Standard disclaimers apply!
I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.
Flying
(Grab a cup of tea or something!)
5:01 am, Saturday morning.
Hermione would have liked to go back to sleep; but Crookshanks was making that impossible, with his agitated tail thumping on the window sill and his throaty growls directed at whatever it was outside he was so desperate to catch.
Giving it up as a bad job, she turned onto her back and watched the world outside her window lighten. The chickens were already scratching around and somewhere off in the distance a dog was barking.
Her eyes were just drifting shut again when a strident tew tew-tew just outside the window made Crookshanks hiss in irritation.
Greenshank. She thought automatically. Must be on its way home.
Her eyes popped open. I miss you, Dad. You and your birding books. It used to drive Mum mad, remember?
Downstairs a door slammed, and Mrs Weasley uttered "Damn" quite audibly.
Suddenly she felt the need for company. I'll see if Mrs Weasley needs help with anything.
*
"Good morning dear, you're up early," Mrs Weasley was sitting at the scrubbed table with a mug of tea and a piece of toast. "I hope I didn't wake you, the door got away from me in the breeze."
"Morning," Hermione suppressed a yawn and opened the back door for Crookshanks, who immediately shot through without a backward glance. "No, I was already up. That one," she nodded toward the garden, "woke me up with his antics, I pity the gnomes today."
"I don't," Mrs Weasley smirked, "they enjoy it just as much as he does. I'll get you a cup of tea and some toast, dear."
"No, no, stay there," Hermione said quickly. "I'll do it."
They sat, drinking their tea and crunching their toast, until Mrs Weasley broke the comfortable silence. "You're looking a bit melancholy this morning, is everything alright?"
Hermione shrugged. "I'm fine. I think I heard a greenshank earlier, it just got me thinking."
Mrs Weasley reached out and patted her hand. "About Mum and Dad?"
"Yes." Hermione looked surprised. "How did ..."
"They came down here for a long weekend," Mrs Weasley explained, "Robert was rather enthusiastic about the birdlife."
"I didn't know."
"No, it was while you and Ronald weren't getting along," Mrs Weasley smiled gently. "We all thought it best to let you work it out amongst yourselves."
Hermione couldn't help chuckling. "And they never breathed a word. What did you do?"
"I gather Arthur and Robert spent most of their time in the shed, or rambling about on Dartmoor," Mrs Weasley laughed outright at that. "Helen and I went into Padstow on the Friday, Cardiff on the Saturday and Cardigan on the Sunday. On the Monday we rested."
"Did Mum take you shopping?" Hermione couldn't help smiling. "You would have needed the rest day."
"Yes, we did." Mrs Weasley smiled too. "We went shopping and sight-seeing. I know Padstow like the back of my hand, but I've not seen much of Wales. We had a very nice time together." She gave a regretful sigh and patted Hermione's arm again. "Such lovely people, you must miss them terribly."
Hermione just nodded.
"They're proud of you, you know." Mrs Weasley said firmly.
"I hope so," Hermione whispered.
"I know so, dear. But that's enough of this, or we'll both end up being weepy." Mrs Weasley drained the tea from her mug and set it down with a thump. "Now, what do you have planned for the day?"
Grateful for the change of subject, Hermione pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Ron and I were planning on a walk, if there's nothing you'd like done around here first."
*
Hermione didn't bother trying to smother the grin taking over her face as she watched Ron being propelled into the kitchen, fully dressed but clearly not fully awake.
"Now, have a piece of toast dear," Mrs Weasley shoved a piece into his hand as he sat down with a heavy thud, "and some tea", a steaming mug landed in front of him. "Maybe a biscuit too."
"Do I even want to know what's going on?" He grumbled around his toast.
"Don't talk with your mouth full, Ron," Mrs Weasley reprimanded automatically. "You and Hermione are going out for the day." She turned to Hermione. "Have you got everything dear?"
"Yes, Mrs Weasley, I think so."
"The maps? The broom? Are you quite sure?"
"I'm sure." Hermione laughed.
"A nice warm jumper?"
"Right here," Hermione put her hand on the woolly jumper draped over her recently vacated chair.
"Jumper?" Ron echoed, rubbing his face and rumpling his hair in the process. "Why do we need jumpers? It's going to be 26 today, I checked last night."
"It'll be cooler there," Mrs Weasley told him, hovering by his elbow – clearly wanting to chivvy him along, but thinking better of it.
"Where are we going?"
"Becky Falls Estate and the surrounding area," Hermione's smile broadened, "I've always wanted to see it."
Ron opened his mouth to say something, but decided to instead finish his tea. "OK."
*
"Bet you're glad of the jumper now," Hermione teased as they stood beside a lonely tor, the wind tugging at their clothes and whipping their hair around their faces.
"Where the bloody hell are we?" Ron frowned curiously and looked around, seeing nothing but green and brown and slabs of granite for miles in each direction. "Somewhere on Dartmoor?"
Hermione nodded enthusiastically. "Isn't it great?"
"Um, sure?"
Hermione sat down abruptly and snapped open her black handbag, rummaging through it and pulling out three thick, carefully wrapped, sandwiches. "Here," she waved them in his general direction. "Breakfast."
"Thanks." He settled beside her, watching curiously as she pulled out a great thermos and set it before them. "Is that the purple bag?"
"Yes. I couldn't stand the sight of it, to be perfectly honest; but it was a really good bit of spell work so I couldn't bear to part with it either. I transfigured it instead."
"Fair enough." Ron unwrapped the first sandwich and took a great bite, sighing happily as he did so. "Love bacon."
"I noticed." Hermione smirked as she poured two cups of tea.
"Aren't you eating?" Ron frowned.
"I've already had breakfast." She told him cheerfully. "I've been up since 5."
"Which explains why we're here before 7.30, but not why we're here," Ron said, giving in to a jaw-cracking yawn. "Not that I'm complaining," he added, "just curious."
"It's a bit silly."
"I doubt it," Ron frowned again and put down his half eaten sandwich. "Why have you been up since 5? Why did Mum drag me out of bed at 7 o'clock on a Saturday morning? And why are we out here in the middle of nowhere?"
Hermione bit her lip and stared out to the horizon. "We can go back if you like," she said in a tight voice.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it to come out like that, I'm still half asleep. I like this sort of stuff," he gestured at the view. "I'm here with you, even better," he tugged at the sleeve of her jumper playfully, "and we were going to go off on our own today anyway, so I'm really NOT complaining. I'm just trying to catch up ... and you're not acting quite like yourself. What's bothering you?"
"Where do I even start?" she snorted.
"Why were you up at 5?"
"Crookshanks woke me up," she said immediately, "with his thumping and growling. I was just getting back to sleep when he took exception to a bird quite close to the window ... it reminded me of Dad."
"Ohhh." He put his arm around her and rubbed her shoulders. "I'm sorry."
"No, it was OK actually." She smiled at him. "I can think of them without getting too upset, now. They're all good memories. But I was feeling a bit ... a bit lonely, I suppose."
"Why didn't you come in to me? I'd rather have been woken up than have you being lonely."
"I heard your Mum up," she explained, "and I wanted something to keep me busy, so I thought I'd see if she needed any help. Are you going to finish that?"
"What? Oh, the sandwich! Do you want it?" He passed it over quickly.
"Just a bite," she took one and handed it back.
"So you went downstairs to Mum ..." Ron prompted before taking a bite himself.
"Oh. Yeah. We were just having a chat and I told her about the bird, it was a greenshank by the way, and it turns out that Mum and Dad spent a long weekend at The Burrow once. Did you know?"
"Did they really?" Ron grinned, "I had no idea. How did you get from the bird to them staying over?"
"Dad was a bird-watcher," she explained, warming to the subject. "It used to drive Mum up the wall, because he'd always have the tapes playing in the car on long drives. That's how I recognised the greenshank ... and I suppose that's why we're here today."
Ron nodded encouragingly, his mouth too full to speak.
"Our Dad's spent most of the time either in the shed, or out here on Dartmoor," she poured herself a fresh cup of tea, "and I wanted to see it, to be where Dad was."
"OK," Ron leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Sounds like a good reason to be here. What did our Mum's do?"
"They went shopping and sightseeing. Padstow, Cardiff and Cardigan."
"Really? Mum's from Padstow, that's how she knows it," Ron said. "Your Mum's Welsh?"
"Half," she said, "Grandma grew up in Cardigan and Mum went to University in Cardiff."
"That explains last night's dinner then," Ron chuckled, "I was wondering."
"Hmm." She nodded absently, her eyes unfocused. "It was the monument that put it all on my mind."
"The monument?"
"It's made of welsh pennant, you see, and it made me remember when I was little." At his curious look she continued on. "Grandma died when I was 9, but when I was little she used to look after me while Mum and Dad were at work, she's the one who taught me how to read – and now I'm rambling."
"No, it's good," he assured her, "I'm just wondering why I don't know all this stuff already. Why have we never talked about it?"
"When did we ever have time?" Hermione laughed.
"We've got time now," said Ron.
"Actually, there's something else I want to talk about. I'd like to get it over with, no distractions, and then we can enjoy the rest of our day."
"No distractions," Ron chuckled, "so no ... um ..." he gave her a half smile, "kissing or anything, until we've talked about it."
"Well, yeah," she bit her lip, "kissing would be considered a distraction."
"Hogwarts?" Ron guessed.
"Hogwarts," she confirmed.
"Well?" Ron stretched his legs out and leaned on the tor, and then opened a new sandwich. "What do you think?"
"I don't know what to think," she said bluntly. "I feel I should go back, but I really don't want to ... and ..." she threw her hands up in frustration.
"Hermione," Ron brushed her hair back from her face where the wind was resolutely blowing it. "You love studying. Remember back in potions with Slughorn? That amortentia? What did you smell?"
"New parchment, freshly mown grass and ... something else," Hermione blushed.
"New parchment, Hermione. The Hogwarts Library was in your amortentia."
"No, the Hogwarts Library is mainly old parchment," Hermione disagreed. "It was you. New parchment for helping you with your homework, freshly mown grass for summer holidays at The Burrow and ... um ... I can't believe I'm telling you this ... just a touch of the way you smell after you've come in from playing Quiddich."
"That's awful!" Ron laughed.
"I did say it was just a touch," she smirked.
"Just as well."
"Where do you see yourself in 10 years?" she asked, uncrossing her legs and stretching out beside him.
"In 10 years?" He looked surprised. "With you, if you can put up with me for that long."
"You think I should go back," she stated.
"It doesn't matter what I think," he said, "I told you that."
"But you still think it."
"I do." He didn't look happy saying it.
"Why?"
"Apparently the amortentia argument isn't valid, but you do love studying. You know you do. We've talked about this before," he gazed searchingly into her eyes, suddenly intense. "Hermione Granger deserves to be Head Girl of Hogwarts, and she deserves to get the best NEWT results in recorded history." He touched her cheek gently. "Really, I think you'll regret it if you don't."
"I wish you were coming back with me," she whispered, leaning into him.
"So do I." He abandoned his tea to circle his arms around her. "I'm going to have to put Ginny on the job of making sure you don't crack up from working too hard."
"OK."
"OK?"
"OK." Hermione nodded, biting her lip.
"It's going to be a long year," Ron muttered, burying his face in her hair.
"Yeah, it is," she agreed, her voice muffled into his chest.
"Hermione?" He was stoking her hair, pulling it away from her neck and running his fingers lightly along her jaw.
"Hmmm?"
"Did you really ... I mean," he cleared his throat and tried again. "The amortentia, was there really me-after-Quiddich in it?"
"Yeah," she said softly, lifting her head to press her lips on his neck; then shivered when he bought his hand to the small of her back and slipped his fingers under her jumper to drag patterns over her skin. "It's an intoxicating mix."
"I know," he took a deep breath, "it was wood-smoke for all the times we stayed up late waiting for Harry, and black ink for the stains on your fingers, and whatever that scent was you wore in fourth and fifth year ... sometimes you'd walk past and if the wind was right I'd get a hint of it."
Oh Merlin.
And there is was again. Ever present and simmering under the surface, ready to burst out with minimal provocation – it still shocked her sometimes – but she accepted that part of her which slid over his legs to straddle him ... his surprised grunt of approval and widening eyes drawing her in.
His hair was getting ridiculous now, as his mother had mentioned more than once, but it felt good in her fingers and glinted in the sun and right now she wouldn't have it any other way ... a handful of it in her fist as she gently pulled his head back and dipped her own until her mouth slanted over his.
She wondered if he knew ... how could he not ... his lips parted under hers and a soft moan came from the depths of him and all thoughts abandoned her.
She wanted to hurry, hurry, hurry – but they had all day – to make the most of it with his large hands on her back urging her on to pressing her belly closer so they were both breathless.
"What was that for?" The softest whisper on the side of her mouth.
"Take me flying." His arms ... tight around her. "Broom's in my bag ... got all day."
"You're killing me." His voice and lips caressing her ear.
"Do you trust me?" His shoulders ... broad under her hands, leading to his neck ... love his shoulders, love his neck, love him.
"Yes," he breathed, "I trust you."
*
There were worse things than this ... being buffeted by the wind, her hair occassionally whipping in his face – she was tucked carefully in front – her back flush against his front.
He felt half mad ... reckless and free.
Free from interruptions and family and responsibility.
Free to spend the day flying over deserted moors with this dark eyed, dark haired beauty who laughed quietly and told him facts about the remains of the ancient stone dwellings below.
She was guiding them down, to the top of the tallest hill.
"I wonder what the ancients would think," she murmured, her eyes burning into his, "if they saw us here? Would they think we were magic?"
"We are magic," he chuckled, entranced with her as she took his hand and pulled him to the middle of what was once a great stone hut.
"This was someone's home," she whispered, smiling slightly as she pointed her wand in four directions and the air around them shimmered briefly.
The harsh wind turned into a gentle breeze. "Wards?" Ron raised one eyebrow.
"We never really finished breakfast," she said, pulling a blanket out from her handbag and passing him one side, "and it's chilly."
*
She could feel his eyes on her as they spread out the blanket and she smoothed down one corner.
"C'm 'ere." He opened his arms to her and she felt her blood quicken as they came together. "What are we doing here 'Mione?"
"'Mione?" She rubbed her cheek on the scratchy wool of his jumper.
"Hmmm. 'Mione ... my knee ..." he let out a shaky breath. "Could walk without you, probably, but it'd be hard, and weird, and painful and I wouldn't want to try."
She sucked in a quick breath and stared up at him with wide eyes. "That was ..."
"Really soppy," he supplied, and kissed her thoroughly.
"The most beautiful thing I've ever heard," she corrected him when they came apart.
He blushed slightly. "And all true."
"If I didn't know better," she gently ran her fingers over the rims of his ears, "I'd think you were trying to get into my knickers."
"Your knickers?" His voice was faintly raspy as his eyes squeezed tightly shut.
"My knickers," she whispered, letting her lips brush over his ear ... a heady and familiar feeling of power flooding her.
"'Mione?" It came out half as a whimper. "What are you doing?"
"Do you want me to stop?" She palmed the crotch of his jeans, his erection under her hand making her catch her breath.
"Bloody hell ..." he groaned, "I don't want you to stop ... move over a bit, let me ... oh shit ... what're you ..."
"Shhh." She had his jeans and underpants halfway down his thighs. "I've wanted to do this for years."
"Years?" He really did whimper this time, with her hand around his erection.
"Years." She moved her hand experimentally. "Is this right?"
"Brilliant."
"Good. Take your jumper off," she ordered, tightening her grip and moving faster, "no, better yet!" She hurriedly pulled her wand from her pocket with her free hand. "I'm going to take our clothes off. Is that OK?"
"You can do that?" His voice rose half an octave.
"If you want," she nodded, slowing her pace slightly.
"You ... yes ... yes ... whatever you want! Oh shit ... you're so beautiful ..." he took one of her naked breasts into his suddenly shaking hand, "sweet Circe, 'Mione ... love you so much ... please don't stop and tell me you want to go ... so good ... swimming or something ..."
"Not going to stop," she murmured, placing an open-mouthed kiss on his bare shoulder, almost moaning herself. "I know you're nearly there and I want to see it ... hear it ... then I want you to do the same to me until I'm begging you to take me right here because I want you so damn much."
He was instantly reduced to an incoherent, strangled "Hhhnngg" as his hips surged forward of their own volition and a sudden arc of fluid surged from him, accompanied with a great sigh of relief.
