The Philosopher's Stone (Hermione Granger x Male Reader)

5~ Flying Lessons

"Stupid Snape and his stupid hook nose and his stupid greasy hair," Y/N grumbled, making his way to the grounds for his first flying lesson. Even the premise of flying a broom couldn't lift his spirits, it's not like he's never flown a broomstick before, it's almost second nature for him.

"Mr. L/N, you are late," Madam Hooch called from her spot in the center of two rows of students. 

"Professor McGonagall held me late," Y/N said, walking to an empty spot between Hermione and Neville.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say, 'Up!'"

"UP!" everyone shouted.

Y/N's broom shot straight into his hand, but it was one of the few that did. Harry's also went to his hand, Hermione's had simply rolled over on the ground, and Neville's hadn't moved at all

Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows, correcting their grips. Y/N, Harry, and Ron were delighted when she told Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years. 

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet and then come straight back down by leaning forwards slightly. On my whistle – three – two –"

But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips. 

"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle –twelve feet – twenty feet. Y/N saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and – 

WHAM – a thud and a nasty crack and Neville lay, face down, on the grass in a heap. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher and started to drift lazily towards the Forbidden Forest and out of sight. 

Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his.

"Broken wrist," Y/N heard her mutter. "Come on, boy - it's all right, up you get."

She turned to the rest of the class.

"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch'. Come on, dear."

Neville, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him.

No sooner were they out of earshot than Malfoy burst into laughter.

"Did you see his face, the great lump?"

The other Slytherins joined in. 

"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Parvati Patil.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy Parkinson, a hard-faced Slytherin girl. "Never thought you'd like fat little cry babies, Parvati."

"Look!" said Malfoy, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."

The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up.

"Give that here, Malfoy," said Harry quietly. Everyone stopped talking to watch.

"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to collect – how about – up a tree?"

"Give it here!" Harry yelled, but Malfoy had leapt on to his broomstick and taken off. He hadn't been lying, he could fly well – hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak he called, "Come and get it, Potter!"