Hermione rolled to her other side, feeling the cool sheets of her Queen-sized bed against her skin. Ron's old Cannons shirt rode up around her waist as she kicked her comforter away from her ankles. She glanced at the alarm clock. 2:12AM. With a huff, she kicked the comforter again.

She wondered what Ron was doing right now. She wondered if he, too, was awake right now. Perhaps thinking about her.

It had been three months since he left for his Auror mission. For Hermione, each day creeped by. Maybe it was because she looked at the clock every ten minutes, wondering if this moment he was going to walk through the door. She dreamed about the day he finally came back to her. She would run to him and jump in his arms and kiss every freckle on his body. She would run her hands through his hair. She would shag him senseless that night.

If he comes home, a malicious voice whispered to her from the back of her mind. She shut her eyes tight, willing the thought to disappear. Of course he would come home. He had to.

Hermione rearranged her pillows. Since Ron left, she had barely been able to get more than four hours of sleep a night. Her nights were spent tossing and turning. She was perpetually torn between being worried about him and hoping he would walk through the door that moment. She had no idea where he was, what he was doing, or who he was with. Worse yet, she had no idea when he would be back.

She looked at her clock again. 2:27AM. Sighing, she decided to make herself some tea. Maybe that would help her sleep.

Groaning, she lifted herself from the bed she used to share with her husband and headed for the kitchen. As she walked out of her bedroom, she heard a muted thump from behind her. Whirling around (and half-hoping it was Ron), she saw Crookshanks strolling sleepily towards her from his perch on the arm chair. Hermione let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding and bent down to pick up the cat. Crookshanks mewled peacefully in Hermione's arms and nuzzled against her. She smiled, thinking about her love for her ginger boys.

Once she was in the kitchen, she refilled Crookshanks's water bowl and put some chamomile tea on. Settling into the loveseat with a book, she waited for the kettle to boil. She flipped through the pages absentmindedly, none too interested in what she read. She had already read the book a hundred times over and was just looking for something to do.

She turned the page to find a bit of parchment stuck inside of it. Intrigued, she began to read it.

'Mione,

I know you're going to be reading this book again at some point - there's only so many books you can actually read. I hope by the time you read this you don't miss me too much. Okay, that's a lie. I hope you miss me loads because I know I'm going to miss you.

I don't know when I'll be back, but I want you to know I'll do everything I can to get home to you. We may row tons about stupid things, but you're my everything. I don't know how I got so lucky as to be with the brightest witch of our age. I'd be a daft git to let you go.

I love you,

Ron

Hermione felt the tears in her eyes beginning to swell. She covered her mouth to stifle her sob and pulled the letter against her chest. She wanted to hold him again. She wanted to just be near him.

The tea kettle rang out, signalling that her tea was ready, but Hermione did not move. Her shoulders heaved with silent sobs and her legs pulled into her chest.

"Ron," she choked out. She missed him so much that she felt like the air had been sucked from the room. She wished she could see him grinning at her again and hear his voice while he teased her. She wanted to be back at the Burrow for their weekly Sunday dinner, sitting hand in hand surrounded by their family.

Crookshanks mewled before he jumped onto the arm of the loveseat. He crawled into her lap, stepping on Ron's letter. Hermione cried out and pushed him back, holding the letter tightly in her grasp. Crookshanks gave her a dirty look and traipsed back to his armchair in the bedroom.

Hermione finally made her way to the kettle, turning off the burner and pouring the tea into Ron's favorite mug. She glanced at the clock again. 2:35AM.