He's Falling For a Mudblood?! {A Draco Malfoy Love Story}

Chapter 13: Piss Off, Parkinson! But, Congrats, Harry!

When I woke up in the morning I heaved a sigh. Bloody hell, it's Thursday... we've got flying lessons today with the Slytherins! Well, at least Draco isn't going to be a foul git around me anymore... I hope. I went over to Hermione's bed and gently shook her awake, telling her we need to get dressed and have breakfast before lessons start. Since it was morning and we were both still tired, we didn't really have much of a conversation. We had a pretty late night last night since we got a start on our homework so late. Once we were ready, we headed down and had breakfast at our table. Like usual, Jasmine came and sat ate with us. I saw Harry and Ron sitting near Neville, a few seats down from us. They were all sharing “exciting” stories about narrow escapes from Muggles while flying; I didn't really believe any of it. When the mail arrived, I got a letter from my mom saying how much she misses me and that I should write back soon telling her how lessons are going. I tucked the letter into my book bag to reply later. I looked down the table and saw that Neville had a small clear ball full of smoke.

“It's a Remembrall!' Neville said gleefully. “Gran knows I forget things- this tells you if you've forgotten something. When you hold it tightly and the smoke turns red- oh...” Neville trailed off as the smoke turned into a bright crimson. “It means you've forgotten something...” Neville screwed up his face as he tried to remember what he forgot. Suddenly, Draco came over and snatched the ball from his hands. Harry and Ron jumped up but before anything could happen, Professor McGonagall stopped them.

“What's going on?” She demanded.

“Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor,” Neville told her. Draco gave a sneer and dropped the Remembrall back into Neville's waiting palms.

“Just looking,” he said dejectedly before spinning on his heel and walking back to his own table. His lackeys, Crabbe and Goyle, slumping along behind him.

The rest of breakfast was fairly uneventful and all we had left to do was wait until 3:30 to go to flying lessons.

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All of the Slytherin and Gryffindor first years stood stood in the lawn of the school, waiting for our professor to give us instructions. There were twenty brooms and it was odd to think that there were so few of us since Hogwarts is so large. Suddenly a woman with short, grey hair and yellow eyes, who I assume is our professor, Madam Hooch, showed up and barked at us to stand by a broom and stop dawdling. Everyone scrambled to get to a broom as quickly as possible.

“Stick your right hand over your broom and say 'UP!'” Madam Hooch said firmly. Everyone shouted “UP!” and my broom flew right into my hand. I gave a small gasp as my eyes widened and looked around to see who else had done it. I saw Harry and Draco with their brooms in hand, Draco looking smug, and a few other I didn't know. Hermione's had only turned over a bit and Neville's didn't move at at. Once everyone got their brooms up, Madam Hooch came around and corrected our grips. She scolded Draco, telling him he's been doing it wrong for years, and out of the corner of my eyes I saw Harry and Ron hold back a snigger.

“Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle- three- two-”

Neville pushed off hard before the whistle even reached Madam Hooch's lips. He was rising higher into the air as Madam Hooch shouted at him to come down. Like that is going to help... Neville was going up fast, ten, twenty feet up into the air! His face was whiter than any of the school ghosts' and you could tell he was frightened. Suddenly, his grip on his broom started to slip. Neville began to fall of his broom and closer to the ground. I saw the whole thing as if in slow motion and my breathing hitched as I watched Neville plummet toward the ground. He landed with a loud “THUD” and a loud crack permeated the air. Neville laid face down on the grass while his broom was still in the air, drifting closer and closer to the Forbidden Forest. Madam Hooch was inspecting Neville, her face nearly as white as his.