Chapter 5: The Sticky Quaffle and the Inverted Witch part-2
Hermione was pulled backward off her broom seat. She screamed, her legs losing their grip on the broom handle. She was now dangling in the air, suspended only by her hands which were still clutching the broom handle for dear life.
The Bludger, heavy and relentless, pulled the back of her shirt down. And then, gravity took over.
Because she was hanging vertically and the weight was pulling her shirt down toward the ground (which was technically 'up' relative to her shirt's hem), the neckline of her t-shirt was pulled tight against her throat, but the back and the sides were pulled open.
Then, she lost her grip on the handle.
"Harry!" she screamed as she began to fall.
She did not fall far, because the Bludger's momentum swung her around like a pendulum. She flipped upside down in mid-air, her legs flailing.
Now, she was falling feet first, but the heavy ball stuck to her back was pulling her shirt down toward the ground. Since she was upside down, 'down' toward the ground meant 'up' toward her head.
The t-shirt surrendered. It slid down (gravitationally down) past her waist, past her ribs and settled around her armpits and neck.
She was falling upside down, completely topless.
(...cough...)
The afternoon sun illuminated everything. Her pale skin, the gentle curve of her waist and the lace bra that was struggling to contain her assets against the forces of gravity—it was all on display for the world to see.
"I have got you!" Harry shouted.
He dove. He flew his broom directly underneath her falling form to catch her.
Harry looked up to judge the distance.
His eyes widened behind his glasses.
From his vantage point directly below her, he had a front-row, high-definition view of Hermione Granger, inverted and exposed. The view was, to put it mildly, comprehensive. He saw the underside of her chin, the flushed skin of her chest and the lacy undergarments that were currently the only thing preserving her modesty.
"Oh my god!" Harry yelled, his voice cracking.
He could not look away. He was paralyzed by the sheer detail of the sight. The "Flash Your Wife System" seemed to be enhancing the visual clarity for everyone involved.
Hermione crashed into Harry.
She landed straddling his broomstick, facing him. But because the Bludger was still heavy and stuck to her back, it dragged her backward again.
"Hold on!" Harry yelled, grabbing her.
He wrapped his arms around her to stop her from falling off his broom. His arms went around her bare waist. His hands pressed against her warm, exposed skin. The contact was electric.
"My shirt! My shirt!" Hermione was shrieking, trying to pull the fabric back down, but the heavy ball made it impossible.
Harry was currently flying a broomstick at forty miles per hour while hugging a half-naked Hermione Granger who was pressed firmly against his chest. Her bare breasts were smashed against his Quidditch robes.
(...cough...)
"Land! Land now!" Hermione screamed into his ear.
Harry dove toward the haystack in the paddock. He could not land gracefully; his mind was completely fried. They crashed into the hay with a soft thump.
They rolled in the hay. The Bludger finally tore loose from the shirt with a ripping sound, taking a large chunk of the fabric with it.
They came to a stop. Harry was lying on his back in the hay. Hermione was on top of him. Her shirt was in tatters, the back completely missing and the front hanging by threads. She was essentially wearing a lace bra and denim shorts.
She stared at him. He stared at her.
"You..." Hermione breathed, her face a mask of absolute horror mixed with a strange, intense heat. "You saw..."
"I... I..." Harry stammered. He was bright red. "I was trying to save you!"
"You flew underneath me!" she accused, crossing her arms over her chest to cover herself.
"It was the only way!" Harry defended himself, though his voice was weak.
I touched down on my broom a few feet away, suppressing a triumphant grin. The twins were already running over, laughing their heads off, completely unaware of the specific nature of the "view" Harry had just received, as their angle had been blocked by the haystack.
"Wicked crash!" Fred yelled. "That Bludger really loved you, Hermione!"
"Are you hurt?" George asked.
"I am fine!" Hermione squeaked. She scrambled off Harry and curled into a ball in the hay, hiding her exposed back and front. "I need a towel! Ron, get me a towel!"
"On it!" I shouted, turning back to the house.
As I ran, the system text scrolled beautifully across my vision.
"System Alert," the voice purred. "Incident recorded. Type: Mid-air inversion with full upper body exposure and sustained physical contact with target Harry Potter. Rating: S-class plus. Reward: Skill 'Advanced Occlumency' and fifty attribute points. Bonus: Harry Potter's resistance to 'accidental intimacy' has decreased by five percent."
(Advanced Occlumency,) I thought with satisfaction. (Perfect. Now no one can read my mind and see that I am the architect of their humiliation.)
I grabbed a large towel from the laundry line and ran back.
"Here!" I threw it to Hermione.
She wrapped herself up tightly, looking like a denim-clad burrito. She glared at Harry, then at the twins and finally at me.
"I hate Quidditch," she declared. "And I hate that sticky purple goop."
"It is a work in progress," Fred shrugged.
Harry stood up, brushing hay off his robes. He looked dazed. He walked over to me, looking like he had seen a ghost—or an angel.
"Ron," he whispered, so the others could not hear.
"Yeah, mate?"
"I..." He swallowed hard. "I think I need a cold shower."
"Adrenaline rush?" I asked innocently.
"Something like that," Harry muttered, his eyes drifting back to Hermione's towel-wrapped form.
I patted him on the back. "Go on then. Dinner will be ready soon. Try not to think about it."