Title: Outcast

Summary: Love is like riding a broomstick. Some people are addicted to it and others just can't seem to get the hang of it.

Disclaimer: I own the plot, which makes me very happy.

A/N: I've just moved in with my boyfriend so things are terribly hectic. I will try to update at least this story as often as I can though.

Hermione was sitting on the porch again. This time, however, she was not lost in thought. She was watching her friends play Quidditch. They had asked her to join them and for one moment she had thought of accepting it. Then she had thought of the height, the feeling of uneasiness she experienced whenever she rode a broom, and had declined their offer. Ron had seemed a little glum, but perhaps that had just been her imagination. He seemed fine now, laughing and joking around with his friends. She longed to be up there with them.

If only she wasn't so afraid of taking risks. If only she could accept the fact that Ginny was nice to her. If only she wasn't so darn insecure, watching her own movements like a hawk, so afraid to do anything because it might just ruin things again. She tried to avoid Harry, because Ginny might get suspicious if she hung around him too much. By avoiding Harry however, he might think she did not want to be his friend. She was so confused. She wanted to talk to Ron about it, but it seemed like he avoided her as well. Why? Was he still waiting for Ginny to come to her again? Would they be able to talk? Would they want to talk? Would it not just bring up more unpleasant memories?

As she was sitting there, watching them chase each other, she could not help but notice what a cute couple Harry and Ginny made. Their subtle flirting was adorable, their hands always finding each other whenever one of them flew by...it made her smile. It made her want to be in a relationship like that. Still, she wasn't sure she deserved it. Or if she could have it, for that matter. She wanted to be all tingly inside, smiling like a lunatic...she wanted the whole package. But she felt so insecure. So paranoid. She wasn't sure if she could ever trust people again. They had broken her.

Yet she was not completely broken now. She was healing. Slowly but steadily, she was healing. She did trust someone. Ron. He had allowed her time to heal, telling her that if she couldn't heal at her own pace then she would never really heal at all. She was thankful for his understanding. His trust in her. She wanted to reciprocate that trust.

Looking at her arms made her feel sick to her stomach. The scars would always remain there, a proof of her history. She could never forget. Could she forgive? Ron, for telling Harry and Ginny. Harry and Ginny for hating her. Lavender, for performing that memorycharm. Could she forgive them all? And could she forgive herself?

Her scars were becoming less visible. She had not cut in a long time. Maybe she could forgive herself.

Standing up, she waved at Ron and yelled his name. He came flying down, hovering a few feet above the ground.

"Will you teach me how to fly?"

His eyes widened slightly, and he smiled at her.

"Are you sure?"

He said, but he meant "Do you trust me?".

"Yes"

She answered, not a trace of doubt in her mind. Yes.

He helped her mount his broomstick and wrapped his arms around her. Just for safety. She felt a tingle in her stomach, one that transformed into nerves when they took off. Her hands were shaking as she placed them on the broomstick, and she was taking deep breaths. Ron pulled her slightly towards him, so her back was resting against his chest. It became even harder to breathe now, yet because of an entirely different reason. Had his chest always been this muscular? And warm? She closed her eyes, trying frantically not to blush.

"Open your eyes Hermione..."

Ron said softly after they had ascended. They were high in the air now, the porch barely visible. Hermione shook her head vividly, still holding on to the broomstick for dear life.

"Come on...you're safe."

She opened one eye warily, preparing to shut it again immediately. The view, however, made her forget about her fears almost instantly. She could see the forests. The river. A small town on the other side of the hills. Ottery St. Catchpole. A big hill, which she knew to be Stoatshead Hill. Ron had often told her about this hill. About his childhood, which he had spent here. She had walked Stoatshead Hill with him once. He had shown her his secret hiding place. She relaxed a little more, leaning into his embrace. His breath tickled her neck and she felt those butterflies again. Why had she ever hated flying? This was wonderful. It was so beautiful. So...perfect.

She felt so relaxed that the words had started coming out before she even realised she was talking.

"Did you really mean it when you said you loved me?"

Review please!

A/N: Sorry for the shortness of this chapter but as I said, I'm super busy!