A/N: Basically exactly what it sounds like; sorry about the unoriginal title. Set Post-Battle. It's Fred/Hermione and the romance is there but it's not sappy. I think I need to ease myself into romantic fics because they're unusually difficult for me. There's some innuendo at the very end but I didn't really think it needed above a K+. Let me know what you think, lovelies!

A Midnight Broom Ride

"No."

"Come on."

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Why not?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow, growing more than just a little impatient with the insistent redhead in front of her.

"I'd like to keep my limbs intact, thank you very much."

Fred rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Everyone else has been flying for ages and we're all fine! Just give it a try."

Hermione glowered at him and crossed her arms. "I refuse."

"But why?" he whined, sounding more like a child than a twenty year old man.

"I didn't survive a battle just to die in a broom accident."

"And I didn't come out of a coma so I could date a...a chicken," Fred snickered, grinning at Hermione's expression of indignant horror.

"Fine, Weasley, you're on!" she said challengingly. She paused, adding a squeaky, "Tomorrow night."

Her boyfriend chuckled, rolling his eyes but calling it a victory. "Whatever you say, love. Midnight it is."

"Didn't you take flying lessons in first year?" Fred asked, arching a ginger eyebrow as Hermione eyed his broom with great apprehension.

"It was the only class I ever failed."

"What about Divination?"

Hermione glared at him. "That wasn't a class; it was nap time with crystal balls."

Fred grinned. "Fair enough," he said, summoning his broom into his hands and swinging a leg over.

It took some coaxing on Fred's part, but Hermione eventually took her place in front of Fred, hands in a death grip on the handle of the broomstick.

"Calm down, Hermione. Your knuckles are turning white," Fred laughed as he kicked off, rising upward much more slowly than he normally would.

"I feel pathetic," she whined.

"Then stop being scared," Fred said.

"I can't."

They continued their gradual ascent until they felt high enough to reach their arms out and grab handfuls of glimmering stars to take back down. The sky was a deep navy blue, the moon was a bright white crescent, and the Burrow was merely a speck, seemingly miles away.

"Can we go back down, please?"

Fred sighed. "Hermione, look at me. Stop looking down and look at me." He moved one of his hands from its place on the broom's handle to her side in an attempt to steady her. Anxiously, she turned her head to face him and he could see the fear flickering in her deep brown eyes.

"Would I let you get hurt?" he asked gently.

She looked at him skeptically and he corrected himself. "Would I let you get hurt by something that wasn't a joke product?"

She smiled slightly, though she couldn't disguise her nervousness. "I hope not."

"I wouldn't."

"Because then who would keep your shop accounts in order?"

"Exactly," Fred grinned, kissing Hermione on the cheek.

"But really, can we go back down now?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I can see George out in the yard and I'm not quite ready for his never-ending innuendo about the both of us."

Hermione looked down, ignoring the queasiness stirring in her stomach. Squinting, she could make out a decidedly George-esque figure in the yard.

"Alright, maybe we'll stay up a while."

"Is that Hermione and Fred?" George muttered to himself, slipping outside and into the cold, crisp midnight air.

"What about them?" Ginny asked, following her older brother as he abandoned their late-night game of Wizard's chess to blatantly spy on his twin.

"Up there," George said, pointing to the darkened shape of two figures on a broom. He and Ginny squinted until they were able to determine that Fred and Hermione were indeed having a midnight broom ride.

"Well, guess it's time to start finalising those Contraceptive Potions," George said to himself as he and Ginny headed back inside, both smirking. "Pretty soon it won't be just his broom she's riding."