So, this is really just a piece of fluff for the sake of fluff. I didn't quite know what to write.

Written for the 52 Weeks of Writing Competition: Week 2. Prompts used were Slytherin and Broomstick. And it's really short -only 553 words. Hm. It's my shortest yet, I think.

Post-war, EWE.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.


"You can't be serious!"

Hermione looked from Draco to the broom and back to Draco and then to the broom and Draco broom Draco broom Draco broom sky Draco

"I'm perfectly serious," Draco said, very obviously trying to smother a laugh. "I'm taking you flying."

"I'm not going!" Hermione folded her arms over her chest. She should have known something like this would happen when Draco had told her to meet him at the quidditch pitch instead of the room of requirement tonight.

"Just one hour, and you'll be down," Draco promised. "Come on."

He grabbed her by the wrist and all but dragged her onto the sleek wood, and when she sputtered her protests and folded her arms over her chest again, he simply shrugged and kicked off anyway. She squealed; she couldn't get her hands wrapped around his waist fast –or tight –enough.

"Malfoy! Get me back down right this instant!"

"I distinctively remember telling you that we'd be up in the sky for an hour," he said. "And ease your grip. If you don't I might not have the breath to keep you from crashing or falling to the ground."

That was enough to scare her into doing exactly as he said. "I don't want to be up here for an hour." She buried her face in his back. "I don't get you. Why are you doing this to me?"

"Merlin, Granger, it's not like it's the cruciatus curse or anything," he said. She could hear the eye roll in his tone. "What's your deal with flying anyway?"

"What's my deal with flying? What's my deal with flying?" As they zoomed around the castle exterior, Hermione couldn't help tightening her grip around him, cringing as she felt the wind rush in her ears. "What's your deal with not understanding that people don't like dying?"

"You're such a drama queen," he said. "I'll give you a break, but only because I'm tired of you squealing into my ears. Here." He swooped down sharply, and Hermione let out a frightened scream. "You'll wake half the castle if you keep going like that."

Hermione felt her feet hit solid ground, and she jerked off his back in an instant. "Oh, let them wake. Everybody knows you're a git, anyway. I could always claim you dragged me from my bed to torture me." She stumbled off the broomstick, almost giddy with relief. They were on the astronomy tower. "Never do that to me again."

"I'll just leave you to run into Filch on your way back, then," he said, sliding off his broom. "You can't even disillusion yourself." He pulled her wand out of his robes and waved it in front of her. She tried to snatch it, but he snatched it back without effort.

"When did you-"

"Slytherin trick," he drawled, twirling it around in his fingers. "And you're not getting it back if you don't fly back down with me."

"You're insufferable," she bit out.

"Don't I know it." He smirked at her. "Well, are you coming, Granger? You've only got fifty-three minutes left."

She scowled, but got on the broomstick anyway. She was doing it to get her wand back, she told herself, and not because she wanted to snuggle into his back some more, broomstick and heights be damned.