you raise me up || harry potter

chapter 11: i promise i'll keep you safe

»»————-　song:　————-««

i'll keep you safe

★ by sleeping at last ★

❝ can you feel the weight of it,
the whole world at your fingertips

don't be, don't be afraid
our mistakes they were bound to be made

but i promise you i'll keep you safe. ❞

♢ ♢ ♢

Harry had been very much looking forward to flying lessons. Pity that Snape enforced punctuality (if you call it that—more like 'threaten') because the Slytherins were down at the pitch early, before any of the Gryffindors got there. And the conversation turned to Draco, as it often did.

"I've been riding brooms since I was, oh, about two years old," Draco boasted. "Toy brooms, you know. Father got me a real broom when I was seven. Practicing ever since. I'd be ever so surprised if they didn't pick me to be Seeker—"

"Put a sock in it, Malfoy." The Gryffindors had arrived, Ron at the helm as he glared at Draco.

"Oh, Weasley, we all know your brooms were hand-me downs," Draco sneered right back. "Poor Weasley, riding a Shooting Star... I think I'd rather stay on the ground if I had to ride one of those."

Draco seemed to have hit a nerve. Ron blushed a deep maroon color, which Harry took to mean Draco's guess was correct.

"Come on, Draco," Harry said in a low voice. "Lay off."

Ron glared at Harry. "I don't need a Slytherin of all people to protect me, Potter," he snapped. "What do you think I am, a big baby?"

"Yes, actually," Draco shot back. Harry winced—Ron had walked right into that one.

Madam Hooch swooped in right then, preventing anymore verbal sparring. Just as well, since Draco and Ron were practically shooting sparks at each other with their eyes.

Draco and Harry seemed to be the ones most adept with a broom, despite Draco's claims of having years of practice. Ron was a close second—by his accounts, all of his siblings had been on the Gryffindor Quidditch team in years past, with Fred and George the current members. Hermione Granger, on the other hand, as well has Neville, clearly did not want to leave the ground, and their brooms said as much.

Halfway through practice, Neville slipped off his broom and landed on the ground with a nasty crack of his wrist; Draco wasted no time in laughing as Madam Hooch was safely out of earshot with her arm around the boy. Harry knew better than to stop him, but it still pained him to see the Gryffindors glaring. 

"Didn't know you liked big fat crybabies, Parvati," Pansy Parkinson was saying. Harry didn't like her much. For that matter, he didn't much like anyone in Slytherin.

"Hey, look—" Draco darted forward. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's grandmother gave him."

Harry had come to his limits. "Give it here, Draco," he said quietly. 

Draco gave him an incredulous look, before a playful-looking grin slid over his face. "You want it? Come get it!"

Everyone gasped in admiration—or rather, everyone from Slytherin—as he kicked off the ground and floated into the sky. Pansy was one of the first to recover, and she shouted angrily, "NO, Draco! You're gonna get in trouble, you'll lose points for Slytherin—"