Hermione

I trudge back to the common room, muttering, "Dilligrout," to the Fat Lady, and collapsing in the nearest armchair. 

Almost immediately, Ron and Harry appear on either side of me, and take the chairs nearest to the fire.

"So how'd it go 'Mione?" Harry asks, stifling a yawn.

"Which bloke has to teach you how to fly?" Ron adds, his eyes drooping.

"Malfoy," I say in a resigned voice. 

All signs of tiredness leave their bodies and they both yell,

"NO, NOT MALFOY!"

"Yes. Malfoy. I just have no choice! I need to learn how to fly!" I tell them, my voice a bit hysterical.

 I know I should tell them about how I told Malfoy I would help with his Transfiguration, but both Harry and Ron would think it's unwanted business.

"One of us could teach you if you like. Anyone except for Malfoy," Ron offers, looking concerned. 

I just shake my head. Before I can refuse, I see that Harry has a calculating look on his face, and I know exactly what he's about to say.

"Hermione. This is the perfect chance! Since you'll be spending time with him, you can do some snooping around to figure out if he's a Death Eate-"

"No Harry. And besides, Malfoy is not a Death Eater!" I tell him firmly.

"You'll be swallowing your words Hermione. I just know that he's replaced his father as Death Eater. We just need to see if he has the Dark Mark," Harry argues stubbornly. 

Ron and I exchange an exasperated look, and I head up to the girl's dorms. I don't even bother to change out of my robes as I fall asleep.

The next week passes by in a blur, and the homework piles on. When the weekend finally arrives, I've finished all of my homework, and am now watching Ron and Harry struggle over theirs. After about half an hour of watching them second guess on Potions, I roll my eyes and walk out of the common room, heading straight to the library.

"Hermione?" someone calls out to me. 

I turn my head to see Neville walking behind me, and before I can respond, I crash right into someone. As I step back and mutter an apology, I see that it's Malfoy. Again.

"Watch where you're going, Mudblood! That's two times this year," he drawls.

"Don't 'Mudblood' me, Malfoy," I tell him in a low voice.

"Get out of my way, Granger," he says, trying to side step me.

"No. We made a deal, and I need to learn how to fly! If you want my help on your transfiguration, then you will do what I say," I threaten, pulling out my wand.

"Fine. Meet me at the Quidditch pitch tomorrow at seven PM."

"Ok. Should I bring a broom?" I ask, relieved that we have a plan.

"No. And if you're late, I'll call the whole thing off," he says, striding away, with his robes trailing behind him. 

It takes all my self-control not to step on his robes and make him trip.

Draco

I wake up on Sunday morning, dreading what the day will bring. I trudge down to breakfast with Blaise, and when Pansy grabs my hand, I don't have enough energy to shake her off. She looks delighted that I didn't pull away from her, and she plants a wet kiss on my cheek. Blaise raises his eyebrows at me. As soon as we sit down, he says,

"Are you falling for Parkinson?"

"You're joking. Why would you even think that?" I ask in disbelief, wiping my cheek with the sleeve of my robe.

"The fact that you didn't pull away today, are you enjoyin-"

"Shut up," I snarl, shaking my head.

"Relax, I was only joking," he says, with a smothering grin that suggests otherwise.

Rolling my eyes, I drag a plate of pancakes towards me, and push them around with my fork. I just know that the flying class with Granger will be a disaster. She'll probably do something to ruin it. I know it will go all wrong.

"Oi! What are you doing? Get a move on mate, we're leaving now!," Nott tells me, punching me hard on the shoulder.

Blaise, Theo, and I walk outside, and sit down under the shade of the large beech tree, my back resting against the trunk. This time, when Pansy presses herself against me, I push her away with more force than necessary, and throw Blaise a pointed look. 

He grins, flashing me a thumbs-up. I go back to thinking about all the things that could go wrong this evening. I don't get far, however, because Blaise asks,

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I reply, my eyes down cast.

"Liar."

"I'm not lying!"

"Sure."

"It's true!" I say, but before I can get up and walk away, I feel Blaise pinching my arm. 

Hard.

"OW! What's you problem!?" I shout, punching him hard on the chest.

"Don't hit me, YOU ARSE!" he yells back, shoving me.

We are both on our feet now. It takes a few seconds before I realize that people are staring. Breathing heavily, I stomp away, shoving some wide eyed third years who are in my way. Blaise quickly follows me. 

I head straight to the common room, and to my disappointment, somehow, Blaise is already there. Huffing, I cross my arms, waiting for him to speak.

"I know when you're lying Draco. Tell me what's wrong," he demands.

"Fine," I say taking a seat. 

So, I tell him about me and Granger's encounter yesterday, and how we have a class today. Then we talk about all the things that could go wrong, and by the end, I'm breathing normally. I'll just bully her so she'll quit.

"What time did you say the class was again?" he asks, checking his watch.

"Seven o'clock."

"It's like, seven-thirty right now buddy," he says, unable to hold in his chuckle.

"Shit! I'm late!" I realize, running out of the common room in a hurry. 

Then, I remember that I had left my Nimbus 2002 in my room, so I hurry back inside and get it. Then I sprint to the Quidditch pitch. Unfortunately, she's already there. We both aren't wearing our school robes. She's wearing a Gryffindor sweatshirt with tight blue jeans, and I'm wearing my Slytherin hoodie with a pair of grey sweats.

"Do I get to hit you this time because you were late?" she asks dryly.

"No. I slapped you last time as revenge for third year, you nasty little Mudblood," I shoot back, panting a little.

"That was quite a day," she says, a reminiscent gleam in her eyes.

"Whatever. Let's just get started," I mutter, shuffling my feet. 

I am just now realizing how awkward these classes are going to be.

"Hey! Where's my broom?" she asks indignantly, realizing that I'm only carrying one broomstick.

"Not here. Hooch told me that I have to teach you on one broomstick first. I hear you're pretty bad!"

"I'm not bad! I can fly fine. I just need some conditioning, that's all!"

"Fine. Then why don't you summon that broom laying on the ground?"

"Up!" she says, holding out her hand.

To my amusement, my broom doesn't even move. She tries this about ten more times before huffing, and picking it up with her hands. Hastily turning my laugh into an elaborate cough, I gesture for her to mount it. 

Looking a bit nervous, she awkwardly swings a leg around the broom, and just as she's about to sit down, the broom flies forward, making her land hard on her butt. This time, I don't bother covering my laugh. She turns crimson red, and mutters something under her breath. I hold out my hand to help her up, but she ignores it and gets up by herself.

"You rigged the broom, MALFOY!" she blurts out suddenly. 

I have to say, I'm completely thrown back.

"What? What the hell does that even mean? Why would I bewitch my own broom Granger?" I ask with a smirk.

"Ugh. Just teach me how to do it already!" she demands, crossing her arms. "And don't swear!"

"Okay, Professor. First, you have to really want the broom to come up," I instruct, jamming my hands in my pockets.

"Up!" she says, and this time, my broom flies right into her hand.

"Not bad. Now let the broom go, and it should go to your mounting position. After that, just swing a leg over the broom, and you should be in the right position," I tell her, looking at the space over her shoulder. 

Once again, she does it perfectly.

"I did it!" she exclaims.

"Yeah whatever. Class is done for today I guess. But we need to figure out when we are going to have our lessons," I say, pulling up my hood.

"How about we do it twice per week? Tuesdays and Fridays?"

"No. I have Quidditch practice on Tuesdays," I argue. "How about Wednesdays and Saturdays?"

"No! I have a study session at the library on Wednesdays!"

"Fine! Mondays and Thursdays?" I ask, getting a bit irritated.

"Sounds good. See you Monday!" she says. 

With that, she skips away, looking like a three year old. Rolling my eyes, I slowly follow her to make sure that there is no way that I could catch up with her. With a sinking feeling, I realize that today is Sunday. Which means tomorrow is Monday. I can't believe I have to see her two days in a row!