Afraid of Heights

Disclaimer: Does anyone ever even read these things? Oh fine, sheesh, I don’t own Harry Potter. There. Satisfied?

A/N: I’m not exactly satisfied with this story, but it’ll have to do until I get a stroke of inspiration.

It had been a beautiful day, which was ironic really, because what happened afterwards was anything but beautiful or maybe it was and she was just missing the whole point and in retrospect she supposed it was beautiful only it took seven years to recognize it. Seven long years spent shaking and hating the day until she was finally finally over it.

Finally over it.

Finished.

Clean.

Done with it all.

But it had been such a beautiful day. The sky had been all blue, the kind of crisp blue that looks so pretty but you almost never see until the weather is too cold for you to enjoy it, a lovely blue she wished she could take and pull down here so she could hug it to herself until she absorbed some of that beauty from it.

The weather had been perfect, just the faintest hint of a breeze to tease the wisps of hair poking out from under her hat, to tug at them and whisper gentle fantasies about escaping to them until she realized that her ponytail was suddenly nonexistent.

The sun had been not too sunny and not too dark, with wisps of white cloud floating around it gently, not too slowly, not too fast, and in other words, perfect.

Hermione had thought it was perfect for reading.

The others had thought it perfect for flying.

So they all trooped out with their brooms in their hands, laughing and chatting animatedly with one another, Harry, Ron, Fred, George, Ginny—even Malfoy, who had had been forced to stay with them for the summer due to his unexpected rebellion against You-Know-Who.

Not that he was ever up to chatting animatedly with them, but at least he had what passed for a smile on his face and he was clutching his broom with anticipation.

And then, of course, she had been asked to play. Again. As usual.

“Her-mi-oh-nee! Come play with us!” that was Ron, soaring and swooping on his broom.

“Yeah Mione, you never fly.” That was Harry, who was performing a truly stupendous maneuver on his Firebolt, figure-eights and loop-de-loops while upside down.

Did it never occur to you that maybe I have a reason too?

“No, I think I’ll just sit down and read. It’s the new edition of Hogwarts, A History and you know how much I’ve been looking forward to reading it. It has a completely new section on the Founders. Why, did you know that Rowena Ravenclaw was actually born in—”

Her boys groaned as she knew they would and prepared to swoop off on their brooms, only this time something went wrong with her ploy.

“Actually, Granger, that’s not the new edition.”

She froze and turned around. Malfoy. The bloody ferret had to come interfering again.

“Yes, it is,” she insisted.

“How would you know, Malfoy?” asked Ginny rather belligerently.

“Because,” he said. “I’ve read all the editions, and that’s only the second one.”

Everyone, even Hermione, gaped at him.

“You’ve what?” the squawk came from Ron, who looked rather amusing with his jaw hanging open like that. “Bloody hell, I thought only Mione was crazy enough—sorry, Mione!—to do that!”

Malfoy ignored the outburst and continued gazing calmly at the flustered Gryffindor. “So tell me, Granger,” he said conversationally, “why are you so afraid of flying that you, the noble Gryffindor, has resorted to lying to get out of it?”

She stared at him. No. This was not happening. This could not be happening. It wasn’t it wasn’t it wasn’t it wasn’t. No no no no no no no no.

Mutely she shook her head, slowly at first, then more frantically, back and forth, her brown curls flying, a horrified denial, no no no no no, as he looked unconvinced.

“No.” She tried to sound nonchalant, firm, but her voice betrayed her and it came out as the faintest of hoarse whispers, strangled and twisted inside.

He stepped a little closer, and she backed up until she hit the tree, gasping, her eyes wide, and it was going dark and no no no no no no no no she was NOT going to faint and this wasn’t happening and she couldn’t she couldn’t she couldn’t’ she couldn’t.

“Mione?” Harry’s concerned voice sounded miles away, fuzzy, distorted, as though he were speaking outside some great bubble which grew from the desperate need inside her and blossomed around her until the only things in the world was her book, the tree, and Malfoy.

No no no no no no.

“What’s wrong, Granger?” he asked, and if she didn’t know better, she would have thought it was actually concerned, but she did and he wasn’t and this was too too scary and she wanted to run away and hide under her covers because she’d been a good little girl hadn’t she and why was this happening and no no no no no she was so so scared and no she’d been a good little girl and she’d done everything right so why was this happening please please it’s scary let me out and I want to go hide under the bed only I can’t and there is no bed to hide under and please!

“It’s all right, Granger,” he said. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Eyes wide and it’s all scary and dark and please don’t hurt me—

She heard some one screaming, screaming and screaming and screaming, a terrible sound that was barely human, a sort of hoarse cry of an animal that’s being wounded, and she wants it to stop, to all go away, and everything’s falling in on her again and stop the screaming! And the screaming screaming screaming—

Something breaks the screams, the hoarse terrible mantra, and she looks wildly around to find what it is and then she breaks up from the sea of cries to find she’s huddled on someone’s lap, and someone is holding her protectively like he’s never going to let go and saying, “Granger. Granger. Granger. Granger. Granger. Snap out of it!”

“Merlin, Granger. What happened?”

And it all comes rushing back in now, and she doesn’t want it too, but it is it is it is.

She was six or was she seven she can’t remember she doesn’t want to remember she kept it all under lock and key for so long, shut it up in a little drawer and shoved it far far away—

And he was big with long yellow hair tied back, yellow like the yellow in her paint set that Rose in her class has, bright bright yellow and eyes that look almost red!—and –

She was alone, she was a bad little girl, she was bad bad bad bad bad she went without her mommy and daddy and now she’s alone in a little dark alley and she wants to go home so bad and go hide under her bed but she doesn’t know where it is—

And because she was so bad she needed to be punished, because mommy and daddy weren’t there to do it for her and if they weren’t there someone had to do it and he was there—

And now he’s ripping off her skirt and she’s screaming but no one’s listening and she wants her mommy because it HURTS so bad—

And now her shirt is off and she remembers it’s her favorite shirt with a rainbow and a unicorn on it and now she doesn’t want to see it ever again—

And he’s jerking her hands up behind her against the wall

He’s lifting her up

Higher and higher and higher and higher he’s so tall tall tall he’s a big man

Her feet can’t reach the ground

Nothing solid underneath, just air air air she can’t even see the ground

So high up

So very high

And he’s pinning her to the wall by her throat and it hurts to breathe

He’s pulling down his pants

MOMMY! MOMMY! MOMMY! It hurts so so bad, it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts—

And now there’s blood all over the alley, it’s running down her legs warm bright red blood and it’s seeping down and trickling and oh mommy it hurt

Where were you

He lets go of her throat and she drops back to the earth with a THUD and it hurts so bad but she’s so happy now because she’s on the ground and she’s on the ground and it’s going to be okay now happy happy happy okay ground no heights anymore

And now he’s pushing her skirt back on her with clumsy fingers

Doing the button

Pulling the shirt on over her head

Bit of blood on the shirt

Right on the unicorn’s horn

So he smears it and tugs at it

And now there’s a hole and the unicorn isn’t a unicorn anymore but a bright red horse, red for blood, and it all makes sense now

And he’s shoving her, pushing her until she stumbles, out of the alley

Bright glinting white teeth next to her ear, fresh breath hissing

“If you tell anyone about this, there’ll be hell to pay,”

And then mommy’s running up to her saying how worried she was

Where were you mommy? I needed you—

And her mommy hugs her tight and she’s on the safe safe ground—

She snaps back to herself and they’re all there crowded around her, Harry and Ron and Fred and George and Ginny, all huddled around her, patting her back, soothing her, whispering comforting nothings in her ear, and her cheeks are stained with tears again and she’s being held by someone so warm and it feels so good and right.

It’s Malfoy, and his arms are so tight around her she thinks he’s never going to let go but that’s okay because she doesn’t think she wants him to let go.

“Oh Granger. Oh Granger,” he whispers over and over again, like it’s some kind of mantra that’s going to protect her against every bad thing, and she thinks she likes it.

Finally, finally, the shuddering stops and she can sit still in his lap without shaking and the tears have stopped coming.

“Granger?” the tone is unhappy, but firm.

“What?” she’s sniffling now, but she looks up anyway.

“You’re going to have to learn how to fly.”

“No!”

“Yes. You have to.” The tone is gentle, but firm.

She shakes her head furiously. Why is he doing this? She trusted him! No no no no no no she can’t.

But Harry is nodding too, and so is Ron, and so are the rest of them, and why are they turning on her she thought they were her friends and she can’t do this she can’t she can’t she can’t—

“Granger. If you don’t do this—look at me—” he cups her chin in his hand and won’t let her look away even though she struggles, “you’ll go through life always afraid. And you can’t let it beat you like that. You can’t.”

She shakes her head again, but she is weakening.

“Granger. Don’t you want to know what it’s like to fly? It’s the most wonderful feeling ever. You fly through the air, and it feels so, so incredible, like nothing can ever touch you again up there because it’s so pure ecstasy. It’s better than any book can describe it. Pure joy. Like you’re a little bird soaring above all the troubles on earth. And if you let that bastard kill your chance of experiencing, I guess you’re not as smart as everyone thinks you are after all.”

Clever of him. Very clever of him to play on her Gryffindor pride like that.

But he has, and she knows it.

She nods her head.

“All right.”

It takes time. Lots of time. The process is very slow. Excruciating, even. Each patient step can be undone by a moment’s carelessness. Some days she takes one step forward and two steps back. But then other days she takes three steps forward and everyone cheers.

Everyone encourages her.

She works on it, starting by mounting on a broom to performing a simple slow dive.

And then somedays she just wants to give up and bury her head in the covers.

But then Malfoy pokes his annoying ferret face in and drives her out through sheer exasperation, until she throws her hands up and mounts the frigging broom just to shut him up.

And he never lets it go—

Until one day she mounts her broom and realizes she isn’t scared of heights anymore. At all.