The Final Year

Chapter 3

A Day of Flying

The next day Ron's ankle was completely healed. So, Ron and Hermione went off under the guise of Hermione wanting to get some flying practice in. It was true; Hermione did need the practice. Flying on a broomstick was one of the few things that she simply was not able to become skilled at simply by learning the theory behind the act. However, neither Ron nor Hermione thought for one minute that the brooms they now carried over their shoulders, towards the tree ringed clearing the Weasleys had traditionally used for informal games of Quidditch, would actually be used.

They kept walking, past the stand of trees, across the grassy clearing, and to the other side, so that the sun shone down brightly on them. They set their brooms against a large oak tree, and as Hermione was about to sit down, Ron cried, "Wait!"

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a square of cloth. Hermione watched amazed as Ron began to unfold the small square, and then unfold it again, and again, and again, until it was large enough for both of them to sit comfortably upon.

"What a beautiful quilt!" Hermione exclaimed as she admired the intricately pieced pattern and delicate threadwork.

"Mum made it," Ron replied simply as he shook the quilt out onto the ground.

"Really?" Hermione asked. "I didn't know she quilted."

"Yeah, before she took up knitting, all she did was quilt," Ron replied as he sat heavily on the quilt, kicked off his shoes and then leaned up against the base of the large oak tree. " Used to drive Dad mad. Scraps of fabric everywhere." Ron patted the spot next to him, indicating to Hermione that she should sit.

"Oh, I don't know, Ron." She hesitated. "Don't you think your Mum will be upset if you get this dirty?"

"No, it's got a dirt repelling charm on it. Now, sit."

Gingerly, Hermione sat down, taking her shoes off carefully making certain they didn't touch the quilt. She crawled over and sat next to Ron, looking out at the peaceful expanse of wild grass swaying in the early morning summer breeze. Quite suddenly, Hermione felt a large, warm hand under her chin, turning her head towards Ron's.

All she could do was smile as she looked into Ron's clear, blue eyes. He leaned in and kissed her gently, moving his hand down her neck, across her shoulders and then lightly down her arms. A gentle moan escaped her as Ron deepened the kiss and Hermione turned onto one hip, balancing herself with her right hand firmly planted on the quilt-covered ground and leaned into him.

Hermione's free hand went up to Ron's hair, entrenching it into the short lengths of coarse copper. She liked his hair short so much better than the long cut he had had for the last two years. But, she thought, it may have been fun to run her hands through it when it was a bit longer.

Ron's one hand was still gliding gently up and down her bare arm, causing ripples of goose bumps to appear on her flesh. His other hand wound its way around her body, and Hermione felt its pressure increase on her back, pulling her even closer to him. Her heart began beating faster as she felt Ron's kisses grow hungrier in nature. She reveled in being able to have this effect on him. Somehow, it made her feel quite powerful knowing he obviously wanted her so.

But, where was this leading? This unbidden thought crept into her head.

Hermione wasn't so worried about where their kissing was physically leading, although she wasn't quite ready for that, with Ron. What she wanted to know was where was this kissing leading as far as a relationship was concerned?

Ron shifted his weight and Hermione found herself lying on her back suddenly, with Ron now on his side kissing her deeply. His mouth moved down and across her jawline and ventured slowly to her neck. He nibbled her gently causing Hermione's breath to catch and release.

"Ron," she said breathlessly as he continued lavishing her neck with tender nips and sucking.

"Hermione," he growled back at her, his breath warm in her ear.

"Ron," she said once again as she felt his lips move to begin nibbling on her earlobe. "We... I want..."

"Yes," he answered breathily making the hair at the base of her neck stand on end.

She couldn't think straight with him continuing his quest to kiss every portion of her neck.

"Ron, I want to talk to you," she said quickly.

"So, talk," he replied and continued to move to the other side of her neck.

Hermione pushed him gently away as he continued to lean forward, trying desperately to resume his kissing. "Hermione!" he complained.

"Ron, you know your sister's coming home tonight," Hermione started.

Ron looked at her incredulously. "What, in Diagon Alley, gave you the impression that I wanted to talk about my sister?!"

"It's just," Hermione continued, feeling herself redden, "what are we going to tell her."

"About...?"

"About this."

Ron looked at her completely confused. "I'm still not following you."

"About... oh... snogging!" Hermione replied feeling her face burn.

"Ginny knows about snogging, Hermione, although I wish she didn't!"

"No, Ron... you are SO thick sometimes... I mean, about us snogging. Don't you think she'll ask questions? What are we going to say when she sees us snogging?"

"Ohhhh!" Ron said looking as if a light had been turned on in his head. "We just won't let her see us snogging then."

With that he leaned in and claimed Hermione's mouth with his. The kiss sent her head reeling and her heart once again racing. But, the question she had still wasn't answered and wouldn't allow her to enjoy herself fully.

"Ron," she said as she pushed him away from her once again. "Is that what you want?"

"To continue snogging you? Yes, that's exactly what I want," he replied as he leaned in again.

"No," Hermione said as she continued to push him away, "I mean, do you just not want to tell Ginny anything?"

Ron pulled back a bit, a slight frown on his face, "Yeah, I thought that'd be a good plan, actually."

"So, you don't want her to know about us."

"Well," he began, "if we tell Ginny, then Mum will end up knowing and then Dad and everyone else in my bloody family..."

"And Harry," Hermione added.

"Yeah, Harry," he said quietly and then turned his head to look across the field just beyond, the tall grasses swaying delicately back and forth as a light breeze caressed them, not unlike what moments before he had been doing to Hermione's arm.

"It's just that..." Ron continued carefully, "I don't want anyone to start jumping to conclusions. You know?"

"No, tell me," Hermione said a bit acidly, one eyebrow arched at him.

"Well, first off, my mum will probably start planning our wedding the moment she finds out. You know she adores you. And then Fred and George will start needling me about, you know... stuff. And, then there's Harry..."

"You don't think he'll be okay with us?"

"I'm sure he will, eventually," Ron replied. "But, it may be a bit of a shock, you know, at first. Which is why I'd like to wait."

"To see how this," Hermione waggled her finger between her and Ron, "goes."

"Exactly. So, you understand?"

"Yeah, I do," she conceded. "I suppose it's the smart thing to do. Well, have to be very careful though. Ginny's more observant than you give her credit for."

"Good! Then it's settled!" Ron said as he leaned in again and claimed her mouth once again for his own.

"But, Ron..." Hermione started as he moved his mouth down to begin nibbling on her neck once again. "Is this just snogging now?" she asked uncertainly.

"Well..." he replied in between nips and kisses on her sensitive neck, "right now, it's just snogging, but if you want to do more, I'm up for it."

"Ronald Weasley!" Hermione shouted, startling him as she pushed him off her forcefully. "That's not what I was talking about!"

"What?" Ron asked innocently.

"I meant, us, you Neanderthal! Are we just snogging or..." Hermione sighed not certain she really wanted an answer now, "is there more between us? Emotional - not just physical."

"Hermione," Ron said simply, shaking his head and smiling at her. He reached over and took her small hand in his rather large one. "You know how I feel about you. How I've always felt about you."

"No," she began turning her eyes away from him, "no, Ron, I don't really."

"Hermione," he sighed, "I remember the first time I saw you. Harry and I were sitting in that compartment on the Hogwart's Express and you came barging in. My first thought was, 'Oh hello, she's a pretty witch!'" Hermione turned back to him and smiled.

"But then," Ron continued, "you started on about seeing the spell I was trying to do with Scabbers, fixing Harry's glasses, telling us to get changed, and everything and I thought, 'Pretty, but a bit of a know-it-all. Shame really.'" It was Ron's turn to smile as Hermione punched him playfully in the arm.

"Ron! That's hardly fair! I was so nervous! You have no idea!"

Ron grabbed her hand again and looked in her eyes. "But, then I got to know you, and I thought, 'That Hermione Granger, she's not only the prettiest witch at Hogwarts, but smart, and brave, and caring. What more could a wizard ask for?' And, I still think that today. Does that answer your question?"

Hermione looked into his beautiful blue eyes, his completely sincere smile melted her heart and she couldn't answer with words.

They spent the remainder of the day under the oak, enjoying each other's company. It wasn't until Ron's stomach gave a loud grumble that either realized how late it had gotten.

Hermione looked down at her watch and jumped suddenly to her feet, sending Ron rolling off to the side. "Oh, my! We're going to miss tea!"

She reached up and brushed a lock of hair that was in her eyes, back behind her ear and then started feeling her hair with both hands. "Oh! My hair!"

"What?" Ron said as he began to put his shoes on. "You're hair looks fine." He continued without even a glance at her.

"Ron! I can feel it! It's a mess!"

"Well," he said simply as he finished tying his left shoe, "we were supposed to be flying today. Hair gets messy when you fly."

"This," Hermione said pointing both hands at her head frantically, "is not a 'I've-been-flying-all-day' hairdo! This," she continued once again punctuating her words by pointing to her head, "is a 'I've-been-rolling-around-under-a-tree-with-your-son-all-day' hairdo!"

"I kind of like it," Ron said as he handed Hermione her shoes and kissed her cheek.

Hermione began to try to smooth her hair out with her hands, gingerly going through the major snarls with her fingers. "You're mother won't like it!"

"Don't worry," Ron said. "You can use my cattycomb."

"Oh, funny! How nice to know my funeral arrangements are taken care of because your mother is going to KILL me!"

Ron laughed. "Not, cat-UH-comb, Cat-TEE Comb. You know the blasted things are advertised on the Wizarding Wireless non-stop. Bloody jingle drives me insane."

Ron began to sing off tune...

When your hair is quite a fright,

Catty Comb will make it all right.

Never worry, never fear,

Catty Comb is always near.

Catty Comb. Catty Comb. Caaaatty Coooomb.

"I am so glad I don't get the WWN!" Hermione laughed.

"Fine," Ron said as he put back the metallic object he had begun to take out of his back pocket. "If you don't want to borrow my comb, that's fine with me."

"No, no, no!" Hermione said as she wrapped her arms around Ron grabbing at the comb behind his back. "I'm sorry. May I please borrow it?" she asked sweetly, kissing him lightly on the lips.

"Well, since you asked so nicely."

He handed her what at first appeared to be a normal men's comb, although rather then being made out of plastic; it was made from silvery metal. A black cat on the thickest portion of the comb continuously transformed from standing, arched back with all of its hair standing on end, to a cat that was lying, curled up peacefully with every hair sleek and in place. The teeth of the comb, however, worried Hermione.

"I can't use this, Ron. If I put it even near my hair, I'll probably never get it out."

The teeth of the comb were very long and fine. Thousands of them in the row, waggled slightly, flexing as Hermione moved the comb.

"What do you mean?" Ron asked incredulously. "I use it all the time."

"Well, my hair's a bit longer than yours now. And, a bit more snarly." She handed the comb back to Ron. "I'll just have to hope I can sneak upstairs before your mum sees me and get to my brush."

"Don't be ridiculous," Ron said as he reached out and touched the top of her head with the comb.

"Ron! Stop!" Hermione started. "You can't just start at the top! I'll end up with one big knot!"

But, Hermione was too late. As Ron began to pull the comb down the side of her hair, she felt an odd tingling sensation as the thousands of needle-thin metal teeth began to wander forward of the comb, as if tiny hands were untying each snarl as the comb was pulled through her hair. Ron walked around her, running the comb once through each section of hair as Hermione stood there in disbelief.

"There. All done," he said as he put the comb back into his pocket and began to refold the quilt into the tiny square of fabric he had originally produced.

Hermione reached up and touched her now perfectly snarl-free hair with both hands. She ran her fingers through, checking to make certain. "That's amazing! I need one of those combs! Do you know how long it takes me to brush out my hair in the morning?" she said as she continued running her fingers effortlessly through her usually bushy hair.

"No," Ron said looking at her carefully, "but, now your hair's a bit too neat. If you ask me. Since we were supposed to be flying and all."

"Oh, well maybe your mum won't notice," Hermione said hopefully.

"No, I think we ought to at least fly around the pitch once or twice, that ought to give you that appropriate windblown look."

"Do I have to?" Hermione whinged.

"Yes. Get on your broom Miss Granger!" Ron instructed her firmly.

"Yes, sir," Hermione said obediently. She smiled as Ron kissed her quickly and mounted his own broom.