The Sugar Quill
Author: Kirkis  Story: Dear Ron  Chapter: Default
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Dear Ron...

Harry Potter isn't mine, it belongs to J. K. Rowling, and/or Warner Bros. etc.

Dear Ron
By Kirkis

A/N - Absolute and total plotlessness. I had thought about making this the intro to an angst story, but I don't write angst well at all. It ended up being a long lost love letter from Hermione, which I imagined was very badly tattered and wrinkled, maybe torn to pieces once and fixed with spellotape. (From years of ups and downs between Hermione and Ron.) I tried to keep the first four years within what's Canon. Unless I'm mistaken, (which I might be) it's never said one way or another what color Ron's eyes are, but my own mental image of him has always been blue-eyed. Years five, six and seven aren't necessarily what I feel will or should happen. I only stuck it in there for reasons to bring Hermione and Ron closer.

Dear Ron…

My First year: I met you for the first time on the Hogwarts Express. A silly boy with a dirty face red-orange hair, and blue eyes. You were trying to turn your rat yellow. Your robes were shabby and your wand was second hand, but you knew more about the Wizarding world than I did. You grew up knowing about Floo powder, Quidditch, the owl post. You knew all about magical creatures, Dragons, Gnomes, Elves, and Goblins.
I was only a ten-year-old Muggle-born, who'd never even so much as known about the existence of the Wizarding world until I got my Hogwarts letter by owl post. I never knew about Diagon alley, or any of the magic schools in the world. I never knew any of it.
But you, you'd never hold that against anyone.

My Second year: So many times you stuck up for me, so often you jumped to my defense, even when it turned out to bring misfortune to you. Like the slug-belching curse you intended for Malfoy. I was so relieved no one noticed how badly I was blushing after that. It isn't everyday that a girl gets her honor revenged, or in your case, attempted to be revenged.

My Third year: Oh so much I wish I could say how I feel about you, but every time I speak to you, it seems the words come out all wrong. I often wonder if one day I'll say the wrong thing and you'll stop talking to me, and never speak to me again. I was terrified that was the case this past year. Scabbers, I though Crookshanks had killed him, but I just couldn't make myself say it, my stupid pride held me back, and you stopped speaking to me.

My Fourth year:. My own foolish pride kept me from asking you to the Yule Ball. You hurt me again, only thinking of me as a last resort. My God what an argument we had that night. That was the first time I'd slipped up and given my feelings for you away. Do you remember? Did you catch it? You stood staring at me, mouthing something. I laid awake all night that night wondering whether you'd picked up on my angry tout.
Thank God, we managed to stay friends.

My Fifth year: You were there for me in what I hope was my darkest hour, when my parents were killed. You held my close, helped me to shed the tears I'd held for days. I knew then, one way or another, I had to do whatever it took to keep us together or, at the very least, to keep us close.
Even Harry noticed, I think.

My Sixth year: You have no Idea how hard it was those long months this past year when we thought you'd been killed by Voldemort. I had no shoulder to cry on without you. This year seemed the longest and most difficult of any in my time at Hogwarts.
The year you died. And even though you came back to me, thanks to Harry, it will pain me to remember that time, that feeling of utter loneliness.

Our last year at Hogwarts seemed to fly, didn't it. From the highs like that unbelievable Quidditch game where you, Harry and Ginny managed to beat the entire Slytherin team. To the staggering lows of Dumbledore's death. I don't know what the future may hold, I only hope it has some light in it.
For those who live to see it.

My last entry. I've been working on and off on this letter to you since my arrival at Hogwarts our first year. I suppose it was to be a love letter I never worked up the nerve to give to you, even after we'd made our feelings clear to each other. Now as it turns out, I think this letter is the best way to fully describe how it is I've felt about you over the years.

I regret that this letter will most undoubtedly be the only thing left of me when this is over. But I can't let Voldemort kill Harry, you know that. What I also can't do is let you join me. I don't think I'll be coming back from this, so I want to make this very clear to you, Ronald Weasley. If I die, grieve, but don't go to pieces. Nothing will make me happier than to know that you'll find someone else and fall in love again. And don't give me any of that sentimental you're-the-only-one-for-me rubbish. You will find another girl, you may not feel the same way about her, but I know you'll love her just the same. I want you to find someone, help continue the Weasley name.

I must go, time is running out. Good-bye Ron.

With eternal love,

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