Dear Ron,
There's no need to lend me Errol, although that was a lovely thought. I'm afraid I won't be visiting my grandparents at all this summer- Professor McGonagall thinks it's best if we meet at Headquarters instead. I don't suppose they've changed it; for some reason I expected them to. Will Harry be coming, or do you think he's expected to stay at the Dursley's all summer now that they're under surveillance?
I do hope you've finished that Charms essay, Ron- don't grimace! I don't expect you to care about classes, but you need to know this for N.E.W.T's, if nothing else.
Love from,
Hermione
Ron sees several blots on the page, most prominent when she's mentioning Harry. For a moment, he can't help but grin, thinking that maybe- maybe- for once in her life she's decided to not waste her time with painstaking effort on every-single- word.
It's a couple of moments before he realizes that the blots have been caused by tears.
Her tears.
Hermione's tears.
(No matter which way he says it, it sounds wrong.)
Not like Hermione at all; crying.
It takes another moment of thought before he realizes that it seems wrong not because Hermione's crying, but because she's crying over something other than a hurtful comment that Ron might have made.
The thought sends an unfamiliar twinge of pain shooting through his stomach, leaving him almost breathless. He's not quite sure why- he's apologized for all of those fights- or nearly all of them, anyway.
And all of the things he'd said were true, anyway!
(nearly all of them, anyway)
Ron thinks of Cormic McLaggenl; Lavender; heated, wet, frankly pretty disgusting kisses in the shadows; Won-Won!…..Dumbledore.
Ron thinks that Hermione's got quite a lot to be upset about- and the thought that Lavender would upset her sends a surprising mixture of guilt and triumph shooting up his spine.
Parvati had informed him once, quietly and after Lavender had gone off to breakfast without him, that Hermione had cried that night.
He didn't quite understand why Parvati was telling him this, or why she would thinks it concerned him.
(They were, after all, fighting.)
When he asked her this, she leveled him with a cold glare and swished away, and he was struck by the thought that maybe Parvati's not as giggly and dim-witted as he thought.
The memory of this accomplishes nothing productive; just sends another unwelcome wave of pain through his stomach.
Maybe it was appendicitis?
He decides to ask Hermione.
(He also decides to, only this one time, to sign his name, love from.
Just to see if she notices.)