The car slowed, its headlights blinking on and off as the wheels bounced along the leafy track, closely missing a young hare which had ventured out from within the undergrowth to attempt a nibble at a few stray berries which lay unguarded in the centre of the road. Swearing, Ronald Weasley slammed on the brakes once again as another hare, perhaps the first hare's brother; darted across the track, disappearing almost as quickly as it had appeared. Receiving a calming pat from the passenger sitting next to him, he pressed his foot down on the accelerator pedal once more.
***
Hermione smiled lazily and rested her head against the window, her warm breath fogging up the cold glass. It was November, late autumn. The hills reared up in front of the vehicle blocking the evening sun from view as the tiny, white-forked flowers of the olive groves which had glistened like midnight stars only moments before, fell into shadow. A content sigh reverberated from Ron's lips. She could feel the anticipation radiating from him like a beacon of light. She took his out-stretched hand as the car drew to a halt, his reassuring touch igniting a flame in the pit of her stomach.
"We'll walk the rest of the way," he informed her, pulling the key out of the ignition with his free hand. Hermione nodded. The car was well hidden under a thick canopy of trees. She expected Ron would move it to a more appropriate place in the morning.
Removing her wand from her pocket and pulling her hand free from Ron's grasp, she opened her door and exited the car, shutting it behind her and moving round to the rear where the boot had already been opened. Tapping a large suitcase with the tip of her wand, she smiled to herself triumphantly as it vanished. Only a small dent in the carpet showed any sign that something had been there before. Casting a look over her shoulder, she found Ron standing there, a messenger bag slung over his shoulder and his red hair clashing brilliantly with the sunset spotted sky. He smiled.
"Mmm, it's good to be back," he murmured.
"You mean to say, that you've been here before?" Hermione enquired.
Ron nodded, "Yes. Once. The family and I came here for a holiday when I was six. It was brilliant," He gazed up at the hills, his blue eyes glistening with the memory of what once was, before turning back to her, a sluggish smile on his face. "We better get a move on; they'll be wondering where we are,"
Hermione nodded, the smallest of grins passing across her lips. She knew how impatient Ron's mother could get, especially if one of her famous dinners were waiting expectantly on the table with no one there to eat it. Hopefully, a situation such as that wouldn't happen tonight, as the rest of the Weasleys and Harry would already be there to languish in the gorgeousness of it all. When Mrs Weasley had cooked something, all other thoughts were driven from the mind until the meal was finished. She sighed and closed her eyes, imagining the seductive smell of roast chicken wafting up her nose.
"Hermione?" Ron said quietly, gingerly touching her cheek with his forefinger. Her eyes snapped open and met his. She could already feel the heat rising to her cheeks. His finger lingered there for no longer than a second, and he swiftly drew back, avoiding her gaze as she felt the place where his finger had been prickle. "You ready?" he muttered, staring at the ground as if it were the most important thing in the world.
She hastily recomposed her expression, hoping her blush wasn't as red as it felt. "Of course," she said, a little too quickly. Ignoring the odd look from Ron, she got herself ready to disapparate. She nodded curtly in his direction, which he returned, and then turned on the spot. There was a loud crack, the familiar feeling of being squeezed through a tight tube, and then the unique smell of wood burning, as her face was instantly bathed in a warm light.