Happy belated valentine's day! I posted this story on my tumblr and wanted to put it up here as well. I know how some people feel about this head canon, but I think it is entirely in Ron's character to give Hermione a nickname and it's cute as heck too. But how did it come about? Well read on, dear friend!

I own Harry Potter and everything related to that magical world- JK! Rowling does. (See what I did there?)

There had been a time when she had hated her name. It was long and difficult to pronounce. It was another oddity that an already precocious little girl didn't need. Her bushy hair, prominent incisors, and bookish nature were enough fodder for any bully to use against her. Oh, and there were the random acts of magic, too. Kids really could be vicious. Her only comfort was that she was smarter than her classmates. (They really couldn't come up with anything more creative than 'bucktooth beaver' or 'Herman Stranger'?)

She would seek refuge in her novels; there she could be anyone and she could travel anywhere. She was the protagonist with a vital mission and she could do it all with her friends by her side. It was a shame that these storylines were only real in her best fantasies. Despite her vivid imagination, one day it all became too much and Hermione couldn't hide her tears from her mother any longer.

"They all hate me and I don't understand why!" she wailed through choked sobs.

"Do you know why we named you 'Hermione'?" Jean said as she tenderly wiped the tears from her daughter's cheeks.

"Because you love Greek mythology?"

Jean chuckled, "No, dear. I met your father during dentistry school and I was immediately taken with him. He was handsome and well spoken in class, but he was incredibly shy. He would trip all over himself when I would so much as look at him. I knew that he would never make a move on his own so when the university's drama club put on 'A Winter's Tale', I took the opportunity to ask him to join me. I had an extra ticket after all", she winked conspiratorially at Hermione who smiled faintly.

"The play was absolute rubbish, but we fell in love that night. One of the heroines of that play is named 'Hermione' and through magic she comes back to life. You are our magic girl. When I had lost all hope of having a child, you came into our lives. I was having a daughter with the man I've loved ever since we first laughed at the hackney performance of amateur actors. You are my beautiful, strong girl and don't let anyone make you think otherwise."

From that day forward, Hermione treasured her name and when she received her Hogwarts letter, she wondered if her mother suspected just how magical she really was. She resolved to do everything in her power to live up to her name.

Like most nicknames, it came about naturally and spontaneously. Buckbeak's appeal was fast approaching and she had eleven final exams to revise for. Since their reconciliation, Ron had been true to his word. Hermione could hardly believe he was studying, let alone anything that wasn't assigned by a professor. She was a bit on edge these days and she knew that both Ron and Harry thought she was close to cracking under the pressure. Refusing to let anyone, even her friends, think she was weak, she insisted on offering to help with the research (albeit rather forcefully). Ron hastily agreed. Hermione, Harry, and Ron sat at one of the tables in the Gryffindor common room poring over the books Ron hadn't opened yet. They had been researching for nearly three hours when he first used the nickname. It was so casual that she nearly missed it.

"Could you hand me the blue book on top, 'Mione."

She froze. She had been called many different names in her life, but this was new. It wasn't necessarily bad. It was much better than 'Hermy' as Mikey Simmons used to tease her, but it still set her at ill ease.

"What did you just call me?"

Ron's ears turned a deep red, "Ummm… your name."

Hermione bristled, "You know my name and 'Mione is certainly not it."

"I don't see what's the big deal. I mean, you call me 'Ron' all the time. Hell, I even prefer it."

"We call you 'Ron' because that is an acceptable shortening of your full name. 'Mione is not."

Harry groaned from his end of the table, "Can you two stop bickering? This is stupider than the cat and rat fight."

"Fine," she sighed as she handed the requested volume to Ron. Harry was right. She didn't want to lose Ron's friendship. The last couple months had been unbearable without him. With a curt nod, the matter was dropped… for now.

"Maybe Viktor should start calling you 'Mione. It might be easier for him to pronounce," Ginny suggested abruptly whilst they studied in the library.

Hermione had become close to Ron's sister over the summer and she had to admit that it was nice to have another girl to turn to. She had mentioned her frustration at trying to teach Viktor how to say her name, but she never thought that Ginny would blatantly bring it up in front of Ron.

Hermione quickly glanced at him from across the table and noted that he was gripping his quill extra tight. Ginny appeared oblivious to how her suggestion affected her brother. Since the brawl at the Yule Ball, they had come to an unspoken agreement to not discuss Hermione's relationship with the famous Quidditch star.

Hermione didn't want to admit that she felt uncomfortable with the mere thought of Viktor calling her the nickname. Ron would slip it in from time to time, but it was purely on accident. He would apologize or change the subject right afterwards. Still, when Ron did call her 'Mione there was history and weight behind it. There was a familiarity that she's not sure she would ever feel with Viktor.

"Ginny, I don't think…"

"She doesn't like 'Mione. Her name is Hermione and if he really cares for her, he would do well to learn how to say her name properly. We all have. It isn't that difficult."

Ron returned to his potions essay; scribbling furiously at the parchment. A pleasant blush colored her cheeks as she sat stunned into silence. In that moment, she realized that there is only one person she would ever allow to call her the nickname- and he's sitting across from her. Ginny's eyebrows were nearly lost in her hairline as she smirked victoriously at Hermione.

She quite likes Prefect rounds because it gives her an opportunity to spend time with Ron alone. She could pretend that they were on a date of sorts. They would talk about everything and nothing. It was a nice change from the gestapo regime Umbridge had established.

"By the way, nice job today. You've always been good at shield charms."

Earlier that day, Harry had paired the members of the DA together to practice the spell. Hermione had been pleased to be partnered with Ron, but he seemed hesitant to use his wand against her. Even when he did manage to cast a stunning spell, it was easily deflected by a simple Protego.

"Well, we need to be prepared, don't we? With the way things are going, Umbridge might take our wands away next!"

A flash of green whizzed by Hermione's head nearly giving her an unwelcome haircut if not for Ron catching it in midair.

"Oi! Watch where you throw that thing!" Ron scolded a guilty looking second year while helping her to her feet, "Are you alright?"

Hermione nodded shakily and grabbed the fanged frisbee from Ron's hand. Although she knew she should have confiscated the contraband item, she handed it to the boy, "Just be careful next time."

The second year scurried away looking properly admonished. When she turned to Ron, he was looking at her with pleasant surprise.

"What? I know I like my share of rules and regulations, but someone once told me that I should learn to relax. In times like these, I think we need a little fun. Besides, it's a stupid rule."

"That Toad…You're nothing like her, 'Mione, Sorry, I know you don't like it when I…"

"I don't mind."

"What?"

Hermione feels the blush reach to the roots of her hair. Thank Merlin, it is so thick that Ron could never notice.

"I don't mind you calling me 'Mione." And she finds that she doesn't. In fact, she realizes that she has grown fond of the nickname like she has with the boy who first gave it to her.

"Oh. Alright."

It might have been her hopeful imagination, but Ron seemed to have more of a strut to his step for the rest of their patrol.

"Won-Won!" her room mate practically shrieks from across the common room. Lavender sprawls across Ron's lap and snogs him sloppily. That nickname is completely ridiculous in Hermione's opinion. She's sure that if she had been given the chance, she could have come up with something better than baby talk. She tries to enjoy his embarrassment, but it doesn't hold the satisfaction that it might have done.

They are on the outs with each other, so it has been ages since they've spoken to each other. She knows she is being petty, but she hopes that he will realize his mistake. She fantasizes scenarios where he breaks it off with the bubbly blonde and runs to her using the special name he gave her. This is when she knows she is at her most childish. He's only a boy and someday she may find a boy better suited to her personality; one that won't drop her for the nearest pair of willing lips. She realizes that she's kidding herself because it's always been Ron. There really isn't anyone else it could be. The color green does not look good on her.

But then he is poisoned and she runs to his bedside. And she understands that he is asleep and not fully aware of what he is saying, but he is saying her name and it has to mean something.

When he has that cursed locket around his neck, she is strictly 'Hermione'. There's no easy banter that has been a trademark of their friendship. He has become withdrawn at best and caustic at worst and she hates it. At Grimmauld Place, he had been attentive and protective. When he used her nickname, she had hope for a future after this war, one with the only boy she's ever wanted.

Everything's that's been building over the summer feels like it has come crashing down. He left her and she tries not to feel lost. She thought she was past this after sixth year, but Ron Weasley has always had a way of making her lose her head. But that's not necessarily true anymore. She actually feels slower, thicker without his steadying hand. Frustrated, she throws her books aside. The mission seems hopeless without him by her side. She feels so alone and she hates herself for crying herself to sleep over him- again.

He returns and he's making it incredibly difficult to hate him. He's practically tripping all over himself to stay in her good graces. He shouldn't worry.

"Ummm…Hermione," he's holding a cup of tea, shifting from foot to foot as if preparing to dodge a swarm of birds.

"Yes," she replies tetchily. She doesn't want him let off the hook too easily.

"I…uh…thought you might want a cuppa, ya know, for your shift."

"Shouldn't you be in bed right now?" her traitorous body heats with the barely passable innuendo.

"Couldn't sleep. Listen…I know I'm far from forgiven, but can I just…I don't know…sit with you for a bit?"

She nods and he eagerly settles next to her, his long legs twisted like a pretzel. They stare out into the surrounding forest in companionable silence, only the sounds of nature can be heard. It's more peaceful than she's felt in months.

"'Mione?"

The name brings a lump to her throat. It was one of the things she missed the most and she can't find it in her to scold him.

"Yeah?"

"I don't know why you said my name at Christmas, but I'm glad you did. I really wanted to come back, I swear to you. I guess…I just wanted you to know that."

"Okay," she murmurs into the chipped tea cup and she swears that she feels his fingertips inch closer to hers.

She prides herself on being well prepared so of course she had prepared for her death. It was a real possibility on a mission like this. But now that the moment has come, she can't stop thinking that it's too soon. Bellatrix Lestrange is inches from her face; her lips curved sharply around a manic sneer. All she knows is pain- red hot needles underneath her skin- but she manages to lie about the sword, and her torturer seems to believe her- for now. Between curses, she feels as if she is in a dull haze, but she is still able to think through the fog. She realizes the pain will finally end when she's dead. And she wishes for death because she doesn't want to be left alone with Greyback. She has learned that there are worse fates than death.

But then she hears his voice, just his voice, and he brings her back to her senses.

"Hermione!"

Her mother doesn't know who she is, that she has a daughter, but Hermione remembers.

"You are our magic girl. You are my beautiful, strong girl and don't let anyone make you think otherwise."

She can't leave him. He came back for her. He'll always come back for her. And as she loses consciousness, she holds onto hope. Just hold on… hold on. He is on his way.

After the war, they find each other in the dark. When her nightmares or his brother's death become too much, they remind each other that they are not alone. He kisses her with a ferocity that makes her realize that he wants her as desperately as she does him. Each kiss confirms that she is alive, that she can be whole. He's always made her blood boil, but she finds she wants to be consumed by this fire. It chases away memories of cold nights in a tent, of manor dungeons, of secret chambers. He practically growls her name, the name he is only allowed to say. It passes his lips when they separate from hers. Each time it is uttered, it hits her in waves as if he is roaring 'my only'.

"I love you. You are mine. I am yours."

The morning after they make love for the first time, she revels in the fact that she is the early riser in the relationship. She takes her time, combing her fingers through his cropped ginger locks, lightly scratching his scalp with her nails. Inhaling deeply, she catches the all too familiar scent of his hair- the keynote fragrance of her amortentia. He stirs and pulls her closer to him; his scarred arms winding around her tightly. His hands skate up her naked sides, sending shivers up her spine.

He whispers 'Mione across her skin with such contentment that her heart feels as if it might burst. She has never felt more precious and protected. At long last, she can call this man her husband. The irrevocable truth that they had always known was declared to the Wizarding World yesterday- Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger would always belong together.

"You ready for another go?" he mumbles groggily and seeks out her lips.

She hums contentedly against his own, "What's the rush? We have all the time in the world."

"Yeah, but there's nothing wrong with getting a jump on it," he cheeks back before pouncing on top of her. They are lost in a tangle of limbs and fits of laughter.

The children have been begging for a puppy for months now. They've discussed it numerous times, but Hermione has her reservations while Ron is solidly pro-puppy. As she rounds the corner to enter the kitchen, she hears the children at it again.

"Please, Daddy, we promise to take care of it!" Rose inherited her persistence and shrillness.

To her husband's credit, he does not crumble under pressure. "Your Mum and I are talking about it. Maybe if someone shows they are responsible with Crookshanks, they might earn a puppy for Christmas."

"Why don't you just use Mummy's magic name?" Hugo pipes in.

Hermione shakes her head in bemusement. Even the children know that she can't put her foot down when he uses her nickname.

Ron draws himself up as if he is giving a formal lecture, "No, we mustn't tease Mummy. With great power comes great responsibility and her magic name is used for emergencies only."

"What sort of emergencies, may I ask?" she reveals her presence to her family with a highly arched eyebrow and watches humorously as Ron pales.

"Uh…you know…when your husband is being a prat and he needs to remind his beautiful and brilliant wife that she wasn't a fool to marry him."

She approaches him slowly and presses herself into him, her lips a breath away from his, "Yes, that does sound about right," and her mouth reaches its destination.

The sounds of disgust from their children break the kiss.

"Sometimes, they're worse than Harry," Ron scoffs.

"Oh, hush! Now then, who wants to make a trip to the shelter?"

"Really?" Ron looks just as excited as the children at the prospect of a new pet.

At her nod of affirmation, he rushes Rose and Hugo upstairs to get dressed and turns to her to steal another snog.

"You are amazing, 'Mione. You really are."

She smiles, "And you didn't even have to use the magic name after all."

They've spent nearly a century together. How many people can say that? Her time on this earth is drawing to a close now and Ron has been steadfast through it all. The edema was what really did her in- her lungs feel like they have been drowning for the last month. Harry has told them there is an after and she tries not to let the idea of one without Ron bother her too much. Arthritis from years of Auror work riddles his bones, but he ignores his aches and pains to care for her. She's never been disappointed in her muggle heritage until her twilight years. She always suspected Ron was aging far better than she. Her only regret is that she will be leaving Ron alone now. She's already told the kids to look out for him when she finally goes.

"I've been so blessed…" she manages before she's taken by a coughing fit.

"Shhhh…don't speak…it's okay, 'Mione," his wrinkled hand is clutched in hers while the other sweeps her white curls from her brow.

She smiles faintly, "See…I'm so lucky to have been loved by you. It was only ever us. It could only have been us."

"Yeah…just you and me," Ron doesn't move to wipe the tears from his eyes.

"I knew it every time you said my name. You're the only one I've ever loved. Thank you…so much. I love you, Ron."

"I love you, 'Mione."

She is on a train rolling through a picturesque countryside. How long has she been asleep for? As she takes in her appearance in the window's reflection, she realizes that she is young again, and somehow still old.

"Is there room for one more?" Hermione turns her once again brunette head around to the all too familiar voice.

"What are you doing here?"

Ron gives her a wry smile, "Always the tone of surprise. You didn't think I'd let you go on an adventure without me?" He plops down in the seat next to her and rubs his hands together eagerly. He's acting as giddy as a schoolboy.

"So where are we off to this time, 'Mione?"

She pulls him into her with both hands and lays a lingering kiss on his upturned lips, "I don't know, but we'll go together."