Shifting Perspectives

"Shifting Perspectives"

Chapter 10: Building Trust

By Professor Mary

Sum: Draco gives Hermione flying lessons and begins to appreciate Hogwarts' smartest witch.

Draco was standing in the middle of the Quidditch pitch, diligently following the tall blond boy gracefully zooming through the air. Without any warning, he released one of the two bludgers. He saw Granger look behind her and note the ball's approach. After several more minutes, he released the second bludger. Again, he saw her whip her blond head around, note the position of the second ball and then change her path accordingly.

He gave her another ten minutes just to get used to having those two furious bludgers chasing after her. Then he released the practice Snitch. He had adjusted the settings on it so that it couldn't leave the pitch and so he could summon it back if necessary. Other than that, he didn't alter its speed or size - though he could have.

He wouldn't admit it aloud but he took an inordinate amount of satisfaction in Granger's progress. He'd never before coached someone in flying nor Quidditch. Even as Captain of the Slytherin team, he barked his orders and explained maneuvers... but he didn't actually teach anyone anything.

Still, Granger had been a quick study. Despite his internal debate, he was impressed with her level of commitment. After lengthy discussions and a good amount of reading on her part, she'd agreed to take on his Quidditch responsibilities. He knew very well that she had a near-phobia of broomstick flying. Yet here she was, zooming through the air, dodging two bludgers, and seeking the Golden Snitch itself.

Of course, it had taken an enormous amount of effort on both of their parts to get to this place.

And also a great deal of trust...

But he was now sure that she was ready for tomorrow's task - the first Slytherin Quidditch practice of the season.

As he watched her execute a more complicated move to evade one of the bludgers, he let part of his mind wander to how far they had come in just a week's time.

***

"You were there - you saw what happened last time, Malfoy. Me flying in this body is just too dangerous. Plus, I really don't know all that much about Quidditch. Why don't you use the back-up Seeker?" she asked thoughtfully.

He looked at her, taking in the fear and nervousness reflecting in those gray eyes. He wondered briefly if his eyes were that expressive when he was in his own body. But he put that thought aside and focused on how he was going to convince Granger that she could indeed fly.

"First of all, there is no back-up Seeker. Why would I ever need a back-up?" he sneered. She didn't answer and he took a deep breath and then proceeded to address the concerns that he knew to be really bothering her.

"Yes, I was there when you were flying with Harry and Ron. And I did see what happened. Before you lost control, you were flying just fine, Granger. How do you explain that?"

She was silent for a moment. Then, to his surprise, she reached into her satchel and pulled out a notebook. She flipped through a few pages, obviously searching for something. Then she cleared her throat and read:

Hypothesis 3.1: The Potion of Perspective creates a tension between the focal body and the person currently inhabiting it.

Data: My first and only experience flying on a broomstick. Initially, I flew as if I already knew how - as if I was following my instincts. However, I was not, in fact, following my own instincts, but rather those of the focal body belonging to D. Malfoy.

Analysis: According to Bainwright's theory, I was relying on the focal body's muscular memory. Thus, while I, Hermione Granger, could not fly, I, as D. Malfoy, could not only fly, but fly very well. It was only when I remembered who I really was - when I forced the immediacy of my own mind to the forefront of the situation that I could no longer fly.

Future research: Attempt to fly again?????

"So, you see, Malfoy. I have to trust your body- your muscles, your own system for handling stress - I'd have to completely let go of myself - and become as close to you as possible. And this is only theoretical - there's been hardly any research to support this. I could be wrong."

He doubted that Granger was wrong- not that he was going to say that. He was deeply impressed with the obvious dedication she gave to her studies - not that he was going to say that, either. He was also extremely curious about what else she'd written in her journal. Perhaps he could steal a glance at some other time. For now, he had to focus on the increasingly overwhelming task at hand.

How do I get Granger back on a broom?

He closed his eyes, leaned his head into his hands and sighed, not realizing that he'd done so aloud.

"Malfoy? I know this is important to you," she said softly.

He didn't look up at her. Her words were still echoing in his head, "become as close to you as possible."

"Listen, I'm willing to try this again. This is your 7^th year - and you're the Captain. I don't personally get the whole Quidditch thing - but I do know that this is something significant in your life ... and I don't want to mess that up - not even for you," she said, chuckling nervously towards the end.

He looked up at her then and saw resolve battling anxiety in that familiar face.

"How?" he asked stupidly.

"Well, I have to learn to trust you - or your body, I mean," she said apprehensively.

He groaned. He was really feeling increasingly frustrated. He stood up suddenly and began pacing in front of the fireplace of their Common room.

It had now become rather clear to him that merely talking her into flying again was going to be the easy part. He was loathe to admit it, but he appreciated Granger's sense of fairness. He'd been counting on it just to get her to agree to do this. But when faced with the more practical aspects of getting her to fly, he was just about ready to admit defeat. Would it be so bad to drop Quidditch? To pass the Captaincy onto one of the other players?

Yes.

"What do you need from me to do this?" As he posed the question, he hoped that she understood the implicit commitment behind his words. If she was willing to put her phobia of flying to the side, the least he could do was to help her - although he reassured himself that his helping her had more to do with preserving the competency of the Slytherin Quidditch team than anything else - especially not his reluctant admiration.

She took out some blank parchment and hastily jotted down several notes. He almost smiled at this. He was getting used to her style of brainstorming whenever problems arose. It was almost charming... But he caught himself and repressed his smile.

Then she looked at him, her quill poised as if ready for a dictation.

"Malfoy, I need you to tell me what you experience when you fly. Tell me everything. Tell me what you feel - what you think - what happens to your body," she said.

Draco took a deep breath. To his dismay, he felt his cheeks begin to burn. No one had ever posed such an intimate question. He'd never even put words to the experience himself.

Then he sat back down and willed himself to feel calm. This was going to be personal....

"When I fly ... er... when I fly I feel very light..." he started. He watched as she wrote a few words and then returned her studious gaze to him.

If this is going to work, I'm going to have to do better than "light," he thought inanely. So he took a deep breath and plunged in, trying to quell a surprising sense of nervousness.

"Okay, Granger," he said, taking another deep breath, "when I fly I feel ... really good. Not just good - amazing. I feel impervious like I can do anything. I feel alive. Powerful. Free... like nothing and no one could ever dictate my actions. Flying... I don't think about it when I'm up there- I just do it. I let myself go - I don't think through any of my actions. I commit myself entirely to the experience. So during Quidditch, I dedicate myself to winning... that means taking advantage of whatever is going on around me - not just looking out for the Snitch," he said quickly, his words coming in a rush.

"Good," she said, still scribbling furiously. "Go on... your body..." she encouraged.

He looked away from her, choosing to look into the flames of the fire instead.

"When I fly, I feel a range of different feelings. When I'm just flying and not going after the Snitch or racing the other team's Seeker, I feel a tingly sensation - something warm and effervescent- like something is bubbling in my stomach and just under my skin. And I feel easy and even a bit relaxed - like my body wants to fly... But as soon as I start going faster - start after something, especially the Snitch- the tingling rapidly intensifies. There's a build-up - my muscles in my legs and shoulders start to burn because I'm leaning into the broom... pushing it - and myself-- to go faster. Sometimes I can hardly catch my breath - and breathing even seems secondary. It's a rush of sensations throughout my body- a rush of endorphins to my brain- the tingly warmth turns into fire and I feel like I'm burning up-- I can feel it in my chest ... a kind of constriction almost - like my heart is pumping at its full capacity. Like I'm going to explode. I can literally feel the magic move through me as if there are no boundaries between me, the broom, and the air."

He looked back at her then, once again feeling quite flushed. Her quill was on the floor and she was staring at him, her mouth slightly open and her eyes wide. He watched as a telltale red stain emerged on her pale cheeks.

She blinked at him a few times and then seemed to realize that she was no longer holding her quill. She saw it on the ground, picked it up, and knocked the parchment out of her lap in the process.

The tension between them was palpable.

Draco waited patiently as she finally situated her parchment and quill in her lap again. He watched as she slowly dipped her quill into the bottle of ink and then put the point to the paper. He felt the corners of his lips twitch upwards as he realized that she was faltering - that she didn't know what to write.

He had stumped Granger.

He felt positively gleeful.

"You really feel all of that? Just from flying?" she finally croaked.

He nodded.

She took a deep breath and set aside her writing materials.

"Well, I guess I have to figure this out through application," she mused aloud.

He laughed. He couldn't even stop when she gave him a confused glare.

Then she rifled through his elegant monogrammed satchel again, this time drawing out her day planner.

"You said the first team practice is in a week? So we have to find some time when I can fly - and don't look at me like that. I'm not doing this without you. Besides, you're going to have to give me a crash course in strategies, too," she said firmly.

Draco wasn't sure what look he'd given her. He'd already figured that he'd need to coach her directly in both flying and Quidditch. But to hear her make these demands made him realize her full commitment to the task. She was going to do this - and he could tell that she was not going to hold back at all. He now had the entire Granger intellect and resolve to work with. And perhaps for the first time, he realized what an incredible asset that was.

She pulled out his beautiful pocket watch then. He was very nearly mesmerized at the way her long fingers carefully - no, tenderly - pried open the gilded front cover. She glanced at it and then just as carefully, closed it and slid it back into her pocket.

He hadn't seen the timepiece in all the time that they'd switched bodies. Though he could only imagine what his ancestors would think of a Muggleborn handling such an heirloom, he found that he didn't mind so much.

With a start, he realized that she was going out- even though it was already after curfew on a Sunday night.

"Where are you going?" he asked, not taking the time to sound disinterested.

"To the library, of course," she said quickly as she gathered up her belongings and put them back into his satchel.

"Whatever for? It's closed- and it's already very late, Granger." In the back of his mind, he wondered why he cared.

"I'm going to get some books on Quidditch, Malfoy. I would have thought that'd be obvious. I hate not knowing what I need to know before I have to do something," she said, sounding a bit strained.

He swallowed as he felt a tightening sensation in the back of his throat - one he'd come to associate with that damn feeling of thankfulness that seemed to be Granger's body's trademark.

"Wait just a minute, Granger," he managed to say. Then he got up and walked quickly into his room.

Without really thinking about it, he scooped up his entire collection of Quidditch books - all of which were first editions and in impeccable condition. He only hesitated when he picked up his Slytherin Quidditch strategy notebook. He'd never shown this to anyone - not even the other team members. After all, any true Slytherin would recognize the value and then what good would he be? The notebook was so heavily charmed that he doubted anyone would even see it for what it was. In the event that they did, they'd certainly suffer for it.

After a few more seconds' deliberation, he swore softly and grabbed it.

Granger was still waiting for him in the Common room. He smirked when he noticed that she had an annoyed expression on her face. He doubted that she ever let anyone talk her out of going to the library.

Without saying anything, he handed over his collection of books. He saw her gray eyes widen as she quickly perused the stack of titles.

Taking one last deep breath, he muttered several unlocking and anti-theft spells and then handed over his game plans.

He watched appreciatively as she opened the notebook and then gasped.

"I don't suppose I even need to warn you about what I'd do if any of those notes are leaked out to certain Gryffindors," he said in what he hoped was a menacing tone.

She closed the book and looked at it thoughtfully. Then she raised her own wand and performed a complicated locking charm on it.

"No one can open this but you or me, Malfoy. Thank you for trusting me with this."

Then she walked back over to the couch in front of the fireplace, conjured some tea, and began reading the book at the top of the stack. She seemed completely unfazed by the lateness of the hour or the number of books in front of her.

Draco sighed and sat back down on the couch, too. He pulled out his Potions textbook and began to study. He didn't really need to study this right now and he knew it. He absolutely knew that he was sitting with Granger in case she had questions - and also because he couldn't shake how impressed he was with her engagement to learning this sport in one week.

So the two sat in amicable silence - both studying their perspective texts. Granger did ask Draco questions from time to time and Draco was quite gratified at the way she thoughtfully listened to his answers, sometimes even taking notes.

****

Granger's sudden dive brought him out of his reverie. The evening before, Draco had her practicing dives with pine cones that he'd levitated. But this was her first time going after a moving object. He followed her line of vision and was relieved to note that she'd spotted the Snitch. He'd released it more than forty-five minutes prior but even he was willing to admit (not aloud, of course) that she was making good time for her first attempt at Seeking.

The Snitch wasn't being particularly unmanageable tonight. It could have taken a more stilted dive or switched directions but it didn't. He saw Granger leaning into his broom - for he'd made her practice on his own Nimbus 2001 from the very beginning - just as he'd shown her. She was now close enough that he could see her fixed gaze on the Snitch and the firm set of her jaw. She took one hand off of the broom, just as they'd practiced, and reached out for the shiny fluttering object - she was almost there.

She didn't see the bludger coming from the side. Draco did - he saw it just as she reached for the Snitch. In that split second, he battled with himself to call out to her - to warn her of the impending metal ball.

But he didn't.

And as her hand closed around the Snitch - as her eyes widened in a mixture of surprise, satisfaction, pride, and shock - the bludger hit her shoulder.

The next seconds passed so quickly, Draco was never sure exactly what had happened.

The bludger hit her hard from behind and Draco could hear the sickening crack from his position on the ground. He watched in horror as Granger was thrust forward - as she scrambled to keep her legs and arms around the broom. She tilted dangerously to one side but managed to keep hold. She had pulled herself out of the dive just as the bludger hit but she was still moving too fast.

Draco could see the muscles in her arms, back, and thighs ripple as she heaved herself upright on the broom. He had his wand out and pointed at her, ready to catch her should she fall.

But she didn't fall. She didn't scream. She didn't even panic.

She leaned back from the broomstick, loosening her hold and eased herself down towards the ground where Draco was waiting. She dismounted from the broom with surprisingly steady legs.

It was only when she turned her gray eyes on to Draco and held out the still quivering Snitch in her right hand that he could see that she was in shock. His practice Quidditch robes were ripped around her left shoulder. Her left arm seemed to be dangling in a rather awkward position. Her face was flushed, her white blond hair mussed, and her eyes were feverishly bright.

"Granger? Are you all right?" he asked tentatively as he took a few steps closer.

She didn't reply. She still held the Snitch in her hand. He reached for it and had to pry it out of her strong grip.

"Granger... let it go. You've caught it. Now let me have it and then I need to take a look at your back," he said, surprising himself with such a soothing tone.

She finally released the Snitch. He turned away from her long enough to stop the other balls and then banished them all to the supplies trunk. Then he turned back to her.

"I think you're in shock, Granger. And I think you might have broken something... so we need to go to the infirmary," he said firmly.

She was eyeing him as though she couldn't really see him. But she nodded. She remained quiet all the way to the infirmary.

Draco gave a very curious Madame Pomfrey one word answers to explain Granger's injuries. And he refused to leave when she told him to go. He merely sat in an overstuffed chair next to Granger's bed.

If Madame Pomfrey thought the actions between the Head Boy and Head Girl were off, she keep it to herself. For that, Draco was thankful.

When the older woman finally left the room, Draco bolted up from his chair and leaned over the prone boy's body.

"Granger! Snap out it. You're really pissing me off. Say something, damn it!" he said, not realizing that he sounded somewhat hysterical.

Something shifted in the aristocratic face, though. The gray eyes that had stared at him emptily now seemed more alert. The face that had been drawn up in a blank expression changed to something softer. Right before his eyes, he saw Granger re-emerge in his body.

She immediately started trembling. Actually, Draco thought, she's shaking uncontrollably.

He could even see wetness gathering in the corners of her eyes. He couldn't even remember ever having cried before. He absurdly noted that such a sad look was ridiculously tragic for his face.

"What happened?" she breathed as she seemed to be struggling not to give in to the tears.

Draco sighed and really felt uncomfortable with how to proceed. The girl had clearly done her best- she'd overcome her fears of flying, caught the Snitch, and remained on a broomstick after a hard knock from a bludger. She was obviously coming out of shock. He felt incredibly guilty for not warning her about the bludger - even though he stood by his initial reasoning. He knew that whatever he was about to say would undoubtedly determine how she approached flying from here on out.

He took a deep breath.

"Granger, look at me. Look at me," he waited until her bright gray eyes met his brown ones.

"You flew very well. You caught the Snitch - you even made pretty good time, especially since this was your first attempt. You took a bludger... You're going to have to work harder on sensing those when you play. No one will warn you about those - and when you're actually playing, the others will aim them at you deliberately. Still, you took a direct bludger hit and remained on your broomstick, nevertheless. You didn't panic and you landed safely. You trusted my body," he stopped at the point that had most perplexed him.

"Granger, I think you trusted my body so much that you rather lost yourself in it. And the shock of the hit didn't help to bring you back. We're going to have to talk more about that development some other time. For now, I want you to know that whatever you did today, worked. And I am sure that you can pull it off again," he said, firmly but in a kind voice.

She took a deep breath and managed not to choke back even a single sob. The wetness in her eyes seemed to be gone, too. Then she smiled at him.

"I caught the Snitch," she said. And Draco found himself laughing just a bit at the smugness in her voice.

"Yes, you did," he returned. "But don't get cocky. Tomorrow you'll need to catch it more quickly and manage whatever the team is doing." His kind tone belied the harshness of his words.

She was still smiling. In fact, he thought she looked triumphant - that is until she moved a bit in the narrow bed.

Her smile vanished and was promptly replaced by a grimace as she moaned in obvious pain. He struggled with a surge of guilt.

"Yes, you managed to break a clavicle, Granger. I thought one of our rules was not to damage each other's bodys," he said sternly.

She rolled her eyes at him then and he felt the corners of his mouth turn upwards.

"Madame Pomfrey said you'd be fine in just a couple of hours. And you'll be good as new tomorrow," he finished.

"A few hours?" she moaned again. "I've got so much studying to do," she said as she attempted to sit up again.

"Lay back down, Granger. You aren't going anywhere in my body until you've healed properly. The least you can do is take care of what you've damaged," he said, somewhat teasingly.

"Now, I'm going to leave you. I've got to rearrange tonight's patrols. I'll get two of the other Prefects to take over. You've got more than enough people willing to eat out of your hand, Granger. So I'll put that to good use. Then I'll bring back your books and you can study here."

"Two other Prefects?" Granger asked.

"Yes, two. I don't trust you to lay here and be still - not even to study. So I'll be here studying, too. And keeping an eye on you," he said. He placed his hands on his hips and gave her as strong a look as he could muster with her soft features--

-- which only resulted in her giggling.

"All right then," she agreed.

With that, Draco left quickly. Much as he predicted, Blaise was more than willing to step in and patrol. And Draco took some satisfaction when the boy seemed disappointed that he'd actually be patrolling with Ginny Weasley instead of the Head Girl. When Draco had all of his and Granger's combined books, parchments, and quills, he headed back to the infirmary.

He dumped everything in a single pile on the table beside Granger's bed. Then he took a long look at her, taking in both her discomfort at sitting upright and her resolve to get through with her studies.

He knew that she was lying here in the infirmary because of him. He'd asked her to fly and she'd flown. He'd asked her to play Quidditch and she'd learned. He didn't warn her about the bludger and now she was suffering. As he took in those trusting gray eyes and that tentative smile, he became intensely aware of a set of rather curious sensations. He felt guilty and responsible - two things he would have never guessed he'd feel about Granger. Thus, he felt like he needed to make it up to her somehow.

"Can you scoot over just a bit?" he asked.

She looked at him dumbly and then cautiously shifted her body to one side of the bed.

He didn't explain his actions - he wasn't even sure he could explain them to himself and was only mollified slightly by blaming his concern on Granger's lingering personality. Then he grabbed her Transfiguration text and slid into the bed next to her, ignoring her gasps of surprise.

The two proceeded to spend the next three hours reading, questioning, discussing, and debating their subjects. They were only interrupted by Madame Pomfrey's occasional tut-tuting and bewildered expressions- which they both studiously ignored.