Okay! Back to Ron's POV. I think I'll do that from time to time. Kind of nice. :D Thanks to Fanius, the greatest beta ever! I got the love letter idea from Byron by Ciircee which can be read at Poems used:

There is a Lady Sweet and Kind by Thomas Ford

The Passionate Shepherd to His Love by Christopher Marlowe

Shall I Compare Thee, (Sonnet XVIII) by William Shakespeare [I had to use some Shakespeare.. If I didn't, I wouldn't be me.]

I own nothing. All belongs to JKR. I get nothing but sheer and utter joy.

Chapter Four ::

The Letters

"Ron?"
"Yeah?"
"You coming to Quidditch practice?"
"Yeah." I grabbed my robes and followed Harry.
"So what did you and Ginny decide you were going to do?" He asked, as we walked to the Quidditch Pitch.
"Write her letters."
"Letters?"
"Love letters." Harry choked back a laugh. Now I remembered why I didn't want to tell him.
"Oh."
"Spare me the grief, okay?"
"Okay fine. I just didn't think you'd be the type of bloke to write those kind of letters."
"What kind of bloke am I, then?"
"Um, oh... Well, I dunno. I'm sure you could be romantic or whatever."
"It's Hermione."
"I know. But are you sure that doing this is necassary? Wouldn't you just rather tell her outright?"
"I don't know. I think I'll give this a try."
"Okay."

I posted my first letter to Hermione. She sitting by Ginny, talking animatedly, her eyes sparkling. The post owls come swooping in, dropping letters to the people on which they were addressed. Hermione picked her letter up from between the jam and eggs.
"What's it say?" Ginny asked her, winking at me.
"I'll read it out loud.."
"Go ahead then."
" There is a lady sweet and kind, Was never a face so pleased my mind; I did but see her passing by, And yet, I'll love her till I die.

Her gesture, motion, and her smiles, Her wit, her voice my heart beguiles, Beguiles my heart, I know not why, And yet, I'll love her till I die.

Cupid is winged and he doth range, Her country, so, my love doth change: But change she earth, or change she sky, Yet, I will love her till I die."
"Wow."
"Really. Sounds likes someone is proclaiming his love for you."
"It's a Muggle poet. Thomas Ford."
"Did he sign his name?"
"No."

The look in her eyes then was enough for me, I could have told her right then and there. Ginny, though, decided that I should write her more lettters. She said that I should keep sending them to her, right up to Hogsmeade, and then she'd tell Hermione to write to the poet and tell him to meet her in Hogsmeade.A pretty good plan, if I should say so myself. I think my sister may be a genius.
Now, I've never gone to the libary unless I've absolutely had to. I've spent several days a week here, looking up Muggle poetry. Now some of these guys where nuts, but most of them are pretty good. Like this Shaky guy. He's written 37 plays! I even looked into some of those, one's really good. I'm not expert, but this guy knew what he was talking about. Romeo and Juliet... Now that's love. Then again, killing yourself over someone... Those Muggles. I'm amazed Hermione hasn't seen me yet. I've been spending as much time in here as she does.

"Ron?" I jinxed myself. Go figure.
"Hey." I pulled out the seat next to me.
"What are you doing in here? You never come here unless I drag you."
"Just looking at some stuff."
"Oh." She said, looking at the cover of one of the books on the table.
"William Shakespeare. Why are you reading his sonnets?"
"No reason. I just... that letter you got, it was kind of pretty, so I wanted to look at some other stuff like it." Another easy lie. It stung. It was easy, but it hurt. I don't like lying to her.
"Oh. That's cute." She said, ruffling my hair. That was the first time she'd ever done it, and after a few seconds, she jerked her hand away, "Sorry."
"It's okay. You probably think I'm some sap now, huh?" I said, forcing a smile.
"No. I think it's cute. That letter sparked something in you. You'll make a girl happy, you know that? If you keep this up, the poetry I mean. I mean, I can't speak for every other girl on the planet, but I'd love it." My eyes widened, was there something I was missing?
"Really? You think?"
"Yeah. I do." She smiled at me, I swear I probably would have fainted if I wasn't sitting down.

"I've gotten one Thursday. I swear, I could set my watch by him."
"Do you want him to stop?"
"I don't know. I'd be nice to know who he is though."
"What did it say this time?"
"Come live with me and be my love, And we will all the pleasures prove, That valleys, groves, hills and fields, Woods or steepy mountains yields.

And we will sit upon the rocks, Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks By shallow rivers, to whose falls Melodious birds sing madrigals.

And I will make thee beds of roses, And a thousand fragrant posies, A cap of flowers and a kirtle Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle;

A gown made of the finest wool, Which from our pretty lambs we pull; Fair-lined slippers for the cold, With buckles of the purest gold;

A belt of straw and ivy buds, With coral clasps and amber studs; And if these pleasures may thee move, Come live with me and be my love.

The shepherd swains shall dance and sing For thy delight each May morning; If these delights thy mind may move, Then live with me and be my love."
"Wow." Ginny said, looking at me in amazement.
"Loverboy strikes again!" Harry exclaimed, hitting me under the table.
"Harry, shut it."
"Jealous Ron?" He was milking this for all it was worth, it looked like. How could I be jealous since I was the one writing the letters?
"No. Not at all. It's kind of... sweet."
"Sweet?" Hermione and Harry said in unison. Thy hadn't been expecting it.
"Well, he seems to really fancy you, to write the letters and look up the poems."
"Ginny, what do you make of this?" She eyed my sister suspesiously.
"My brother isn't a prat all the time, he's got quite the sensitve side."
"Who said I was talking about Ron? I meant, what do you make of this letter?"

I heard Harry and Ginny both take a sharp intake of air. Oh no. Had Hermione figured it out?