No Longer Helpless

Chapter Twenty-Four
Safety Net

Thud, thud, thud. Groan. Thud, thud, thud.

Draco stood knocking his head against his closed door. It was actually really starting to hurt, but that was to be expected since he was doing it repeatedly and rather hard.

“What the bloody hell was that?” he said aloud to the empty room.

This was lunacy at its foremost. He was the sex god of Slytherin. Had he wanted to, he could have seduced Granger the first day he saw her lying in that hospital wing bed. But he hadn’t.

If there were voices of good and evil, or in Draco’s case bad and worse, acting as his guides then their voices were arguing back and forth at this point. The argument volleyed as he paced his bedroom floor, oblivious to the pain and fatigue of his body.

‘I didn’t do anything.’

‘But, not doing anything and not wanting to do something are two completely different things.’

‘I wanted to,’ he admitted. He still wanted to.

‘Want to what? Seduce her?’

‘No!…not exactly…’

‘You intended to, not a day after your first day of training, you were plotting.’

‘So, what? That meant nothing! I didn’t know before.’

‘Know what?’

‘That I… I… don’t know!’

‘That, you would actually care?’

‘No! I don’t care! She’s my partner, it’s my job to make sure she doesn’t up and die on me, that’s all I care for the chit.’

‘Then why do you pine for her?’

‘Pine? Malfoy’s don’t pine!’

‘In what way are you still a Malfoy?’

“Dammit!” he shouted, hurling the nearest object across the room where it clattered against the wall harshly. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he get her face out of his head?

They were both working together, but that was it. Anything more was too dangerous. If he became too attached, it would only be a liability.

This wasn’t going to work. He needed to keep his focus, which was winning the war. Why had he done that, why had he kissed her?

Clenching his fists he continued pacing in a fit of rage, knocking something over every now and then.

His mind just couldn’t fathom how he could have possibly done something so stupid and against his brains orders. What was worse still was that even now, as he became angry at the very notion of being with her, part of him felt like there was no place he’d rather be than beside her right now.

Where had all his iron handed self control gone? He used to be able to control even his inward silent thoughts, now he found himself losing all restraint on his own actions.

After many rounds about the room, he had managed to calm down.

His conclusions were that one kiss meant nothing, as they had both agreed their focuses were Moody’s training, their final year, and the war. Hermione was just as rational as he was, surely she too would see how it meant nothing or that it would lead to nothing at any rate. He had also surmised that his loss of control had been due to an over flow of suppressed sexual tension.

That was it, sexual tension. From day one, when he looked at Granger sleeping, something had stirred within him. She was truly an eye pleasing sight. Then, with him having his old habits of using seductive power as a means for control, of course she would have been crossing his mind in such a manner. Now with their denial and suppressing solution to the whole debacle, of course it would build.

But that was it, he had washed his hands of it and they need not speak about it again.

**

‘Hermione!’ someone called.

“Eh?” Hermione’s eyes opened as she scanned the room for the source of the call.

The fire had died down to crackling embers and the room was dimly lit, but it felt comfortable cast in a soft glow and heatedly nicely.

For the past couple hours she had been dozing on and off, not able to actually fall into a sound sleep. It seemed odd and dangerous that her dependence upon another person, Malfoy no less, had become so great she couldn’t even sleep well without them.

There was no one she could see or place as the source of the caller.

With herself occupying the couch and the armchairs empty, there weren’t many places a person could hide, not to mention only Draco and she knew the way to get into the common room.

She must have been hearing things, perhaps a snapping log had jogged her awake and she attributed it to being called.

‘HERMIONE!’ the voice yelled, causing a startled Hermione to flop off the couch and land in a thud on the carpet.

There was something about hearing someone yell inside her head that she just couldn’t get used to or prepare herself for. Now as she stood, rubbing her bum since it had broken much of her landing, she stuttered between answering in her mind or calling out as though she were speaking to someone she could actually see.

“Err… yeah?” she asked hesitantly.

‘You forget our deal,’ the voice pouted.

“Uh, right. Tonight, isn’t the best time though.” It was true. After the way Draco had left, she doubted he wanted the kitten clinging to him.

‘Humph!’

As she rubbed her eyes in frustration, she waited a few moments to be certain the kitten was finished. No further reply came, and she assumed this meant she would wait a little longer, though not happily. Now sighing Hermione mumbled, “Talking to myself, literally, I’m losing my mind.”

With that, she flopped back onto the couch and curled up to welcome slumber.

**

The incessant knocking which had been going on for the past five minutes drove Hermione to angrily, and rather groggily, stomp to the door way and answer whoever was calling on her or Draco.

“Finally!” Ron greeted, when she revealed the door concealed by stone.

“We’ve been out there forever,” Harry said as he passed by, followed by Ron, and Ginny.

“Come on in,” she mumbled under her breath sarcastically.

As she waved the stones to resume their place with her wand, Ron called out from the far end of the common room, “This the kitchen?”

Before she could even answer, she heard the door open and close. She rolled her eyes, wondering if her friend would ever change and have something other than food on his mind.

Harry was leaning against the couch staring intently at her in what she assumed to be some assessment.

“You okay?” he asked, concern crossing his green eyes.

Ginny quipped in, “He’s been worrying about you non stop since we left last night. I don’t think he slept a wink.”

Giving Ginny an understanding look, Hermione walked up to Harry and mussed his raven brown hair up even more. “I’m fine. Didn’t sleep too well is all.”

Shaking his hair out, Harry looped his arm around her and pulled her in for a hug. “What’s say the three of us hang out today?”

“Three?” asked Ginny with a hand on her hip.

“Four, four. Sorry,” he corrected.

‘Why not the five of us?’ Hermione pleaded silently.

Urging Hermione to answer, Harry squeezed tighter and kissed her hair. “Come on. I think Ron has something up his sleeve for us all, he seems really excited.”

It was odd for Harry, or either of the boys, to be the one giving the hugs and kisses. For the most part, she was the one hugging goodbye or hello, so in his surprise display of friendship she was compelled to agree. “Of course, it sounds great.”

Ron came back from the kitchen, holding a sandwich bigger than his mouth could possibly take a bite from. That didn’t stop him though. Thankfully he waited to speak between chewing, as Hermione had spent the past six years chastising him into doing so. “We can play some Quidditch. It’ll be great, now that you can fly too!”

Cringing, Hermione said, “Flying? Isn’t there something else you’d like to do? Perhaps go to Hogsmeade and shop or we could have a picnic. It’s still really wet, but it’s sunny now and we could charm a blanket to be water proof.” She smiled hopefully.

Waving her suggestions off, Ron stated, “This’ll be great. I was just telling Harry last night how I might be able to get used to the idea of you being an Auror if you can fly like before.”

“Oh sure, and my input had nothing to do with it!” Ginny’s other hand came to her hip, giving the full intimidation of the Molly Weasley hands on hip tactic.

“You should have been there,” Harry said with a chuckle to Hermione. “Ginny wouldn’t let Ron go to sleep until he conceded that you could train with Moody if you wanted to and that it would mean we could all play Quidditch together.”

While Hermione was most grateful for Ginny’s understanding and intervention, this was a particular point she did not want made. Ron and Harry would both have to come around to accept her choices eventually, maybe not accept Draco, but they’d never turn their backs on her. And while the sooner they accepted things the better, she did not under any circumstances want to go flying with anyone.

She was still terribly afraid of flying. When she was out with Draco, it wasn’t a problem. In fact, she was certain she’d enjoyed it many times.

Alone, she could not make herself ascend to such heights on the piece of wood. It was the oddest thing. She was more than willing to go up on a tower, climb a tall tree, even jump from high places, but not on a broom. She didn’t feel safe on a broom, and most especially when she had just had a row with the kitten who might potentially be the only thing keeping her from a violent reunion with the ground after falling off the stick with twigs at one end.

When she flew with Malfoy it was different. She knew that no matter how far apart they were, if she fell, he would find some way to catch her. He’d done it at least twenty times before when Moody had gotten her unseated with a well aimed spell.

“I’m not really the flying type,” she began but was interrupted by an adamant redhead eating a sandwich.

“Nonsense. Everyone is the flying type! Come on!” he said finishing off his food. “I’ve got everything planned. It’ll be just like old times.”

‘Old times?’ she wondered. ‘Since when have there been new times?’

Each of her friends seemed to beam at her, proud that they were being mature and accepting everything on her behalf. How could she refuse them? She couldn’t, simple as that.

“Alright, let me get ready.” She feigned a happy smile and excitement before rushing off to shower and dress.

She had told them to make themselves some breakfast and relax while they waited. Now, she stepped from the shower, steam billowing behind her. The hot water did much to sooth aches and pains, but somehow she knew it wasn’t as good a cure as a long dreamless slumber.

Wiping condensation away on the mirror, she looked at herself. The glass misted over again, so she cast an altered repelling charm with the wave of her hand. The glass shattered violently, and several pieces fell forth, cutting her.

“Ah!” she exclaimed in surprise and annoyance. With a slight flinch she yanked a couple small shards from her arm, casting a basic healing spell with her wand. It was nothing like Madame Pomfrey could have done, but effective for the small wounds she had.

That had been unexpected. She used wandless magic before, why did it suddenly seem like she was an amateur who had no control?

‘Oh well,’ she thought using her wand to restore the mirror. Not wanting to bother with any more water vapor repelling charms, she dressed and dried her hair instead.

Meekly, half wishing that between the time it took her to grab a shower and don fresh clothes that her friends had suddenly changed their minds, she opened the bathroom door and stepped out.

The three friends sat around the cold fixture of a hearth, Harry and Ron were engaged in a game of Exploding Snaps, whilst Ginny flipped through a book she’d borrowed from the shelves on the other side of the room.

Being the first to take note of Hermione’s return, Ginny tore her eyes from her halfhearted reading and smiled at the wild haired brunette. Whistling, she called attention to their pretty, but entirely ignorant of the fact, friend. “Looking cute. Where’d you get those clothes?” she asked sincerely.

As coincidence would have it, Hermione just so happened to be wearing the single outfit Draco had rough handedly shoved in to her arms for purchasing. There was nothing too special about them. Faded blue jeans that were boot cut and slightly baggy, and a small black t-shirt sporting a silver silhouette of a Chinese dragon across the breast.

It hadn’t been her intention to where these clothes for any reason other than practicality. The jeans gave leeway for movement while being of a thicker more protective material. The shirt was just a shirt, she wasn’t swimming in it like when she wore Draco’s or several other garments of her own which were larger than need be, since that had always been her style as the bookworm.

Hermione coughed, not comfortable with the idea of telling her friends all about her day of buying new clothing with a certain Slytherin. She supposed the fact that there was a silver dragon on her shirt might not aide in her impassive hopes for a truce, but she hadn’t actually known what she was buying when she had done so.

Similarly, she hadn’t thought about appearances when she grabbed the clothes to change into after her shower. She was still the same old Hermione. Appearances were only skin deep, and not something for her to waste time on.

Answering Ginny after clearing her throat, she began, “I, uh, bought it.”

Ginny’s eyebrows shot up in mild amusement. “Obviously.”

Before Ginny could finish her interrogation about some stupid set of clothes, Hermione jumped in, “We should get going. That is, unless you guys don‘t want to go the pitch still.” The last bit almost sounded hopeful and she berated herself inside for it.

They were her dearest friends. She had to make them happy. If that meant a couple hours of biting the bullet and levitating to extreme heights on a hunk of wood, all the while shaking in fear, then she’d do it in a heartbeat.

Flying was still their main agenda for the day. It was actually something she should have seen coming. Her two best friends were crazy about Quidditch and had made complaints about her not understanding it and not getting into as much as them.

Now they knew she could fly extremely well, though not until after tireless hours of practice with Moody and Malfoy as her safety nets. It was to be expected that they would want to include her in their summer days of Quidditch at the Burrow.

Steeling herself for the fear she was about to confront, she jotted down a small note for Draco to let him know where she’d gone, and then followed them out the door and trailed behind as they made their way through the castle.

By the time they had reached the pitch Hermione had nearly convinced herself that she wouldn’t be afraid anymore. After all, she’d flown many times before without incident, and that was with Moody purposefully trying to knock her down. This would be no different. It was all in her mind, and once she got up there she’d take a few deep breaths and feel comfortable.

This was not the case as she slowly mounted the broom Ron handed her from the Quidditch storeroom. Immediately, her heart rate picked up and beat harshly within her chest. Her breath felt constricted and her gut clenched in fear.

Smiling, Hermione followed her friends upwards, though slowly. The higher she went made no difference, she wasn’t afraid of heights. The fear she felt being five feet off the ground was just as great as when she was fifty or a hundred.

‘Oh Merlin!’ her mind cried as she lunged forward to catch the Quaffle Ginny had passed. She had been trying to focus all her effort into putting the broom in a vice grip, so as not to let go. Now however, in the spirit of playing the game she had to let go with at least one hand.

As their little game commenced she found herself using every shred of will power to remain composed and play along. They weren’t even that far into it when she felt sweat beading and rolling down her temples. More than once she had to bite her lip to keep a fearful whimper in as she made a lunge to catch the ball.

Thankfully they used no Bludgers, since they didn’t have nearly enough people. No snitch either. Just two on two. Harry and Ron versus Hermione and Ginny.

She didn’t know what the score was, and could not have cared less at the moment. Her breathing became labored and she was now concerned that she’d ruin their fun by starting to hyperventilate.

In the back of her mind she was vaguely aware that everyone seemed to have stopped playing. Glancing about she realized, thankfully, that it had nothing to do with her.

Down below standing in the middle of the pitch, stood a fuming Draco. Harry, Ron, and Ginny had landed and appeared to be on the defensive. As Hermione drew closer she heard him shouting at them, “What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?”

**
Draco had just woken up from a fitful sleep and made his way into the common room. After a hot shower, he noticed the absence of Hermione. He was certain she hadn’t gone to her rooms last night, but probably remained on the couch. Scouring the area for a note of some kind, since it was highly unusual for either of them to go anywhere without the other, he found one on the study table.

D,
Gone to the pitch, will be back by supper.

H

Obviously she didn’t have much time to write out a formal explanation. He knew exactly what had happened though. Potter and Weasley had dragged her into flying for the day, and she was too much a push over to tell them she was afraid.

Crumpling the note, he mumbled, “Stubborn Gryffindors,” before racing out of the common room and heading to the pitch himself.

**

Upon reaching the large field he called out to Potter and Weasley. They stopped their game immediately and came to meet him in their own anger. Seeing Hermione on the far side doubled what anger he felt. She looked to be trembling like a frightened child caught in a thunderstorm.

“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” he yelled at them, positively livid.

Defiantly crossing his arms over his chest Ron straightened his back, stressing the precious inches he had on Malfoy in height. “Playing some Quidditch, we’d let you join, but you know how it is, no gits allowed.”

At this point, Hermione landed, shakily standing on legs that felt like jell-o. The ensuing confrontation was at the back of her mind right now, as she strived to remain calm and return herself to normal. It was difficult though, when her heart wouldn’t settle down even though she hadn’t moved around a whole lot, and her adrenaline didn’t seem to stop pumping, and her chest felt like it was being compressed.

How ridiculous she was to have let something as silly as fear of flying overwhelm her, especially when said fear was not an issue when she flew with Draco.

“How very mature of you Weasley. I’m crushed you won’t let me in your little club.” Draco sneered. “However, you’ll permit me to leave you to your fun after I’ve taken Hermione back to the castle.”

Striding forth, Draco grasped her upper arm and began to lead her away. His actions would not be taken lightly of course, and he had expected no less.

Harry jumped in, rounding on Malfoy and stopping his progress. “Let her go! There’s no reason for you to come down here and ruin our fun. Let us be. Dumbledore doesn’t want us fighting, so if you leave us alone, then we won’t bother you.”

It was perhaps the most sensible reasoning Harry had ever done. It took all the green-eyed boy’s control to not punch the ferret right then, but he knew Hermione would be upset at that. In fact she already looked to be really upset about the whole thing. Her cheeks were flushed while the rest of her was ghostly pale. And she seemed to be trembling slightly.

“That’s wonderful news Potter!” Draco said sarcastically. “You have your jollies with the Weasley and Weaslette and I’ll take Hermione back to the castle.” Again he made to leave with Hermione, but was stopped. He really didn’t expect anything less, though he could still try.

“She doesn’t have to go anywhere with you!” Ron said vehemently.

In a whisper Draco asked Hermione, so as not to be heard too clearly by the others, “You okay?” His hand still remained firm on her arm, steadying her.

Without any sound reasoning, Hermione did feel better. In fact the moment she recognized Draco’s form down on the grass she felt all fear melt away. What she felt now was just the after effects. The adrenaline still lingered, making her a little shaky and her legs still felt like they’d give out at any moment. If Draco hadn’t come, she didn’t know how much longer she could have gone on pretending everything was fine.

In answer to him she nodded slightly and gave what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

Draco was not fooled for a second however. Her color was gone, even her usually red lips seemed a near white in their pale pink tinge. And her eyes showed worry and relief. He knew where her relief came from.

Suddenly, Draco didn’t care about sparing scar head and the two Weasley siblings. His initial goal had been to retrieve Hermione without a truthful explanation. Obviously, they didn’t know she was afraid to fly. But, it didn’t take more than a cursory glance at the small girl to see that something was off. How thick must they have been, to not notice her anguish?

As anger flared, Draco rounded on the three of them. “Are you blind!?” he shouted.

“Malfoy, don’t,” Hermione called, tugging his robe sleeve. “It’s my fault. I didn’t say anything.”

“That’s no excuse. Anyone could have seen it without you telling them!” He continued glaring at Harry and Ron and even Ginny. If he had expected more from anyone it was the youngest Weasley, who seemed to show more intuition than dumb and dumber put together.

“See what?” Challenged Harry and Ron together.

“Hermione’s afraid of flying you gits!” the Slytherin replied harshly and with surprising emotion.

Perhaps it was the apparent concern and emotion in Malfoy’s voice that caused all of them to take a moment to process his words. Aside from the surprising realization that Malfoy seemed to care about something, never mind it happened to the Gryffindor princess, they were having trouble accepting his words. If Hermione was afraid of flying then why had she been perfectly fine while they played some Quidditch?

“I’m sorry guys, I didn’t want to ruin our day together,” Hermione apologized.

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for,” chastised Draco.

“But, Ginny said you flew all the time with Malfoy in practice,” Harry reasoned.

‘This was it,’ she thought. They were going to find out and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Cringing at the answer she would inevitably have to give, since she didn’t take lightly to lying any more to her friends, she opened her mouth to speak. “Well the thing is-” she never finished as Draco interrupted.

“The thing is, she didn’t enjoy it then either. Moody and I had to spend hours coaxing her to just mount the broom in the first place.” He gave them a smug look, feeling that the matter should be concluded with his cover up.

Before anyone could speak further or give apologies and expressions of guilt, Draco dragged her away to the exit of the stadium.

More relief washed over her as she was saved from having to say, ‘Sorry guys but I feel safer with Draco than you, who I’ve known and loved for the past six years.’

As she reveled in relief, she felt guilt over how true those unspoken words were. How was it possible? Why?

These bits remained unanswered as she trekked along beside Draco, who was taking lengthy strides. The only sure thing was that it was possible, because it was true. The how and why were the only mystery.

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