For Kaia - I hope you like this :)

Ancient Runes had once been her favourite class.

Had once been. Those were the key words, really. It had once been her favourite class, but she could no longer remember why.

Because now that everyone in her year was turning seventeen, or inching ever so close to that magical mark, it seemed that the only thing they talked about in that class were the marks. The stupid, stupid marks that were the only thing that people in her year could think of any more.

Of course, to be fair, she wasn't much different.

She was the first. Of her year, at least – after all, had she been born just a few days sooner, she would have attended Hogwarts a year sooner.

She hadn't been able to read what the words on her wrist said. It was a rare occurrence, having an illegible signature scrawled across one's skin, but it happened. Usually, however, people had to wait years before they could understand who fate had linked them to.

For her, it had been easy.

She should have felt differently – relief, maybe, happiness. Gratefulness that she didn't have to search the way so many others did. But then, reality was never one to measure up to expectations.

She knew who the words on her wrist destined her for, and all she could think when she saw them was what would happen if he didn't have her name inked neatly onto his wrist. Because the idea of recognising the other part of one's soul was all well and good, but there was also the reality of it that no one ever talked about – the fact that having someone's name on your wrist did not guarantee that they would have yours on theirs.

And if she was one of those, one of the broken ones – it would not only kill the hope of love, but one of the friendships that was most dear to her.

She bound her wrist. It wasn't something many people did anymore, but she knew better than to think she could take a chance.

He might have been one of the most oblivious people to ever live, but Harry certainly wasn't. And if she had recognised Ron's scrawl, there was no chance that Harry, even at his most unobservant, would mistake the writing for anyone's but the redhead's.

So she bound her wrists, and did her best to ignore the way they discussed the history of runes related to the occurrence of soul mates in Ancient Runes.

It was anything but easy, of course.

Harry and Ron knew better than to question the biding that appeared around her wrist on the day of her eighteenth birthday, but they were among the minority. And if she wasn't dealing with far too invasive questions, well – if the Death Eaters knew just how graphically she had planned the murder of Lavender Brown, she was almost certain that they would be willing to overlook her parentage and allow her to join them.

She might not have been sure of who the name on Ron's wrist would turn out to be, but it definitely didn't stop her from being possessive.

For a moment, she had hoped.

She'd practically invited him to Slughorn's Christmas party, after all, and his response – well, even Ginny had agreed that that constituted a yes from Ron. But then he'd gone and- and-

Well. She just hoped he appreciated the fact that it had been birds pecking him and not a hatchet chasing after Lavender's head.

(Intellectually, she knew that it didn't mean anything. That him making out with, or even dating Lavender didn't mean that she would be the one whose name would appear on his wrist. But in her heart – well, in her heart, she couldn't help the tendrils of fear that took root.)

For a moment, she had hoped. But then Ron and chosen Lavender, and she had learned better than to do so again.

It wasn't done – not once you knew whose name was etched into your skin. Society said that writing on your skin meant that you were bound to that person for the rest of your days, whether they were bound to you in return or not. And in a way, she understood why that was so.

It hadn't been the case before, but now that she could read Ron's name, a part of her rebelled against even the idea of thinking of someone apart from him. But watching Ron and Lavender everyday meant that she wasn't in the best frame of mind when she asked Cormac to the party, and then she had just a bit too much of the mulled mead when they got there, and Cormac had never been one to be cramped by a name on his wrist that he didn't care about-

It wasn't like she was going astray or cheating on her boyfriend. And if Ron didn't want her, there really wasn't anything holding her back – anything stopping her from finding someone else, even if the party had made it obvious that that would never be Cormac.

(Now all she needed to do was convince her traitorous heart of that fact.)

Lavender broke up with Ron two days before his birthday.

She said it was a temporary measure, just until her name doubtlessly cleared on Ron's wrist. She knew she should have been happy about it – should have been hoping that it would be her name that would appear on his wrist instead – but she simply couldn't find it within herself to do so.

She had hoped once before, only to have all her hopes shattered. If it happened again – and with something so important – she knew she would never recover.

So she waited, and a part of her prepared herself for the crushing blow she was almost convinced she would receive when Ron finally turned seventeen.

She had already known that the world hated her, but when the first of March finally came around, she was certain of it.

All she could remember of that day was Harry's panic-stricken face, and the words 'Ron's been poisoned.' And all she had been able to think in that moment was what would happen if Ron actually died- if she lost her inkmate- if he-

She should have spent the day worrying about whose name would appear on his wrist, but as she stared at his gaunt face in the Hospital Wing, all she could feel was pure and utter relief at the fact that he was still alive.

And if she still had to deal with Lavender when he woke up and revealed who his inkmate was, for the first time she was certain that she would be able to deal with it.

She loved him, but she knew that there were far worse fates for her than just dealing with unrequited love.

(But even in that moment of personal growth, a part of her still wondered and waited. Because no matter how much she realised that she feared losing him more than she feared another's name scrawled across his skin, the constant question of what if still remained in her mind.

She had never been very good at letting things go.)

She wasn't there when Madame Pomfrey finally let him out of her sight. As much as she was reluctant to leave him and attend classes, she had no choice – not unless she wanted to reveal her secret.

So she only realised that he was out of the Hospital Wing when she returned to Gryffindor Tower after class and Harry gently pushed her up the stairs to their dormitory.

It was almost empty, with only Ron standing in the middle of the room, a nervous smile on his face.

"I was going to tell you on my birthday," he whispered, offering his wrist to her, "But I needed some liquid courage first. And then- well, I'm here now."

And there, clear as day, were the words Hermione Granger signed neatly on his skin.

She unbound her own wrist and held it out to him, stepping closer. They had a lot to talk about – inkmates or not, they still had a lot of kinks in their relationship to clear out – but finally, she could believe that everything would be okay.

She was Ron's inkmate, just as he was hers. In that moment, that was all she needed from the world.

A/N: I hope you guys liked this! As always, please don't forget to drop a review on your way out :)

Also for The Hunger Games: Fanfic Style Competition, using the class, weapon, emotion, word and word count prompts