Ron watched as Harry landed and moved to sit next to Luna. He let his feet swing down, hanging as he let his eyes move from where the two sat to the rest of the stadium, and then off to the pitch. He liked this kind of weather to fly in; it was crisp and dry, but cold the faster one went. Ron brought his legs back up and took off, flying fast as he circled the pitch and tipped the nose of his broom up higher and then down to zoom closer to the ground and around.
After a few minutes of manuevering and soaring, Ron pulled up, breathing hard and feeling the bitter cold through his jumper and his flying robes.
It was colder than one thought, when you really started to taking off, he thought to himself as he rubbed his hands together and blew on the gloves with the fingertips cut off. There was no other way to hang on best, and the fast air made Ron's fingers freeze.
He thought about Hermione, and knew that if he could get her up high enough in the air, that she'd could help caste the warming charms to help keep them both warm. But he wasn't planning on rushing her; teaching her made him think about his past, and all of the great memories he had of learning to fly the broom. He wanted to make those kind of memories for her, and give her plenty of confidence.
He let his eyes turn back to Harry, and Luna and he wondered what they were talking about, and if he should fly down to find out.