liked to contradict her; he did it almost naturally.

"Yes, I can," he retorted. "I can, and I will."

"I'm not getting on your broom!"

"Oh, you can either do it, or you can be suspended in the air. Your choice."

"I choose to stay with my feet on the ground!"

"Sorry, but that wasn't an option."

Draco stood up again, and Hermione pulled his robe down once more.

"No!"

He leaned his face close to hers and, looking at her very closely, shouted, "Yes!"

"I have vertigo!"

"Then don't look down," Draco said, and she couldn't help but notice the way the corner of his lips curled into an arrogant, yet spectacular, smirk. The truth was that, even knowing the reason for his smile was nothing more than to irritate her, she couldn't help but think about how incredibly handsome he became when he shifted from his usual sour expression, wondering how someone could look so attractive and be such a jerk at the same time.

Then, as if aware of being the target of her negative energy, Hermione stopped looking at Draco and set her eyes on the Greengrass sisters, who were staring back at her from a distance. Daphne was visibly disgusted, but she was the first to look away. Her sister, however, kept her gaze on the Gryffindor until Draco got up for the third time and started walking towards the dungeons, forcing Hermione to follow in his footsteps.

Hermione sat on one of the beds, holding her head in her hands. The Gryffindor gear Ginny had lent her lay in her lap, but she couldn't bring herself to look at it, nor at Draco, who was hastily getting dressed in front of her.

"I can't believe you're forcing me to do this," she complained through her fingers. "I already feel dizzy, and we haven't even left the ground."

"Don't be so dramatic."

Hermione removed her hands from her face and glared at him. She would have thrown anything at his head if she had something nearby, preferably something sharp and pointy. She would have thrown her own wand if she weren't afraid he'd break it in revenge.

There was a knock at the door, and Blaise walked in a moment later.

"Why do you knock?" Draco asked.

His friend shrugged. "In case she was naked," he said, gesturing toward her. Hermione noticed Ron, already dressed in his own gear, shivering behind Blaise. Blaise quickly glanced at her and shook his head when he saw she was still in her Gryffindor robes. "They must have started already, mate. See you there."

Draco nodded and watched him leave the room.

"Granger," he said, turning back to her.

"What?"

"Get undressed."

She blushed but hid it by shaking her head and trying to change his mind.

"I'll do your assignments for a week."

He shook his head.

"A month."

"No."

"The whole rest of the year."

"Nope."

Hermione sighed, frustrated.

She had no choice. She knew that even if she refused, he could drag her to the field and force her onto the broom. In fact, it was very likely to happen if she didn't get going. And if it was destined to happen, why not get some benefit out of it? Damn, that was very Slytherin of her. But even Malfoy, who knew he would get his way, understood that forcing someone wasn't the same as getting them to agree and go willingly, so it would be easy to get some advantage out of it.

"Fine," she conceded. "I'll ride with you on your stupid broom."

Draco squinted at her, suspicious of her sudden change of heart.

"Why do I feel like you're going to add a condition?"

"How perceptive… because I will." She cleared her throat and then said solemnly, "You'll owe me one. Whatever it is. You'll be in my debt."

Draco and Hermione stared at each other for a moment, him pressing his lips together, her forcing herself to smile. She would save it for when it suited her. One never knew when something from the powerful Draco Malfoy might come in handy.

Finally, Draco threw his hands in the air.

"Fine, whatever you say. Now put on the damn gear!"

Hermione jumped to her feet and started undressing, hoping Draco would turn around. But this time he didn't. He didn't seem reluctant to look at her, nor did he seem annoyed. He was just anxious for her to get dressed and get to practice already. Thinking about it, she supposed that having been in her own body was a step toward accepting it, or at least tolerating it.

Once in her underwear, Hermione looked at the strange clothes for a few seconds.

"I don't know how to put this on."

Draco huffed and gave her instructions at first, but then he lost his patience and started dressing her himself. Hermione observed the way he fastened an endless number of buttons on her sides, interlaced garments with others, and adjusted the pants at her waist with strings. How on earth had he thought she'd know how to put this on alone?

All the members of the Slytherin team were already in the air, tossing the Quaffles and hitting the Bludgers when they arrived. Hermione spotted Ginny in the stands, and when she saw her, she stood up and started cheering for her. However, her cheers sounded distant, and Hermione couldn't tell if it was due to the distance or the slight dizziness she was beginning to experience.

"Come on, get on," Draco said, grabbing his broom from the shed.

Hermione swung a trembling leg over the broom and took a deep breath, trying to brace herself for what was about to happen, but Draco took off faster than expected, and she almost lost her balance and fell.

When she managed to stabilize again, she squeezed her eyes shut and wrapped her arms around Malfoy's torso, gripping with the kind of force one would use when they genuinely feared for their life.

The wind hit her face harshly, a terrifying reminder of where she was, and her only defense mechanism of closing her eyes stopped working immediately.

Desperate, she let out a whimper of terror and buried her face in Draco's back, trying to blank her mind until they landed again.

She succeeded for a while, despite the occasional yells here and there and Draco's constant, stomach-turning twists. However, at some point during practice, she began to sense something was wrong. The broom stopped maintaining a steady speed and started accelerating and decelerating abruptly without warning. She heard Draco curse, and then they plummeted towards the ground in free fall.

"What's happening?!" the girl exclaimed, but got no response because Draco was also shouting while trying to control the broom's direction.

Hermione let out a high-pitched scream that hurt her own ears, and the next moment they crashed to the ground at breakneck speed. The broomstick splintered in half with the impact, and they both tumbled forward, rolling in different directions until they collided with the invisible barrier that marked the limits of their freedom of movement.

A flash of light pierced her eyes, and she immediately felt a lash of pain in them. Suddenly, her world began to spin. Her head was spinning, and she was convinced she would lose consciousness any moment.

"Call Snape!" she managed to hear Draco shout before she lost herself in the haze enveloping her mind and let go.

When Hermione woke up, she kept her eyes closed, only vaguely aware of lying on a narrow bed. It smelled of potions and magical antiseptics, so she guessed she was in the infirmary. But why should she be? Then she forced her sluggish brain to work a little faster than it was currently doing, piecing together a blurry memory here and another there until she remembered why she was where she was: they had had a broomstick accident, hadn't they? Yes, she thought she remembered.

The truth was that she was very tired and her whole body ached, but she decided it was time to open her eyes. She did so slowly, but soon discovered that she had some kind of blurry film over her retinas that prevented her from seeing her surroundings. She sat up quickly and blinked repeatedly to clear her vision, uncomfortable with the sudden denial of such an essential sense, but only succeeded in making herself dizzier than she already was.

"She's awake!" shouted a familiar voice beside her.

Ron.

"Ron? Ron, where are you?"

"Can't you see me?" asked the aforementioned, and Hermione stretched out her arm and moved it in the air in response, searching for him. Her friend hurried to take her hand immediately.

"Relax, I'm here," he assured her.

"And so am I, sweetheart," added Blaise.

Hermione would have laughed if she weren't completely terrified.

Why couldn't she see anything? Her eyes didn't seem to be producing enough tear fluid to clear her vision, no matter how much she blinked like crazy.

"Oh, dear, how are you feeling?"

That sweet voice could only belong to Madam Pomfrey.

"It hurts all over," she replied. "And... and I can't see anything."

"Do you see everything black?"

"No, no, in fact, I can see the light. But everything is blurry, almost pixelated."

There was a small silence, and then the nurse spoke again.

"Well, how strange. You've only had a broomstick accident, the impact shouldn't have affected your sight... But take this, it will help with the general discomfort," she said, handing her a small cup whose contents smelled like dead rat. "Let me consult some manuals and then I'll do some vision tests. Draco, dear, you can go now, but remember you can't get your cast wet."

"No," he retorted, and Hermione jumped at the sound of his almost raspy voice. The liquid in the cup spilled a little over the edges. "I can't."

"Oh, sweetheart, don't worry, she'll be fine."

"It's just that... I can't leave her," he said almost through gritted teeth.

"Oh, love... But you must be exhausted! Go rest, I'll take care of her."

"No!" exclaimed Draco, losing his patience. "It's not that I don't want to, it's that I can't!"

She heard Pansy laughing somewhere in the infirmary close to where she was.

"Madam Pomfrey," murmured Hermione, looking for her but unable to find her. "He's right. The headmaster punished us with a fusing spell. When he says we can't separate, well, it's literally that we can't."

"Oh," said the nurse. "I've never heard of students being given such a punishment..."

"Neither have you nor anyone else," he retorted grumpily.

"In that case, if we can't find a cure for Miss Granger's vision, you'll have to stay the night," she said, addressing Malfoy. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to get to work. And drink the potion at once, or it will lose its effect!" she ordered the girl, then turned and walked to her office, closing the door behind her.

Hermione wrinkled her nose at the prospect of drinking something that smelled so bad.

"What does it look like?" she asked into the air, and someone leaned in to look.

She thought she heard a gag that wasn't hers.

"Are you sure this is supposed to make the discomfort go away?" Ron asked incredulously. "It looks like it's designed to cause nausea."

"How reassuring, Ronald," she complained, and another person came hopping over to take a look inside.

"It's a thick, light gray concoction. Steamy. Oh, and it's bubbling too," Pansy laughed, maliciously, just enough.

This time it was Hermione's turn to hold back a gag, but she steeled herself, swallowed, took a deep breath, and brought the cup to her lips, drinking all its contents at once. When she finished, she lay back down on the bed with a shiver. Someone took the cup from her hands and placed it on a small table beside her.

"How are you?" Harry asked as he sat at the foot of his friend's bed.

"Dizzy," Hermione replied, lamenting that the potion didn't have an immediate effect. "And now also fatigued. Ugh."

"That's how medicinal potions are," snapped the nurse indignantly, who had returned to grab a book from the small library near the entrance. "Don't expect to come here for remedies that taste like leek pie."

Everyone remained silent as they watched the woman disappear back into her office. Well, everyone except Hermione, who couldn't stop blinking despite it not working the first hundred times and having a slight feeling it wouldn't work the next hundred times either.

"Who likes leek pie?" Ron asked, scratching his head, and Blaise chuckled softly.

Their friends stayed with them until evening fell, and Madam Pomfrey kicked them out on the excuse that they wouldn't let her work in peace if they stayed around. Then she did some tests on Hermione, involving small healing charms and various potions freshly brewed by the woman for the occasion, as well as applying some drops that only irritated her eyes. Nothing she tried worked, and exhausted, she assured her that she would keep trying to cure her blindness the next day.

Hermione didn't panic about it because she didn't allow herself to think about it in depth. She tended to be a bit of a catastrophist sometimes, and if she let herself ponder...

Fortunately, a couple of house-elves appeared with a "click" and placed metal trays with dinner on the laps of the kids, who had been silent until that moment.

"What is it?" the girl wanted to know.

"Soup, roast meat, jelly, and water," replied the blond.

"And where are the cutlery?"

"To the right of the tray."

Hermione moved her hands very slowly to avoid spilling or knocking anything over, feeling here and there and discovering the location of each item at her own pace.

She started eating, but couldn't avoid splashing a bit of soup on the sheets.

After a while, she spoke again in a calm voice:

"What happened?"

There was the sound of cutlery hitting an empty plate. Draco sighed but took his time to respond.

"I lost control of the broom. Nothing like that has ever happened to me before."

The girl nodded and carefully took the glass of water for a sip.

"And how are you? It was a hard fall."

"I'm fine," he replied curtly.

"Broken bones? I heard the nurse say you had a cast."

"Yes, my right arm," he admitted.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why not just take a Skele-Gro potion? They're very common. Is it because of the taste?"

She almost felt stupid for suggesting it. It was true that healing potions tasted like hell, but someone like Malfoy would surely prefer to swallow something that smelled like unicorn dung rather than let his body heal in the Muggle way.

"What I take after... the sessions with Snape," he explained so quietly that Hermione had to strain to hear him, "is so strong that mixing it with any other healing remedy, even if it's just for a mild cold, could kill me."

Hermione then remembered how Draco had asked someone to notify Snape before she fainted. Surely he had convinced Madam Pomfrey not to give him any potions while she was unconscious.

"Do you know what could have happened to me?" she asked, eager to find the answer to that great mystery.

"I have no idea."

After that, the house-elves returned to collect their trays, and they both gradually succumbed to sleep.

It had been a tough day, and a near-fatal accident would drain anyone's energy.

"A normal day at Hogwarts," Hermione thought before letting herself be carried away by sleep, but a strange sound disturbed the drowsiness she was in at that moment.

The infirmary door had opened with a prolonged creak, and someone had entered on tiptoe, because when the person in question reached the girl's bed, she hadn't heard a single step.

"Hermione," said a voice in a low whisper. "Hermione, are you awake?"

"Ginny?"

"Yes, yes, it's me. I've already heard about your blindness. How are you? Well, never mind, I don't have much time. Filch almost caught me sneaking through the corridors at this hour."

"What time is it?"

"Shh," she hushed her before saying, "What happened to you wasn't an accident. Someone bewitched the broom, and I know who it was."