A/N: I think this would just be way cute. Te he. Ron/Hermione! YAY!
Anyway, this is during Deathly Hallows a couple days after Ron comes back. Jut so you know.
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine! The characters, the settings, not even the ship is mine. The socks I'm wearing aren't mine! Oh, wait, yes they are. Never mind.
Ron Weasley looked at the figure lying on the bunk on the other side of the tent. Her brown hair was strewn all over the pillow, and he could see her chest slowly rising and falling from under the blankets. She was so beautiful when she was like this. Calm, relaxed, totally at ease. He wished he could be that relaxed right then. Instead he was changing position every few minutes, tossing and turning and worrying while Harry stood watch just outside the door.
He thought of his family, of all the horrible things that could be happening to them. He thought of his friends, of the children at Hogwarts, and wondered who was dead, whom he would never see again, and whom he may never get to meet. But mostly he thought of her. She looked like an angel tonight, outshining the dim glow cast by the moon coming through the opening of the tent. She was so beautiful, and looked so content. It almost hurt to think of how worried and tired and terrified she looked during the day. And he worried too, mostly about her. What if she was hurt, or killed, or worse…what if he couldn't save her?
She moved, slightly, and whispered something he couldn't hear. While he continued to stare at her, he realized something.
It hadn't come to him in a stroke of inspiration; it hadn't come on fast at all. It had come, slowly but steadily, day by day, until he realized he hadn't been able to deny it. His next thought pained him and he cringed as it entered his head.
What if she never knew?
He couldn't allow that to happen. He had to act before it was too late. Who knew how much time he had left? Slowly, and as quietly as possible, and crept across the tent to where she was laying.
He stooped down over her sleeping figure, and with the lightest pressure possible, his lips met hers, only for an instant. He put his lips to her ear, so Harry or anyone else within earshot couldn't hear, and whispered the words that were meant only for her.
"I think I love you."
He stood; looking at her for one more fleeting, beautiful moment, then went out through the tent flap. "Go to bed, Harry," he said. "It's my turn for watch."
In the tent, were neither of the boys could see, Hermione smiled in her sleep.
Hermione Granger lay huddled under the covers, looking at the figure lying in the bunk opposite her. Her eyes traced his features, his long red hair, his freckled nose, his feet sticking out of the too - small blanket. She smiled.
This was when she was happiest. When they were alone, and when she felt safe, or at least as safe as one could feel during those times.
Of course, in the dark of the night, she worried as well. She worried about her parents, although she was sure they were safe, and about her friends, her acquaintances, even those she hadn't particularly liked before. And she worried about what had happened the night before, and about what she would do if he died before she had replied.
Carefully, she got out from under the warm blanket, and shivering, walked across to where he lay. She leaned down, touched her lips to his for the briefest moment that felt like eternity, although it was over too fast, and then whispered in the darkness,
"I think I love you too."
A/N: Yay! So there's some ridiculously short fluff. Or maybe it's short ridiculous fluff. Or maybe it's just fluffy and short ridiculousness. I don't know. Please review! Please? Reviewers get hugs and Hershey's kisses. Flames will be used to toast marshmallows.