Rating: PG I'd say. Nothing too sketchy, I promise.

Spoilers: Everything through OotP. Possibly some stuff I pulled out of some other people's fan fiction that I didn't realize wasn't canon. Don't shoot me, I swear, if I did that, I didn't mean to. It only means that your fan fic is super wonderful!

Pairing: Ron/Hermione, of course.

Summary: Ron and Hermione fight, but a letter from Harry leads to a reconciliation, and maybe a little more.

Author's Notes: Oh boy, it's just crazy that I'm actually writing an author's note. That means that I have actually authored something! Now, that doesn't mean that I've authored anything worthwhile. So, this is my first fan fiction, other than one I wrote a long, long time ago that...sucked. I know this is by no means an original idea, and it's probably been done a hundred times...but you have to start somewhere, right? So, I hope this doesn't suck, but if it does, please feel free to...beat me over the head with a large stick for wasting your time...or possibly, just left me a review with some constructive criticism. Either way, thank you for reading, and I hope you don't hate this! Now, on to the story!

A Simple Beginning
By ThroughTheAurora

"Oh honestly, Ron, you're being ridiculous."

"I'm being ridiculous? You're about to go off a million miles away and I'm being ridiculous? We're in the middle of a war, Hermione! Or did you not notice?"

The late afternoon sunshine filtered softly through the windows in the sitting room of the Burrow, casting an eerie glow upon the two figures situated inside. Hermione threw her hands up frustration, emitting a low growl which resonated in the space around her.

"You have to make everything so complicated. I should have known you'd never understand."

Ron looked about to explode with anger. "What's there to understand? You'd rather be anywhere than stuck here with me. I get it. Fine. Just leave."

"Fine! I will!" Hermione screamed, before turning abruptly and stomping up the staircase towards her room.

---

Alone, Ron watched Hermione's retreating form until she disappeared from sight. From above him, he heard the sound of heavy, pounding footsteps, followed by the sharp bang of a door slamming.

"Great," Ron thought. "Just great."

His week with Hermione had not gone as well as he had hoped. When he'd asked her to come and stay at the Burrow, he hadn't expected her to come until at least part way through the summer. But, when she'd owled him just five days after he'd last seen her at King's Cross, asking if it would be all right for her to come right away, he had been ecstatic. However, it was clear from the moment she arrived that things were not going to be as great as he'd imagined. A half hour into her visit, they were sitting alone in their respective bedrooms, fuming over their most recent fight. Looking back now, he couldn't even remember what they had argued about. Something about cherry pie. Or maybe it had been Ron's new Cannon's poster? No, that was Tuesday, he mused to himself. Must've been the pie.

Granted, they had shared a few good days too. After sorting out the cherry pie incident, they had spent a nice evening talking and playing chess. And just yesterday, they'd spent the day swimming and playing Quidditch with Fred, George, and Ginny. Though it had taken Ron about an hour and a couple of minor bruises to even get Hermione on a broom in the first place, everything had turned out well enough. Other than that, it seemed as though Hermione had been ready to pick a fight over just about anything. And this time she'd picked a good one.

He just knew she'd been unhappy staying at the Burrow. He wasn't sure why she'd agreed to come in the first place. Probably just to get it over so she'd never have to come back, he thought, running a hand through his already tousled hair. She must have felt obligated. That was the only reason he could think of. But now she was leaving. Going with her parents on a ridiculous holiday to New Zealand, or Africa, or the southeastern corner of Burma. Wherever the bloody hell that was. He sure didn't know. It didn't matter. Either way, she obviously couldn't wait to get as far away from him as possible.

Sighing in defeat, Ron headed to the stairs and picked up his Cleansweep, having abandoned it there the day before. Surprised she hasn't picked a fight over my organizational skills yet, Ron thought, shouldering his broom and starting towards the back door.

---

Hermione sat on her bed in the small room she shared with Ginny, wiping the steady flow of tears from her already bloodshot eyes. She'd cried enough over Ron and his childish antics. He's not worth it, a voice whispered inside her head. Don't be stupid, another retorted, you know he is.

Utterly exhausted and in no mood to fight with any such voices in her head, she collapsed onto the bed and closed her eyes against the harsh light streaming in through the open window.

Why couldn't he just listen for once? She'd hardly even had time to explain herself before he'd jumped at the chance to fight. She could barely remember what they'd said to each other now, though she was sure she'd heard a couple "Vicky's" and a few "What about Harry's" from Ron during the course of their argument. She wished for once he would stop being such a child and admit that he didn't want her to leave because he wanted her to stay.

They'd hardly been able to stop fighting the past week, and Hermione knew it was partly her fault. The pressure of having to tell Ron she was leaving had been eating away at her. Not to mention the ongoing strain they were feeling after Voldemort's return to the spotlight. After the fiasco in the Department of Mysteries, many people had been forced to accept the harsh reality that Voldemort was indeed back. The wizarding world was a wreck, and the Weasley family was not immune to the turmoil. Now the only thing many people could do was wait for him to strike again. No one knew who to trust anymore. No one felt truly safe.

Feeling alone and somewhat uneasy, Hermione forced herself not to relive her own memories of what had happened just a few weeks earlier. Placing a hand over her ribs, which still ached now and again from Dolohov's curse, she wiped the last of her tears away. I have no choice. If Ron can't understand that...then, well, he'll just have to live with it. She was leaving, and there was nothing he could do about it.

A flutter of wings and a soft thud interrupted her musings. Sitting up, Hermione caught a quick glimpse of snowy white to her left before it settled on the bed in front of her.

"Hedwig!" she said aloud, holding out an arm for Harry's owl to perch on. Hedwig hopped gracefully onto Hermione's outstretched hand, nipping affectionately at her fingertips. Hermione turned her attention to the bird's leg, where a small envelope was attached.

"Did you bring me a letter from Harry? Oh, I do hope you've been watching out for him," she cooed, stroking Hedwig's plush feathers. After detaching the letter, Hermione leaned over to the side table and grabbed a few owl treats. She handed them to Hedwig, who ate the gratefully before soaring back out the window.

Looking down at the letter in her lap, Hermione smiled slightly and ripped open the envelope.

Dear Ron and Hermione,
I'm doing fine. Mad-Eye's really got the Dursley's scared. They haven't even spoken a word to me all summer. Not even an insult. Every time I look at Dudley, he knocks something over and trips himself up. He's taken to spilling his dinner all over the table when I eat there. Quite funny, actually. I've gotten loads of letters from everyone. Poor Hedwig is exhausted. Lupin's been sending owls just about every other day. I spose maybe he's a little lonely at Grimmauld Place by himself. Though the Order must keep him busy. He never really writes much about the state of things, so I hope everything is alright. I haven't read anything in the Prophet, but you know how they like to glaze things over. I know Mrs. Weasley has been pleading with Dumbledore to let me come and stay, so hopefully I'll see you soon.
Harry

Re-reading the letter, Hermione was surprised at how normal Harry sounded. He had even mentioned Grimmauld Place. Hermione hoped that he really was fine. Sirius's death had hit them all hard, Harry most of all, and she knew that he must still be hurting. He'd never admit it if he were, she thought.

Thinking back to her fight with Ron, Hermione felt a pang of guilt. Harry had lost so much. His parents, his godfather. People he loved. And after all he'd been through; he was alone, while Ron and Hermione spent time together. No matter how much they fought, Ron was still her best friend, and she's spent what was probably her only week with him all summer fighting about cherry pie and Quidditch posters. It all seemed so insignificant now.

Standing up abruptly, Hermione grasped Harry's letter tightly in her hand and made for the door. We've been so stupid, she thought, as she forcefully turned the door handle and stepped into the hall.

---

It was sunset by the time Ron landed in the open field behind the Burrow and dismounted from his broom. The flight had cleared his head and calmed him down, and now he was content to sit down on the grass and think. He was beginning to think he'd been thinking too much. Though, he'd never had so much to think about either: the Order, Sirius, the Department of Mysteries, Percy...Hermione.

That's enough of that, Ron scolded his brain. No more thinking about Hermione all the time. Who cares that she's really pretty and she smells good and her eyes are...oh, bloody hell.

Ron promptly smacked himself in the forehead.

"What on earth are you doing?" a very Hermione-like voice said from above him.

Ron looked up and was met with an equally Hermione-like face. A very pretty face, he mused. Bugger.

He was pulled out of his reverie by the perplexed look she was giving him, and he realized his hand was still pressed against his forehead.

"Erm...m...mosquitoes. You know...nasty little buggers. I was just..." he made an exaggerated swishing motion with his arm, swatting away the imaginary mosquitoes.

"I see," she stated in one of her I'm-not-entirely-convinced voices, watching him curiously.

It occurred to Ron that they were supposed to be fighting. But somehow, he was no longer angry. As it appeared, neither was she.

"Can I sit down?" she asked, waiting for a little nod from Ron before plopping down unceremoniously by his side. Her face, he noted, was red and tearstained, and she'd obviously been crying. Before he could contemplate further, she handed him a piece of parchment. Opening it, he read Harry's letter in silence.

When he was done, he looked up at Hermione. "He sounds better."

"Yes," she replied quietly, fingering the hem of her tee-shirt. After a minute, she turned to face Ron.

"I'm sorry, Ron. I've been so stupid this week, acting like I hated being here. I don't hate being here. I love being here. That's why I was so upset all week. I was just afraid to tell you that I have to leave. I knew you'd be upset, and...I don't want to go. I just have to," she finished, closing her eyes for a second and exhaling deeply.

"I know...I...I'm sorry too, Hermione. I overreacted," Ron said, looking away from her and off into the distance.

"It's just," she continued, "I've hardly seen my parents all year. They were so upset when I didn't stay with them last Christmas. And...with Voldemort," Ron cringed. "Oh, stop. With Voldemort back...he's targeted muggle families before. With my involvement at the Department of Mysteries last year...it only makes sense that he'd target my family. What if I stay here and something happens to them? What if I never see them again?"

Looking up at Ron again, she could feel tears stinging in her eyes. She's been worried about this ever since the end of school, but to say it out loud was another thing all together.

Ron just stared at her, feeling like a complete git for ever getting angry. "Hermione," he started. But he never got to finish, as at that she began to sob uncontrollably, flinging herself at Ron.

Slightly dumbfounded, Ron recovered from the initial shock and wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

"Shhh, its ok. It will all be ok," he whispered, not quite knowing where the words were coming from.

Relaxing in his arms, Hermione's sobbing lessened. Around them, the sun was setting, creating a beautiful picture on the horizon. Not knowing what else to do, Ron just hugged her until her tears had stopped. When she finally appeared to have gotten control over her emotions, she lifted her head off Ron's chest.

"Why do we always fight like this?" she asked, knowing that neither one of them really had a good answer.

"I have no idea," he replied honestly. "Right now, especially. We shouldn't let these stupid things come between us, Ron. It's just what Voldemort wants, to split us up, to put friends against each other."

"If you keep saying his name, I'm going to have to stay against you permanently." Ron said, only half joking.

"You're going to have to learn to say it some day. We can't be afraid of him. We'll never get through this if we are," she replied seriously.

"Some day, maybe," he said, smiling down at her. "But, for now, I've always liked the way Fudge put it. 'Lord -- Thingy'. That's perfect."

Hermione laughed along with him, feeling, rather than hearing, his laughter. Realizing that he still had his arms around her and she was practically sitting in his lap, she straightened up a bit, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. Ron too apparently caught this vibe, and shifted away from her just slightly.

"So, erm...I guess we should try not to fight so much anymore," Ron stuttered, his voice cracking a bit.

"Yes, we should," she said, smiling.

"Ok, then. No more fighting. But, if your cat tries to eat Pig or anything..." he trailed off jokingly, reminiscing about third year and Scabbers. Actually, come to think of it, perhaps it would have been better if Crookshanks had eaten him. Probably a bit of nasty indigestion for Crookshanks though.

"Very funny," she said in a lighthearted tone. "I suppose we should go inside, it's getting chilly," Hermione suggested, while not making a move to get up.

Looking into her eyes, Ron didn't really want to move at all. He'd pretty much come to terms with the fact that he fancied Hermione. Why bother denying it? Behind him, the sun had almost disappeared behind the hills, its last rays casting a beautiful glow on her face. She wasn't moving to get up either, and in that moment, Ron's mind made an unconscious decision that he was going to kiss her.

Very slowly, as to give her plenty of time to jump up and run away if she wanted, he leaned in towards her. Seeing that she did not jump up and run away, but rather moved an inch closer, he closed the distance between them. Their lips met for just a short few seconds before they pulled apart.

Opening his eyes, Ron looked at Hermione, whose cheeks were crimson. Afraid for a minute that he'd done the wrong thing, he looked at her questioningly. When he saw a smile tugging at the corners of her lips, he took it as a sign that it was indeed not a mistake, and kissed her again, longer this time.

When they finally broke apart, Ron was quite in shock. He was sitting outside at the Burrow, kissing Hermione. Never in his wildest dreams had he even imagined he would actually be doing this. They looked at each other, both smiling like idiots.

Suddenly, Mrs. Weasley's voice broke through the silence between them. "Ron, Hermione! Come inside, dinner's ready!"

Laughing, Ron stood up and extended a hand for Hermione to take. She took it gratefully, and he pulled her off the ground. She was grinning, laughing a bit as well, and she looked beautiful. Overcome with more courage than he knew he had, he turned her to face him.

Keeping her hand in his, he took a deep breath.

"Voldemort," he said with as little fear as possible, keeping a straight face.

Hermione beamed, and threw her arms around him once again. Laughing in full now, they pulled apart and turned towards the Burrow.

"That was awfully brave of you," she said.

"I know," he replied. "I am rather brave, aren't I?"

"Yes, you're wonderful," she said, standing on her tip toes to kiss him one more time.

Walking slowly, hands entwined, Ron and Hermione walked down the hill, back to reality. A reality that they would face together. Together...and with Harry of course.

---

The End

A/N: You made it through the story! Yay! Thanks again for reading...now, leave a review!! You know that nice little button is calling your name. :)