Granger Verse | Jeanne Collection | Touch the Sky Verse

Reality: Alternate Halloween/ late in first year.

Main Characters: (HP) Hermione, Harry, Ron, Minerva, Hogwarts cast (as Background)

Bashing: N/A Ron Hate, Bad Teachers

Warnings: My typos and spleling/ lack of beta.

Pairings: N/A

Adoptability: Full, just drop me a line first so there's no 'oh my god someone stole this/you stole this' where I then have to go wait what,' and instead can go 'it's not stole, it's adopted, read the authors notes more.'

Terms Explained

Pitch : The up and down based on nose direction

Roll : Literal, the rolling direction, left or right

Warp : combination of Pitch and Roll

Yaw : the Turning directions, again left and right

Hermione isn't afraid of flying, Hermione just doesn't trust the brooms. They're thin, uncomfortable, fragile in almost any conditions and she has no idea how they work.

The other students don't even think about how they work, they just trust the brooms do and trust their own skill on the cleaning equipment to stay aloft.

Hermione can't do that.

She enjoys flights overseas on airplanes, knows how they work and understands the science keeping them aloft. She's been researching for the entire year and still can't find the information on broom flight.

She has theories.

She knows several dozen levitation and momentum charms, has learned the runic formula used in all gravity defying spells, knows how to calculate wind speeds and aerodynamics in both normal math and arithmancy, she knows about lift, pitch, yaw, warp and roll.

Theoretically she knows more about flight than anyone in the school, but even Madam Hooch wouldn't, maybe couldn't, tell her how the brooms worked.

It was nearly the end of her first year at Hogwarts and she had spent every spare moment researching the subject with no solid answer. She decided there was only one thing to do.

It was one of the days when not many people were outside, almost no one was in the air, those that were were playing quidditch over the field.

Hermione walked calmly down to the Broom shed and signed out a broom. Under Ron's name, his signature ridiculously easy to forge.

There was an open stretch of ground around the side of the Castle where the Library sat, few windows to over see it, hidden from the bank between the castle and the lake, the hill between the castle and the forest and far from the quidditch pitch; this is where Hermione took the borrowed broom.

She laid it on the ground hand over it and told it 'up' in a commanding voice, like a dog she knew would obey. The broom rose wobbily to her hand. If she wanted to understand the activity it might help to do the activity. Hitching her robes up around her waist she threw one denim clad leg over the broom's shaft and tried to settle on it like Hooch had told them.

It was was supremely uncomfortable and she had no idea how quidditch player avoided reproduction ending injuries just by sitting on the damn things.

With a small jump she rose off the ground, broom bobbing erratically as she went. Hermione wondered if it was a product of the broom's age or her inability.

She rose up through the air, almost losing control several times as she was buffeted by strong winds but she kept at it. Broom flying was an important part of being a witch, even Neville had managed to become a decent flyer after a few practices, she was going to master the art of flight if it killed her.

Higher and higher she went, slowly figuring out how to steer, until she reached a section of sky that seemed to push her down. Irked she shifted her grip on the shaft and rocketed up through the strange down wind. She slowed and slowed until it was like trying to push through nearly set toffee, she kept trying anyway.

"Come one, COME ON!" and just like that she was through, like breaking a barrier.

The sudden acceleration jolted her and she was flung from the broom, hurtling through the air while the magical cleaning tool was... well, Hogwarts was never getting that back.

A strong gale caught hold of her, pushing her away from Hogwarts. She spun dementedly, unable to stabilise her axis, she couldn't breathe, the wind pressure to strong for her to inhale properly; she closed her eyes against the stinging wind.

Her mind was racing through everything she knew about flight, every scrap of science, every magical hint. Superimposed over all that information was one single thought.

"I'm going to die."

Even if she knew a spell that could help, the wind force tugged to hard on her limbs for her to control them enough to pull out her wand, which would most likely be snatched away by the wind anyway.

"I'm going to die."

She might have cried if she'd been able, but she merely fell, accepting. It was a terrifying calm that seeped into her brain, pieces of the information swimming around her brain broke off and came together in a puzzle, bit by bit, piece by piece until a theory was manifest in her mind.

It was like casting a spell with her whole body as the conduit instead of her wand. A wall of air expanded out from her skin like a small explosion, her small form jerks and stilled, suspended in the air miles off the ground.

Her hair floated lazily, the school robes she wore over her clothed drifted and bobbed like she was in water... or freed from gravity.

She gasped in a thankful breath of air, gazing in wonder at the world.

"I'm not going to die."

The spell she had cast blazing brightly in the front of her mind.

"I can fly."

Prelude: The night of the Troll:

"What were you thinking!?"

"Professor, Its my fault," The adults looked at the bedraggled Hermione, "My parents and I have this Halloween tradition and I didn't get to do it this year so I was feeling really homesick today and I didn't go to the feast because I was here. If the boys hadn't come along I'd probably be dead right now." Her lip quivered, she looked ready to start crying all over again.

"That does not excuse you for cutting classes all day and dragging two other students into danger."

Hermione choked, she had dragged anyone anywhere.

"Fifty points from Gryffindor ms Granger." Hermione wilted even further under the gaze of the Deputy Headmistress. "Boys, well done, ten points each. All of you, back to the dorm."

Hermione couldn't believe it, once again, preferential treatment for Harry Potter and Friends.

She gathered her scattered school equipment, finding the wand that had been knocked from her hand wedge behind sink debris and left, the boys trailing along behind her.

Ron was going over the event of the Bathroom, already embellishing his role.

"It wouldn't kill her to say thank you, she said it her self we saved her life." Hermione stopped, ready to scream when she heard Ron's words. She spun around so suddenly it startled the boys.

"Thank you Harry, for being concerned enough to help." It sounded angry, she was angry. Ron Stared at her smug and stupid for a minute before he realized his thanks wasn't coming.

"What about me? I'm the one who clubbed the Troll, I saved your life."

"YOU!? You were the reason I was there in the first place, you are the one responsible for my life threatening danger, the fact you 'saved me' only negates the debt you owe for putting me there in the first place. Not that you can even truly claim that much, I told you which spell to use, and thank God you managed it this time when you failed so horribly in class. You don't deserve a thank you, you horrible excuse for a person."

"You ungrateful-"

"SHUT UP RONALD WEASLEY! I am grateful, to Harry, who had no direct fault for my situation but chose to help anyway. And I would be so much more grateful if you never spoke to me or came near me again, just stay away from me, and I promise in return I will let you fail on your own lack of merit." She spun back the other way, hair flying out so fast the wet strands almost hit the boy in the face.

They stood watching her leave in shock for several minutes before realising they had to follow. Harry could see a vague sense in what Hermione had said in regards to blame.

Ron badmouthed the witch all the way back to the common room where he switched tracks and regaled the house with tales of how he'd saved Hermione from the troll.

The house was split between being in awe and disgust, Hermione had already told everyone what had happened, succinctly and with no ambiguity about who's fault her near death was.