Chapter 11: The Hogwarts Express and the Anti-Gravity Skirt part-2
As she fell, I used a tiny flick of my mind to snag the hem of her pleated skirt on the sharp, metallic corner of the luggage rack.
It was a classic, defied-physics move straight out of a questionable manga.
"Ahhh!" Hermione screamed.
She fell off the seat. But her skirt did not fall with her. The hem remained firmly hooked on the luggage rack, seven feet in the air.
Gravity pulled Hermione down. The fabric of the skirt held tight.
The result was that Hermione was suspended for a split second, her skirt stretched vertically like a tent, before the fabric ripped audibly at the seam, allowing her to continue her descent. However, the momentary suspension had done its job. The skirt was pulled completely up, practically to her armpits, as she tumbled down.
She landed directly in Harry's arms.
Harry, who had been bracing himself to catch the falling trunk (which I had helpfully levitated back into place so it wouldn't crush them), instead found his arms full of a falling Hermione.
He caught her by the waist. Her legs were straddling his hips. Her skirt was currently acting as a cape behind her head.
And Harry... well, Harry was staring directly at the front of her white panties, which featured a small, embroidered golden snitch.
(...cough...)
The train compartment was silent, save for the rhythmic chug-chug-chug of the engine picking up speed.
Harry's eyes were wide behind his round glasses. He was holding her firmly, his hands gripping her bare thighs to keep her from hitting the floor. The proximity was zero. The visibility was one hundred percent.
"Harry..." Hermione whispered, her voice trembling with a cocktail of shock and horror.
"I... I caught you," Harry managed to choke out. His face was slowly turning a color that matched the Gryffindor banner.
"My skirt," Hermione squeaked. "It is... up."
"It is," Harry confirmed, his voice cracking. "Very up."
I decided it was time to play the role of the oblivious friend. I looked away from the window, feigning surprise.
"Blimey!" I exclaimed. "Is that a Snitch on your knickers, Hermione? That is brilliant! Showing support for the seeker, eh?"
Hermione let out a strangled cry of mortification. She scrambled frantically, kicking her legs.
"Put me down! Put me down!"
Harry dropped her. Perhaps a bit too quickly.
She landed on the floor with a thud and immediately curled into a ball, yanking her skirt down from where it had been tangled around her neck.
"System Alert," the smooth voice narrated in my mind. "Incident recorded. Type: The 'Anti-Gravity Skirt' maneuver. Full frontal exposure in a semi-public setting. Target involved: Harry Potter. Rating: S-class. Reward: Skill 'Structure Analysis' and fifty attribute points. Bonus: Harry Potter has developed a permanent mental association between Golden Snitches and... other things."
Before Hermione could even begin to scold us or hex us into oblivion, the compartment door slid open.
"Well, well, well," a drawling voice sneered.
Draco Malfoy stood there, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. He wore his usual expression of disdain, but it faltered as he took in the scene.
Hermione was on the floor, looking disheveled, her face bright red. Harry was standing over her, looking guilty and flushed. I was sitting by the window, eating a liquorice wand.
"I always knew you three were degenerates," Malfoy sneered, though his eyes lingered on Hermione's legs for a second too long. "Having a romp before the train even leaves London? Disgusting, even for Weasleys and Mudbloods."
Hermione's eyes flashed with tears of humiliation. Harry's hand went to his wand.
(Oh no you don't, Draco,) I thought. (Nobody insults my primary source of entertainment.)
I looked at Malfoy. Specifically, I looked at the belt holding up his expensive black trousers.
(Structure Analysis,) I thought, activating my new skill.
Instantly, blue lines overlaid my vision. I saw the stress points of his belt buckle. A simple, silver clasp. Weak point: the pin.
(Telekinesis: Apply five pounds of pressure to the pin.)
Snap.
Malfoy's belt buckle broke.
Simultaneously, I applied a downward force on his trousers.
"And what is—whoa!" Malfoy yelped.
His trousers dropped to his ankles instantly.
Draco Malfoy was standing in the doorway of a crowded train corridor wearing nothing but a pair of silk, emerald green boxers with his initials, 'DM', embroidered in silver thread.
"Nice pants, Malfoy," I quipped loudly. "Do they match your eyes?"
Laughter erupted from the corridor behind him. Several students from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw had been walking by and witnessed the Malfoy heir in his undignified glory.
"My father will hear about this!" Malfoy shrieked, frantically pulling his trousers up and stumbling backward. He tripped over his own feet and fell into Crabbe, who looked confused by the sudden display of pale aristocrat legs.
They scrambled away, slamming the door shut.
I turned back to Harry and Hermione. Harry was grinning despite himself. Hermione, who had managed to compose herself and sit back on the bench, was fighting a smile through her blush.
"That was... unexpected," Harry said.
"Karma," I shrugged. "So, Hermione. About that Snitch..."
"One word, Ronald," Hermione threatened, pointing her wand at me, her face still burning. "One word and I will transfigure your nose into a parsnip."
"Lips are sealed," I promised, miming locking a zipper across my mouth.
Hermione smoothed her skirt down nervously, checking for tears. "I don't know what is wrong with me lately," she muttered. "I am just so... clumsy. And why is gravity acting so strangely?"
"Maybe it is the magical atmospheric pressure," I suggested helpfully. "Or maybe you are just falling for Harry."
"Ron!" Both of them shouted in unison.
"Joking! Joking!" I raised my hands in surrender.
The rest of the train ride passed with a delightful tension. Every time Hermione moved, Harry flinched. Every time Harry looked at her, he quickly looked away, his ears turning pink. It was the perfect atmosphere for a romantic comedy.
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