Chapter 23: The Dream Weaver and the Hippogriff's Buckle part-2
I saw the stitching on the inner thigh of her jeans glowing red. The tension was immense.
(Friction Control: Reduce the structural integrity of the cotton thread by fifty percent.)
"Just jump up!" Hagrid encouraged.
Hermione gave a mighty hop and threw her leg over Buckbeak's back.
Rrrrrip.
It was a small sound, masked by the rustling of feathers. The seam at the crotch of her jeans gave way slightly. Just a small hole. But a hole under tension is a ticking time bomb.
She sat down behind Harry, wrapping her arms around his waist.
"Ready!" Harry called out.
"Fly!" Hagrid shouted, slapping Buckbeak's rump.
The Hippogriff launched itself into the air. The sudden acceleration was brutal.
"Whoa!" Harry and Hermione yelled.
They soared up over the paddock, climbing higher and higher into the sky. The wind whipped their hair.
"It is amazing!" Harry shouted, looking down at the lake.
"It is terrifying!" Hermione screamed into his shoulder.
I stood on the ground, shading my eyes, watching them circle the castle.
(Target locked. Altitude: Two hundred feet. Airspeed: Forty knots.)
I focused my Telekinesis on the leather girth strap holding the saddle in place.
(Unbuckle.)
Click.
The buckle came undone.
The saddle, no longer secured to the beast, relied solely on balance. As Buckbeak banked sharply to the left to avoid a tower, gravity took over.
The saddle slipped sideways.
"Harry! The saddle!" Hermione shrieked.
The saddle slid completely off Buckbeak's back.
"Hold on to him!" Harry yelled, grabbing Buckbeak's neck feathers with a death grip.
Hermione, sitting behind Harry, had nothing to hold onto but Harry. The saddle slid out from under her.
She began to slide off the back of the Hippogriff.
"Harry!"
She grabbed Harry's belt. She grabbed his robes. But she was slipping.
Now, recall the rip in her jeans.
As she slid backward, the rough leather of the falling saddle caught the edge of the tear in her jeans.
The saddle fell. It pulled the denim with it.
Because the jeans were so tight and the seam was already compromised, the fabric didn't just slide off. It peeled.
The saddle, heavy and falling, acted as an anchor. It ripped the jeans from the inner thigh, down the leg and dragged them off her ankles as it plummeted to the earth.
Hermione was left clinging to Harry's waist, her legs wrapped around him for dear life, soaring two hundred feet above the Hogwarts grounds.
She was wearing a Gryffindor sweater, socks, shoes... and pink panties with little hearts on them.
(...cough...)
"Don't let go!" Harry screamed, unaware of the specific nature of her wardrobe failure. "We are going to land!"
Hagrid was blowing his whistle frantically from the ground. "Down, Buckbeak! Down!"
Buckbeak went into a dive.
The wind rushed past them. Without the heavy denim to protect her, Hermione felt the chill of the air on her exposed skin.
"My pants!" she screamed, the realization hitting her. "Harry, my pants fell off!"
"What?" Harry shouted over the wind.
He turned his head slightly.
He saw her legs. Her bare, pale legs clamped tightly around his waist. He saw the flash of pink against the grey feathers of the Hippogriff.
"Oh my god," Harry whispered.
The distraction was fatal to his balance.
Buckbeak landed in the pumpkin patch with a heavy thud, trotting to a halt.
Harry and Hermione, destabilized by the lack of a saddle and the abundance of shock, toppled off the side.
They landed in a pile of giant pumpkins.
Harry landed on his back. Hermione landed... well, you can guess.
She straddled him perfectly.
Without the barrier of thick denim, there was very little separating them. Just a thin layer of cotton and Harry's school trousers.
They froze.
The entire class ran over. Draco Malfoy was laughing so hard he was leaning against a tree for support. Hagrid was sprinting toward them, looking pale.
"Are yeh alright? Are yeh hurt?" Hagrid bellowed.
Hermione looked at Harry. Harry looked at Hermione.
Harry's eyes were locked on her exposed form. The dream he had last night—the suggestion I had planted—came rushing back to him. Destiny.Embrace the chaos.
For the first time, Harry didn't immediately look away. He swallowed hard, his face red, but his eyes... appreciative.
Hermione realized she was sitting on the Chosen One in her underwear in the middle of a pumpkin patch.
"I..." Hermione's voice trembled. "I have no pants."
"I know," Harry squeaked.
"Here!" Hagrid arrived, ripping off his massive moleskin overcoat. "Cover up! By Merlin's beard, what happened to the saddle?"
Hagrid threw the coat over Hermione. It was big enough to be a tent. She disappeared underneath it, hiding her shame.
"System Alert," the voice chimed, sounding incredibly pleased. "Incident recorded. Type: The 'Mile High Striptease'. Total lower body exposure during high-altitude flight. Sustained physical contact. Target: Hermione Granger. Witness: Harry Potter (and the entire class). Rating: S-class plus. Reward: Skill 'Wind Manipulation (Basic)' and one hundred attribute points. Bonus: Harry Potter's resistance to 'accidental intimacy' has dropped below fifty percent."
I walked over to the group, shaking my head.
"Jeans," I said solemnly to the pile of coats that was Hermione. "You said nothing could go wrong with jeans."
A muffled sob came from beneath the coat.
"It is the curse!" Hermione wailed. "Even denim cannot save me!"
Harry stood up, brushing pumpkin guts off his robes. He looked dazed. He walked over to me.
"Ron," he whispered.
"Yeah?"
"The dream," Harry said, his eyes wide. "It was right."
"What do you mean?"
"Destiny," Harry muttered, looking back at the coat-covered Hermione. "It keeps happening. Maybe... maybe I am supposed to see her knickers?"
I choked back a laugh. The "Dream Weaver" potion had worked better than I anticipated. Harry was rationalizing the perversion.
"Maybe you are, Harry," I said, patting his back. "Maybe you are."
"Malfoy is coming," Harry warned, his face hardening.
.....
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