Panties and Planes

Hi! This story follows Ron and Hermione during their time apart while Hermione searches for her parents. The story also attempts to show the physical and emotional progress made by individuals in the magical community in the weeks following the war.

Disclaimer: I am not JKRowling, nor have I ever been, nor will I ever be. I do not make any form of monetary profit from writing about characters belonging to JKR and WB.

Final note: The prologue starts out a bit slow. Either have patience or skip to the first set of "***". Thanks for reading.

Prologue:

Bing! came the sound of the "Please Fasten Your Seatbelt" sign switching off. The darkened morning sky was just beginning to give way to the vibrant rays of light from the rising sun as Hermione released her death grip on the armrest of her seat. It wasn't that she had a problem with flying, it was the complete lack of control over her current situation that she wasn't fond of. She would be at the mercy of the pilot until Bangkok and then again until Sydney. She was in essence a prisoner, forced to remain stationary and docile. Okay, so that's not entirely true, but it might as well be, she thought bitterly. Hermione looked around the crowded airplane cabin and gave a tired sigh. Muggles from every walk of life were seated around her: suit types, casual types, student groups, families . . . What an arbitrary concept. The idea of a "family" had changed drastically for Hermione in just the past week alone.

She closed her eyes and tried to relax. Harry and Ron made up her first non-traditional family years ago; the three of them lived nearly half of their lives as brothers and sister (even if, at times, her feelings towards one of her "brothers" could have been categorized as more than just platonic). And then there were the Weasleys, her surrogate, magic doing, teasingly-frustrating-at-times family. The Weasleys were able to explain the world to her in ways her own parents could not. Molly Weasley even sat her and Ginny down two summers ago and explained magical contraceptives; aside from the whole experience being extremely awkward and embarrassing, Hermione found the gesture very sweet in a motherly sort of way.

A patch of turbulence caused Hermione to tighten her grip on the armrest again. Since the battle a week ago, her idea of a family had stretched to include not only her own family and friends, but everyone she had fought beside during the last fight to finally end the war. In the six hours after the battle she embraced, laughed with, cried with, and healed more people than she could count. She left for the hospital wing less than half an hour after Riddle's death to help with the enormous number of injured, leaving Ron behind to care for his grieving family and Harry to care for the four dozen or so needing only to be in his presence.

Hermione had felt a sense of familiarity and awe with everyone she came in contact with that morning, whether she knew them previously or not. She knew Harry felt the same, as for Ron, she wasn't so sure.

It wasn't that either of them felt awkward about their quick snog in the Room of Requirement, they'd enjoyed a few more since the end of the war. The problem it seemed was not a lack of physical affection, but a lack communication. Hermione gave another sigh and closed her eyes. It was the oldest relationship problem in the book and yet she was powerless to avoid it.

The woman sitting next to Hermione gave violent sneeze; they exchanged bless you's and thank you's before each returned to their previous thoughts. The death of Fredrick Weasley was hard on everyone, none more so than George. After arriving at the Burrow, George barricaded himself in his and Fred's old room and wasn't seen for nearly two days. When he emerged from his fortress of solitude, George looked about as pale and thin as Ron; the jokes he made were seemed half-hearted and his laughter never met his eyes.

Molly and Arthur, it seemed, weren't fairing much better. Molly went about her daily routine as best she could, but there were often long stretches of time when she'd disappear upstairs for hours at a time and would return puffy-eyed and more somber than ever. Arthur remained at the Ministry until well after dinner and left the next day before any of the Weasley children rose for breakfast, except for Percy who accompanied his father in the mornings. He looked more worn and exhausted with each passing day until, after three days of that, Molly laid down the law and demanded that he and Percy take the rest of the week off until Fred's funeral.

Each of the Weasleys' remaining children were trying to cope with the loss of a brother in various ways. Bill, Charlie, and Percy were all suffering from guilt from being unable to protect their younger brother. Bill rarely spoke to anyone other than Fleur, Charlie lashed out at anyone who tried to talk to him about Fred, and Percy tried to bury himself in Ministry work. But by the time the night before the funeral rolled around, all three were laughing with George over a bottle of Oden's reminiscing about some of the twins' best pranks.

Ron and Ginny had been handling the situation identically, that was, they'd both been in denial. Neither had been ready to admit they'd lost a brother and went about their days detached from the rest of the world. Ginny had been silent through most of the day, even refusing to talk to Harry, while Ron had taken the opposite approach and became the most talkative member of the family. Ron had spent his days comforting his family, but refused to be comforted himself by anyone, including Hermione.

"Can I get either of you ladies anything to drink?" Hermione looked up to see a middle aged woman in a stewardess uniform smiling down at her and the sneezing woman. Both declined and the woman moved on.

Hermione closed her eyes and tried to relax again in hopes that sleep would quickly come and mercifully take her away to a happier place and time.

***

"Oi! Ronnie, I know you're out here. I have a proposition for you!"

Ron groaned under his breath and sat up. The whole point of sitting by the family pond was to be alone; unfortunately George hadn't seemed to have come to the same conclusion. "What do you want George?" Ron called out.

The shorter red-head rounded the corner and rolled his eyes. "You're still moping around? She left over three hours ago, mate."

"I hadn't noticed," Ron said under his breath. "What do you want?"

"Mum's worried about you, so she sent me to find you and to tell you to have breakfast before she starts lunch."

"Fine, I'm going." Ron stood and started to walk toward the Burrow when George caught him by the arm. "You haven't asked me what my proposition is yet," George said with a grin.

It was Ron's turn to roll his eyes. "If it has anything to do with spiking Harry's pumpkin juice at lunch, I think I'll pass."

"No, but if I hear the boy-who-lived-twice apologize for one more thing I might consider it." George seemed slightly nervous as he said, "What would you say if I suggested you and I ditch the Burrow for a few hours today?"

"Where do you suggest we ditch the Burrow for?" There was no need to ask why. Though things were beginning to return to some semblance of normalcy, the Burrow just wasn't the same . . . nor would it ever be.

"I was thinking that we could head over to Diagon Alley and check on the shop. You know, make sure it's still standing," George tried to say in an off-hand sort of way.

Ron contemplated his brother. It had been only a week since the battle and Fred's death and only two days since his funeral; it seemed like George was coping a little too well with the death of his twin. Ron tried playing thick, "'Mione was just there yesterday. . . . She said yours and Fred's protection charms seemed to have held. . . . She did say something about a shrine in front of the building though. . . ."

George cocked an eyebrow, "Yeah, she did Ronnie-boy. Are you coming with me or not?"

"I - sure. Yeah, I'm going," Ron groaned. "But - I mean . . . George, are you sure?"

"I'm sure," George said, looking more serious than Ron had ever seen him before. "Now hurry up and eat. I want to get out of here before lunch."

After a scarfed meal and hasty reassurances to his mum that he was indeed okay and explaining to her his and George's plans for the day, they set-off for Diagon Alley. Ron kept a close eye on his brother, but couldn't distinguish any emotion in George other than general nervousness.

Diagon Alley was as vacant as Lockhart's mind, in Ron's opinion anyway. The few other souls flirting about the streets appeared and disappeared as quickly as they came into shops and restaurants. Following the pace set by other witches and wizards, George and Ron made their way efficiently and watchfully down the empty street towards Wheezes. Ron couldn't help but feel uneasy walking past Gringrotts and kept a tight grip on his wand until they reached their destination.

"Want to say hi to the goblins while we're here, Ronnie?" George asked as they walked by the wizarding bank.

Ron merely mumble something that sounded a lot like piss off and continued towards the twins' shop.

Even a block away, Ron could see what Hermione had been talking about as they spotted the shop. "Bloody hell . . . I guess she was right when Hermione said it was a bit unorthodox," Ron said.

"Yeah . . ." George mumbled. The entire store front was covered with what looked at first like a heaping pile of rubbish. As they neared the store, the brothers took in the chaos dedicated to Fred. There were sympathy cards among toilet seats, pictures scattered in with used (and unused) dung bombs, and even a . . .

"Is that a thong?" Ron asked in slight disbelief.

George walked over and snatched it out of the pile. "I think I know who this is from."

"Who?!" Ron asked without thinking.

George raised an eyebrow. "Why, I think it belonged to your girlfriend," he said with a smirk.

Ron's ears burned scarlet. "She doesn't . . . It's not . . . Hermione did not leave that!"

"How would you know? The two of you have only been going out for a week," George said in mock-confusion. "Bloody hell! has Ronnikins already found his way into the innocent bookworm's pants?"

By that point Ron's entire face resembled a beet and was silenced by his indignation. "Well - Have you?" George asked.

"No! I - We've only . . . Sod off, George!"

George finally gave into his mirth and burst out laughing. "Take it easy, Ron. I'm pretty sure Hermione didn't leave the panties . . . although I suppose she could have . . ." George trailed off at the look on Ron's face. "What? You can't see your innocent bookworm dawning one of these?"

"No, I can picture her just fine in one. I just can't see her owning one of those." Ron said shortly.

George grinned ear-to-ear. "Well I happen to know that she does in fact own at least one."

"How?!"

"I didn't get into her pants if that's what you're thinking. It was a few days before Bill and Fleur's wedding and our little sister and the attractive brunette in question were going over what they were planning to wear to said wedding, when all of a sudden - two hansom devils popped in to see if they'd be interested in trying out a new store product. That's when . . . Fred - he spotted Hermione's open trunk and caught sight of a most interesting article of clothing and proceeded to ask if said article of clothing actually had a purpose other than for male viewing pleasure. Being the all knowing witch she was, she informed us that it did indeed have a more useful function, but told us that we should really ask Mum about that sort of thing because she might be more insightful with that subject than she would."

"Oh Sweet Merlin, I hope not," Ron said cringing.

"Yeah, your girlfriend can be a bit of smart arse when she wants to be. Keep in mind, hers wasn't quite as lacy . . ." George examined the clothing in his hands, "or as transparent if I remember correctly."

Ron swallowed nervously; he could definitely picture Hermione in something like that. The only problem with that particular image was that it was now seemed to be burned into his mind permanently. "So . . . are you going to tell me whose that is or not?"

"Well . . . I suppose I should. If I had to guess, I'd say they're from Verity."

Ron gave George a confused look. "Fred and Verity were . . . Really?"

"No, they never dated or had a one night stand as far as I know, but that didn't stop him - or me, from flirting a bit."

Ron rolled his eyes and scanned the mass until a small note with achingly familiar handwriting caught his eye. The note was attached to an empty Patented Daydream Charms box. The note read:

To (one of) the brother(s) I never had,

Thanks for the best daydream I've ever had and for teaching me the value of a well planned prank. I'll never forget you and, as a result, will miss you dearly.

Love,

The Devious Prefect.

A small smile tugged on Ron's lips as he finished the short note. He gestured George over and handed him the note and box. "This is from Hermione."

George snorted and said, "The Devious Prefect. I suppose undermining the Ministry and committing treason count as a devious acts or is there something you're not telling me?"

"No! . . . She used to be such a good, law-abiding girl before she got to know our family," Ron said with a small laugh.

"Yeah . . ." George was looking up at the store's window filled with displays of colorful boxes.

"You want 'a go inside?" Ron asked.

"Yeah." George started undoing the protection charms around the shop.

***

It took George nearly ten minutes to remove the charms and no time at all to put Ron to work cleaning and helping him take inventory. It was nearly dinner time before they took a break and walked to the Leaky Caldron for a quick drink before heading home for the night.

"So any thoughts about when you wanted to open the shop?" Ron asked after finishing his shot of Oden's Firewhiskey.

"Yep."

After George failed to elaborate, Ron continued, "Am I privy to that knowledge?"

George gave him a calculating look. "I can't run it alone and since you only managed to knock over two displays, I'd like to offer you the once in a lifetime opportunity to work with me at the shop as something like an assistant manager."

Ron sat there stunned for a moment. "Are you sure? 'cause I was sure you were going to hex my arse off after the second time."

George sighed dramatically. "As clumsy as you were . . . I'd like to think part of it was due to your fantasizing about your girlfriend in that semi-transparent thong. So I fully expect you to be far less clumsy when she gets back. Aside from that you didn't do as horrific of a job as I thought you would today. . . . So do you want the job or not?"

". . . And the pay would be . . ."

"Non-negotiable."

"Sold!" Ron said theatrically enthusiastic. "So when are we opening the store?"

George drank the last of his shot. "When I finish cleaning out Fred's and my apartment."

Ron's smile slipped off his face. "Sounds like a plan, mate. Hey, we should probably get going or Mum will send someone to get us."

"Fine by me. Do you know what she's making?"

"Not a clue," Ron said as they made their way to the door. Just as Ron was reaching for the door, someone else pulled it open from outside.

"Angie!" George half shouted.

"George, it's so good to see you! Hi, Ron," said a surprised Angelina Johnson.

Ron's greeting was overshadowed by George, "What are you doing in this ghost town at this hour?"

Ron was quickly beginning to feel like a third wheel as the two friends conversed. "Hey George, I'm gonna head home. Did you want us to hold dinner for you?"

"No, just eat without me. Tell Mum I'll be home later," George said.

"It was nice seeing you again, Ron," Angelina called as George waved over his shoulder and led her into the bar.

Ron rolled his eyes as he stepped outside. Maybe he is coping that well after all, Ron thought as he Apparated home.

That's it for chapter one. Feel free to let me know what you think (PLEASE! Don't make me beg.) Your comments are what makes it worth all of the hours of typing and editing (and writer's block).