Author's Notes: This is the beginning of a story I never published. I have no intention of finishing that fic but I also don't want it to go fully wasted, and since I actually like this part, it goes into the dump.

Rating: K

Disclaimer: Still not mine. Sigh.

The Takeoff

Ron looked around in wonder as he pushed himself through the narrow aisle of the plane, turning his head into all directions, trying to take in everything at once. Hermione, who was walking closely behind him, watched him with mild amusement. It was more than obvious that Ron had never travelled by plane before. Granted, even for Muggles, the first plane flight was normally an exciting event, but to Ron, it must seem as if he had been catapulted onto a completely different planet. He was not used to travelling in a completely unmagical manner, let alone in a giant flying vehicle which had such curiosities as monitors mounted above the aisles or all sorts of buttons or other whatnots above each of the many seats. She chuckled quietly to herself as her thoughts drifted to Ron's dad. If Ron was already amazed by all of that, their travel must seem like both Christmas and his birthday all at once to the older Weasley if he had been in their stead.

Eventually, they found their assigned seats. Ron awkwardly pressed himself against the aisle seat in the row before so that Hermione could squeeze past him and take the seat by the window. When she had sat down, Ron plopped into the seat next to her.

"I wonder how Muggles can stand travelling like this," he muttered as he watched more people push past them, most of whom looking either annoyed, anxious or confused. "How often do Muggles go by plane, Hermione?"

"Not all too often. If at all, most only go perhaps once or twice per year, for vacation," she replied, leaning back in her seat and letting the last remnants of the mildly claustrophobic feeling that the struggle to their seats had given to her slowly dissipate. "But there are also people doing it every couple of days due to their job. Certain kinds of businesspersons, for instance."

"Blimey, if I ever take on a Muggle job, I know exactly what not to become," Ron said under his breath, visibly appalled.

"I'm surprised that this is all so new for you," Hermione admitted, frowning slightly. "I mean, you've already been to Egypt. How did you get there?"

"By Floo," Ron said, lowering his voice so that only she could hear him. "It was a wizard hotel after all. Took bloody forever to get there, though. I thought I'd never get out of the Network again."

Hermione nodded in understanding, realizing why they could not have Flooed as well. Egypt was so much closer to England than Australia after all. She did not want to imagine how long it must take to Floo halfway around the world. As far as she was concerned, Flooing the rather short distance between the Burrow and the Leaky Cauldron was already enough of a stomach-turning ordeal.

A few minutes passed in which Ron let his eyes wander across their surroundings and observed the other passengers who squeezed their ways to their seats and hoisted their carry-on baggage onto the shelf above their respective seats. His brow furrowed more with every minute.

"I can't imagine how this thing's supposed to go up in the air, let alone stay there," he muttered, his face becoming slightly paler. "I mean, it's freaking huge!"

Hermione plunged herself into a detailed explanation of airplane physics but Ron barely seemed to listen. His face just turned paler and paler and eventually took on a light tinge of green.

Eventually, all passengers were seated and several minutes later, a stewardess stepped into the aisle and gave safety instructions. Ron practically hung on her lips as she talked, as if he was trying to memorize every single word she said. Hermione almost laughed out as she watched him, his forehead creased and his lips moving as he apparently repeated the stewardess' words to himself. His concentration was almost palpable. She thought that she had never seen him that focused, not even when studying for their life-impacting O.W.L. exams. Then again, she remembered with a smile that she had acted in a very similar manner on her own first flight, but rather due to her want to not miss out on any information than because of fear as in Ron's case.

"Hermione, I don't think I can do this," Ron whined once the stewardess had stopped talking and walked out of the aisle, his voice strangely squeaky. "No matter what you said, this is impossible! Impossible! This bloody plane can never stay up! It just can't!"

"Well, maybe you can now understand why I don't like brooms," Hermione couldn't help saying. "I've never understood how one can fly those without falling off."

"But that's magic!" Ron said, his eyes bulging slightly. "But this is... What did you say? It's an airstream that keeps the plane up? How the hell can a bit of air lift this thing? It must weigh, like, five hundred bloody tons!"

"Ron, I know that this isn't easy to imagine but believe me when I say that the plane is considered the safest of all Muggle vehicles, even much safer than cars," Hermione explained with what felt to her like the patience of a saint. "The odds of a plane accident are as good as naught. I promise, nothing will happen here. You trust me, right?"

"Well, I trust you," Ron said weakly. "But I don't think I can trust this plane."

A few more minutes passed and then the plane's engines flared up and the plane started to slowly roll towards the runway. Ron began to break in a sweat, his entire body tensed up and his face now definitely green.

Then the plane arrived at the runway and came to a halt, making Ron sigh deeply with relief and relax again. But it was only short-lived calm as just a few minutes later, the plane started to roll another time, faster than before, its engines roaring violently. Ron tensed up again, his eyes squeezed shut and his hands cramping on both his armrests. He looked as if he was about to throw up at any moment.

And then the plane took off.

"Hermione," Ron whimpered. His hands were now clutching the armrests so firmly that his knuckles had turned white.

Hermione immediately reached over, covering his large hand with her smaller one. He slightly relaxed at her touch but his eyes remained shut and he was muttering to himself. Hermione could make out the words "Impossible... Bloody airstream... We're all gonna die..."

Eventually, the plane had reached its destined altitude and slowly tilted back into a horizontal position. Ron leaned back in his seat, visibly relieved and taking some quick shallow breaths that made his chest heave. His fringe was drenched in cold sweat.

It took him a couple of more minutes to finally open his eyes. He looked around erratically as though he was half expecting to see a scene of disaster and then his eyes found Hermione who was beaming at him. He let out a short nervous laugh.

"I can't believe it," he said breathlessly. "I made it! We made it! We're really up there!"

"Yes, we are," Hermione said, smiling warmly. "I'm so proud of you!"

And with that, she leant over and kissed him on the cheek.

"It wasn't that bad now, was it?" she asked.

"No, it wasn't," Ron said sheepishly. "You were there."

Hermione felt her face heat up but her smile only grew wider. She lifted his hand off the armrest into her lap where she covered it with both of hers and gently started to stroke it. They both were now relaxed and at ease.

This state lasted about half an hour.

"Hermione," Ron whined again.

Taking a sip from the ginger ale that the stewardess had brought to her in the meantime, she rolled her eyes with a mixture of annoyance and amusement. "What is it, Ron?"

"My legs are getting numb," Ron complained.

Hermione looked and could not help but sympathize. With his long legs, Ron was sitting in an awfully cramped position, his knees pressed tightly against the seat in front of him. She dearly hoped that the person occupying said seat would not tilt it for sleep, otherwise Ron would have a problem.

"We could get up and walk a bit," she suggested. "That helps."

Ron skeptically eyed the narrow aisle. "I doubt it," he said. "I can barely move my arms walking there. Who on earth do they build these planes for, garden gnomes?"

Hermione brought a hand to his thigh and gently rubbed it. "Don't worry. It'll be over soon."