Innocent

c h a p t e r t w e n t y o n e

"DID YOU THINK ABOUT WHAT I SAID YESTERDAY?" 

Typical Ron - she was in a panic, and he was only focused on himself. The hostility was evident since he had walked into the room, and he had yet to notice it. She'd shot him hard glares, put down her plate loudly, and even ignored his comments on Harry. It was lunch, and Hermione had lingered behind. Not to eat, but to catch a glance at Draco and to see if he was grinning as much as she was. No matter how hard she tried, the unwanted smile look smothered her face and left her giddy.

He looked at her, winced, and looked away as if she was something painful. The smile melted off her face in milliseconds. She tightened her grip on her fork. 

"No, not really." 

She stabbed her fork into a chunk of meat and ravenously ate at it. 

"Blimey! You're eating swell."

She shot him a placid smile. "I keep my manners better than you."

"Hey!" He jabbed her in the ribs and she chuckled lightly. It was good to get him off the "dating topic." Any longer on it, and she was reckoned to throw her chicken leg at his face. 

"Where's Ginny?"

"She left early with Lavender." 

Ron glanced around. "Weird, she's normally always around you."

"Maybe it's because you sat down."

"You're probably right, she's been giving me a hard time ever since that... thing," his voice softened as he realized the topic he had dived into. "So... do you have anything now?"

"What do you mean?" She said with a hint of irritation. 

"Oh, erm... Is something wrong?"

"It's fine."

He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, and she tensed. It was hard to differentiate if it was out of friendship, or a sly trick to make a move on her. She chugged the rest of her water.

All she felt was a barren field of wheat fluttering in the breeze. 

"I-I have to go." 

She pushed her plate away and stood up. The world seemed to tilt as she headed towards the door. She didn't look back long enough to see the scowl on Ron's face. She was nearing her next awakening, but the traumatic symptoms from her first time were much more relaxed. She felt like a leaf fluttering in the wind, pushed around by the weeds, drowned in the cold water. Everything was moving through her, and the pains came and went. Her feet were running in the luscious grass, and tasting the last beats of warm air.

Next to the door was a rejected broom layered in dust and filth, with metal plating ruined with a thick layer of rust. 

She'd never seen it there before, but her hand had already snatched it up. The quick movement caused several sticks to crack off into picks. 

It was tight and rigid in her hands, but she knew with a flick of her wrist the specimen would be torn to pieces. So she lightly held it through her fingers and stood above it.  A smidge of sense was nocked in and lost in her chaotic order, and with the swish of her legs, she was dangling in the air. She wanted him to see her through the windows. She wanted him to notice that she was flying- that she remembered last night. 

She wanted him to smile so hard that he couldn't hide it under his grim expression. 

She was the chasm of the sky, and her feet were the fields of grass and the lake. The broom jerked as she leaned to the side. It was so much different from walking, and she was totally out of her element. How had he done it so effortlessly? She tried directing it straight, but the damaged broom flopped in the wind and plummeted down. The lake rammed towards her face and almost splashed her cheek. After a while of unsteadily flying, she caught the hang of it and circled around in a contained circle. Finally, she decided to fly a little higher. She forced the broom towards the clouds hearing a harsh crack. The broom jerked up, and she skidded into the dirt and mushy lake water. Her foot stung with the impact, but her heart screamed with excitement. The weary stick was bent and cracked, but still intact. Common sense told her to stop, but she was already piecing the broom together and peering in the distance for his face.