Thanks to Acnelli for giving me the prompt "flying higher than ever before".


For the first time, Ron was glad not to be included in the Order's meeting. It was rare, now, that he was excluded from an Order meeting, since he was of age and about to join them on a mission to rescue his best mate from his insufferable relatives. Typically, during the rare times he was excluded, he would complain and moan and try to force his way in. But today, he didn't care that only the "more senior" members were meeting. It meant that he could get his mum off of his back and take a much needed break from cleaning the burrow. It also meant that he could finally, finally, talk to Hermione.

His mum was doing everything in her power to keep them apart. Which was tough–they needed to talk about their plans (which he was sure Hermione had many of). But more importantly, they just needed to talk. The last time they were alone was the night she arrived at the burrow. She had been in a right state, sobbing to Ron about what she had done to her parents. He did his best to comfort her, though he had to admit he wasn't yet comfortable around crying people.

He definitely could have done better. He was doing alright with comforting her, but when she needed a tissue, all he could offer her was his sleeve. He had made a mental note to buy a handkerchief for her—for the next time. But there hadn't been a next time. Instead, they were forced to do an ungodly amount of cleaning tasks alone. But now was his chance, and he was determined to let her know that he was there for her—that he could do better.

He quietly searched the burrow, looking for Hermione as quickly as he could so that they could spend the most amount of time together. But he couldn't find her. Fear hit him deep in his gut, but he shook it off, deciding to search the grounds before letting panic overtake him.

He had checked the garden, the shed, and the perimeter of his house, panicking more with each step that he didn't find her. He had one last idea of where she could be—one last hope—and thankfully he was correct.

He couldn't remember which summer Hermione had found him in his secret spot in the grove of trees behind the burrow. He couldn't even remember why he was there that evening, though it probably had something to do with the twins picking on him. But he could remember her face when she saw him. It was one of relief and of excitement, likely mirrored in his expression upon finally finding her right now.

Initially, at the time, he had been a bit peeved that she had discovered his secret place. It was secret after all. But he quickly changed his mind, and the spot became one they would sneak away to together. Not to do anything inappropriate, mind. But just to be together, to decompress from a tough day or worry about what Harry had gotten himself into, once again.

"Trying to skive out of housework?", Ron asked Hermione jokingly. She jumped at his voice, not aware that he was there, but offered him a small smile as soon as she noticed him. Ron knew that smile, and he knew that it was not genuine. Concerned, he sat next to her.

She had made a spot for herself where she had a view of the land, the trees parting and the small hill they were on dipping into the abyss. If he hadn't known better, he would say she looked peaceful, her curls blowing slightly in the wind as she looked on to the sunset.

He placed a hand cautiously onto her shoulder, not sure if it was the right action to take. She immediately burst into tears, making him even less sure of his move. At least he had a handkerchief this time. He silently offered it to her and she loudly blew her nose before placing herself closer into his arms to the point that she was nearly in his lap. Maybe he had done the right thing.

Out of nowhere, she began listing off all of the things that frightened her. She started with her parents and the fear that she would never see them again. In between hiccups, she moved onto Harry and the fear that they wouldn't be able to protect him; that they wouldn't be able to destroy all of the Horcruxes and it would all be for nought. Eventually, she landed on their upcoming mission. They still didn't have the exact details of their mission but they knew they would be polyjuicing into Harry as a decoy and flying to a safe house. She was terrified that something would go wrong. Even more so, she was terrified of having to fly especially with the possibility of needing to fight whilst doing so.

At her last comment, Ron nearly laughed. Not that there was anything humorous about what she said. But after hearing her fears about loads of things he could do nothing about, she finally mentioned one he could. He immediately stood and took her hand.

"What?", Hermione asked, looking perplexed.

"We can practice," Ron stated confidently.

"Practice what?", she asked, looking even more confused, but standing up nevertheless.

"You said you're worried about flying and using your wand; we can practice that." Hermione's eyes went wide. "It's really not that bad," he reassured, "and like you always say; practice makes perfect."

She still looked unsure, but nodded hesitantly, not able to find a way to say no. He had finally found a way to convince her to do something; by using her logic against her.

Ron nearly skipped to their shed, finally feeling like he was useful. They tip-toed to the brooms, in case the Order meeting had finished, though there was no sign of them when Ron grabbed his broom. He mounted it and motioned for Hermione to sit in front of him.

She sighed heavily but did as he suggested. He wrapped one arm around her while placing the other on the broom handle in front of her.

"I've got you," he whispered in her ear. Even with the sun setting and the light low, he could make out the goose pimples that ran down her neck when he whispered. Because of their position, he was pushed up against her back. The closeness made his stomach twist, but again he tried to quiet his body's reactions, telling himself that he was only this close to her to help her feel safe, not for any other more nefarious reasons.

As he kicked off, she squealed, quickly putting her hand to her mouth to quiet herself, then just as quickly putting that hand back on the broom, terrified that she had let go in the first place. He brought her past the trees and out of sight. He kept going higher but evened out as he noticed her hands squeezing the broom tighter with every foot he lifted them.

"This alright?", he asked and she carefully nodded her head as if any sudden movements would bring them crashing down.

"It's okay," he reassured. "I won't let you fall."

She nodded her head again, only a fraction of a bit more enthusiastically. He could feel her start to shake and he tightened his grip around her waist.

"You said you wanted to practice using your wand while flying," Ron said. "You'll have to let go with one hand to do that."

Even though Ron could not see her face he could feel the death glare she made at his suggestion.

"I know," she said tightly. Shaking, she gingerly peeled her right hand off of the broom and reached for her wand in her sleeve. She slowly began to wave it, pretending to cast spells.

"Good," Ron said. "See it's not so bad." He swore he could hear her almost growl at his comment.

With a cheeky smile he added: "If you really want to be prepared, we should be moving, not just hovering."

He felt her sigh and took that as permission to go. He slowly began moving them around, making soft turns at first and then beginning to make sharper ones.

At a particularly sharp turn, Hermione began to lose her balance and instinctively grasped his arm around her. As he slowed, she continued to hold on to him, ignoring the pretence of pretending to use magic.

"I hate this," she said softly.

"I know," Ron replied as sympathetically as he could. "Do you want to land?"

"No," she said, much to Ron's surprise. "I need to keep practising."

"Okay," Ron said and he began to move again. Hermione began to do small spells, including one which evaporated a cloud, a spell Ron had never seen and told her how impressive it was. His comment seemed to give her some confidence and she began to cast spells with more ease. They kept at it, with Ron manoeuvring them while Hermione did magic and the two of them randomly bursting into laughter at the absurdity of it all. But, all too quickly, the sun had set and they were surrounded by darkness. Ron slowly descended them, not thinking about dealing with his mother's wrath towards them for disappearing but instead basking in Hermione's expression, one which had been fearful but now was pleased; she was smiling. Smiling because of something he had done.