downward about two feet, pulling Hermione with him.
She threw the arm that wasn't holding Harry around a rock and braced her knees.
The gravel tore at her skin, but she stopped sliding forward.
She looked down at Harry again. There was nothing but her own strength keeping him from falling now, and she was gripping his wrist so tightly that she could see her nails digging into his flesh. 'Hold on,' she said, her voice cracking alarmingly, 'just hold on, Harry, Sirius is coming-' She could see Sirius loping towards them at top speed, racing with all four feet, and yet he didn't seem to be getting any closer at all.
'I can't,' said Harry's voice below her.
She looked back at Harry. He was very pale, the dirt and gashes standing out clearly on his white face, but he seemed strangely calm. 'I can't,' he said again, and she saw that he was right, his hand was slipping out of hers-she lunged forward, she was hanging half off the path now — and caught at his sleeve, seizing it in a death- tight grip.
'Harry,' she said. 'Harry, please.'
But she knew it was useless. He couldn't pull himself up with his arm broken. He was dead weight on the end of her arm and her shoulder was agony now. She was aware of the whirring, grinding noise overhead again but she didn't dare look up.
'Hermione,' said Harry.
He was smiling. How could he be smiling at a time like this?
'I do love you, you know,' he said.
Or at least that was what it sounded like he said. The whirring noise was loud in her ears and she couldn't be sure.
'What?' gasped Hermione, numb with shock. 'What did you say?'
Harry opened his mouth to reply. There was the sound of ripping cloth, and his sleeve came off in her hand, as it had to, as she had known it would. She saw his eyes widen in horror- and then he was falling, falling away from her, spiraling down into the impenetrable darkness below.
References: 'Standard procedure,' said Draco, 'is to leap fifty feet into the air and scatter yourself over a wide area while screaming at the top of your lungs.' -
Blackadder.
Lucius was still looking like someone had force-fed him a lemon that happened to be taped to an enormous brick. 'Draco?' — The Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy.
Unconscious, Harry fell, and as he fell he dreamed. In his dream, he was at a garden-party at the Weasleys. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were there, and so were all the kids: Charlie, looking slightly burnt as usual, and Bill with Fleur Delacour, who he'd been dating for about a year now. Fred and George and Ron were playing Exploding Snap with Ginny at a green wicker table in the corner.
Draco Malfoy was there as well, standing under the shade of a spreading oak tree, wearing tennis whites and looking very pleased with himself. He was talking to a slender girl in a yellow dress and an enormous white hat.
Am I dead? Harry wondered. Is this Heaven? And if this is Heaven, why is Malfoy here?
The girl who had been talking to Draco suddenly turned, and Harry saw that it was Hermione. She came towards him across the grass, swinging a tennis racket.
He recognized the yellow dress she was wearing from a summer holiday he'd spent with her and her parents. He'd always liked it.' Hi, Harry!' she called.
'Hermione,' he said, coming towards her. 'I think I'm falling.'
'For me?' she said, looking thrilled.
'No, I mean, literally falling,' he said. 'Like, rushing through the air falling. In fact, I feel kind of sick.'
The thrilled look was wiped off her face, to be replaced with a look of fury. 'You are such an idiot, Harry Potter,' she said, raised her arm, and hit him hard in the head with her tennis racket.
Harry yelled with pain. 'What'd you do that for?' he shouted. 'Honestly!'
'Hey!' said a voice in his ear-a voice that wasn?t Hermiones. 'Harry! Settle down!'
'Maybe the fall unhinged his mind,' said another, worried voice.
'Harry?' said the first voice again, 'Harry, come on, wake up,' and this time Harry knew who it was. He opened his eyes and stared.
He was lying in the back seat of a car and Ron Weasley was crouched over him, looking very pale but grinning like a madman. George was in the driver's seat, and Fred was sitting next to him. Both of them had turned around in their seats to goggle at him, which might have been a problem if the car had been moving, but it wasn't because the car was just hanging there.
In midair.
Harry sat bolt upright. 'What-what?' he stammered. 'How? You? Here? Flying car?'
'That's right,' agreed George. 'Us. Here. Flying car.'
'He seems to have an excellent grasp of the essentials, doesn't he?' observed Fred.
Harry tried again. 'How did you-?'
'We caught you while you were falling,' explained George enthusiastically. 'It was the coolest thing ever.'
'Good thing Dad upgraded to a convertible,' added Ron.
