For young people, there is no trouble that cannot be resolved by sweating it out; if it still cannot be resolved, then sweat it out a little longer.
Heavy topics aside, it was a perfect 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.
Because there weren't enough players, the Seekers from Slytherin and Gryffindor didn't get the chance to compete this time.
Instead, they took turns practicing several classic techniques with the Bludger and the Quaffle. Almost everyone tried the Bokov Decoy, the Counter-Whirlpool, and the Starfish and Stick, until they were all 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'd make a pretty good Chaser on the side."
He glanced back at the girl on the broomstick and said loudly, "And Ginny would be perfect as a Chaser too."
"I think so too!" Ginny smiled smugly and jumped nimbly off her broom.
Ron, who was helping Harry fasten the strap on the crate, asked in bewilderment, "By the way, Ginny, when did you get so good at flying?"
Ginny shrugged at her brother, looking completely innocent.
"Ginny practiced flying on Fred and George's broomsticks when she was very young, didn't you, Ginny?" Hermione said loudly as she slowly descended from mid-air, noticing that Harry gave Ginny an approving look.
"Hey, don't let it slip to Mum and Dad. Mum doesn't know about this; I've been practicing in secret!" Ginny said smugly.
"You could try being a Keeper; that Starfish and Stick move of yours is pretty clever," Draco said to Ron. "I bet you'll be going to the House team tryouts when school starts, right?"
"You think so—" Ron turned around quickly and asked in surprise, "You think I can?"
Draco glanced at him and said meaningfully, "Your goalkeeping isn't bad."
He wondered, with a cryptic expression, whether the song "Weasley is Our King" would ever resound across the Quidditch pitch at Hogwarts again.
Just then, Hermione's wavering voice drifted over. "Yeah, Ron, give it a try."
She was still flying up and down beside them, not daring to get off the broom.
"Speaking of which, Hermione, you still seem to have some psychological issues." Draco strode over and grabbed the tail of her broom. "When the Quaffle comes, your first reaction is to dodge, not catch it. When the Bludger comes, your instinct is to avoid it, not swing 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 always panic and can't enjoy 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 refute her complaints. Draco, however, couldn't take her words lightly at this moment.
"Hermione, Quidditch has never been just about the joy of flying for wizards."
Against the background noise of Ginny yelling, "Harry, watch out for that other bouncing ball!" and Harry shouting, "Thanks for reminding me, 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 pissing me off, 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 help me fasten the strap, okay?" "Of course, of course—")
"Draco, don't expect too much from her. She's already been incredibly involved today, giving you a lot of face." Ron glanced at the two figures busily trying to stuff the erratic Bludger into the crate and remarked casually, "Normally Hermione just watches from the sidelines, occasionally flying with us, but she's never put in this much effort before."
"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 agree with each other.
Not good at it? What did that even mean?
In her past life, she had even dared to ride a 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 the broom, too busy keeping an eye on Ginny to get off.
"It's not impossible—" Before she could finish, she felt a weight settle on the back of her broom.
She turned around and saw Draco straddling the broom handle behind her, hugging her from behind.
His breath brushed against her earlobe. "Fly—take me with you," he said decisively.
Hermione's face flushed red from his breath.
She looked around sheepishly. Harry and Ginny were still holding the Bludger down, seemingly competing to see who could open their eyes wider, and both had turned back to stare at them. Ron, on the other hand, stood there with his mouth agape, completely shocked.
Ginny swallowed hard, then asked dryly, "Is this how they usually practice 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 up Ginny, whose eyes were shining with excitement. He and Ginny walked over to Ron's side and went on staring intently at the oblivious 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 first.
Amid the faint gasps of the three on the ground, and before the person behind her could go any further, Hermione closed her eyes, gritted her teeth, blushed, gripped the broom tightly, and shot into the air.
When Ginny and the others' astonished looks faded with the 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 realized that Draco had been silent ever since 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 was speechless. His feelings were somewhat complicated.
Just now, a terrifying possessiveness had suddenly bombarded his brain.
It had left him neither shying away nor hesitating, and had revealed the domineering, impulsive side of himself that he usually hid.
What Draco didn't want to admit was that this domineering, impulsive urge stemmed from his disapproval of Hermione agreeing with the others.
He felt jealous and even restless.
Watching Hermione and Ron "singing in unison," and seeing how Harry and Ginny seemed "used to" Hermione's escapist behavior, Draco had suddenly realized 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 had; they knew far more about her words and actions than he did.
Draco had originally intended to be angry. If he were the Draco Malfoy of his past life, he might already have said some harsh words out of some kind of inner pain, awkwardly expressing his anger.
However, he now possessed a bit more intelligence and rationality than he had in his previous life.
He knew that this kind of irrational emotional outburst would make her angry, so he held back.
Then, as they soared through the air, as he smelled the fragrance of her hair and felt her nestled so tenderly in his arms, all those sorrows and resentments were instantly 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 expressing her longing for him. She kept revealing her affection for him. She always responded so passionately to every word on his ring letter.
His jealousy seemed completely unreasonable, and Draco sighed dejectedly.
"I really hope summer vacation ends 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 realize 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—"
Another reason was that Hermione Granger's smiling face when she admitted she was "not good at something" made Draco Malfoy incredibly irritated.
However, he didn't know how to calm his irritable mood.
"Ron's right, I was being a bit too demanding." Draco sighed heavily, leaned close to her cheek, and said, "I guess I was a little too hasty. I want you to know what I like, just like you always want me to know more about Muggle things. I want you to understand the allure of Quidditch as a player, not just as a spectator."
"Oh." Hermione was starting to understand what he was thinking.
She didn't turn around, her gaze fixed on controlling the direction of the broom, but she took the opportunity to gently rub against his face, like a cat showing affection, nervous yet shy.
Her voice trembled slightly high in the 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 with the balls."
"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 with some doubt, because she liked Draco's light, rare laughter.
If it could make him less frustrated than before, and let him fly down a little further, what did it matter?
After passing three heads on the ground, all turning in unison to watch the spectacle, Hermione tried to ignore her friends' amused and teasing gazes as she brought her broom over the crate.
She didn't have time to say anything to them. At that moment, the boy behind her seemed to extend his wand and chant a spell, and with a "snap," the Golden Snitch was freed from its restraints.
The little golden walnut-sized creature seemed very happy to be free; it had originally thought it wouldn't get a chance to fly today.
It happily flapped its little silver wings and playfully circled them twice. Then it flew swiftly into the sky, proudly showing off its shimmering body to the whole pitch.
"Hermione, try to catch it," Draco's voice held a hint of excitement. "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, seemingly observing the pitch with curiosity.
Encouraged by him, she changed direction and flew toward the little thief.
The little thing was indeed cunning. It immediately sensed something was wrong and began to fly upward unpredictably.
"Up there," he reminded her at once. "Go after it."
His calm tone made Hermione think that catching the Golden Snitch might not be so difficult after all; she just needed to follow his instructions.
Hermione knew that Seeker was the most difficult position in Quidditch.
A Seeker needed at least keen eyesight, quick and agile flying, and the ability to catch the Snitch one-handed.
She didn't have those abilities; she had never honed them.
Even now, flying double on one broom, their speed and agility were far inferior to flying solo.
As an experienced Seeker, Draco should have realized this. He should have realized that she had no advantage against the Golden Snitch. But he seemed completely unconcerned about whether she met even the most basic requirements, and continued instead to talk in her ear, incessantly guiding her.
What is he doing? 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 upward, it's probably just trying to mislead you. I think it's preparing to fly downward."
"Really?" Hermione's curiosity was piqued by his words, and she began to keep a close eye on the little thief's movements instead of thinking about her own flying ability.
"Look, it's running down, isn't it?" His tone revealed 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 moves! Hermione couldn't help but smile.
She began to think along with him and act on his words, gradually forgetting the panic that high altitude 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 thief, 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 seemed to be holding her close in his arms, inseparable from her.
This position was undoubtedly both heart-pounding and incredibly embarrassing, and Hermione had no idea how much the three on the ground had actually seen. But the benefit was also obvious: she no longer had to worry about falling off her broom.
"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 himself. 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 attitude, 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 and grew stronger.
After so many days of exhaustion, Hermione's fighting spirit finally awoke.
Yes, how difficult could it be?
A tiny golden thief was hiding in a spacious, quiet pitch.
There was only one thing she had to do: find it.
"We have the advantage. The pitch is quiet now, with no other noise to disturb us. Can you hear it, the sound of its wings flapping—" he whispered in her ear, "listen closely."
Yes, Hermione gradually made out 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."
His 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 devoutly. "I will always protect you. You will never fall. Just reach out and grab it."
Yes, Hermione had never imagined she could get as far as finding the Golden Snitch.
But now he was with her, protecting her, and she had found it.
He had helped her find confidence in something 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 it." His voice seemed to hold a magical power, echoing in her mind.
That's right. Hermione Granger never gives up.
And it was right here.
She approached the goalpost silently, feeling her hair fly in the wind.
Then she suddenly reached out and, resolutely, calmly, and collectedly, seized the golden thief that had let its guard down, 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 realized that perhaps she had always needed a victory like this.
It wasn't about running away, giving up, or admitting defeat.
It wasn't about watching others play from the sidelines and repeatedly admitting that you weren't good at something.
It was about joining in, turning what you weren't good at into what you were good at, and turning the impossible into the possible.
Why?
Why was there someone in this world who understood her needs and desires better than she did?
Draco 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 the first golden thief in her hand and gently kissed the boy who understood her best in the world.