Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any related characters.

A/N: What started as a fun poem for my lovely friend, romioneB, spurred on a series of poems for a few other friends, and here we are! I hope all the Romione shippers out there enjoy Ron's version of a poem for Hermione :)

An Ode to Hermione

Hermione Granger was irritated.

Hadn't she told Ron on multiple occasions to pick up his scattered clothes off of their bedroom floor? It looked as if a hippogriff had plowed through their room, depositing the entire contents of their wardrobe onto the now unrecognizable floor.

She huffed out a long breath, blowing stray wisps of hair from her face in the process. In an effort to maintain a semblance of sanity in the midst of unorganized chaos, Hermione gathered up a bundle of Ron's wrinkled clothing and shoved it back inside the wardrobe.

There, she smiled with a sliver of satisfaction. That will at least clear a path to our bed.

Before Hermione turned to leave, the wardrobe creaked and burst back open. The mountain of clothes tumbled out of the once contained space.

Hermione groaned and stomped her foot, now considering hexing Ron into next year.

Before she could do so, she spotted a cream-colored letter-sized note peeking out from under the pile.

What is this?

Hermione picked it up and unfolded the flimsy parchment that was covered in splotches of spilled ink. She sniffed the parchment that smelled faintly of butterbeer. Her eyes recognized Ron's messy scrawl, and she furrowed her curious brows as she scanned the written words.

Property of one mildly drunk Ron B. Weasley

Stay away Harry, you git, even if it is your stag night!

Oh Hermione, Oh Hermione,

I love you so much, I resort to rhyming,

You light up my life just like the deluminator,

Always stopping me from being a procrastinator

Your brown eyes are the only chocolate I need

I love to watch you sit and read

Everytime you bite your lip you drive me crazy

My mind around you is always a bit hazy

I could spend hours just staring at your hair

For many years I wanted to touch you, but wouldn't dare

How is it possible that this witch is mine?

You've got me wrapped around your finger just like a vine

Hermione, you're fucking beautiful, don't worry about your battle scars

You're bloody amazing, you are

I wish we could go for a fly on my broom,

And recreate what happened that day we sh—

Hermione's eyes bulged out as she read the last few words. Her cheeks grew hot.

"RON WEASLEY!"

Ron scrambled through the bedroom door, wand at the ready, and eyes wide with terror.

"Wh-what? What's happened?"

His eyes landed on the thin piece of parchment pinched between Hermione's fingers and his face paled.

"Oh...shit."

"Care to explain this?"

Ron held his hands up, already in defensive mode. "Listen, Hermione, you have to understand that—"

"You do realize that if this had fallen into unintended hands, the hands of a muggle, the consequences could've been severe?" Hermione snapped.

"Well, it's a good thing you found it then, love. Right?" He gave an uneasy laugh, and she knew he was using his usual tactic of humor to diffuse any tension in the room.

"It is a good thing, Mr. Weasley." With a prompt flick of her wrist, their bedroom door slammed shut and the familiar sound of a clicking lock was heard.

Ron grinned from ear to ear as his wife jumped into his arms.

"A very, very good thing."