What is it like to Fly? by Epona

Rating: G
Genres: Angst, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 10/11/2004
Last Updated: 10/11/2004
Status: Completed

“Harry…?” His name came out of the blue really, she hadn’t even thought about saying it.
Although, now she had started, the question seemed quite appropriate. He turned to look at her,
cocking his head in an inquiring manner, and she almost smiled at the sight. “What is it like to
fly?”




1. Do you want to fly with me?
------------------------------

**Authors Notes:** I was talking to my friend on MSN the other day when this suddenly popped
into my head. I think I confused him a little when I said: ‘Ooh! Plot Bunny! Brb!’ and went to
write it down quick before I forgot. Then again, I am known for being a bit strange now and
again.

This plot just seemed to jump out at me for it’s cuteness. I mean, Harry, Hermione, moonlit
broom ride. Come on, people!!

**Disclaimer:** Yadda Yadda Yadda… copyright, shmopyright. JKR own all. I am but a humble
follower and thief of her characters and whatnot.

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She walked slowly around the dusty, earthy Quidditch pitch, contemplating as her eyes followed a
semi-shadowed silhouette racing through the heavy twilight air, the sun now setting and casting an
ethereal glow on the lake and the forest, making it look almost surreal, although that might have
just been because of her frame of mind. She was in a pensive mood, thoughtful and reflective on the
events that had happened just under three months ago, and the repercussions.

He was still deeply depressed, withdrawn and recluse, talking to no-one unless spoken to and
refusing to join in with a large group, even in class. He would just keep his head firmly down,
scribble down his notes furiously and not even think about participating in class debates. It broke
her heart at times, to see his dejected and broken frame sitting in the common room late at night,
looking at the flames of the fire with an almost wistful expression… as if Sirius might pop his
head out of the fire at any moment.

Looking up at his darkening outline now, however, she could just make out the curves and lines
of his face, still young and good-looking; he had to be if he was James Potter’s son. However, the
shadow of guilt, sadness and loneliness that had haunted his features in the daytime had
disappeared. As she looked at him now, she could see the youthful, boyish side that he had shunted
away.

Flying was his escape, his break from the harshness that was reality. Up there, he had no
boundaries, he had no responsibilities to bind him and he had no worries to think of. All those
were left behind along with the ground beneath his feet. He was a dreamer up there, unrestricted
and free, and it showed in the way he let the wind blow his messy raven hair back, the way his eyes
would adopt a peaceful, dreamy look. He even smiled once or twice… something that she had
missed.

She walked around the pitch quietly, not really trying to hide from him, but he hadn’t noticed
her yet, and she wanted to keep it that way. It gave her time to just watch him and see him as she
remembered him. For the first time, all she ever wanted in life was to see someone else happy and
not worry about herself, she could cope, if only he were happy. After a few minutes of silent
pacing around the pitch, she found a comfortable looking pitch of grass, and slowly sunk down onto
it, still keeping an eye on the messy-haired silhouette. The sun was sinking lower, and his face
was almost too hard to see.

After a few minutes, he finally noticed her and although it was dark, he could see a faint trace
of surprise on his face as he walked over to her, the happy trace of freedom faded from his deep
green eyes. Silently, he took a seat next to her, not looking over to her, but out across the lake,
reflecting her earlier pensive feeling.

“What are you doing out here?”

She smiled at the question. He already knew why she was out here, if it wasn’t obvious enough.
She had no interest in flying. There was only one reason she would visit a Quidditch pitch outside
of a match.

“Well, it’s not to go flying, that’s for sure.”

Looking across at him with a faint smile on her lips, she could spot a trace of the same on his.
She inwardly gushed.

They sat in companionable silence for a while, watching the sun sink lower over the hills. She
made use of this silent time to study his face close up. He looked tired, his eyes casting weary
shadows over his face and his skin looking paler than usual. He looked thinner, pronouncing the
pinched, unhealthy look that he inherited from his stays with the Dursleys during the holidays,
which worried Hermione slightly, even though she had almost expected it. She knew he hated those
long weeks at his relatives house, being bullied, ordered around and shouted at, and she wondered
how on earth it hadn’t affected him. She had read about all these criminals and convicts, their
excuses being that they had come from broken homes, how their mother and father had beaten them and
how their parents divorce or their death had driven the over the edge. How on earth hadn’t Harry
turned out that way? He had been through more than a 16 year old should. He had seen death, murder
and seen the walls of the hospital wing more than any student that she knew of. Yet he still
managed to remain a kind, loving, albeit slightly temperamental, but brave and caring person.

“Harry…?”

His name came out of the blue really, she hadn’t even thought about saying it. Although, now she
had started, the question seemed quite appropriate. He turned to look at her, cocking his head in
an inquiring manner, and she almost smiled at the sight.

“What is it like to fly?”

She almost thought she saw his face light up as he thought upon the question, his eyes gaining
back some of their original fervour. He had a passion for flying, she knew, and she was glad that
even the topic of it could bring back that excitement and happiness; she was even more glad that
she had brought the subject up.

“I don’t really know how to explain it…”

His face cast a thoughtful shade as his eyes glazed over, as if fantasising.

“You know when… okay… maybe not the best way to describe it…”

“What? What is it?”

Looking at her, she could see that he was almost a little embarrassed, but he decided to plough
on anyway.

“Well… you know when you have a really hot, nice bath?”

She giggled slightly and nodded, knowing it was slightly out of character for her to do so, but
she couldn’t help but find the connection cute. He let out a nervous chuckle and carried on.

“Well… when you sort out get in… and relax… you just feel really… calm. You sort of forget about
things for a while don’t you? Just concentrating on yourself…”

He paused, glancing at her from behind his long black bangs.

“You know what I mean?”

She smiled and nodded, waiting for him to continue.

“Well, it’s like that… just… ten-fold. And not as wet.”

She laughed and he joined her with a little chuckle, and she almost saw the spark back in his
eye.

She wished she could share that happiness with him. The simplicity of the metaphor he had used
and the tone he had when saying it almost made her want to learn to fly. However she knew she could
never share his haven with him. It was his, and he wouldn’t want her to intrude. Plus the fact that
she was terrified of heights didn’t help. However, if he was to let her share it with him, there
would be no question.

“So… kind of like a retreat then? A safe haven?”

He grinned as he looked back at her.

“Yeah, you could say that.”

They fell into silence again, and the feeling of content hung in the air. She liked it like
this, just the two of them. They didn’t need to talk, they didn’t need to constant assert their
relationship by making each other laugh or being able to talk about serious things, they had the
luxury of being able to sit in silence and feel comfortable.

“Hermione?”

His voice broke the silence softly, and she lifted her head from her knees to meet his eyes. He
was smiling faintly.

“Do you want to fly with me?”

Her brain almost went numb. Not moments before, she had thought of what it would be like to
share this with him. She thought he would never let her in, he wanted his haven all to himself, but
now here he was, offering to share this special thing with her. She had to stop herself from
beaming and instead a small, peacefully joyful smile spread across her face.

“I’d love to.”

He beamed, and with an energy she thought he had forgotten, pulled himself up off the grass and
offered a hand to her, which she gladly took. His rough fingers curled softly around hers as he led
her into the middle of the dusty pitch, the sky now a dark blue and the moon casting long shadows
across the earth. Swinging his broom around in front of them both, he led her by the hand around to
the side of it, and she sat side-saddle upon it. Smiling, he swung his leg over it to sit just
behind her.

“You’d better hold on to me.”

She giggled slightly, those words recalling a fond memory of a hippogriff and a time-turner. He
cocked his head with a questioning smile and she grinned back at him.

“Don’t you remember? You said that when we rode Buckbeak… I was frightened out of my wits and I
had to hold onto you for dear life.”

He chuckled at the memory and swung his arms around her, gripping the broom handle just in front
of her leg and laying his head gently on her shoulder.

“Yeah, I remember… I thought you were about to faint. Don’t worry though, I assure you, a broom
is a much nicer ride than a Hippogriff. You ready?”

“Yes… I think so. But please don‘t go too fast…”

Smiling, he gently kicked off the ground and hovered for a second over the ground before lightly
pulling away. In a slight moment of panic, she gripped him around the waist, her face burying into
his shoulder and he laughed as he soared slowly up higher.

“Hermione, open your eyes.”

She reluctantly did as she was told and was met with the most beautiful sight she had ever
seen.

The moon was now towering over the lake, its reflection mirrored against the lake like a
painting behind a glass frame, and beyond the lake the silver light basked the mountains
surrounding Hogwarts in a surreal glow. As they gained more height, Hermione could see further
across the lake and as the milky moonlight hit the horizon, she spotted scenery she never knew was
there; beaches and woods, caves and cliff-tops that she was sure Harry had probably explored by
now. She looked in the other direction and came face to face with the impressive view of Hogwarts
from above, it’s turrets and towers coated in a chalky light and it’s gardens and lawns sweeping
far out beneath them. She almost gasped in wonder at the sight of it all.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

She turned to find him looking happily at her, his smile hitched firmly on his young face. She
beamed back, almost unable to find words.

“Its… I can’t believe… I had no idea… It’s so *beautiful*, Harry!”

Without thinking she flung her arms forcefully around him, and the broom wobbled a little from
the disturbance as he laughed and wrapped one of his own strong arms around her as well.

“Thank you for showing me this, Harry… I know this must mean a lot to you… I know this makes you
really happy.”

They broke apart, his arm still supporting her from behind, and it felt like the most natural
thing in the world; to be supported by Harry.

“It’s not the only thing that makes me happy… You wouldn’t believe how happy I am right
now…”

“Why?”

He smiled faintly, that relaxed spark of happiness dancing behind his eyes. Before she knew it,
he had leaned towards her and covered her lips with his own. It was only a slight brush of the
lips, a small chaste but affectionate action, but it spoke volumes to her. He leaned away, a grin
lining his face.

“Because I have the two things that make me the happiest right here with me.”

She giggled again, which would soon become a habit that only existed between the two of them as
she brought her hands around to lay them upon his face, smoothing his cheeks and rubbing a soft
finger across his lower lip. As their eyes met, she brought her lips onto his in a kiss, a little
less chaste than the last as she caught his upper lip with her tongue, and he opened his mouth to
her.

A little later they broke apart, and they noticed with some amusement that the broom had drifted
off from their earlier position to somewhere far across the lake. Smiling, Hermione snuggled
herself up in Harry arms, as he gripped his broom again, making sure that he tucked his arms in
enough to just touch her.

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As a certain silver-haired wizard watched from his office window he opened up the pocket of his
dressing gown and took out a small lemon-flavoured sweet. Popping it into his mouth, his lips then
returned to the same position; a wide smile. As he watched the shrinking silhouette of the two
teenagers against the moon, he chuckled, his eyes twinkling, remembering the last time a young
messy raven-haired boy took his best friend up on a moonlit broom-ride some years ago.

“Ah… this scene looks oddly familiar.”

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