The first of 26 short stories with Hermione, Ron and the kids during their younger years.

A is for Airplane.

This was a bad idea, Ron thought grumpily as they sat in the departure lounge of a London airport. Hermione had decided that they, along with their five-year-old Rose and three-year-old Hugo, were to go on a holiday. He was fine with holidays, been to plenty within the UK, even to Egypt, though never in the metal muggle winged bus of terror. The thought he was to go in it and somehow, fly, scared the bejesus out of him. Though he would never admit it. He'd faced Death Eaters many times over, but that was nothing compared to this.

They were off to some Spanish resort. A hotel complex with multiple pools and clubs for the kids. And a whole week of Mediterranean sun just moments away from the beach.

With skin as pale as what he had, he would burn easily. The kids would be the same. Rosie with her ivory skin and red hair. Hugo with his equally pale skin and freckles. The three of them would spend the week sticky. His wife would be the lucky one. Hermione tanned into a lovely sun kissed glow. Her luscious chocolate curly hair would take the sun, caramel highlights showing.

As their flight is called, he wrestles with the kids to get aboard the plane while Hermione took their hand luggage. Hermione takes the window seat. Rose curiously beside her peering around her mother out the small rectangle. Hugo was in the seat beside Rose and Ron, fidgeting just like his father.

In a couple of hours, they landed in the heat of a small island. Ron's heart rate returned to normal as his feet touched the tarmac. Half an hour later via a minibus ride they reach the hotel. A large white building with a terracotta roof and many windows with balconies.

After checking in, they find their room via a large lift and long hallway. More white walls and light-coloured furniture. A couple of small sofas, coffee table and a tv. A kitchenette bar with tea and coffee facilities and a small fridge for cool bottles of water. A simple bathroom with a shower. Two bedrooms. One with a double bed and minimal storage, the other with two singles and equal small amount of storage. The draw of the pool is too much for the antsy kids, both whining. Ron offers to take them to play if Hermione were to unpack. She agrees easily to get them out her hair. She was grateful to have them distracted while she unpacks the perfectly organised suitcases, each one labelled and sorted so she could get the items to hang out first followed by those in the larger draws then the smaller items in all the gaps.

As Ron disrupts a case for the kid's swimsuits, towels and arm bands, Hermione applies waterproof sunblock to her children's bodies much to their annoyance. They squirm and complain for the entire few minutes. Ron stands at the bedroom doorway laughing silently in their struggle but huffing a little when Hermione throws a bottle at him with a pointed look to do the same. She was not risking him burning to a crisp on the first day.

Once Hermione was satisfied that everyone was thankfully protected she lets the kids loose with Ron. From the private balcony, she could see the red hair rather easily. Unpacking the kids clothes first; Hugo's then Rose's, hanging up shirts and hoodies for Hugo and then Rose's dresses with cardigans and hoodies before placing shorts, vests, t-shirts and then socks and underwear in various drawers. Leaving shoes on the floor neatly in front of the drawers. She does the same with hers and Ron's clothes too on each side of the wardrobe and drawers, flicking away invisible dust and smoothing non-existent creases.

Long lazy days are spent by the pool and around the complex or the beach. Hyperactive nights at the bar watching Rose and Hugo dance with their new holiday friends. Midweek Hermione and Ron make use of the baby-sitting service so they could enjoy a meal together. A blissful and romantic evening watching the sunset over the ocean, sipping wine after a delicious meal. Hermione missed evenings like that. Just the two of them. Kids changed things, though she wouldn't change it for the world.

By the end of the week everyone, albeit a little darker or redder, grudgingly waits in the Spanish airport for their flight home. Hermione had the appearance of being a little frazzled; the heat had made her curly hair expand outwards even when restrained into a ponytail. Combined with constant fingers being run through it due to a whinging pair of kids at current point hadn't helped. Ron wasn't much better. He was sat with a grumpy face of having to get back on the plane.

Rose was itching to stay. She'd loved the water parks and sunshine. Hugo had preferred the beach; the feeling of sand squidging between his little toes though he was quite happy to be going home and out of the scorching heat. Hermione was happy in either as long as she had a book and the kids were safe and happy. Ron preferred being indoors, the blazing too strong on his pale skin and the heat making him even more irritable than normal.

Landing back in the capital, Hermione muses; next time maybe she'd holiday in the UK with Ron and the kids. Or maybe she, Ginny, Luna and the other Weasley girls could go together. Enjoying the sun on a girl's only holiday.

Next time she'd leave Ron at home. But at least the kids had fun.