Warning: A mad Ron spits evil words.

For Nataleia: Why are you so good to me?

Thanks all. It's been a blast. Enjoy! :D

Ron stepped out of the fireplace in him own home, taking a deep breath of his surroundings. Hermione was in the kitchen, the smell of dinner floating through the house as though a light breeze. The kids were upstairs, and although Rose was sick, her stuffy nasal voice could be heard conversing with Hugo as they went over summer homework. The owls flying outside while cooing softly and catching their own dinner. Ron Weasley brushed off the green ashes from his clothes and the small specs drifted slowly to the dirty rug used just for Floo transportation.

"Hermione, I'm home!" Ron called, breaking the comfortable sounds of home.

The oven door slammed closed and Hermione's voice was muffled for a moment before she leaned against the doorframe leading into the living room. She had her hair up in a bushy ponytail with an old floral apron tied around her waist. "Hi honey," she said while smiling and pulling off her oven glove and then tossing it on the kitchen table. "How was your mothers?"

Ron shrugged off his well- worn jacket and placed it on the hooks on the wall. He grinned back at her. "She's been really lonely lately. None of the others visit her much. George is busy with the shop, Ginny has practice six days a week, and you know the rest… everyone's busy and she gets real lonely."

Hermione pushed herself off the wall and walked right up to him, throwing her arms around his neck and stretching out on her toes to give her husband a welcome home kiss. It was brief, and when it ended she sank back and looked up at him. "What did you talk about?"

"You, mainly," Ron said casually, while separating himself from her grip and striding over to his old armchair. He plopped down onto the chair and massaged his upper back while moaning in discomfort. "I'm getting so old…" he moaned.

Hermione ignored him and strode over behind the chair and began to knead his back muscles for him while he sighed appreciatively. "Thanks 'Mione," he murmured.

"What did you talk about?" Hermione repeated while kneading. On a normal day she would have complained about massaging him but she was curious as to why her husband would be talking about her to his mother.

Ron relaxed back into the chair and glanced up at her. He smiled again. "You."

She poked him in his bald spot affectionately. "Spill Weasley. What did you do with your mother?"

"Well, when I was at Hogwarts I wrote letters to her," he was interrupted by a snort from Hermione. He knew she was just joking so he stuck his tongue out at her. "And she kept them all in a scrapbook. We read through them."

A soft, wistful smile appeared on her face, but then she frowned. "But what's what got to do with me?"

He chuckled. "Turns out that from the very beginning I had it bad for you. The letters just proved it."

"You wrote to your mother about me while you were at Hogwarts?" she was amused.

"My mother and I were very close," Ron defended jokingly.

"I'm sure," Hermione replied evenly. She slowly went up and down his shoulder blades almost subconsciously. "What was that package you left with?" she asked him softly leaning into his ear.

His eyes were closed, relaxed. "Our seventh year letters."

Hermione leaned back against the wall, now softly kneading. "Oh…" she laughed. "Those." He laughed too and opened his eyes to look back at her. "Why did you give them to her?"

"The poor lady is alone and needs some more material with to tease me at the next family reunion."

"Oh Ron, she never runs out of material," she leaned back down again to press a kiss to the daily expanding bald spot.

He reached up to kiss her nose. "I wonder if she's reading them now…"

Molly Weasley used her cane to hobble to her kitchen to get a drink. On the table there was a thick envelope she had never seen before. Her tawny barn owl had not yet returned on his perch in the kitchen so she knew it had not come with the mail. Her involvement with the war all those years ago had changed her so now she was wary with every opening of the mail.

She put down the cracked mug recently filled with water and shuffled over to the table, relying heavily on the cane. Fingering the package carefully, she flipped it over so the address lay facing upward.

Mum, was sorting through the house the other day and thought you'd like them. Never got about to giving them to you after the Battle at Hogwarts, but they were always meant for you. Love, Ron.

Molly smiled and picked up the package. A Severing charm was used to open the top, for her arthritic hands no longer allowed her to do such things anymore like opening packages.

The trip to the attic took longer than it needed to, mainly because Molly was so happy she had new letters to add to her collection. Because Ron had given them only just now must mean that there was some mighty personal information in the letters. Molly couldn't wait, but she liked the suspense. There wasn't nearly enough of it anymore for her.

All too soon she was at her special rocking chair. Reaching into the package, she brought out the very first one, dated soon after the wedding between Fleur and Bill.

Mum,

I'm not sure if you're even going to get this, or even if I'll let you have it. Harry, Hermione and I are at the Burrow. We're searching for Horcruxes. Not sure if you've ever heard of them, mum, but He- Who- Must-Not- Be- Named hid pieces of his soul into famous Hogwarts relics, among other things. Harry's been really stressed lately, as I'm sure you know, but his dreams are coming back too. This adds to the tension. Hermione's really worried for him.

Last night was a disaster. We basically went here (Grimmaud Place) and plopped on the floor to sleep. It was Hermione on the couch, me on the floor, and Harry next to me. Hermione's hand was awfully close to mine when we woke up. Unfortunately it wasn't very long that we slept.

Harry doesn't know where to start. That much is obvious. Well, he knows that Mundungus has the locket and he's sent Kreacher to find him. We now wait. Food and other necessities will be hard to find.

Now we wait.

Ron.

Mum,

The locket is killing me, I swear. I just can't think strait. Every time I turn around there is another reason for me to be mad at the others.

The raid at the Ministry went well, as I'm sure you heard about. Well, then again, the Prophet is probably lying and saying it was a Ministry member gone mad or something.

Harry and Hermione are talking again. I can hear them. They always talk together, all the bloody time and I can't take it anymore. I thought that she didn't like him that way, but every day, every hour, they get closer and closer. I can't take it mum! It hurts! Not only that but Harry doesn't confide in anyone. He just sulks.

There's no food, Hermione's an awful cook, we don't know how to get rid of the damn Horcrux and Harry's no closer to finding the next one!

I hear excited whispers.

This ends now.

Ron.

Mum,

I'm back on the run again. Aren't you proud? I sort of lost it when that last letter ended. I never knew jealousy could boil up that way, a way that makes me want to scream and tear my hair out. Looking back, I can see why the others never wanted to talk to me. I was a right old bugger. After my little hissy fit I went to live with Bill at Shell cottage. The guilt of not being with the others just bubbled in me and I couldn't take it anymore. I had to go back.

When I finally saw Harry, he almost died in a frozen pool trying to get the sword of Gryffindor. Don't ask me how it got in there. I saved him, in a manner of speaking, and he opened the locket using Parseltongue. The most horrific nightmare was in there mum, I can't even tell you. Every molecule in me boiled up until I couldn't take it anymore. Harry and Hermione… uh, the pain was excruciating and I didn't even get physically injured. You- Know- Who knows what weak spots to hit on people. It was awful, mum!

Hermione's 'welcome back wagon' didn't exactly pull into the station the way I'd wanted it to. She attacked me and luckily Harry had her wand otherwise she would've hexed me! Can't say I don't blame her. She's so cute when she's mad.

She's ignoring me. I'll just agree with whatever she wants to do until she forgives me. At this rate I'll be an old man before she even looks at me again. I never want to hurt her this much again.

Looks like I have my chance! She wants to go to Luna's dad's house! Here I go…

Ron.

Mum,

She got captured. We all got captured. Bellatrix tortured her, mum! She has Mudblood carved into her hand… I just wanted to kill that skank that did that to her. How could she? The little bloody, dirty, pureblood fool! I hate her. She wanted the sword we found and for some reason she thought it was from her vault. So she tortured Hermione for information. We could hear the screams all the way in the cellar.

I thought I would go mad until Dobby saved us. Merlin knows how. By the time we got up to Hermione she was nearly passed out. Dobby saved us all. Too bad Bellatrix got him in the end. Harry took all evening to make him a grave. I was helping Fleur with Hermione. She couldn't even make coherent sentences before Fleur bandaged her wounds. Bella must've put some poison in the dagger to make it more painful.

I have never hated anyone more.

Ron.

Mum,

This will be my last letter to you. I'm exhausted, Harry's exhausted, Hermione's exhausted and so is the rest of the world. We did it, mum! We did it. Voldemort's gone. Forever.

I'm just casually laying beneath a tree near the Great Lake. Somehow it looks peaceful after everything we've been through. Hermione is laying on my arm, nearly asleep.

I think things can only get better from here.

Poor Fred, poor Colin, poor Tonks and Lupin. All those others… it doesn't feel right to have survived when all those others hadn't. I know Fred would've wanted us to be happy and remember the good times but the pain of his leaving is too hard. I've barely accepted it myself.

It's going to feel so good to sleep again.

I love you mum,

Ron.

Mrs. Weasley put down the letter, placing it in its own special spot in her book. "The pages are running out," she murmured to herself while tracing her finger along the yellowing pages.

There were soft pearls of tears running from the elder Weasley's eyes as she cried. Cried for Ron, for Fred, for Harry, for Tonks and Lupin and even Snape. After all this time it still hurt.

And as she rifled through the scrapbook one more time she realized she had been given a special gift that no one else had.

She had read the mind of her youngest son and was able to know before anyone else.

And she smiled for all the moments Hermione and Ron would have together and had already had.

Molly Weasley couldn't help but feel a little responsible.

Well…?

The goal for this chapter was to have two thousand words while the others only had about one thousand each.