Disclaimer: I am not JKR (nor do I ever wish to be), nor her publishers, and I am not writing this for fame or fortune. As such, all appropriate copyright retention applies.
Disclaimer(2): It would seem that I need to disclose (again, with extra salt) that fanfiction pieces do not ever 100% follow the cannon. As such, my piece will deviate from cannon, fannon, and generally accepted headcannons. If that is a problem for you – do not read my work ever because you won't be able to follow my adage, which is: Read & Enjoy.
Hermione's help was one of the only ways he'd ever known to show her exactly how much her friendship meant to him. Even though he has, on more than one occasion, been quite nasty – he couldn't truly imagine a life without her. Most days, he wasn't sure why she kept Harry and himself as company.
Thoughts of their O.W.L. scores floated into his head. Hermione was nearly perfect in her scores, except for Defense Against the Dark Arts. She scored 'Exceeds Expectations' which was still enough to go to move into N.E.W.T. level classes. Hermione was as brilliant as ever, and it remained no less of a mystery as to why she'd hang around with anyone who couldn't match her intellect.
Just then he started to compare himself to Harry, which wasn't as unusual it might sound. In the company of a famous wizard and a genius witch, Ron often felt inadequate when he was with his mates. Specifically in regard to Harry, he was able to keep up with his friend as an equal in the classroom, but the tests revealed that he simply wasn't able apply that knowledge in the same efficient way. A huff escaped his lips while he assessed the chessboard in front of him for potential moves.
Hermione always reminded him that if he just tried harder he would be a better wizard. She scolded him to study the books rather than play Wizard's Chess, or to stop spending breaks in the Great Hall snacking and actually do homework early for a change. All of these things criticized Ron's way of working, and though there was certainly merit to her criticisms, he did not ever change his ways.
So, he'd asked Hermione to read his essays along the way. The first thing she did each time she sat down next to the fireplace to review his work is exactly the same. One hand slid into the pocket of her robe and pulled it out…
It was always there...
The crusher of dreams…
The eliminator of confidence…
The gavel of judgment…
The Red Pen!
For years that pen, or perhaps many of the exact same pen, gave him anxiety. Ron and Harry both asked Hermione for help with their assignments, but Harry never minded the pen. He claimed he'd grown used to it, from Muggle schools, and explained once that teachers used red pens to mark papers. Hermione clearly was attached to that particular method of grading. He always had trouble grasping the fact that Harry and Hermione both had lived for eleven years in a completely different world than he had, and that it was forever a part of who they were as people.
Hermione belonged in the world of magic. She was too talented to exist anywhere else, and Ron wanted to tell her all the time that this was true. Unfortunately, he never quite found the right way to tell her what a wonderful witch she was, so he kept it to himself. Whenever he could do a nice thing for her, he tried, and even though most people would think of double checking his essays as extra work, he'd never had to worry of such a thing with Hermione. She enjoyed it.
"Great work, actually," she said when she stood up.
"By your standards or mine?" Ron questioned when he met her midway through the common room. He watched her closely and admired how lovely she was in her own way. Hermione easily swerved to miss the furniture.
"I mean, there's room for improvement, but it is much better than your last essay." Hermione smiled, tucked hair behind her ear, and let the scroll between them hang until he reached to meet her. When he grabbed at it, his fingers brushed hers. A blush crept to his cheeks, and he hoped desperately that the darkness of the room masked it. Hermione spoke quickly as she pulled her arm back to her side, "Regardless of your O.W.L.s, Ron, you're a great wizard."
"Just not a good student, eh?" Ron joked.
"Not as good as you could be, but you've gotten much better. I see it every day." Hermione didn't linger after, so he couldn't say what her expression was when she spoke. Ron just waded back to the table where he'd set up a game against himself in chess. He stared at the board before he opened the scroll. There weren't nearly as many red scratches as usual, and there were even comments from Hermione that complimented a thought he'd put down. A confidence bolstered in his chest.
Perhaps the red pen wasn't as evil as he'd once thought…
…And perhaps his feelings for Hermione weren't as simple either…
His eyes drifted back towards the stairs where she'd already disappeared. Without her, who knows what sort of student he might have been at Hogwarts. The thought of him and Harry doing their classes with no guidance from her was frightful, and he shook it from his mind. No, he would eventually be a better wizard for Hermione's help.
And maybe, someday, he would be a better man for it too.
Ron cleaned up the table before he sauntered to bed, his mind still on what Hermione's face might've revealed if he'd seen it when she commented on how much he'd improved.
Author's Notes:
(1) I am now moderating reviews, so this is my formal request and reminder to be respectful, polite, and cordial.
(2) This is a submission for the House Competition hosted by MoonlightForgotten. The appropriate information regarding this submission as follows:
Ravenclaw; Drabble (red pen), 888 words (without disclaimers and notes).