FIC: Letters (R/Hr)

[shiiki]

Title: Letters
Author: shiiki
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Ron Weasley/Hermione Granger
Fandom: Harry Potter
Word Count: 3,485

Summary: "You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how." -- Gone With the Wind
The night before the final reckoning, Hermione and Ron find comfort in each other and in imagining what would have been, and should be.
Written for the Ron/Hermione MovieQuote!Fic Challenge at Checkmated.

Notes: Written pre-Deathly Hallows, now somewhat A/U. A huge thank you to the awesome sowritesauds, who did a quick and fantastic job beta-ing, and suggested the title for this fic. Also, much love to spidergirl30 for her feedback and encouragement. You girls are the best!

Link to fic at Checkmated | Simply Undeniable


Hermione's fingers trembled as she drew a line across the second-last item on her list.

She, Ron, and Harry stared at it, that little black line near the bottom of the parchment crossing out an item that was the last of six. There was a long silence as they tried to absorb the significance of this.

Finally, Ron spoke, in a halting voice. 'That's the --' he began.

'The last one,' said Harry shortly, turning his head away as though he could no longer bear to look at the parchment.

Hermione felt her stomach turn. The last one.

The final Horcrux.

She didn't need to look at the list to tell her what came next, but her eyes slid down an inch from the crossed-out name of the snake they had just killed, to the very last word on the page. The name, in her own neat handwriting, stared back up at her, confirming what she already knew -- what all three of them had known before they'd even started out on their quest: when the Horcruxes had all been destroyed, they would have to face the Dark Lord.

That means ...

But it was Ron who voiced the thought for her. 'So that means ... we have to -- to find V-Voldemort now.'

Harry, still not looking at them, nodded grimly. His face was set, his posture stiff and tense.

'That's the -- last stage. We're almost at the end,' Ron said steadily, but his voice, though strong, was unable to mask the fear that Hermione could see in his eyes as he glanced between her and Harry.

It was the same fear that was slowly seeping into her soul as she felt the implication of their destruction of the last Horcrux sink in. For nearly a year, they'd travelled in search of Voldemort's five loose Horcruxes; they'd survived horrible weather, dangerous situations, the occasional brush with Death Eaters; they'd managed to hide from Voldemort and conduct their search in absolute secrecy -- not even Ginny had been told the intimate details of their quest. But despite all they'd come through already, they would be facing the toughest battle yet in the very near future.

Hermione suppressed a shudder at the thought of having to come face-to-face with Voldemort. She'd known this was coming, and she would face it bravely -- as bravely as Harry had faced up to the fact that he was destined to destroy Voldemort. As bravely as she and Ron had vowed to stand by Harry's side as he did so.

'Where will we start with Voldemort?' she asked. 'And how?' Her mind raced through the answers even as she posed the questions. They would need to find Voldemort. They would have to kill him. They'd have to be prepared to duel, to counter the deadliest spells in Voldemort's arsenal. Certainly they'd gained plenty of practical experience during their past year on the road. Their duelling had improved with each skirmish they escaped; they'd broken all sorts of difficult enchantments to destroy the Horcruxes; research had taught them many lesser-known but highly useful spells and jinxes. But Hermione thought they'd need to be even more proficient if they were to have even a hope of out-duelling Voldemort.

'We find him,' said Harry harshly. 'And I'll have to kill him, won't I?'

'Yes, but we need to make sure you're fully equipped to, Harry --'

'And that Hermione and I are able to watch your back while you duel him,' added Ron.

'Exactly. I was thinking we need more preparation, more study -- I thought maybe we should return to Hogwarts. Now seems as good a time as ever. It's the safest place for us to stay for a while and study or practise until we feel we're ready to initiate a confrontation.'

'That sounds like a good plan,' Ron agreed, with a tense half-smile in Hermione's direction.

'No.' Harry turned to them, his eyes hard and determined. 'We have to go after him right away.'

'But Harry, it'd be better if we were ready --'

'We can't give him any time to find out that his Horcruxes are all gone. If he figures it out, he could make another one right away, and then even if I kill him, it'll just be like the first time he went away.'

'He mightn't -- I mean, it doesn't seem as though he's realised what we've been doing yet, and we've been at it for a long time already ...'

But Hermione realised with a jolt that Harry was unfortunately right. While Voldemort probably hadn't caught on so far to what they had been up to this year, it wouldn't be long before he did.

'What's going to happen when Voldemort summons Nagini and he finds out she's dead?' demanded Harry. 'The faster we work the less opportunity he has to react.'

'Harry's right, Ron.' Hermione felt her stomach plummet as she said the words. There was no time for preparation or practice.

They had to start tomorrow.

---

Hermione insisted that Harry take the first shift for guard duty -- a precaution they'd maintained ever since they'd been ambushed in the night by Death Eaters earlier in their quest. She thought it'd help Harry to get more unbroken hours of sleep before morning came. If they were truly to seek out Voldemort tomorrow, she wanted him to be well-rested.

For that same reason, applied to Ron, she had volunteered herself for the second shift. Thankfully, neither boy had seemed to realise her intentions, and they'd accepted the shift divisions calmly. Harry without a doubt would have argued with anything that presented him an advantage over her or Ron.

She'd spent the first half of Harry's shift tossing in her sleeping bag, telling herself she'd need some sleep if she were to be alert enough when Harry woke her for her shift. When she did manage to fall asleep, a nightmarish skull-white face with slit-like red eyes invaded her dreams and roused her in a cold sweat, erasing all hope of rest before her shift began. She spent the rest of the time before Harry came in watching Ron sleep.

His sleeping habits hadn't changed much since second year, Hermione reflected. Ron had unzipped his sleeping bag; his arms were sprawled out on either side of him. One long, lean leg stuck out of the bag, bent slightly at the knee. He was snoring peacefully through barely parted lips, his face relaxed. His hair, nearly as unkempt and untidy as Harry's these days, flopped over his shut eyes. Hermione resisted the urge to reach over and brush the hair away; she didn't want light contact to awaken him. They had all become such light sleepers now.

A year of hiding will do that to you, Hermione thought ruefully, as Harry pulled back the tent flap, letting a beam of moonlight inside. He crept soundlessly to her side, evidently believing her asleep, and tapped her shoulder gently.

'Hermione.'

She sat up slowly, so as not to alarm him with any sudden movements. 'Okay, Harry. You get some sleep now.' She touched his shoulder briefly and he nodded. A moment later, as she exited the tent, she turned her head to see him burrowing into his sleeping bag, next to Ron. Hermione wondered if Harry would find it as hard to get to sleep as she had.

She checked in on her two boys tonight more than she usually did. It had become her custom to look in on them on the hour during her shifts, but tonight, she kept peeking in at least twice as often. Harry appeared to be asleep -- he was lying still, at any rate, his chest rising and falling slowly -- but you could never tell for sure with Harry. Snape might have accused him of wearing his heart on his sleeve, but Harry could be extremely closed up when he wanted to be.

Hermione wondered if the urge to peek at Ron and Harry so often tonight stemmed from a fear that this might be the last time she'd ever have the chance to. It was a morbid thought, but she couldn't shake it off. When dawn arrived, it might bring with it the last day of their lives.

Although they'd been in danger since embarking on their Horcrux hunt, it would be nothing compared to actively seeking out the most powerful Dark wizard of their time. It was infinitely easier to survive when traversing the countryside in secret, keeping their actions and whereabouts hidden. Full face-on confrontation with Voldemort made every skirmish they'd had with Death Eaters feel like child's play.

If we die tomorrow ... It was entirely possible. They'd known for so long that Harry's destiny was to defeat Voldemort -- or die. And I'd do anything to make it the former.

So would Ron.

No! I'd give my life to save him, too! Although Hermione wasn't too sure if that would constitute an act of bravery or cowardice. She simply couldn't bear the thought of having to live on without Ron. When he'd ingested poison last year, and she'd thought he had gone, just like that ... words couldn't have described her anguish. He didn't know, but Hermione had been extra careful with the food they ate during their travels. The enemy wouldn't get a second chance with her Ron.

They wouldn't get Ron, and they wouldn't get Harry. If that meant she'd have to relinquish herself ... then so be it.

She would have to leave them behind, however, and other people as well. People whom she loved; people who loved her. Her parents -- they'd never really understood her, and less so when her Hogwarts letter had come, but they'd accepted her differences and tried to love her regardless of them. Ginny, who had understood her. Her teachers and mentors. Hermione didn't want to leave them without some form of farewell.

Of course, they had written their wills had the start of her journey. It had been her idea, but Ron and Harry had supported it. They'd witnessed each other's wills, and Hermione had been the one to perform the spell to seal them. Ron had sent Pigwidgeon off to Lupin with an accompanying note instructing Lupin to keep them safe in a Gringotts vault.

Harry's had been the shortest of the three: In the event of my death, all my possessions are to go to the Weasley family and Hermione Granger. Hermione's advice to portion things out accordingly had been met with a blank stare.

'I don't care how they split it.'

Hermione supposed he was right -- the Weasleys were fair and honest, and the last people she'd imagine to squabble over a fortune Harry left for them. She doubted that a single one of them would even take a cent if that meant it'd bring back Harry from the dead.

Her own will hadn't been too long either. She'd been more detailed than either boy, but she'd taken care to keep things to the point.

As it was, her will was only a single piece of parchment, formally written -- it could provide no comfort should she die. Just as Harry's money or Ron's possessions could never replace them if ever they were to leave her. She wanted to leave behind something more personal ...

Letters.

She longed to summon quill and parchment, but knew better than to use magic at this time for such a trivial reason. Furthermore, taking her eyes and concentration away from her watch long enough to write the numerous letters she was planning was a risk they couldn't afford. Especially not now, when they were so close to their goal.

So Hermione spent the rest of her shift composing her letters in her head. With some luck, she'd still remember them when she woke up the next morning. As she roused a yawning Ron to take his turn, she contemplated staying up to finish her letters, but decided she shouldn't sacrifice her rest any more than it had been. She'd need the alertness tomorrow.

A fitful half hour was all that she managed, however. Her mind seemed unwilling to allow her to rest properly.

I may as well write. It might make me sleepier.

Rolling over, she dug into her bag for quill and parchment, taking care not to rustle the parchment too loudly. She hoped the scratching of her quill wouldn't wake Harry.

Dear Mum and Dad, she wrote first. She told them that she loved them. She thanked them for allowing her such freedom to pursue her life in the magical world. She hoped they would understand.

Her words flew from her quill: Dear Ginny, Dear Professor Lupin, Dear Tonks, Dear Mr Weasley -- it hurt that she could no longer write Dear Sirius or Dear Mrs Weasley or even Dear Professor Dumbledore. She wrote to everyone she cared about. Dear Harry.

And then -- Dear Ron, she penned, and stopped. How to begin? Where to start? Hermione tried to organise her thoughts, which were flying to Ron, flitting through a thousand images of him like a movie on fast forward.

Ron, asleep in his sleeping bag. Ron, his face set with determination. Waking up and brushing his hair out of his eyes as he yawned. In dress robes, his blue eyes staring straight at her, clear and honest and open ... His mouth, slightly open; his face drawing back from a kiss ... their first and only ...

Hermione raised a finger to her lips, remembering how Ron had finally, at long last, worked up the courage to kiss her.

But then they had agreed to wait. On the brink of war, a day before they were to walk into danger by Harry's side -- it was no time for romance.

'How would I take you on a proper date in the middle of the wilderness, anyway?' Ron had said, in an attempt to lighten the severity of their situation.

Accordingly, they'd moved no further than the one chaste kiss shared before they left The Burrow. If she were to die tomorrow, Hermione wished she could have had just one more to take with her to the grave.

She put the tip of her quill to parchment again.

I could tell you how much I love you right here, and promise you that right up to the end, I did. But I wish I could have just one more kiss before that end.

'Hermione?'

She gasped and snatched her wand up, swinging it around. Her quill fell from her fingers and clattered to the ground. There was a sudden movement to her left as Harry sat bolt upright.

Ron, framed in the tent opening, held his hands up, looking alarmed.

'What's happening?' said Harry sharply.

'Nothing,' said Ron, in genuine surprise. 'I only --'

'You nearly gave me a heart attack, Ron!'

'I whispered!'

Harry cleared his throat loudly. He looked from Ron to Hermione, and shaking his head, curled back up in his sleeping bag.

Ron opened his mouth to say something, but Hermione put a finger to her lips and motioned towards the tent flap. If Ron wanted to talk, they'd better go outside, where they wouldn't disturb Harry any more. She could already feel a blush rising in her cheeks as she thought of how violently she'd reacted to Ron's soft call.

I was pre-occupied, her mind protested, defending herself. She sighed as she scooped up her scattered letters and piled them together. Ron held open the tent flap for her to step out.

'So what're you doing up?' he said, once they were both seated outside.

'How did you know it was me?'

'I heard a quill. Who else would it be?'

'Oh. Well, I couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd ...' she let her sentence trail off, not sure how to broach the topic in a manner that wouldn't sound too morbid.

'What? Research?'

'No. Letters.'

'Letters?' repeated Ron curiously. 'To who?'

'Everyone.'

Ron scratched his head, looking puzzled. 'Um ... what for?'

'Just -- just in case.' Hermione felt her voice catch at the last word.

'In case of wh-oh.' Ron's curious expression gave way to sombreness. 'That's ... a good idea.'

It was his quiet acceptance of the fact that sent a chill down Hermione's spine. Maybe some of her fear showed on her face, because Ron reached out for her hand.

'You're not going to need them, though, if I can help it,' he said firmly.

He would die for her. Although she knew each one of them would do the same for each other, hearing the words straight from his mouth had the power to move her to tears. She blinked them back, not wanting Ron to have to deal with her tears now. He's always so awkward about emotion, the dear boy.

'I know,' she said, holding her voice steady with some effort.

'Good,' said Ron, squeezing her hand. He let go, and seemed to be casting around for a change of topic. Hermione found one for him.

'Did you see anything on your watch yet?'

'Just a pair of Muggles passing by.'

'This late? So far from the main campsite? You don't think --'

'No, I think they're really Muggles, Hermione. They were -- well, they were holding hands and all. A couple, you know.' He shrugged. 'It's a lovely night for a stroll.' He waved his hand at the sky. 'Not a cloud in sight.'

Hermione let her eyes follow his fingers. 'It would have been lovely,' she agreed wistfully. To be a normal Muggle girl, camping with her boyfriend, staying up all night to stargaze ...

She turned to Ron, who had a quizzical expression on his face as he stared at her. Hermione raised her eyebrows in question.

'Do you ever wonder what it'd be like if we weren't -- well, here? I mean, not that I regret coming with Harry, but just ... what if there wasn't -- Voldemort?'

'I don't know ...' Would she and Ron have been together, officially a couple, by now if they hadn't had to worry about Voldemort and his damned seven-part soul? Yet if there had been no Voldemort, there mightn't have been Quirrell or the troll in first year, and then would she even have had Ron?

'I do,' said Ron quietly. 'Hermione ... I know that ... you'd -- get in the way of a curse for Harry. Or -- me. And ... I would, too. And I can't -- I can't do anything about that because we have to. Whether he likes it or not. Whether we like it or not. Harry needs to -- finish ... Voldemort.

'But if anything -- I mean, whatever ... happens ... I would have ... we would be ...'

Words seemed to fail him. Instead, Ron pulled her roughly to him and kissed her.

Hermione's heart pounded; her pulse raced; she let out a small 'Oh!' of surprise against Ron's warm lips. Then she felt herself relax against his arms, leaning into him.

'This,' he breathed, 'is how it would be -- how it should be, always ...' He tightened his arms around her. 'You should be kissed --' his lips touched hers gently '-- and often --' he captured her mouth again '-- and by someone who knows how.'

Hermione felt his mouth move over hers; inhaled his soft puff of breath as her lips parted to allow him access. Every one of her senses were aflame, filled with the touch, the smell, the very taste of Ron, holding her and kissing her so passionately she thought she would melt right there in his arms.

His kiss had the power to heat her from inside. It was a gift of courage and hope. This very moment was a glimpse of the life he wanted to promise her. If they survived, this was the reward that would await her. If they didn't ... it was their parting gift to each other. With all the fervour she had, all the fire he summoned from within her, Hermione kissed him back.

It was a kiss that could stretch over the chasm of eternity -- it lasted a second, a minute, forever. Hermione couldn't tell when their lips parted and their skin met as their faces touched. Ron lifted his head first. With a trembling hand, he tucked a stray curl behind her ear.

'Remember,' he said, stroking her cheek with a finger, 'no matter what happens ... this is how it would have been -- how it should have been all along.'

Hermione nodded into his shoulder. They fell silent, sitting there together, breathing in sync with each other, simply holding on tight in defiance of what the morning would bring. After a while, as he continued to keep watch over them, Hermione let herself be lulled to sleep by the steady rise and fall of Ron's chest against her.