The Sense

Note: Thank you for reviewing. As the story goes on I really want some advice/constructive criticism to help me improve, since I'm pretty new to all of this. I don't want to write all amateurish-like and I have some other ideas for fics but I want to get my skills down first, ya know? Anyway, enjoy!

~*~

“So what do you think that has to do with the Death Eaters’ movements?” Tonks asked.

“I don’t think they’re as random as most people make them out to be.” Kingsley clarified.

Tonks sipped her tea thoughtfully. “What makes you say that?”

“Well – “

Suddenly their quiet conversation was interrupted by the kitchen door swinging open and slamming into the wall with a BANG. Hermione stormed in.

“Stop following me, Harry.”

“Hermione, I’m sorry!”

Hermione attempted to shut the door in his face, but Harry was too quick. He put his hand in the door. “Come on, Hermione!”

Hermione ignored him and shut the door on his hand. The door bounced back, leaving a red mark on Harry’s hand.

“Oww!”

“Serves you right!”

“Psst.” Tonks poked Kingsley in the shoulder and indicated the living room with her chin. He nodded and they silently went for the exit to continue their conversation elsewhere.

“No, stay.” Hermione ordered at them with the ferocity of a pissed off tiger. “You don’t have to leave, nothing’s going on here.”

Tonks and Kingsley raised an eyebrow each. "Uh-huh. And my butt can sing opera." Tonks said sarcastically.

“Yeah, I think Tonks and I have to, uh, there’s a – “

“Mrs. Weasley needs us.” Tonks declared.

“Ah, yes! Important business, you see.” They hurried out. Hermione growled and started to follow them out of the kitchen, turning away brusquely from Harry.

“Hermione, it was just a joke! Ron’s done a billion of them before! Fred and George even more so!” Harry ignored Tonks and Kingsley's departure and tried to get Hermione to face him.

“And if you recall, you prat, I was mad at them too.”

Harry didn’t accept this. “You seem a lot madder at me than you ever where at them. Even when they enlarged all your bras and fooled you into thinking your…you...got smaller!”

Hermione blushed for a moment at this memory, then shook it away. “They never made me think that I had killed them!”

“I was only nine feet in the air!”

“You could have been badly hurt!”

“Hermione…” Harry put a hand on her shoulder to turn her around. “Come on, turn around. Hermione, I know you would never hurt me, and if you did accidentally I’d know you could help me anyway.”

Hermione fought back whatever emotional "thing" was trying to surface. “It really wasn’t funny. I hate when you get hurt…it....” She trailed off, not knowing how to put into words how she felt. How every time Harry is forced to suffer something she feels it too, in an indirect, sympathetic way. And how it would be very hard to stand if she was the cause of any suffering. She was already trying very hard not to get overemotional, as she didn’t want Harry telling Ron and the both of them having a private laugh at the crybaby. But Harry needed no further explanation.

“I’m sorry. I’ll keep mental note of that. I won’t pretend to be hurt. Okay?”

Hermione said nothing for a moment, collecting her thoughts so they made sense. Then, recognizing his sincerity, she moved forward and enveloped Harry in a tight hug. Harry, caught off guard, awkwardly patted her back. He knew he was blushing severely and he hoped Hermione wouldn’t notice.

“Hey, where are you going?” Harry asked when Hermione pulled away and started back to the door.

“I’m playing Quidditch.” she called back, matter-of-factly.

Harry stared after her.

~*~

“I can’t believe you got her off the ground, Harry.” Ginny commented.

“Yeah, she’s actually flying, mate!” Fred nodded.

Actually, Hermione was not flying despite her friends' encouragement, so much as hovering three feet off the grass. She sat on Ron’s prehistoric broomstick, clutching its flaking handle with both hands so hard that her knuckles had gone white. The shaft looked ready to snap. Her Beater’s bat was being wedged between her body and the broom being clutched tightly to her chest. Harry stood on the ground patiently, willing Hermione to loosen up.

“Hermione, you’ve got ease up on your grip. You can’t control a broom like that.”

“You’ve got to be kidding, I’m like a mile up!”

Ron snickered.

“Um, Hermione…” Harry touched her tense shoulder. “You’re barely at waist level.”

“Harry, at least get her to open her eyes!” George called from above.

“Excuse me? I am right here, you do not have to speak to me through Harry!” Hermione snarled.

“Alright then, Hermione, open your eyes!” George dared.

Hermione bit her lip and peeked. Her look became mildly surprised. "Hey, I'm practically still on the ground!”

Harry smiled. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. Now loosen up, will you? No, don’t lock your elbows. You NEVER lock your elbows. That’s how people lose control.”

Hermione loosened her arms. Slowly her boom tilted upwards and she ascended, quivering.

“Oh God. If I fall, each one of you will be spouting locusts from your nostrils for weeks."

"But wouldn't that ruin British agriculture, then?" Ron asked cheekily.

"Stuff it."

Harry watched Hermione get steady. Her hand was loosening, still tight and frightened, but it was an improvement. Her eyes were open now and it was obvious she was concentrating her hardest. He watched as her brow furrowed as intensely as if she were reading her Lockhart books, which Ron and the twins had found hidden neatly under her folded clothes when they went snooping to...charm...her bras. This was good, maybe if she trained enough this summer she would be at least Sloper or Kirke level. The two were nice boys, really, but if he was going to have mediocre Beaters, he might as well have one that was close with most of the members on the team. Neither boys were very well acquainted with the other Gryffindor team members, and this caused a few communication issues.

“Atta girl, Hermione.” Ginny encouraged her friend. “Ease up there. Slower. Yeah, good!”

Ginny grinned at Hermione’s apparent success and darted away with the twins to the other side of the hill to toss the Quaffle around.

“This is like some bad dream. A nightmare. Accented by the fact that Ron is better than me at something.”

“Quit whining, Hermione!” Ron teased and performed a rolling move in front of her, causing Hermione to grumpily mutter "Show-off".

“Hey, that’s her line.” Harry said, joining his friends in the sky. “’Quit whining, Ron!”’ he mocked her in a high, squeaky voice.

Hermione started to smile. Flying wasn't bad. Especially with so many people looking out for you. “Shut up, I do not– “

Suddenly her broom started to quake.

“W-whats going on!?” Hermione yelled. Without warning the broom jolted back and forth. It wiggled as if it were trying to purposely hurl Hermione off. The nose of the broom shot up and soared upwards, then did a complete loop and plummeted back to its original level. The front and back of the broom bucked back and forth like a seesaw gone mad. Hermione was now no longer sitting on the broom. She was hanging on for dear life.

“AhhhhhhhhH!!”

“The damn broom’s old, it must be malfunctioning!” Fred cried frantically from across the field. He, Ginny, and George hurtled toward where they saw Hermione grasping her broom desperately, but their brooms were no Firebolts.

“I-I didn’t know it was broken!” Ron stammered trying to get near Hermione but the broom bucked and knocked Ron away, awarding him with an instant black eye. “Ahh!”

“Hold on, Hermione, hold on.” Harry circled to find a way at her without forcing them both from the sky. He now understood what looking for a needle in a haystack was like. There appeared to be no possible way in.

“H-Har-r-ry-yy!” Hermione tried to scream, but the word was broken apart by the tottering broomstick.

“Just hold on, hold - “

Suddenly Hermione could not keep her grip any longer.

“NO!” Harry's stomach dropped at the exact moment Hermione let go. Her fingers gave way and old splinters flew as she plummeted twenty feet to the ground, having one of her worst fears realized.

Harry’s worst fear too was realized as he dove to the ground after her. He swiped at her flailing form as she fell and snagged her ankle, but her momentum was unexpected. Unlike a snitch, Hermione was much larger and heavier. Refusing to let go, Harry grasped her ankle tighter. This was a mistake as Hermione’s momentum caused Harry on his broom to involuntarily sweep like a big pendulum. She was swung and Harry could no longer keep his grip. Hermione was flung into the nearest tree, where she collided with a dull THUD.