Chapter 19 - Evening Light-Delight
"Escape with me," Ron said breathlessly. "Just for a little while," he added.
"What?" Hermione asked, unaware that her hand had already fallen into his. They stood there in silence for a while, crickets chirping, lights dimming.
"I think we both need some time to breathe. Away from everyone."
"Where will we go?"
"I have an idea," he said with a grin. He disappeared behind the corner of the house and emerged moments later.
"No! Absolutely not. I'm definitely not ready for this," Hermione said, rooted to the ground, eyeing the broom in Ron's hand with intense distrust.
He gave her an incredulous look. "Don't you want to fly?"
"There are very many things I'm excited about and interested in trying, but flying is definitely not top of the list. Do you even know how to fly?"
"I've been practising." Ron swung one leg over the broomstick and hovered a few inches off the ground. His hair rippled in the breeze as a glow of excitement lit up his eyes. Hermione was suddenly tempted.
Ron leaned forward and moved to float beside her. Hermione imagined saying 'no', going back inside, not getting killed falling off a broom, not allowing this man to take her breath away again. But then she realised she wished for none of those things and with a sigh full of trepidation, she clumsily climbed the broom to sit behind him.
Immediately she felt off balance, falling to the side, so she grabbed Ron tight under the arms. He shivered under her touch and gently took her hands, replacing them from under his armpits onto his waist.
"Sorry, but that tickled," he said quietly, but Hermione could feel him smiling. "Hold on now."
The broom lifted high off the ground and they soared. Hermione almost screamed but the sudden lurch pushed all sound inward as she gasped. She held onto Ron tightly, pressing her face between his shoulder blades. The air was whooshing in her ears mixed with Ron's laughter. He was a good flier and except the occasional wobble for having two people on one broom, he kept the broom steady.
"I think you should open your eyes," he said after awhile. Taking a deep breath, Hermione looked below.
They were some sixty feet above the ground. Green upon green hills rolled underneath them, bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. Hermione inhaled the sharp freshness from the air and tasted the promise of the oncoming night upon her tongue. It was chilly up there, with her head so near the clouds, but holding onto Ron kept most of the chill at bay.
He swerved and the world beneath turned into a blur. As they moved, Hermione looked up towards the skies to see pale stars appearing.
Ron brought them lower and lower until they were only a couple of feet above the ground.
"Uh-oh," he mumbled.
"Uh-oh what?" Hermione asked in a panic.
"Not sure how to land this thing with two people!"
He pulled the tip of the broom upwards to brake, sending Hermione pressing even further into Ron. Then the broom trembled like a horse too exhausted to carry its two riders. It twisted in the air and threw them both off and rolling into the damp grass and wild flowers.
"Well that was a bit rude," said Ron, glaring at the broom that settled itself against a giant oak nearby, whose big gnarled roots slithered over the ground.
Hermione got to her feet, shaking the evening dew from her hair. As she looked around, she was momentarily mesmerized by the beauty surrounding them. There was nothing but miles of countryside on all sides of them, emerald green and lush like plucked from a fairy tale. They were standing on a hillock with the oak towering above them.
"We passed this place the other day when Bill took me flying," Ron said, overlooking the golden fields separated by stonewalls in the distance. His hands were on his hips and there were grass stains on his sweater and flowers dangling from his hair from when he had fallen. "I thought it would be a good place to think," he added, turning to look at Hermione.
"It's beautiful," she said, sitting down on one of the larger twisted oak roots. "It's nice to step away from it all, thank you."
"No need to thank me, I needed it, too."
Ron started looking around and then walked in circles around the oak, gathering fallen sticks and branches.
"What are you doing?"
"Making a fire. It's going to get cold," he said with an armful of firewood.
Hermione jumped to her feet and started helping him. Once they had enough, they gathered a few stones lying around, creating a small area for a camp fire.
"What have you been up to these past few days?" Hermione asked nonchalantly, crouched down and stacking the sticks.
"Just helping out George at the shop. I think it's looking better and better, it's just..."
"What is it?" Hermione paused at her work, wiping her damp hands on her knees and looking earnestly at Ron.
"It's Fred. You know, his-"
"Twin brother. Of course."
"No matter how many stories people tell me about him, I can't remember him. It's weird. I guess you know," he said carefully, glancing up at her.
Hermione paused to think about the parents she could not remember. The intense pain she had felt when she first found out was reduced to only a dull ache now. She felt guilty for it, but it couldn't be helped.
"Do you think our memories will ever come back?" she asked.
Ron pulled out his wand and pointed it at the fire. "I want to keep hoping, but I'm less and less sure. Ah but, you know," he said with a sudden smile, "maybe some things are better not remembered. I've been hearing a lot lately about what a prat I could be sometimes. This is maybe better, you know..." He made a general gesture in the air. "It gives me a nice fresh start."
"They also say that you were a kind person and a wonderful friend." Hermione stared off into the distance, squinting at the disappearing sun. "And I don't doubt that," she added, bringing her eyes to look at him.
"That sometimes feels like a lot to live up to. Friends, brothers, family, war heroes."
Hermione laughed and ran a hand through her hair. "Tell me about it. Everyone keeps saying what a brilliant witch I had been, how clever I was. Maybe I was, but I don't know if I can be that again, given the circumstances."
"Hm," Ron said, arching his eyebrows. "Well I may not be a great wizard, either. I'm pretty sure I was learning the spell to make fire, but...can't remember it now. You got any matches on you?" he asked sheepishly.
Hermione felt momentarily frustrated she couldn't do any magic, but somehow here in this place, it didn't bother her as much.
"Lift your wand hand," she told Ron and he followed. "Make like a curved flick up and down, like a flame. And say Incendio."
"Incendio," he said, but only a puff of smoke came from the tip.
"No," Hermione said, trying to stay patient. "The stress is on the second syllable. Incendee-o."
"Incendio." This time, Ron said it right and a bunch of flames flew from his wand, lighting up the wood. He shook his head with awe.
"Bloody brilliant. How did you know that?"
"I've basically memorised the Standard Book of Spells, Grade One, trying to learn," she said, picking at the dirt on the ground.
"Well I hate to repeat after everyone else but-AHH!" Ron shrieked, falling back on his butt and scuttling away from the fire. Hermione snapped her head up in alarm and saw a big long-legged spider frantically running from somewhere underneath the sticks that were on fire, in Ron's direction. "No, no, no," he muttered, going pale in the face.
Hermione got up quickly and got between the formidable insect and Ron, putting her palm into the grass in the spider's way. When it was in her palm, she got up and walked away for a bit, but Ron lifted his eyebrows as a sign that was not enough. Hermione took a couple more steps, but Ron's expression wasn't changing. When she was a good ten meters away, he shrugged and averted his gaze. Chuckling to herself, Hermione deposited the spider safely into the grass. When she got back, Ron was sitting by the fire, trying to look as unperturbed as ever, but she could still see him shudder here and there. A smile was tugging at her lips, but she decided not to tease him for it.
After the fire was fed some more wood, Ron managed to conjure half a patchwork quilt for them to sit on. It was torn and singed on the edges, meaning he didn't manage to conjure it up whole and proper, but Hermione was still impressed.
"So you skipped the basics and went straight onto the advanced stuff," she remarked as she sat down, crossing her legs. Ron shrugged.
"Didn't want to rob you of the opportunity to tell me off about it, as I guessed you would," he said, plopping down next to her but within reasonable distance. Half of him was still on the ground, Hermione noticed, a bit disappointed. It was fully dark now and sparks from the fire were flying into the air. The fire crackled in the quiet pale light of the half moon.
"I heard you were thinking of going back to work," Hermione said, throwing another handful of twigs onto the fire.
"Yeah, Harry mentioned I could restart my Auror training again. He said I could tag along on some of his upcoming assignments, see if it's still something I want to do."
"That's really great, Ron, I think you should definitely do that."
"What about you?"
Hermione shrugged. "Well, I've been told that I was in the middle of my Healer training over at St. Mungo's before we were kidnapped." A dark and troubled look settled over her face. "Hardly makes me feel better about the fact that I've basically been working as a fake nurse."
"Well, the Healer training must be somewhat related to being a nurse," Ron said gently, for the first time realising how much this was bothering her. He missed the comic book store a little bit. He missed the relaxed atmosphere, colours and graphics surrounding him. It was easily overshadowed by magical spells and flying brooms, however, and he didn't really think of it as a specific career for him anyway.
"It is in a lot of ways, but it still makes me feel like a fraud working a job I haven't earned official qualifications for. Harry also suggested I might want to start that again, but I'm not sure if I can, not right now. And maybe I'd like to do something else entirely."
"I'm sure you could do anything you'd like. You're extremely determined and intelligent."
Hermione smiled. After days and weeks of hearing praises to her name, she finally felt flattered instead of intimidated by it.
"Ginny mentioned that the people who kidnapped us might be at it again," Hermione mentioned and looked to see his reaction. He was frowning. "Are you worried?" she asked.
"Yeah, but not of the kidnappers, but of Ginny now that I realized we've sneaked off without telling anyone."
"Should we go back?" she asked, sitting up straighter.
"Do you want to?"
Hermione thought about it and realised that she really didn't, that she was quite happy to be here with Ron. Her usual feelings of confusion and fear somehow didn't reach her here. As if getting on that broom and being lifted up into the air, she had been able to leave all the burdens down on the ground. She thought it would be wise to head back, but a little part of her, a part she knew was some hidden daring nerve, told her to stay.
"No, I don't."
She expected Ron to smile, but he just gave her that same steady yet deep look that would normally unsettle her, but now just made her want to move closer to him.
"I lied to you about Jonathan," she blurted out suddenly, surprising herself and even more so Ron, who winced. "He was a boyfriend, but I broke up with him like...five seconds before you were brought to the hospital."
"Why?"
"It just wasn't right. We seemed to have a lot in common, but not really, you know what I mean? He didn't get me, I don't think he ever wanted to either."
"Why did you tell me that you still were-"
"Not sure. I hardly knew you and was a little frightened by everything that had happened and it's just easier to play the boyfriend card if you want some people to stay away."
"So you really did think I was stalking you or something?" he asked with raised eyebrows. His expression suggested he was torn between feeling alarmed and amused.
"You were, though," she grinned and Ron found himself returning the smile.
"Guilty," he said.
"No but really," she said quickly, leaning back on her arms. "It was just a thing of the moment, I guess. Didn't make sense then, doesn't make sense now."
Ron looked at his hands and sighed. "I wasn't entirely honest about Chelsea either. Though I don't know. We're not dating. Perhaps we would have if you didn't show up. She sort of...kissed me before we left, and things were left at that. I like her, she's really nice..." Ron wanted to follow with a 'but' but Hermione interrupted him.
"That's nice," she said, a little choked up. "It's the girl that draws all those nice pictures for the comic books?"
"Yeah, I actually can't wait to tell her about the fact they have moving pictures and photographs here, she'll be thrilled. Exactly what she imagined for her work."
Hermione forced a smile and tried to ignore the sudden drop of her stomach. "So are you dating or..."
"I don't think so. I guess I said it to be even with you. I felt a little jealous."
"Jealous, huh?" Hermione repeated hoarsely, locking eyes with him. She felt a lump rising in her throat and her heart fluttering. She wanted to say so many things to him. Some of it were her own thoughts, from the here and now, thoughts belonging to Hermione, and to Jean. Some of it were perhaps thoughts of the Hermione from before, the one she couldn't remember but the one that was somewhere deep down still.
"I'm sorry I've been mean to you before," Ron said quietly.
"I hear it's what we do," she said with a smile, grateful that he started talking and changed the subject a little. "I was miserable to you as well."
"Sometimes I like that. When you're honest with me, I mean. Like now."
"I like it too," she whispered, but she felt guilty because she wasn't truly honest with him. She really did appreciate this moment, more than she could explain to even herself. Telling him she and Jonathan were done, hearing him say Chelsea was not quite his girlfriend. It took a ton of weight off her shoulders. But there was still their own engagement, and this seemed like the perfect moment to tell him.
But she also felt that here and now, they were being Jean and Ron from Edinburgh, and past Hermione and past Ron were merely their shadows upon the grass. That engagement was difficult to process for her, she wasn't sure what it would do to him. It was in the past, they were different now. Perhaps the reason why she didn't want to tell him was that she didn't want to complicate what they had now in this moment - the sweet comforting simplicity, not pushed or influenced by the weight of a commitment made way back when things made sense.
A log collapsed in the fire, sending a shower of sparks into the night right behind Ron, illuminating his face and flaming red hair. Hermione instinctively turned her body to sit facing him. Ron shifted a little closer. Just for a moment they sat there. A message passed between them, one that couldn't be properly put into words, only spoken by their eyes. Slowly they both leaned in.
It was not an accidental kiss, not a misplaced peck on the cheek, not a sudden spontaneous thing of the moment. Hermione saw stars exploding beneath her eyelids as Ron kissed her deeper, weaving his hands into her hair. She felt her soul could almost touch his through the connection as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled herself closer. She felt a cramp in her knees and buckled, breaking the kiss, knocking her nose into his cheek.
He laughed softly and sat her down so that her legs were over his thighs. Hermione shivered with pleasure as she felt his hand on the bare skin of her waist. It was like being truly kissed for the first time, yet it felt familiar, warm, felt like home. It was different than the strange kiss at the Burrow, the one that felt all wrong because there were their imaginary partners, people in the house walking in on them, and the two of them just utterly confused and baffled for the most part.
Here, finally, they could be themselves, whoever that was, and the sudden intensity of being and feeling bare, vulnerable and real felt like the freshest breath of air.
It took them long moments to break apart. Ron pulled back a little to look at her.
"I'm sorry if this is..."
"No, don't be sorry," she said, kissing him again. They lay down on the quilt, Hermione resting her head in the space between his arm and his chest. They were both shivering now as the night around them deepened and the fire was going out. Ron lifted himself a little to take off his sweater to give it to Hermione.
"Wait," she said. "Take out your wand." He did and pointed it above them toward the sky. Hermione interlaced her fingers with his, touching the wand wood with her fingertips. She guided his hand to move in slow clockwise circles. "Say Focillio," she whispered.
Ron concentrated and repeated in perfect pronunciation, "Focillio." Hermione felt a tingle in her hand, the magic flowing through the wand into Ron and into her. Gentle warmth radiated from the wand. It was the shade of a sun ray on wooden floorboards and open books on a late afternoon. It spread above them, rippling in the air, and then it fell on top of them like an invisible blanket.
"Standard Book of Spells, Grade One?" Ron mumbled, his voice sleepy as he turned to bury his face in Hermione's hair.
"Always skips the basics," Hermione whispered, resting her face close to Ron's so that her lips almost touched his skin. Even if she couldn't really do magic, even if things were complicated, this was the most magical she had ever felt.
Author's Note: Thank you for all the reviews and reads guys. I loved writing this chapter, hope you liked reading it.