A/n: this is just a little thing I wrote earlier because I seem to be experiencing more and more Harmony feels lately, even more than usual. First time I've actually published any HHR fics I've written, so sorry if it's sucky. Just a fluffy ficlet set in their sixth year (HBP timeframe). Enjoy :3 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - "Harry, I'm really not sure about this..." Hermione tucked a strand of her bushy hair behind her ear, biting her lip, sounding more unsure of herself than Harry had ever heard her. "Oh come on, Hermione. After everything we've done and been through; saving the Philosopher's Stone, going down to the Chamber of Secrets, saving Sirius, you helping me with the Triwizard Tournament, going to the Ministry...after all of that, you're scared of flying?" Harry grinned, a teasing tone to his voice as he wrapped an arm around her. "You'll be fine, Mione, really. Besides, I'll be in control; you'll just have to trust me. You do trust me, right?" There was so much enthusiasm in his voice, that Hermione couldn't help the smile that creeped onto her face. "Of course I trust you, Harry. It's just...flying and I don't really mix. You know what I was like on the Hippogriff." The memory of them riding Buckbeak together, three years previously, made Harry chuckle. "Riding a broom is totally different. Trust me, you're gonna love it, I promise." It was the middle of their sixth year, and a few months into their relationship. They'd always been close, but over the course of the end of the summer and beginning of term, it changed to something more. With Harry so stressed and convinced Draco was now a death eater, Hermione had insisted they took some time out, did something fun and carefree for once; acted like the 16 and 17 year olds they were. Hence, their presence at the Quidditch pitch, early on a Sunday morning. Something told Harry this wasn't quite what Hermione had had in mind, though, but it was perfect for him. "Come on, hop on the front," Harry encouraged, holding his broom. "The front? I thought you were steering?" "You don't steer a broom, Herm," Harry laughed. "But yes, I'll be in control. If you're up front, I can hold you better, see?" Hermione nodded meekly, and mounted the broom. Harry hopped on after her, wrapping his arms around her while gripping the broomstick, and she instantly felt safer. "See?" Harry asked, leaning forward to whisper in her ear. "I won't let you fall." He kissed her cheek - which was beginning to turn a shade of pink - gently, and Hermione couldn't help but murmur, "I already have." Harry grinned at this, but not wanting to further embarrass her, pretended not to hear. "Right, hold on tight. When I get to three, I want you to kick off with me, okay?" Hermione nodded, clutching the broomstick so hard, her knuckles were paler than her face. It was clear she was terrified, but he knew she'd end up loving it. "One..." Hermione shifted, clutching even more desperately. "Two..." Harry made sure his grip on her and the broomstick was as tight as possible. "Three!" With that, Harry kicked off from the ground at the same time as Hermione did, and off they went, soaring into the air, the rushing wind and a high pitched shriek from the girl the only sounds surrounding them. Grinning and finally feeling free for the first time in a long time, almost feeling his stress evaporate the higher they went, Harry couldn't help but soar higher and faster than ever. "See? Not too bad, is it?" Harry's voice carried through the wind. When Hermione attempted to reply, she realised her voice had been swallowed by nerves, so just made a squeak of agreement before shrieking as they suddenly dived lower. "Ready for a loop the loop?" Harry asked, causing the girl to turn around, true terror on her face. "I'm joking, I'm joking! Distracted you from your nerves though, didn't I?" At the gleeful, playful look on his face, lighting up his features like a child, Hermione couldn't help but laugh back, before returning to focusing on her tight grip on the stick. They rode in silence for a while; Harry swooping around, soaring through the skies, with nothing but the roar of the wind and the chimes of the birds for company, as well as the warmth of Hermione in front of him. She was visibly relaxing more by the second, and Harry noticed certain things about how she was riding the broom that surprised him. She had a natural good grip on the stick, and had distributed her weight evenly, as though she were born to do it. Position on a broom was key, and often took people hours to master. Hermione, however, was a natural. Harry wasn't sure why he was surprised - it was Hermione, after all. Deciding to put her natural skills to the test, he pulled a move that he knew he would hear about for months, maybe years to come. In one swift movement, he managed to swing off the broom, so he was hanging onto the tail end, swinging in the air, leaving Hermione in control. Harry thanked his lucky stars that Oliver Wood had put them through so many balancing drills like this back in his day of Quidditch captain, and made a mental note to run it through a few times with his team now he was captain. It allowed him to be hanging off the tail end easily, using his upper body strength, not worrying for a second that he might fall off. He could do this in his sleep. Hermione, however, wasn't quite so relaxed. She let out a strangled cry as she felt Harry disappear from behind her, and her heart began to thud as she realised she was now in control of the broom. Looking behind her, she gasped seeing Harry hanging on for dear life. Had he fell off? No, he was much too experienced for that. And besides, he was...smiling. Like he was enjoying this. Like he intended to do it. Oh, no... "Harry, what are you --" "Just fly!" Harry shouted back. Thankfully, as panic began setting in, instinct took over. She turned around then, taking a better hold of the broom handle. She'd read all the theory there was on flying in her first year, and remembered it still, but doing it in practise was very different. But if she just strained her memory on the basics how to fly... Moving her body left and right, forward and back, tucking her heels in, she began to steer. Adrenaline soared through her veins, and she couldn't help but grin as she realised something: she was flying! And.. She liked it. It wasn't long before she was soaring along, swooping up and down, laughing as she heard Harry's catcalls. After a good five minutes of proper flying, Harry jumped back onto the broom, this time just wrapping his arms around her waist, not bothering to be in control this time. "You did it, Mione! You're flying!" Harry grinned. "And you're an idiot! I could have been killed!" Hermione exclaimed, but she was much to enthralled to actually be irritated. The grin on her face gave it away. "Got you flying, didn't it?" asked Harry, nuzzling into her neck and kissing it gently. "You're going to make me crash," Hermione said matter of factly, but the deep pink that now covered her entire face and neck said she was rather enjoying it. "Then I think you'd better practise your stopping and hovering," Harry replied. She did so, sitting back in the broomstick, making it come to a halt as she hovered in mid air, grinning. Turning to face Harry, her lips met his, as he kissed her passionately, both their hands in each other's hair. By the time they drew apart, they looked both windswept and breathless. "Thank you. Not just for this, Harry, for everything. Thank you so much," Hermione murmured. "No, Mione. Thank you ," replied the boy. After a moment or so, he added, "told you I wouldn't let you fall." "Oh, I've fallen," Hermione replied. "But that happened a long time ago, and I wouldn't change that at all." With that, they went back to kissing, the wind in their hair, the air providing solace. As bad as things were, in their little blissful patch of infinity and peace, both Harry and Hermione couldn't help but think that whatever happened in the war, as long as they had this, everything really would be okay.
