Work Text:
Red and gold battled the blue sky for dominance, looping and diving, angry blurs against the calm backdrop. Neither side relented until both were defeated by the orange of the setting sun and the sharp trill of a whistle.
Hermione had been watching the Gryffindor team practice for the last two hours. Since Harry had become Captain, and with Ron and Ginny on the team, she had made an effort to come along and either brought a book or, more often, watched as Harry guided them through plays, exercises, and formations. He had really come a long way since those first DA meetings and, on a broom, in front of his team, his natural charisma and leadership shone. Hermione enjoyed these evenings. Usually.
Tonight, though, she had watched with mounting tension. With each minute that passed the knot in her stomach wound tighter still. It was a stupid bet and he’d cheated! She shouldn’t even have to be here.
The huddle in the middle of the pitch broke and the players began to walk to the changing rooms, chatting animatedly about a successful evening and exactly how screwed Ravenclaw would be at their upcoming match. Three of the group broke off slightly and angled towards Hermione in the stands. A tall, lanky redhead, a smaller, pretty redhead, and a boy with messy black hair and a mischievous glint in his green eyes.
“I thought you might have taken the opportunity to escape” teased Harry, as the three of them leant on the railing in front of Hermione.
“Har har” scowled Hermione. “I’m a woman of my word, which is more than I can say for you Harry Potter.”
Harry pressed a hand to his chest in a mock wounded expression, before grinning. “You didn’t have to take the bet.”
“You cheated! We both know that your Enlightenment Draught wouldn’t have beaten mine without that infernal book.”
Ron and Ginny shared an amused look behind Harry’s back. Harry raised his hands, conceding the point in an attempt to placate her. “In all seriousness Hermione, it wouldn’t hurt to know how to fly. It could save your life one day.”
“I know how to fly” she pouted, still annoyed but somewhat mollified.
“You knew how to fly,” said Ron. “You had a handful of lessons in first year, and don’t think we haven’t noticed your excuses for not playing at the Burrow. ‘I have to alphabetise my Charms notes.’ Really?”
Hermione dipped her head. She hadn’t realised it had been so obvious, she just hated flying. “You just need to build up your confidence” said Ginny kindly, noticing Hermione’s embarrassment.
“And who better to teach you than the youngest seeker in a century!” cried Ron, throwing an arm over Harry’s shoulder. “Champion of the Tri-Wizard Tournament! Dumbledore’s own lieutenant!”
Harry shrugged Ron’s arm off him and gave him a playful shove. “If he’s as hard with you as he is with us, you’ll be walking funny for days.” Ginny laughed.
“Alright, shove off you two!” said Harry. “Go get changed. They can probably smell you in the Great Hall.” Ron and Ginny headed off to the changing rooms, waving as they left. “So, are you ready?” he asked.
“Is it okay if we wait a little? Just until the rest have gone back to the castle. I don’t fancy an audience” said Hermione, twisting the hem of her sweater in her hands.
“Of course.” he smiled, hopping the railing to sit next to her. They talked of homework and professors, friends and foes as the sun sank lower in the sky, until the group of black cloaks making their way back up to the castle were little more than specs and Hermione had almost forgotten her nerves.
“Come on.” said Harry, gently taking Hermione’s hand and leading her down to the pitch. Her stomach clenched again but she squeezed his hand and didn’t offer any resistance. Harry picked up his Firebolt from where he’d leant it against the railing. Pulling his wand from his Quidditch robes, he tapped the saddle, lengthening it, and did the same to the stirrups. Feet still on the floor, he mounted the broom and then, to Hermione’s surprise, slid to the very back of the saddle.
“Aren’t I sitting behind you?” she asked, voice a little higher than usual, but that could surely be attributed to nerves about flying.
Harry fixed her with a look startlingly similar to Professor McGonagall when being asked a silly question. “I’m not taking you for a ride, Hermione, I’m teaching you. You won’t be able to see where you’re going if you’re sat behind me. You won’t even be able to reach the handle.”
She had to concede that he was right, and slowly approached the broom. With a look of encouragement from Harry she swung her leg over it and settled her weight on the saddle. Though expanded, it wasn’t long and she had to press right back into Harry so as not to fall off the front. Her quickened heartbeat and warm cheeks were also surely due to flying anxiety.
“Good, now lean forwards slightly and grip the handle. Firm, but not tense.” said Harry, encouraging her with a gentle hand between her shoulder blades. As her shoulders came forwards her rear pressed back. “Now lift your feet and place them on the stirrups. I’ll keep us steady for now.”
Hermione gingerly did as she was told, lifting first one foot then the other and seating them against the pegs. True to his word, Harry kept his feet planted and the broom didn’t move. After a few seconds Hermione realised she wasn’t about to fall off and relaxed slightly, letting out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.
“You’re quite a bossy teacher, you know” she said, letting out a nervous laugh.
“You only have yourself to blame for that.” chuckled Harry. “I learned a lot in the DA too. Okay, I’m going to lift my feet now.”
The broom bobbed slightly as it took both their weight and Hermione sucked in sharply, her knuckles white on the handle. Harry placed his feet on the outside of hers on the stirrups, his legs pressed tight alongside hers. Hermione felt like the heat of his thighs on hers might burn her through her jeans.
Harry leant forwards, his arms around her waist and gripped the handle just below her hands. “Relax, Hermione.” he said, lips now only inches from her ear and his chest against her back.
She took a shaky breath and willed herself to calm down, although now there were two things to be nervous about. Hermione couldn’t help thinking that their position was the most insanely intimate thing she’d ever experienced. “Now what?” she asked, her voice unexpectedly breathy.
“Now we fly.” Harry grinned, arms squeezing her gently.
“Just… hold on tight. Please” she replied.
Harry responded by taking one hand off the broom and bringing it around her waist, pulling her against him. “How’s this?” he asked. Hermione nodded, not trusting her voice.
“Okay, eyes forward.” said Harry. “You don’t need to look at the broom, it will still be there, and you don’t need to look at the ground either.” She nodded again, clearing her mind, setting into learning mode even though her trepidation and the feel of Harry around her lingered at the edges.
“To start with you’ll mainly be pushing the broom where you want with your body, but true flying is much more about will. Once you get confident on it, you’ll be able to climb, dive, and steer almost by thought alone, with only very slight grip changes.” There was a reason Harry was such a good flier, and teacher. Ron was right, she really couldn’t have asked for a better tutor.
“Lean forwards gently” he said, applying slight pressure to her back by leaning into her. Hermione complied and the Firebolt began to drift forwards at a brisk walking pace.
“Excellent Hermione!” said Harry, and she grinned in spite of herself. “Now shift your weight slightly onto your right foot. That’s it!” The broom slowly banked around the foot of the goal posts at the far end of the pitch. This was infinitely more enjoyable than her first flying lesson. Hermione felt safe, she felt encouraged, she trusted Harry to watch and guide her. She felt that flying might actually be fun, under the right circumstances.
“Okay, now ease back, but as you do, try to sink your butt into it.” Ignoring the intrusive thoughts that were prodding at the edge of her focus, Hermione did as she was told and the broom coasted to a stop.
“That was fantastic Hermione!” Harry beamed. “The difference between stopping and climbing is all in the butt. Pull from your shoulders to climb. Stopping is more like sitting down.”
“Thank you, Harry” said Hermione, angling her head slightly to meet his eyes and inadvertently bringing her cheek close to his lips. She made to bring her foot down.
“What do you think you’re doing? We’ve only just started!” Harry laughed.
“It’s getting a bit late, we don’t want to miss curfew” Hermione replied half-heartedly, biting her lower lip.
“We’ll be fine” he said with a wink. “Next, higher!”
Hermione’s nerves spiked again, but she pushed them down with the memory of her first lap with Harry and how well that had gone. “Okay, same again, take us around the far posts and then we’ll go up.”
She steeled herself and set off again, a little faster than last time, curving around the goalposts. She might even say she was enjoying herself. As they started the return leg, Harry leant close to her ear again.
“A little more weight on your feet and less on the saddle, and pull gently” he said, squeezing reassuringly with the arm around her waist. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”
The broom began to rise and, unbidden, Hermione’s chin started to drop. “Eyes forward” Harry said, firmly but not unkindly. It helped. Looking out at the stands rather than the receding ground, Hermione got her stomach back under control. She naturally levelled out around fifty feet up, gliding lazily around the pitch above the stands.
“Amazing, Hermione. What am I going to do now!? Flying was the only thing I had over on you and you’re going to beat me at that too!”
Hermione giggled and would have swatted him if it didn’t mean taking a hand off the broom. “Oh, shut up!” she said, unable to keep a straight face.
She turned her head to look at him, trusting Harry to steer them. He’d leant into her while flying and their noses were almost touching. She could have counted his eyelashes if his eyes weren’t so distracting. “Thank you,” she breathed “for teaching me. You were right.”
“You’re welcome” he replied, eyes now wholly on her own.
Hermione could almost imagine a pull in her chest, those few remaining inches seeming impossibly far and at the same time nothing at all. She mentally shook herself and leaned back fractionally. “It is getting late. We’re bound to be caught by Filtch.”
Harry’s eyes twinkled. “Fortunately,” he said conspiratorially, closing the gap between them again, “I know a quick way back.”
Before she could puzzle his meaning, Harry pressed them both forward and fell into a rapid dive. Hermione squealed, her head leaning back on Harry’s shoulder as he laughed in her ear. He pulled them out in plenty of time and carried their speed low over the stands, weaving between the towers that lined the pitch. Hermione was still screaming, but with Harry’s arm tight around her it wasn’t out of fear but pure exhilaration.
Harry pulled the Firebolt into a wide arc, aiming for the doors of the castle. Bringing them low over the lawn, he flared the broom twenty feet from the entrance and dropped his legs, landing lightly on the balls of his feet. Hermione’s screams had been replaced with adrenaline-fuelled laughter as she dismounted, holding Harry’s hand to combat her shaky legs.
Two figures were waiting for them at the entrance to the castle. A tall, lanky redhead with a smirk and a raised eyebrow, and a smaller, pretty redhead sporting a wide grin.
“So… how did it go?” Ron asked, the amusement clear in his tone.
“Oh, pretty well I think.” Hermione replied, still coming down from the excitement.
“She was brilliant.” Harry grinned, looking at her fondly.
“Come on Hermione, we need to get you in front of a mirror before people start asking questions” Ginny laughed, as Hermione tried to smooth down her mane of hair that had been whipped up during their flight. The two girls led the way up the castle steps, Harry and Ron following, the former’s arm wrapped around Harry’s shoulders, heads bent in conversation.