HP: She married Malfoy after becoming an exchange student.

Whether they liked it or not, flight lessons finally arrived.

The wind above the lawn carried the scent of fresh grass. About twenty old brooms lay crookedly on the grass, their wooden handles worn smooth, some even missing a few bristles.

"Merlin's lace stockings, and such an old broom!"

"How can you ride this? It's probably as big as Hogwarts!"

Disgusted murmurs could be heard from within the crowd.

"Quiet down!"

Madam Hooch stood at the front of the line, her silver-gray hair meticulously combed, her voice as sharp as the whistle in her hand: "Now, everyone stand next to your brooms!"

Draco chuckled from a short distance away, already in the standard stance, his right hand hovering above the broom, his smugness almost overflowing.

"Put your right hand on it," Mrs. Hodge's voice lashed out like a whip, "Shout 'Get up!' Use your strength, let it know who the master is!"

Draco's incantation fell almost simultaneously with her words: "Get up!" The old broom, as if attracted by a magnet, sprang into his palm with a "whoosh."

He turned around, his blond hair gleaming in the sunlight, and deliberately gestured with his chin toward Harry.

Harry took a deep breath, staring at the broom, not thinking much about it, just feeling that it was meant to be in his hands. "Get up." His voice wasn't loud, but it was unusually clear.

The broom suddenly jumped and landed steadily in his palm.

Ron, standing nearby, stared wide-eyed. "No, brother, you—" His own broom was still dozing on the ground, and no one responded to his calls to "get up."

As Mrs. Hooch approached, she saw Harry holding the broom and raised an eyebrow almost imperceptibly. "Good, Potter. Now step on and keep your balance."

Harry lifted his leg and sat on the broom. As soon as he leaned forward, the broom seemed to understand him and gently floated up a few inches.

He didn't exert any force; his knees adjusted slightly with the rise and fall of the broom, making him even more stable than when standing on flat ground.

"Hmph," Draco's voice carried a hint of annoyance. Although his broom was steady, it was clearly the result of deliberate control. "Potter's broom is quite obedient."

Harry ignored him, his attention focused entirely on the sensation in his palm—the rough wooden handle seemed to be talking to him, telling him which way to lean and how much force to use.

Suddenly, Neville's scream pierced the air. His broom shot up into the sky like a madman, and the boy kicked and thrashed in terror. "Grab it! Don't let go!" Mrs. Hodge rushed over immediately.

"Aaaaaaah!!!"

Contrary to his wishes, with Neville's final shout, he fell from the broom like a kite with a broken string, crashing heavily onto the grass. The memory orb in his arms rolled out, gleaming a ghastly white in the sunlight.

Mrs. Hodge helped Neville up, her brows furrowed: "Your arm is dislocated. I'll take you to the medical wing."

After saying that, she turned to the crowd and her voice suddenly became stern, "Stay where you are! Anyone who dares to move will be put in solitary confinement!" With that, Madam Hooch half-supported and half-carried Neville away quickly.

Before Madam Hooch had gone far, Draco scoffed, tapped his toe on the broom, and charged toward the memory orb that had rolled to his feet.

Draco had a vivid memory of the little creature; Neville had been so protective of it just yesterday, not letting anyone touch it. Now that he had the chance, he naturally wanted to see it.

"Hey, Longbottom's little darling." Draco bent down to pick up the ball, and inside the transparent glass shell, a cloud of white mist was churning restlessly.

"Give it back to Neville!" Harry shouted immediately, swishing his broomstick in pursuit. Perhaps fueled by anger, he moved even more nimbly than before, the broomstick seemingly glued to his feet. Draco had barely flown two meters before Harry had already caught up.

Draco glanced back, his eyes full of mockery: "Why should he? He can't even handle it properly—" He was halfway through his sentence when he suddenly lunged downwards, trying to shake Harry off.

Harry almost instinctively ducked down, the wind whistling past his ears. He didn't even think much, only that he should grab onto the silver-green figure in front of him.

Just as he was about to catch up, Draco suddenly tossed the memory ball into the air.

"!!!"

Harry rushed after him, victory seemingly within reach, but Draco pointed his wand at the memory orb and shouted, "Come back here!"

The memory ball traced an arc in the air and fell straight towards Draco's outstretched hand.

Harry Potter felt like his head was on fire. With a sudden burst of speed, he reached out and grabbed the glass case—the touch was cold yet familiar, like holding his breath.

"Give it back!" Draco was furious, his face turning pale, and he swung his broom at Harry. But Harry was more agile than he expected.

The boy barely moved his wand; he simply shifted his body slightly to the side, dodging the impact like a bird, and instead charged towards the tail of his broom with a surge of energy.

The memory ball flew into the air again during the argument between the two.

With a muffled thud, Draco lost his balance on his broom, cried out in surprise, and tumbled off the broom.

"Draco!!!" Pansy couldn't help but scream, and Gorkcrab also looked anxious.

The crowd couldn't bear to watch the tragedy unfold; falling from such a height, his legs were definitely going to break.

Just then, a dark figure swept past faster than the wind.

Elias had somehow already rushed forward on his broom. He reached out and steadily supported Draco's waist, pulling him into his arms in a movement so fast that it was almost invisible.

Draco was still struggling when he crashed into Elias's arms. The hem of his silver-green robe brushed against Elias's wrist. By the time he realized what was happening, he was already firmly held in Elias's arms and suspended in the air.

"Let go!" Draco's voice was urgent and hoarse as he frantically tried to push Elias away, but the other man's arm wouldn't budge. He could even feel the vibrations in the other man's chest—that bastard was actually laughing!

"Don't move." Elias's breath brushed against his ear, carrying a deliberately suppressed laugh. "Want the whole school to see Master Malfoy hanging on someone else?"

Draco froze instantly. He noticed several pairs of eyes peering over from the side. Goyle and Crabbe were staring blankly with their mouths agape, Pansy almost dropped the small mirror in her hand, and even the usually silent Theodore raised an eyebrow in surprise.

Shame and anger exploded in his chest like a fire, but his body was bound and he could not move, so he could only let Elias slowly lower him down.

He glared at Elias, his gray eyes blazing with fury, yet he couldn't utter a complete sentence. Finally, he managed to squeeze out through gritted teeth, "Mind your own business!"

Elias ignored him, reached out with his other hand, and precisely caught the memory orb falling from the sky. He pinched the glass shell between his fingertips and twirled it halfway around, his gaze falling on Harry who was landing steadily.

Harry stood on the grass, looked at his empty palms, and frowned.

Elias landed slowly on his broom, and as he released Draco, he deliberately rubbed his fingertip against Draco's burning earlobe: "It's not a good look for the Malfoy's young master to fall in the mud."

As soon as his feet touched the ground, Draco recoiled as if he had been burned. He didn't even bother with the memory orb, turned around and left, his back straight, but his ears were as red as if they were about to bleed.

Elias watched his retreating figure, the lingering sensation of the other's waist still on his fingertips, and his smile deepened.

"That... Memory Orb..." Harry hesitated before speaking.

Elias turned around, his smile fading, and tossed the memory orb to Harry, "Back to its rightful owner—or rather, back to Longbottom."

suddenly,

"Harry Potter!!!"

Harry turned his head, his face pale, and saw Professor McGonagall running towards them.

"In all my years at Hogwarts—I've never..."

Professor McGonagall was so surprised she couldn't speak, her glasses flashing with anger. "How dare you—you'll break your neck—"

"It's not his fault, Professor..." Ron quickly jumped in to explain for Harry, sensing the situation was turning sour.

"It's Malfoy..."

"Enough, Mr. Weasley. Alright, Potter, come with me." Professor McGonagall strode towards the castle, and Harry could only mechanically follow behind, tears welling up in his eyes. (ಥ_ಥ)