Disclaimer: Harry Potter and affiliated characters are property of the mastermind, J.K. Rowling. This piece of fanfiction is intended for entertainment purposes only.

A/N: This is a silly HP fic that explores…miscommunication issues… between Ron and Hermione. Enjoy! And don't forget to review!

Note: Since there is no strike-through function on this site, I'm forced to use the underline function instead. Again, if you see a underline, it means that the words have been scratched-out.

Dear Hermione,

Dearest Hermione,

My Dear Hermione,

Dear Hermione,

I've been thinking a lot these couple of weeks—I know thinking is a huge surprise coming from me—and I reckon that I should write you a letter. To apologize I mean. Well, I'm no good at writing letters, but Seamus supposes that girls enjoy having letters written to them; I think that they're supposed to be romantic or something. I just don't think that I'm capable of writing anything…er, romantic, you know? But anyways, you wouldn't mind my writing skills, would you, Hermione? I mean, no offence or anything, but you're not like any other girl; you're Hermione! And thank Merlin that you are!

To start off, I have to admit that I am a pain-in-the-arse. And, I give you all the permission in the world to slap me, if you want. (Just don't send those pelting birds at me again, okay? Please?). The thing that happened between Lav-Lav and me—er, I mean Lavender and I—was a mistake. A foolish, hormonal induced mistake. You know, she practically hurled herself around me. And then she started—bloody hell I can't even find I proper way to describe it—well, she started smacking herself onto me. Do you know how bloody revolting that was? She was practically eating my face. I could hardly breathe! Oh, I'm sorry, Hermione, I guess you didn't really need to know all of those details right? Haha. I'm an arse. An insensitive arse. You were right. But anyways, I need to tell you that I did try to untangle myself from her, but Merlin was her grip firm. I swear, one day she should try out for Wizard Wrestling. She'd win a sodding medal or something.

That day when we first started—erm—dating. It was her who started it; not I. Call me cowardly or whatever you like, but I just couldn't turn her down. I mean, I know what it's like to be teased, especially around the twins, and I imagine that being rejected is probably a similar feeling. And anyways, all the boys—and get this—even Harry— have snogged a girl. I mean, I would be mocked of to no end, if…well... if I didn't get any…ah... personal experience. And, come off it Hermione, it's not as though you were about to…err…well…smooch me anytime soon. If ever.

One time, you weren't exactly here (actually, I think it was just Harry and I sitting in our compartment on the Hogwarts Express) and Lavender leaned down and blew on the glass panel of the door. And drew a bloody heart around it. And kissed it. I match your reaction entirely; it was f*ing ghastly. Harry couldn't stop laughing at me. It was so embarrassing. I was, of course, mentally punching myself.

And that other time when she gave me that Lav-Lav and (bless my soul Merlim) Won-Won necklace, I felt like I would die from mortification. I didn't ask for any of this, you know. I hope you understand that

I don't fancy her okay? I don't fancy Lavender Brown. I hope that I've made this point explicitly clear to you. I'm sorry if you felt hurt from seeing Lavender and I get so physical. Merlin that sounded wrong! Well, not physical, but you know? Ah, heck, with your brains, Hermione, you would know what I mean, right? But, well, you didn't really mind, did you? I mean, it's not like you fancy me or anything. I mean, you don't, do you? Yeah, you're probably laughing right now and thinking something along the lines of: That poor Ronald Weasley. So foolish. Thinking that I might possibly like him. Or maybe you're thinking: What in the world of Merlin's pants is this Ronald Weebley babbling about?

Bloody hell. I hope you don't really think that way about me. I hope that there is something that you feel…er, about me, that is. I mean, I hope, well… I'd like to see. Oh sod this, I may as well just get on with it; I…er…how do I put this in the best way possible without upsetting you?

I fancy you, alright?

I fancy you from your bushy hair down to your skinny ankles.

Yes, you can smack me now.

I'm sorry, please forgive me.

Harry's calling me now. Actually I think he's hollering about you. I'd better go and check it out.

Yours truly,

Sincerely,

Love,

Love you to bits,

Love,

Ron

* * *

(Twenty minutes later.)

"What?! Hermione?! You snogged Victor Krum?"

A/N: I'm aware that at one point, I wrote: Ronald Weebley. This was intentional for effect. So don't scold me for it.

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