Learning to Fly

Learning to Fly

Hermione Granger looked around her furtively as she hurried across the sunny school grounds. She had a mission that she was determined to complete, but did not want an audience as she went about it. She had gotten permission from Madam Hooch to use one of the school brooms; she hadn't wanted to risk uncomfortable questions by asking Ron or Ginny for the use of one of their broomsticks. She reached the broom shed, and was fairly certain that no one on the grounds had noticed anything out of the ordinary in her walking toward the Quidditch pitch.

She wouldn't be able to achieve her goal in the Quidditch area, because the Hufflepuffs were using it today for practice. No, she had a nice secluded spot a short distance from Hagrid's cabin picked out for her plans. She took a broomstick from the shed, and walked briskly away, praying she wouldn't be spotted by anyone she knew; she'd be mortified if her friends found out what she was up to. She had told them that she was going to be spending the next few hours in the Library, and had left them to enjoy their sunny Saturday afternoon in their own way.

It didn't take her long to reach the spot she had chosen. She was pleased that she could neither see, nor be seen, from the castle entrance. "Okay," she said aloud to herself. "You can do this. You've had a lesson, and you've read books. All you have to do is apply it, and you'll be fine."

She stood there for several more moments, talking herself into mounting the broom. She held it before her, and then said to the broomstick itself, "I'm going to sit on you now. Don't go flying off or trying to throw me." She then took a deep breath and mounted the broom the way she had been taught back in first year. In fact, she hadn't been on a broom since the end of first year, when she had tried to catch a winged key with Harry and Ron. She had no idea that on this sunny, still day, her voice carried very well.

Ron Weasley snorted as he stood a short way away, listening from behind a large out cropping of boulders, watching Hermione with the broomstick. He had seen her from one of the castle's upper Owlery windows, and had watched curiously to see where little Miss 'I'll be in the Library all day' was sneaking off to. When he had seen her emerge from the school's broom shed carrying an ancient Wind Walker model, he had brightened. He couldn't remember ever flying with Hermione just for the fun of it, and decided that this was an opportunity he couldn't pass up. He'd gone to fetch his broom, and had come down to join her, only to stop and hide out of sight when he noticed how secretively she was behaving. Now that he had heard her words to the broom, he had a pretty good idea of what she was up to. He continued to watch her as she mounted the broom stiffly, and waited for her to kick off the ground. And waited. She seemed frozen in place, except for the trembling hands that he could see even from where he was hidden, unable to move. Finally he stepped out from his hiding place and approached her from behind.

"You know what your problem is?" he said casually, careful to keep any sign of derision from his voice. "You don't enjoy flying."

She turned her head sharply at the voice of the one person she had most wanted to avoid. She sighed heavily, and her shoulders slumped in defeat, but she didn't reply.

"Look," he said, coming around to face her, holding his Cleansweep over his shoulder. "You're scared to death. You need to relax."

"How do I do that?" she asked grumpily. "How do I just stop being afraid to fly?"

"What you need," Ron answered gently, taking her hand and tugging it so that she stepped off of the ancient school broom, "is someone to show you how great it can be."

She was watching his expression intently for any sign of teasing or malicious intent, but found none. Ron was still holding on to her hand, and her fingers were beginning to tingle with warmth. She dropped the school broom onto the grass as his urging, and waited as he mounted his broom, and hovered on it with his feet still skimming the grass. "Come on," he smiled reassuringly at her.

He lifted her onto his broom with a strength that surprised her, and she sat uneasily before him, with her back pressed to his chest. Her grip whitened her knuckles, and every muscle in her body was bowstring-taut. Ron's chuckle could be felt as it rumbled through his chest, and he leaned forward to move his arms around hers so that he was gripping the broom as well. His body and arms served to make an effective cage around Hermione, so that she would not easily fall off, and he gently pushed the broom off the ground. Her eyes snapped shut tight as she felt them rising into the air, and pushed her back more firmly against Ron.

'What if I fall off?' an inner voice screamed at her in panic, until another, quieter, voice suggested, 'What if you don't?'

"Don't let me fall!" she begged aloud, though whether she was talking to Ron, or the Powers That Be, she didn't know.

"Don't worry," he chuckled in her ear. "I won't let anything bad happen to you. Relax."

"Easy for you to say," she snapped back, eyes still screwed tightly shut. "You were practically raised on a broomstick."

Again he chuckled and said, "Hermione. Open your eyes."

"I can't!" Her heart was galloping out of control, and her breath was catching in her throat.

Ron bided his time, and kept the broomstick steadily hovering. Her bushy air was flying up into his face in the slight breeze, but he didn't dare to lift a hand to brush it away, for fear that Hermione would panic at his hand leaving the handle of the broom. It was kind of nice, anyway, he decided - soft and scented with lavender. He shook his head slightly to rid himself of that disturbing thought, and finally a sight not far away gave him the tack he needed. "One of Hagrid's Crups has escaped," he chuckled in amusement. "He'll never catch it that way."

Hermione's curiosity got the better of her as she heard a series of high-pitched barks, and she dared to open one eye just a tiny bit. She caught sight of the Jack Russell Terrier-like dog with it's forked tail scampering in and among Hagrid's runner beans and barking playfully as Hagrid chased him back and forth. A small chuckle escaped her as she watched the pup's antics; Ron's idea to distract her appeared to be working. Soon both of her eyes were open, and she was looking cautiously around the grounds from this perspective. It wasn't so bad, really, as Ron had only taken them about fifteen feet into the air. Even if she did fall from this height, she was unlikely to be seriously injured by it.

Ron grinned into her hair as he felt her body relax a bit in front of him. Her back was no longer Ramrod straight, her legs became less tense as they lay against his own, and her knuckles now had some color back into them. She was enjoying the view so much that she didn't notice that Ron had taken them up another few feet. An owl was fluttering down to the grounds with an envelope in its beak, and she could just see the edge of the lake from their vantage point.

"Okay," she admitted with a slight tremor in her voice. "This isn't so bad. With you."

Ron's face warmed with a blush that he was grateful she couldn't see, and said, "Are you ready to try a bit of motion? Just a short trip around the outside of the Quidditch pitch?"

"You promise you won't go fast?" she asked anxiously, tensing up again.

"I promise," he answered gently.

With a little nudge, the broom responded to his command to turn, and he guided his broom into motion, no faster than a Muggle bicycle would have been able to travel. At the sedate pace at which they were flying, they wouldn't reach the Quidditch pitch for a couple of minutes, but Ron made no complaint; Hermione had begun to relax again, and he was quite enjoying their little ride together. How often did he get to put his arms around her, anyway? Much to his surprise, it wasn't long before Hermione; her voice filled with trepidation, said, "Faster."

Ron grinned and urged a little more speed out of his broom. It was already going slower than normal because they were riding tandem, so it wasn't too hard to keep it in check. Hermione had loosened up considerably, and by the time they had rounded the outside of Quidditch pitch, she was sitting quite comfortably within the circle of his arms, no longer threatening to push him off the back of the broom in her effort to feel safe. She called out which direction she wanted to fly in, and Ron indulged her, steering them over the grounds at her whim. They passed over a few students here and there, who pointed up and waved to them, and Hermione grinned widely back, though she wasn't brave enough to try to take her hand off of the handle to wave.

At last they came back to the spot where they had taken off from to begin with. The school broom that Hermione had abandoned was still lying in the grass, discarded, as they landed. Ron's longer legs touched down first, and he gently lifted his passenger down to the ground before dismounting himself. "So how do you feel about flying now?" he asked as she bent to pick up the broom she'd left earlier.

"It was fun!" she admitted with a grin she couldn't seem to wipe from her face. "But I don't think I'm ready for a solo flight just yet."

They began to walk toward the broom shed, and Hermione took Ron's hand in hers. His heart thumped at the contact, but closed his hand around hers. "Anytime you want to have another go, just let me know."

"Thanks," she smiled, squeezing his hand gently. " And thanks for making me open my eyes - the view was spectacular."

"I've heard it's even better by moonlight." Ron commented with a hint of suggestion in his tone.

"I think I'd like to see that sometime." Hermione smiled.

"Just say the word," Ron promised, and brought her hand to his lips for a brief kiss that made both of their hearts flutter. Just say the word.