For young people, there is no trouble that can't be sweated out; and if it still can't be, then sweat a little longer.
Heavy topics aside, it was a very good day to play Quidditch.
The sun was shining brightly, and the air was fresh and clean.
Before long, Harry forgot his worries about Occlumency and became completely absorbed in the joy of Quidditch practice.
With so few players, the Seekers from Slytherin and Gryffindor had no chance to compete this time. Instead, they took turns practising several classic techniques with the Bludger and the Quaffle. Almost everyone tried the Porskoff Ploy, the Bludger Backbeat, and the Starfish and Stick, until everyone was exhausted.
As Draco shoved the struggling Bludger into the crate, he couldn't help but sigh.
"Harry, you could be a pretty good Beater."
Harry struggled to keep a runaway Bludger under control, then turned to him with a grin. "You could be a pretty good Chaser on the side."
He glanced back at a girl on a broomstick and said loudly, "And Ginny, she'd be perfect as a Chaser too."
"I think so too!" Ginny smiled smugly and nimbly hopped off her broom.
Ron, who was helping Harry fasten the strap on his broomstick, asked in bewilderment, "By the way, Ginny, when did you get so good at flying?"
Ginny shrugged at her brother, looking completely innocent.
"Ginny practised flying on Fred and George's broomsticks when she was very young, didn't she, Ginny?" Hermione said loudly as she slowly descended from mid-air, noticing that Harry was giving Ginny an approving look.
"Hey, don't let it slip to Mum and Dad. Mum doesn't know about this; I've been practising in secret!" Ginny said with a grin.
"You could try being a Keeper," Draco said to Ron. "That 'Starfish and Stick' move is pretty clever. I bet you'll be going to the House team tryouts when term starts, right?"
"You think so—" Ron turned around quickly, asking in surprise, "You think I can?"
Draco glanced at him and said meaningfully, "Your Keeping isn't bad."
He wondered, with an inscrutable expression, whether the song "Weasley Is Our King" would ever ring out over the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch again.
Just then, Hermione's wobbly voice drifted over. "Yeah, Ron, give it a try."
She was still flying up and down beside him, not daring to get off her broom.
"Speaking of which, Hermione, you still seem to have a bit of a mental block." Draco strode over and grabbed the tail of her broom. "When the Quaffle comes, your first reaction is to dodge, not to catch it; when a Bludger comes, your instinct is to avoid it instead of swinging your bat at it. That won't do."
"Quidditch is such a brutal sport!" Hermione complained. "It's quite fun watching from the stands. But when I'm facing a Bludger or a Quaffle, I panic and can't feel any of the joy of flying."
Harry, Ron, and Ginny, who were standing nearby, all acted as if they were used to it and didn't bother to dispute her complaints; Draco, however, couldn't take her words lightly this time.
"Hermione, Quidditch has never been just about the joy of flying for wizards."
Amid the background noise of Ginny yelling, "Harry, watch out for that other Bludger!" and Harry shouting, "Thanks for the warning, Ginny!", Draco told Hermione earnestly, "It's never been a gentle sport. Its allure lies not only in the thrill of the chase, but also in keen intuition, calm strategy, teamwork, and even the ability to oversee the whole situation—"
("Harry—it's back!" "I see it! Ginny, get out of the way!" "No, it's making me furious, I'm going to catch it!" "Wait—that's too dangerous—oh—good job, Ginny." "It shouldn't have underestimated me! What are you standing there for? Come and help me fasten my belt, will you?" "Of course, of course—")
"Draco, don't expect too much from her. She's already been incredibly involved today, for your sake." Ron glanced at Harry and Ginny, who were busily trying to stuff the erratic Bludger into the crate, and remarked casually, "Normally Hermione just watches from the sidelines and occasionally flies with us, but she's never put in as much effort as she has today."
"Ron has a point," Hermione said to Draco, her smile still lingering on her lips as she looked away from Ginny. "You can't expect so much from me, can you?"
Draco stared at her, finding her delighted smile irritating.
He suppressed his anger and tried to ask calmly, "So you're just giving up like this?"
"Come on, she's not good at flying, let alone Quidditch," Ron said doubtfully. "Draco, you can't exactly encourage her to try out for the House team, can you?"
"Oh, I'm not really interested in that—" Hermione said cautiously, glancing at Draco.
Draco grew even angrier watching the two of them team up.
Not good at—what did "not good at" even mean?
In her past life, she had even dared to ride the Gringotts dragon! Was there any girl more amazing than her?
"Can we fly a little longer?" Draco ground his back teeth, then suddenly tilted his head and asked Hermione, "Do you still have the energy?"
Hermione was still swaying on her broom, too busy keeping an eye on Ginny to get off.
"It's not impossible—" Before she could finish speaking, she felt a weight settle on the back of her broom.
She turned around and saw Draco sitting behind her on the broom handle, hugging her from behind.
His breath brushed against her earlobe. "Fly—take me with you," he said decisively.
Hermione's face flushed red at the touch of his breath.
She looked around sheepishly. Harry and Ginny were still holding the ball down, seemingly competing to see who could open their eyes wider, both turned back to stare at them; Ron, for his part, stood there with his mouth agape, completely shocked.
Ginny swallowed hard, then asked dryly, "Is this how they usually practise flying?"
"I don't know," Ron said blankly.
"Well, I did see them once." Harry tried to keep his tone light, but found his voice was an octave higher than usual. "On the night of the full moon, you know, Ron, the night you hurt your leg, we were looking out the window—"
"Ah, I remember now," Ron said.
Harry quickly secured the elusive ball that was trying to escape, then pulled Ginny up, her eyes shining with excitement. He and Ginny walked over to Ron's side, continuing to stare intently at the couple, as if hoping to see what other tricks they might have up their sleeves.
"Draco, come down," Hermione whispered, turning her head. "They're watching us."
"It's not like we haven't flown together before. I'm not coming down unless you take me for a spin." His voice carried an unruly, willful tone.
As he spoke, he even reached out in a fit of pique and gripped her waist firmly, to keep her from slipping down ahead of him.
Amid the faint gasps of the three people on the ground, and before the person behind her could go any further, Hermione closed her eyes, gritted her teeth, blushed, tightened her grip on the broom, and shot into the air.
When Ginny and the others' astonished looks faded with the growing distance, Hermione finally breathed a sigh of relief.
She wanted to ask him, "Why did you suddenly fly with me in front of everyone?" But before she could say it, she realised that Draco had remained silent except for that willful remark.
He didn't seem to be in a good mood.
In the gentle breeze, Hermione asked, "Draco, why are you suddenly unhappy?"
Draco fell silent; his feelings were rather complicated.
Just now, a startling possessiveness had surged through his mind.
He had neither shied away from it nor hesitated, and the domineering, impulsive side he usually hid had shown itself.
What Draco didn't want to admit was that this urge stemmed from his displeasure at seeing Hermione agree with the others.
He felt jealous, and even restless.
Watching Hermione and Ron "singing in unison," and Harry and Ginny seeming so "used to" Hermione's escapist behaviour, Draco suddenly realised that Hermione had spent most of the holiday with Harry, Ron, and Ginny at the old Black house.
While he was busy with family affairs, her friends had been far more involved in her life than he was; they knew far more about her words and actions than he did.
Draco had meant to be angry. If he had been the Draco Malfoy of his past life, he might already have snapped out some harsh words, clumsily expressing his anger out of some kind of inner pain.
But now he had a little more intelligence and rationality than he'd had in his previous life.
He knew that this kind of irrational outburst would make her angry, so he held back.
Then, as they soared through the air, as he breathed in the fragrance of her hair, as he felt her nestled so tenderly in his arms, all his bitterness and resentment were blown away by the wind high in the sky.
He knew in his heart that it wasn't Hermione's fault at all.
She kept telling him how much she longed for him. She kept showing her affection for him. She always responded so passionately to every word in his ring letters.
His jealousy seemed completely unreasonable, and Draco sighed dejectedly.
"I really hope the summer holidays end soon so we can go back to Hogwarts," he whispered in her ear, "and get back to our normal relationship."
"Is that all it takes to get you so upset?" Hermione chuckled. "Draco, do you realise you're acting like a sulking child? You're nothing like the person you used to be."
Draco immediately retorted, "Of course it's not just because of that—"
The other reason was that the smile on Hermione Granger's face whenever she admitted she was "not good at something" irritated Draco Malfoy to no end.
But he didn't know how to calm his irritable mood.
"Ron was right, I was being a bit too demanding." Draco sighed heavily, leaning close to her cheek. "I guess I was a little too hasty. I want you to know what I like, just as you always want me to know more about Muggle products. I want you to understand the allure of Quidditch as a player, not just as a spectator."
"Oh." Hermione was beginning to understand what he was thinking.
She didn't turn around, her gaze fixed on steering the broom, but she took the opportunity to gently rub against his face, like a cat showing its affection, nervous and shy.
Her voice trembled slightly in the high air. "Draco, I completely understand how you feel. You want me to like what you like. But I'm a bit afraid of Bludgers and Quaffles; they don't really suit me—"
"I know they're pretty rough… I won't force you anymore…" Draco said haltingly in her ear, his stern face gradually softening into a smile. "But at the very least, you have to like the Golden Snitch… After all, your boyfriend is a Seeker."
"Oh, the Golden Snitch, I've always liked it!" Hermione's cheerful laughter carried on the wind to his ears. "It doesn't hurt people easily, it looks both clever and beautiful… a little cunning, and a little cute…"
"Then let's play with the Golden Snitch." Draco's mood brightened again. "Hermione, try flying down to the crate where the ball is."
"What are you going to do?" Hermione asked curiously.
But the boy behind her wouldn't say anything more; he just laughed brightly and urged her to fly down quickly.
Hermione obeyed, though she had her doubts, because she loved Draco's light, rare laughter.
If it would make him less frustrated than before, what did it matter if she flew down a little?
They passed over the three heads on the ground, all turning in unison to watch the spectacle, and Hermione tried to ignore her friends' amused and teasing gazes as she brought her broom over the crate.
She had no time to say anything to them. Because at that moment, the boy behind her seemed to draw his wand and murmur a spell, and with a "snap," the Golden Snitch's restraints came undone.
The little golden ball, no bigger than a walnut, seemed very happy to be free—it had thought it wouldn't get a chance to fly today.
It happily flapped its little silver wings and circled them playfully twice; then it flew swiftly high into the sky, proudly showing off its shimmering body to the entire stadium.
"Hermione, try to catch it," Draco said, a hint of excitement in his voice. "Let's catch it together."
"I don't think—" Hermione said hesitantly, "it's too fast."
"Try to follow it. Try not to lose it," Draco said quickly. "Look, it's to your upper left."
Hermione saw it.
The Golden Snitch flapped its wings and swayed back and forth in the air to her upper left, seeming to observe the stadium with curiosity.
Encouraged by him, she changed direction and flew towards it.
That little thing was indeed cunning; it sensed at once that something was wrong and began darting upwards unpredictably.
"Up there," he reminded her immediately. "Go after it."
His calm tone made Hermione think that catching the Golden Snitch might not be so difficult after all; she only needed to follow his instructions.
Hermione knew that Seeker was the most difficult position in Quidditch.
A Seeker needs, at the very least, keen eyesight, quick and agile flying, and the ability to steer a broom with one hand, or even with none.
She had none of those abilities—she had never honed them.
Even now, riding double, their speed and agility were far below those of a solo flight.
As an experienced Seeker, Draco should have realised this—he should have realised she had no advantage against the Golden Snitch. Yet he seemed completely unconcerned about whether she met even the most basic requirements, and simply kept talking in her ear, guiding her without pause.
What was he doing, exactly? Hermione wondered.
But she didn't have time to voice her doubts. He said eagerly, "Great, we're level with it now. Although it's hopping upwards, it's probably just trying to mislead you. I think it's preparing to fly downwards."
"Really?" Hermione's curiosity was piqued, and she began to keep a close eye on the Snitch's movements instead of thinking about her own flying ability.
"Look, it's running down, isn't it?" His tone held a hint of enthusiasm. "Follow it, press the broom down."
As they swooped down, Hermione suddenly understood.
Draco seemed to be sharing his thought process as a Seeker with her.
His thought process was fascinating—he could actually anticipate the Golden Snitch's own calculations! Hermione couldn't help but smile.
She began to think along with him and act on his words, gradually forgetting the panic that the height brought her.
She even had a strange feeling that Draco had an unwavering faith in her—a faith that seemed even stronger than her own.
Even when they suddenly lost track of the tiny Snitch, unable to find its glittering, spherical body and delicate, fluttering silver wings, he remained calm and composed.
"Not bad, you turned very nimbly just now." Draco's voice was calm and unhurried.
Hermione could feel his strong arms wrapped around her waist, his burning palms holding her tightly. He held her close, as though they could not be separated.
This pose was undoubtedly both heart-pounding and incredibly embarrassing—Hermione had no idea how much the other three on the ground had actually seen—but the benefit was obvious too: she no longer had to worry about falling off her broomstick.
"It's all right if we can't find the Golden Snitch for now." His warm breath brushed against her reddened earlobe and neck. "The Golden Snitch is a little guy who likes to show off how clever he is. He likes to hide and confuse people in places that are as shiny as he is. See those reflective goalposts? Try going around there."
As Hermione flew, panting nervously, she asked him, "What if—it's not there?"
"If not, we'll try somewhere else." He kissed her earlobe. "Hermione, remember, you'll catch it sooner or later; it won't escape your grasp."
His confident, encouraging yet relaxed manner, along with that gentle, intimate kiss, strangely stirred a sense of excitement within Hermione.
More importantly, his words were like a lit match, igniting a fire in her parched and anxious heart.
A competitive spirit gradually emerged, growing stronger as time passed.
After so many days of exhaustion, Hermione's fighting spirit finally awoke.
Yeah, how difficult could it be?
A tiny golden Snitch was hiding in a huge, quiet stadium.
There was only one thing she had to do: find it.
"We have the advantage. The field is quiet now, with no other noise to disturb us. Can you hear that, the sound of its wings flapping—" he whispered in her ear, "listen closely."
Yes—Hermione gradually heard a sound on her right.
She could even catch a glimpse of a small silver wing out of the corner of her eye.
She found it.
It was hiding behind the goalpost, gleaming with a cunning golden light.
Draco whispered to her like a ghost, "Hermione, fly over and grab it."
For a moment, Hermione hesitated, a little apprehensive. She both longed to grab it and feared that her outstretched hand would miss.
She suddenly became afraid of failure—after all, this was not something she was good at.
"Give it a try. This isn't a competition or an exam," he whispered. "It's just for fun."
These words stirred a strange feeling within Hermione.
Yes, this wasn't a competition or an exam.
She didn't have to deal with the surging, burning competitive spirit in her heart, nor did she have to care whether the result was an "O".
"If all else fails, we can try again," he said softly. "I'll be with you."
It didn't seem to matter if she failed or performed poorly.
Hermione was persuaded by him, and she flew toward her target.
This was a field she was not good at, and a landscape she had never imagined experiencing.
But he kept whispering in her ear, his voice so firm and unwavering.
"You've been doing very well, you're on the right track, you've found it," he said sincerely. "I will always protect you. You will never fall. Just reach out and grab it."
Yes—Hermione had never imagined she would get as far as trying to find the Golden Snitch.
But now, with him beside her, protecting her, she had found it.
He had helped her find confidence in the things she wasn't good at.
Since he believed in her so firmly, shouldn't she believe in herself too? Hermione thought, staring at the Golden Snitch.
"Quick, sneak over there, you can catch him." His voice seemed to hold a magical power, echoing in her mind.
That's right—Hermione Granger never gave up.
And it was right there.
She approached the goalpost silently, feeling her hair fly in the wind.
Then she suddenly reached out and seized, resolutely, calmly, and collectedly, the Golden Snitch that had let its guard down—the Snitch that thought it was perfectly hidden and was gloating over its own cleverness.
She caught it.
It fluttered in surprise and rustled between her fingers, just as her heart pounded wildly and ecstatically.
At that moment, Hermione suddenly realised that perhaps she had always needed a victory like this.
It isn't about running away, giving up, or admitting defeat.
It isn't about merely watching others play from the sidelines while repeatedly admitting you're not good at something.
Instead, you join in, turn what you're not good at into what you're good at, and turn the impossible into the possible.
Why?
Why was there someone in this world who understood her needs and desires better than she did?
Draco—he understood her.
Her stubbornness, her pride, her unwillingness to accept defeat, her refusal to give up.
He understood her perfectly.
If this isn't love—
She turned around and saw his smug smile gradually spreading across his face, and her eyes instantly welled up with tears.
What exactly is love?
She clutched her first Golden Snitch in her hand and gently kissed the boy who understood her best in the world.