Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and places belong to JK Rowlings. Based on the song "Letters From Home" by John Michael Montgomery.

This takes place about 2 years after the trio has left Hogwarts. The War is still taking place and Ron is off fighting.

Blah, blah - Letter

Blah, blah - normal

Letters From Home

"Mail call!" called a voice, thick with a French accent. Ron Weasley finished packing up his tent and hurried over to his commanding officer.

He and Harry had joined the Order of Phoenix shortly after leaving Hogwarts, much to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's chagrin. Having their older sons fighting the war was bad enough; it was torture seeing their youngest go off.

Ron had been on active duty for almost two years now. He had been assigned to the French regiment since Christmas because of his superior strategy skills.

Ron found mail days to be the thing that kept him going. In the long months between short visits to home, letters gave him courage and reminded him just why he was fighting - his family.

"Weasley!" Ron caught the letter as it came towards him, immediately recognizing his mother's handwriting. Sitting down to breakfast with Jean-Luc and Henri, two French wizards he had befriended, Ron began to read.

Dear Ron,

Oh, I miss you so much Ronnie! It's almost June and we haven't seen you since Christmas. I hope you're well. Make sure you eat enough so you don't get weak.

It's surprisingly dry here, but they predict rain soon. Not much has been happening here lately. With Charlie working, Susanna comes over often. Little Becky is starting to talk properly now. She saw your picture on the wall yesterday and starting asking about her Uncle Ron. She can't remember meeting you at Christmas and desperately wants to see you, along with all her other uncles.

I know your father doesn't write and he didn't talk to you much when you last visited, but you know he loves you, as do I. He's just being stubborn, a Weasley trait that you are well aware of . . .

Come back soon,

Mum

"Who's the letter from, Ron?" Asked Henri, trying to clean some of the caked-on mud from his boots.

"My mum. She's sends you guys her best." The two French men chuckled a bit; no matter how many times they heard their friend talk, they still found his English accent amusing.

"Time to move out, troops!" Came the voice of General Bordeaux. Everyone hurried to pick up his or her belongings and fall into line. Ron shoved the letter in his pocket. Grabbing his wand, he got into formation with his comrades.

A week later they had set up camp again. The rain was coming down in sheets and it was too hard to travel. Ron, Henri, and Jean-Luc were in their tent, praying for dry weather in the morning.

Ron pulled out a letter he had received earlier that day from Hermione. Lighting his wand he began to read.

My Dearest Love,

I miss you so much, honey!

Right now I'm sitting in my bedroom at my parents' house. It's almost dawn; I can see the sun peeking over the horizon. I have sat here for hours wondering where you are and if you're all right.

I went to the Burrow the other day and showed your mother the engagement ring. She said it was about time. I find it very distracting to have it sitting on my hand, a constant reminder of you. I was watching the television with my father last night. They had a piece on a muggle war that's taking place right now. They were talking about the soldiers that were killed or missing. I haven't been able to sleep since.

Don't worry about me. Just concentrate on getting home soon. I can't believe I haven't kissed you since Christmas, our engagement. It keeps me going, remembering that night before you had to go back. The kisses, the caresses . . .

XOXO,

Hermione

Jean-Luc peered over Ron's shoulder and took the letter. "Who wrote you this time?"

"My fiancee." Replied Ron, a hint of pride in his voice.

"Aw, Henri, look! She's calls him 'honey'!" The two laughed.

"How adorable!" Henri grabbed the letter. " What do we have here? 'It keeps me going, remembering that night before you had to go back. The kisses, the caresses . . .'"

Ron snatched the letter away, his ears reddening.

"Oh come on Ron, don't be a spoilsport!" Protested Henri.

"Yeah!" Added Jean-Luc, "It was just getting interesting!"

Ron opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by General Bordeaux. "We're under attack!"

Ron shoved the letter into his shirt pocket, pulled on his muddy boots, and picked up his wand. He hurried into the melee. He fought hard, trying to remember every spell Hermione had ever tried to teach him, her words echoing in his head: Just concentrate on getting home soon.

Ron sighed with contentment as he sunk into the bed. After three months and five battles, they were at the safe house. They had a week to clean up, heal wounds, and refuel before they headed back into battle.

Henri and Jean-Luc came into the room, carrying three dinners between them. "Thought we'd keep you and that broken leg company," said Henri with a grin.

Ron grinned back. "Thanks."

The last morning there, General Bordeaux handed out mail. The three friends eagerly tore their letters open. Ron stared at his in disbelief; it was from his father!

Dear Son,

I have been openly displeased with you for joining the Wizarding Army, especially after all the things you went through while you were still in school. But I couldn't sleep tonight and as I sit here in the kitchen, all I can think about is you.

You might die in this war. That's a given. You are Harry Potter's best friend. I've known you might die since your first year. So it occurred to me, do I want you dying thinking I am disappointed with you?

I have been your father for 20 years. In all those years, I don't know if I've ever said it, so I'll tell you now. I am so proud of you, Ronald Weasley. Don't ever forget that.

I love you,

Dad

Henri gave a sigh. "My little Gabby just learned to write her name, look." He showed the childish signature to Jean-Luc, who smiled.

"My sister just found out she's pregnant. She's ecstatic." Both turned towards Ron to see what news he received from home.

The red-haired young man had tears welling up in his eyes.

"Ron?" Asked Henri, tentatively.

Ron looked up and wiped his eyes. "My dad's proud of me."

He's friends gave him an encouraging clap on the back as he tucked the letter in his pocket. There wasn't time to dwell on what his father had written; it was time to leave.

Ron grabbed his wand and fell into line behind his friends, eagerly awaiting his next letter from home.

Fin