A/N: For some reason, the original chapter 9 of this story was suddenly replaced with a chapter for another fic of mine, Lumos Construction. I corrected it, but any readers who came upon it during the last few weeks might have wondered what had happened in the story...
Australia lay below him, the entire continent stretching out below him so far away that he could blot the whole thing out with his hand. But he was falling. He was falling fast. His hair flew in every direction while his descent was rapidly bringing the ground closer to him. He reached for his wand, but it was not on him. He tried apparating, but he could not turn on the spot. Australia filled his whole vision, as if he was standing in front of an enormous poster of it.
Seconds passed. He hurtled along, and could no longer see the sea. Australia's central outback stretched out everywhere he looked. The curve of the planet was visible. Oddly enough, he had not noticed it before. Ron was falling headfirst towards what he could now clearly see was a desert. Not the cold sort that was served after dinner, but the sandier variety.
On he went, through the clouds and flocks of birds that squawked in offense as he narrowly missed them. He was heading for a mountain. It looked odd, a solitary mountain straight into the middle of the mostly flat desert surrounding it. It was becoming larger at an alarming rate. Flailing his arms and legs wildly, Ron tried to stop falling. It was to no avail. Ron thought he could see a man standing on top of the mountain. His eyes were following Ron. Suddenly, Ron panicked. He covered his face. He was going to impact the ground any moment now!
He lay on the cold floor of an old manor. The blinding light from the sun and the sky faded away as if a curtain was drawn. The room was cast in gloom, and as he tried to get up, he noticed he did not have the strength for it. His body was aching, but not from an impact with the ground, but something more terrible. She loomed over him suddenly, yielding a serrated silver blade twice the size of his hand. The blade flashed through the air as she flicked her wrist, carving a deep wound in his arm.
He screamed in pain, his body contracting as the memory pain overwhelmed him. But those memories were not his own, he knew, and neither was this terror. They were hers, Hermione's. The silver blade struck again, causing more pain, more agony. He screamed despite himself. Suddenly, there was a figure rushing in from a side entrance. It was him, but it was also her. He knew it to be him, and the figure was too tall to be her, but it was also her, her unmistakable manes flowing behind her. She/he was in a dazzling light that obscured everything. The gloom lifted. Salvation!
Ron sat astride his old broom, feeling the all familiar rumble that came with a failing stabilization charm. He was hovering over the orchard, which was in full bloom. A heavy scent of freshly mown grass hung in the air. Glancing at the house, he saw Hermione seated in a window sill at the top floor. She was reading a book.
He flew up to her, and walked over to his bed, where he sat down uncomfortably. Hermione was still reading. She bit her lower lip, as she always did when concentrating. He patted the bed with one hand, and Hermione walked over to sit next to him, her finger between the pages of the book. When she perched down beside him, she glanced up and looked him directly in the eyes. She did not look away.
Ron marvelled at her beauty. He could not pinpoint exactly what it was, but something about her seemed different. Her hair was immaculate; all of the individual strands combed perfectly into place. Her clothes were form fitting and generous in the amount of skin shown. Her lips were bright pink. Had they always been that exact colour?
Ron reached out and kissed her. She answered his kiss in a fit of passion, straddling his lap as it deepened. He fell back onto the bed, Hermione falling with him. It felt as if they were falling forever. Hermione's lips never left his, her hands never parting from his skin. They landed onto soft cushions and silk sheets. Hermione was pinned under his body, which he now realized was naked. So was she.
For a long time, they only looked at each other. Her eyes were exactly that lovely shade of brown he had grown so fond of. For a while, that was all he could see: those two perfect eyes staring right back at him. They were unafraid, they were in love, and they were together. They made love. It felt perfect. Ron kissed her passionately. The sound of knocking on the door. His mother on the other side wanted him to open up. More insistent knocking.