Words

Author's Note: Originally published on February 15, 2010

Ron balled up yet another piece of parchment in frustration. With a simple wave of his wand he could wipe away his words and start again, but he liked the tactile feeling of crumpling up his failures.

He pushed away from the desk and stared up at the ceiling of the flat. He hadn't seen Hermione since Christmas break, and with no Hogsmeade weekends upcoming, he needed to find a way to do something special for their first Valentine's Day as a couple, even if they had to spend it apart.

Despite their memorable first kiss, she was uncomfortable with big public displays, preferring to keep their relationship private—something just for them to share. On the other hand, he was so ecstatic he wanted to announce their burgeoning romance to everyone he knew... and had done just that at the Burrow before they left for Australia, much to her reluctant amusement. In the following days and weeks, he had learned that she really treasured meaningful, intimate gestures from the heart.

That was why he'd decided to write her a letter. Hermione cherished the written word—he finally understood this after their long conversations under the late summer sun. They exchanged letters all the time about their day-to-day activities and how much they missed each other, but he wanted this to be different.

He wanted to tell her how much she meant to him, how he felt like a big piece of him was missing while she was finishing school. He just couldn't come up with the flowery words to say so; he was rubbish at that sort of thing. He'd even tried quoting Muggle poetry, but he couldn't understand what half of it meant, even if she could.

"Don't tell me I had to close up downstairs all by myself so that you could sit up here and do nothing," George's voice rang out behind him.

Ron turned and gestured feebly at the mountain of discarded parchment. "I'm trying my bloody best."

George laughed and ruffled Ron's hair. "Poor Ronnie."

Ron slapped his brother's hand away in annoyance. "Stupid git, this is difficult."

"Nah, it's easy to flatter birds, mate. Just tell her she has lovely hair and eyes, that's always worked for me." He grinned. "Of course, I'm much better looking than you."

"This is not some bird, George. Hermione means everything to me. I love her, mate. She's it for me and I hope to one day spend the rest–" He clamped a hand over his mouth, realizing he'd revealed more than he'd intended.

George smirked. "You were saying?"

Ron flushed and mumbled. "Nothing."

"Why don't you tell her what you just told me... except for the last part, yeah?"

"Yeah... thanks George." Ron grabbed a quill and paused, imagining Hermione's smile when she read his special Valentine's note, before starting to write.

"Oh, and Ron?"

"Yes?"

"You might want to try a different quill."

Ron looked down in alarm and groaned. "Not again."

Deer Hurnomemy...