The sky was implausibly blue, like a cut sapphire, unalloyed and clear. The tantalizing birdsong from the garden below drifted in through an open window with the summer zephyr, grazing her ivory skin. Hermione sat in the room she shared with Ginny, with a large book open in her hands. Being the avid reader that she was, Hermione would never let a great novel go unfinished, yet today, she could hardly keep her eyes on the pages. Her view was out the window, watching Ron and Harry play a raucous one-to-one game of Quidditch. Normally, she would have blamed her inability to focus on the fact that curse words were flying every which way, and once or twice Harry's snitch had zipped into her room. But no, Hermione wasn't feeling normal; she was feeling something she felt necessary to question because it seemed illogical and baseless. She looked out the window again; the trees were disquieting shades of red and gold, beyond compare in their magnificence. And then her mind belted her amiss again, because she had found herself thinking of the divine blue hue that pooled in Ron's eyes.
"Distracted?" said Ginny from behind her, thrashing her out of her musing. She was standing there, a smirk drawn carefully on her face. "They're just being loud," said Hermione, prudently. "Oh please, Hermione, I know you much better than that," said Ginny, rather assertively. "And I can tell that you've got the hots for Ron." Hermione sat up straight, trying to duplicate confidence when she felt like she was going to explode with uncertainty and passion. "That's absurd, I see him as nothing more than a friend, Ginny." she said, not looking up from her book. Just at that moment, Ron zoomed by, flying into a quick halt at the window. "Are you two going to come outside?" He asked, grinning. "It's a lovely day outside, and I can't think of a single reason why you'd want to be cooped up in there." Ron gestured at Ginny's light pink walls that were covered in posters of boys, both wizard and muggles. He then continued to chase Harry around the back fields, in clear content. Hermione continued to smile at the open window, even after he had disappeared back into the sky with Harry. "Friends, my ass," said Ginny under her breath, giving a tiny laugh as she strode out the door.
The day was getting old, yet it remained faintly beautiful outside, the sky stained a gentle orange with the sun declining into the horizon. "I don't get it," said Hermione. Harry and Ron looked at her, clearly puzzled. "Quidditch, I mean. What's so fun about it? Well, really, flying in general." The two boys looked appalled. "You're mad!" said Harry, rather abruptly. "Hermione, you can't say it's no fun just because you're rubbish at it." said Ron, feeling rather superior to her on his flying skills, whereas Hermione looked rather aghast. "And I suppose you're top notch, then?" she said, with quiet expectance. "Bloody hell I am," said Ron with pride. "Just because I'm rubbish with books and whatnot, doesn't mean I can't be good at this." Harry found it on queue to leave right about now, he found that Ron and Hermione's persistent quarrelling now turned into simpering flirtatiousness rather than resulting in miscommunication, and it made him feel peculiar, like he was interrupting something. He turned on his heel to leave, finding it no surprise that they did not acknowledge his parting.
"So, if you're so good at flying, why don't you show me?" said Hermione with a tone of assertion, "I mean, if it's so exciting and everything." Ron's eyes lit up with disconcerted zeal. "Well, get on it then, Granger," he said, impishly. She came up behind him; bestriding the brand new Firebolt Ron had received from Harry on his birthday. She wrapped her arms around him, feeling nimble voltage as she felt her body pressed up against his own, and suddenly, he kicked off the ground with such speed and force she thought she might have slid right off and into the air. She was not one for flying, she had never held much of an aptitude for it in Madam Hooch's classes either, but now with her arms wrapped around her favorite red-head, she found it heaps more stirring than originally. With the wind twirling in her long brown waves and being high above the ground, she felt delightfully exhilarated. "What'd I tell you?" he said stridently, through the wind. "I guess I'll have to go flying with you more often, Ronald," she said, smiling widely. They continued to zip about in the sky, diving and soaring around, until Ron decided to land in a small glade surrounded by trees. "Well, I must admit, I was wrong about the flying." she disclosed, still beaming. "The know-it-all Hermione Granger is wrong? What is the world coming to?" he chortled, lightheartedly. She gave him a jocular nudge on the shoulder, her face coming dangerously close to his own. There were no words between the two from that second to the next, because it seemed there had been no time in between before she had found Ron's lips pressed to hers. Her face felt uncertainly warm, as if she could feel her blush becoming pinker and pinker.
He had pulled away only inches, his face feeling as hot as her own. He laughed nervously. "I'm sorry, I don't know what just came over–" He hadn't finished his sentence, as he found Hermione's pair of rosy lips against his again, and he felt it necessary to entangle his fingers in her hair, contentment sweeping over him in the moment. "Don't apologize," she said tenderly, looking into his sea blue eyes. "That was a lovely bit of flying." Her soft fingers grazed his exaggeratedly freckled cheek. "And your kissing wasn't half bad, either," she said, smiling delicately. "I think I might just love you, Hermione." He said in a fetching manner, still smiling coherently. She giggled gently, gracing his presence with her splendid grin. "I love you too, Ron."