Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any related characters.

Prompt: "Don't you ever do that again!"

Unless We Go Together

Ever since Ron was a young tot, he always wanted to learn how to fly. He watched his older brothers soar through the clouds, and marveled at how they managed to maintain control of their brooms despite the intimidating nature of the high speeds at which they could travel.

He always thought it was so wicked how brooms responded to simple commands, the way they were enchanted to fly, and took on a personality of their own.

Ron's eldest brother, Bill, advised him that remaining focused when flying was of the utmost importance.

The key to using a broom is balance; if you shift your weight too far forward, you'll likely nosedive straight to the ground. Keeping a broom steady requires both speed and agility.

Ron is lost in his thoughts as he meanders down the staircase in the Gryffindor common room on a Saturday afternoon, debating on taking his new broom out for a fly when a declaration stops him in his tracks.

"Did you hear? Hermione Granger is flying on the Quidditch pitch!"

Ron turns slowly to face Seamus. "I'm sorry. I must be going mental. Did you just say Hermione?"

"Yeah! On a Cleansweep Eleven!" Seamus replies with enthusiasm, pointing out the window where Ron just barely sees a flash of brown curly hair go by on a broom. "Say, Ron. You just got a Cleansweep, didn't ya?"

Oh bloody fucking hell.

"Excuse me," Ron says through gritted teeth as he stomps out of the portrait hole with only one destination in mind.

The first person he finds on the grassy pitch is none other than his best friend with jet black hair. "Potter!"

Harry swivels around, and winces at the flash of anger on Ron's face as he approaches. "I'm sorry, mate. She seemed pretty adamant, and, honestly, I was curious-"

"So you helped her nick my fucking broom? Why not let her use yours?"

Harry shrugs. "She specifically requested yours. Besides, I-"

Ron waves a dismissive hand. "Nevermind that. She has no business being up that high by herself. She doesn't even like flying."

Harry shoots Ron a sympathetic look. "I think what Malfoy said to her in class yesterday really struck a nerve."

Ron feels as if the weight of a bludger lands in the pit of his stomach. Fucking Malfoy. It boils his blood everytime Draco opens his mouth and vile words come out.

Yesterday, he decided to antagonize Hermione because she answered a question in class. "Think you're perfect, Granger? Just because you can answer a question? I bet there is something you're terrible at."

"O'course it did," Ron mumbles. Hermione excels at most things, but one thing she is not perfect at, nor typically cares for? Flying.

Ron squints his eyes up towards the blaring sun, anxiety pooling in his belly as he searches for Hermione. By now, her escapade has gathered the attention of several professors arriving on the pitch.

Ron blows out a frustrated breath, forcefully raking his fingers through his hair. "Hermione!" He calls up to her, and he vaguely spots her head snap down towards the direction of his voice.

He should've seen this coming. He should've talked her down before she did something…

Just then, a scream was heard off into the clouds. Ron internally chides himself for even averting her attention, if only a moment. Even the slightest distraction and she could-

Fuck. She's sliding off the broom!

"NO!"

"Arresto Momentum!"

Ron watches in horror as Hermione's body — although it slows in response to the spell — crashes into the solid ground, his own broom landing next to her.

"HERMIONE!"

He propels his body forward to get to her, running faster than he knew his feet were capable, with Harry hot on his trail.

She has to be okay.

Hermione

She opens her eyes to a blinding white light. Her head is pounding, and her body feels numb all over. Hermione's vision is blurry as she attempts to orient herself to her surroundings.

Where am I? What happened to me?

The last thing she remembers is...oh no. Flying on a broom — a broom!

The vibrant red hair that enters her vision, the silhouette of a body hovering over her, reminds her of exactly whose broom she was flying on.

Hermione lets out a regretful groan, fully unprepared for the slew of questions she knows she is about to face.

"Hermione? Can you hear us?"

Ron's voice sounds distant, but as she awakens, her vision clears and she finds her two best friends perched on either side of her bed in the hospital wing.

"Blimey, you're awake!" Harry exclaims with a wide smile. He gives her a gentle pat on her arm. "How are you feeling?"

"A bit like I've been run over by a hippogriff." Hermione lets out a nervous laugh, and is grateful that Harry joins in.

However, Ron is not laughing. He's not even smiling.

Harry's eyes shift back and forth between his two best friends, seemingly catching on to the mutual tension. "I'm just going to get you some water and let Madame Pomfrey know you're awake." With that, Harry sets off, leaving the two alone in an awkward bout of silence.

Ron is looking down at his hands, and Hermione can see the muscles in his jaw twitch.

Her stomach does a backflip. She knows it was wrong to take his broom without asking permission, but she had hoped that she would've gone for a short fly and be back on the ground before he even realized she was gone.

She opens her mouth to fill the silence, but Ron is faster. His voice is low, eyes growing dark. "Don't you ever do that again."

Hermione lowers her head, ashamed to even look at him. He's so angry with me, with good reason. "I'm sorry I stole your broom."

Ron lets out a loud exhale, leaning forward to perch his elbows on his knees. "I don't care about the bloody broom, Hermione. I care about-"

When Ron hesitates, Hermione's head lifts back up, finding an obvious blush on his cheeks. Was he going to say you?

He clears his throat, switching topics. "Harry told me he thought this was about what Malfoy said to you in class."

Her voice is barely audible as she responds. "It's possible."

"To hell with him!" Ron's immediate retort is blazoned with a fierceness that makes Hermione jump. "You're the most brilliant person I know. It's okay not to be the best at everything, especially if it's something I know you don't particularly enjoy doing in the first place."

Hermione clucks her tongue prepared to provide a rebuttal, although caves and can't resist giggling. "You're right. I really hate flying."

A small smile tugs up the corner of Ron's mouth, making Hermione's heart pound in her chest. "Then it's settled? No more spontaneous rides up through the clouds? Unless we go together, of course."

Her mouth goes dry. "You-you'd want to do that?"

It's only then that Hermione realizes how close their hands are on her bed, pinky fingers almost touching. When she glances back up, Ron's grin is wide.

"Of course."