~ Air

The Quidditch pitch was packed to the brim with Hogwarts students and teachers, even a few parents, who had all come to watch the last game of the year: Slytherin versus Gryffindor.

High off the ground and floating in front of the three hoops on Gryffindor's side, Ron could distinctly separate the sea of green and silver in the stands from the mass of red and gold on the other side of the pitch. Somewhere in that crowd, very close to him he knew, Hermione stood cheering him on, as always. His heart leapt to his throat as he let himself fall into a daydream which involved him winning the Quidditch Cup for the team, and Hermione fawning over him as he would be remembered as a Quidditch hero. She kissed him and he felt lighter than air, like he could be air, in fact…

"TEN POINTS TO SLYTHERIN! WAKE UP RON!"

Ron was startled out of his daze at the sound of Lee Jordan's booming voice. The Captain of the team this year, Angelina Johnson, sped past him and yelled, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING, WEASLEY? GET YOUR HEAD IN THE GAME!"

Without any further information, Ron realized Slytherin had just scored while he was daydreaming of Hermione. He shook himself of all fantasies and focused all his attention back on the game. Though he was in the air and closer to the sky than usual, this did not mean he could have his head in the clouds.

So much for a Quidditch hero, he thought. That bloody woman's going to be the death of me.

~Wind

The jar full of bluebell flames danced along the glass that withheld it inside as Ron stared at it, his mind miles away. Behind him, Harry stood guard outside the battered tent, his fingers playing with the borrowed wand Ron had stolen from the Snatcher who had captured him. Outside, the air was thick with the anticipation of a brewing storm.

Ron glanced up to look deeper into the tent where Hermione sat on her bunk reading The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore. He smirked. He knew that in about an hour, she would approach Harry to tell him that she's cracked another mystery of Albus Dumbledore that would prove him to have been a good man his whole life. However, Ron seriously doubted that there was much more to figure out about Dumbledore; his secrecy toward Harry had convinced all of them that he had been extremely ashamed of his past, and as far as any of them knew, he hadn't been remorseful at all.

At the moment, Ron could care less of Dumbledore. His brain was much more focused on the girl five feet in front of him and her attitude towards him. Hermione had been completely ignoring him since his return one month previously. Not that he could blame her; he had walked out on his two best friends when they both needed him the most, and all because of a stupid locket.

Ron sighed, feeling extremely sorry for what he had done and for himself. He wanted more than anything to be able to talk to Hermione, but then again, he didn't think he deserved to be forgiven after what he had done.

Nevertheless, he decided to chance it and try to speak with Hermione. He had left her alone for the last month, after all (especially since he was dead frightened of her after the tantrum she had had when he had returned) and he truly believed now was the time to face his fears.

He stood up and walked the five feet until he stood directly above her. She continued to ignore him, as he had expected. So he did something that surprised the both of them: he took her book.

"Hey!" shouted Hermione, grabbing for the book, but Ron held it high over her head. "Ron, this isn't funny, give it back!"

"Not until you hear me out, Hermione," said Ron calmly, though his heart was beating rather rapidly, worried that she would start beating on him again. "I've waited a month, Hermione. At least give me a moment of your time."

She glared up at him, but before either of them could say anything more, Harry entered the tent. "Ron, it's your watch, mate."

"Right," said Ron. He turned back to Hermione and gently grabbed her arm, tugging her toward the mouth of the tent. "You're coming with me, then."

Hermione ripped her arm from his, but followed him outside nonetheless. Once out of the earshot of Harry, Ron turned to her. "Hermione, I know you think I'm the biggest git on earth at the moment, and I know that I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I just thought maybe –"

"What did you think?" demanded Hermione, her eyes suddenly lighting up with fury as Ron noticed a sudden change in the environment around them; the wind had begun to pick up increasingly since they had last been outside. "Did you expect me to fall into your arms the second you come back after weeks of being gone?"

"Of course I didn't!" said Ron, his temper flaring up at once as the wind began to swirl around them. "How could I expect something like that from someone as stubborn as you?" Just as he said it, he regretted it especially when he saw the result on her face.

"You're pathetic!" spat Hermione, her face red with anger and embarrassment. "At Dumbledore's funeral, you told Harry how devoted you are to helping him, and then you leave as soon as the food runs out!"

"I've told you! It was the locket –"

"The locket, the locket!" mimicked Hermione, the wind whipping at her hair. "That's the only excuse I've ever heard from you, it was the locket! Well, Ron, believe it or not, but you weren't the only person in the world who was affected by that effing locket!"

Ron held his hands to his head, gripping at his hair as he turned away from her and noticing that the wind was now practically roaring around them; a storm was approaching quickly. He whipped back around and yelled over the wind, "Why do you have to be so difficult? Why can't you just hear what I've got to say –?"

"I haveheard everything you've got to say, Ron, you told me the whole story a month ago! I've heard it from the both of you, Harry's been trying to get me to forgive you, but I'm not so sure I'm ready –!"

"But this is what we do!" yelled Ron, frustrated that she was so sure she was right. "I act like a git, you get furious, I get furious, but then we work it out!"

Hermione let out a small scream that blended with the howling of the winds around her. "You're impossible! You don't even understand what you've done, do you? You left, Ron! This is more than just one of our stupid arguments; Harry and I almost died, and you were nowhere near to help us! That's what we're supposed to do for each other as friends; help each other!"

For a second, Ron was speechless, his breathing heavy as he stared with his mouth open. He hadn't expected her to bring up that up. For a moment, the winds around him died away just a bit.

"I know I wasn't," said Ron, his voice much softer. "I know I wasn't there. When you told me what had happened, I beat myself up about it for the last month. I know I should've been there."

When Hermione spoke, her voice was slightly softer, though still straining to be harsh. "Why did you even bother trying to talk to me again?"

At this, Ron's temper flared up again, and so did the rustling winds of the trees around them. "Don't you understand? I couldn't take you ignoring me anymore! I hate it when we fight, Hermione! I can't stand it when you're furious with me because…well…I need you. I need both you and Harry."

The wind now had died down to a quick breeze. Hermione's face had fallen from anger to a mixture of confusion and curiosity. Ron had always thought she was much prettier when she couldn't figure something out.

She seemed speechless for a moment, then regained her stance. "Well. If you're really sorry about what you've done, you'll do something for me, and then I might forgive you."

Ron nodded, eager to do anything to earn Hermione's forgiveness. "Anything."

She stepped closer to him, causing his heartbeat to quicken. "The next time I ask for you to do something, you'll do it without any complaining at all. It doesn't matter what it is, you'll do it. Deal?"

Ron was so quick to agree, that he never pondered what that something could possible be. Later, he decided he didn't care, as long as he was in Hermione's good books again.

She nodded silently at him as the wind around them shuffled gently. As she turned to go back to the tent, he could've sworn she had smiled at him.

Ron looked around the forest, feeling a bit better. The promise of a storm had passed, and the sun now began to peek out from behind the trees that stood proudly above them. A slight breeze whispered through his hair and he smiled slightly.

The air was calm, and so was the tension between him and Hermione.

~Breezes

The wind around Shell Cottage was calm as Ron descended the slight hill that led to the cliff off of the ocean. On the edge, Hermione sat with her legs dangling off the edge, where a five-foot fall would present itself to her if she were to slip.

Ron frowned. It was only two days after her torture, and he didn't think she should be out of bed. But she had insisted that she needed air, and that she must be involved in their plans for their next move on the Horcrux hunt. Ron could do nothing about any of this, unless he wanted to literally drag her back to bed and tie her down, which is only an easy way to get cursed. He shuddered at the memory of her canaries and had decided to let her have her way.

The breeze that smelled so much of the salty sea rippled at Ron's red hair as he approached Hermione. He sat down next to her, causing her to yelp and jump so far that she nearly fell off the edge. Ron, with his Quidditch-trained reflexes, caught her and pulled her away from the edge.

"Bloody hell, Hermione!" said Ron, his arm still around her. "What are you doing nearly falling over the blooming edge for?"

"Me!" said Hermione, tugging away from him. "You're the one giving me a heart attack!"

On most days, Ron would've shot back an insult, but something about today made him want to stay on Hermione's good side. "Alright, alright! I'm sorry, okay? I didn't know you were so…distant."

Hermione's eyes softened at his apology, and she said quietly, "I wasn't distant. I just was…thinking."

"Of what?" asked Ron, feeling concerned. He scooted closer to her on the grass on which they sat. She always looked beautiful when she was worried, her eyebrows would scrunch together, and her lips would be set in a tight frown. Today, she looked especially beautiful because of the light wind that gently moved her hair every which way. She spoke, and Ron realized he had forgotten he had asked her a question.

"Just…of the hunt. And I was also thinking about – well if I survive this, I mean –"

"Don't you be saying that," snarled Ron, his jaw set and his face suddenly rigid. "I've told you already a million times, you're going to make it through this war. There's no way I'm ever going to let you not make it through. You're not going to die, Hermione, and that's a promise."

Hermione looked as if she was ready to kiss him, which frightened Ron to no end. Then, without warning, she gave a small squeak and threw her arms around him, squeezing him tightly. Ron made no hesitation and hugged her back, his arms wrapped perfectly around her back.

"I don't know how we're going to carry on with what's coming, Ron," she mumbled into his shoulder. The sea breeze tickled his face as his arms tightened more securely around her to let her know that he wasn't about to let anything happen to her.

"We will," he said fiercely, burying his face in her hair, "we have to."

She seemed to relax in his arms, and he could feel her smiling slightly into his shoulder. He felt like he had calmed her, but he also thought the tranquility of the breezes around them had also settled Hermione's rapid thoughts.