Title: Letter to Hermione

Author: Audrey ([email protected])

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Summary: Ron's forced to come to terms with his feelings at the news of Hermione's engagement. Can he talk her out of marrying someone else? Can he talk her into marrying him instead?

A/N: This is the result of randomly coming upon David Bowie's wonderful, wonderful song, a liter of Big Red, a pint of Cookies & Cream ice cream, and the delicious knowledge that it's okay that I'm still up at 3:00 AM because I don't have to go to work tomorrow. If that doesn't put you in the mood for fluffy mush, I don't know what does.

Definitely not my best work, but please review. Constructive Criticism deeply appreciated.

* * * *

The hand that wrote this letter
Sweeps the pillow clean
So rest your head and read a treasured dream
I care for no one else but you
I tear my soul to cease the pain
I think maybe you feel the same
What can we do?
I'm not quite sure what we're supposed to do
So I've been writing just for you

They say your life is going very well
They say you sparkle like a different girl
But something tells me that you hide
When all the world is warm and tired
You cry a little in the dark
Well so do I
I'm not quite sure what you're supposed to say
But I can see it's not okay

He makes you laugh
He brings you out in style
He treats you well
And makes you up real fine
And when he's strong
He's strong for you
And when you kiss
It's something new
But did you ever call my name
Just by mistake?
I'm not quite sure what I'm supposed to do
So I'll just write some love to you

Letter to Hermione by David Bowie

* * * *

Ron looked down at the letter for the hundredth time that afternoon. His eyes swept over the page, weighting each word and attaching inflection, feeling and meaning to each stroke of the quill.

The letter had caught him by surprise. It had been a perfectly normal Sunday afternoon spent relaxing after an exhausting week on an undercover assignment. Perfectly normal, until the brown postal own had swept into his hotel room bearing a letter with that neat, meticulous handwriting he'd recognize anywhere. He had smiled sitting down at the desk and opening the letter eagerly, and that was when his smile had died on his lips.

His eyes read over the words that had made his heart stop momentarily:

"Andrew proposed to me last night. He was terribly nervous knocking over his water and then getting on one knee. I didn't know whether to cry or to laugh. We've set the date for June."

The words seemed to jump out of the letter at him. He tried looking away, but his eyes were drawn back to those few sentences that had managed to make him feel like his world was falling apart.

Hermione was getting married.

And it wasn't to him.

This last thought sent a jolt through his body and he shivered in the cool March air. Suddenly the letter lost it's hold on him. It fell from his fingers and rustled to the ground.

Ron stood and began to pace back and forth along the length of his room, lost in thought. He felt overwhelmed with something he could only describe as panic. It was a feeling that he wasn't familiar with. Being a trained Auror he was equipped to handle any life threatening situation, except this one. He felt as if he was drowning, being smothered, as if his lungs were too small and he wasn't getting enough air. His chest ached with the thought of Hermione walking down the isle.

His gaze fell on the letter again, as it lay innocently on the floor where he had dropped it. Why had she told him in a letter? It would have been just as easy to apparate in and give him the good (horrible) news face to face. Was she afraid he would try to talk her out of it? Could he talk her out of it?

He picked it up from the floor and read it again. It sounded like any other letter from Hermione except for the fact that she was getting married. Even in that, the way she had written it...it was too casual. There was no joy in the way she had described it. Perhaps this was an invitation for him to try to talk her out of making a mistake. Maybe she wanted him to tell her that this was the wrong thing for her to do.

Ron sat once again at the small desk and put the letter out of sight. If she wanted him to try to talk her out of it, he would.

He was startled to find his hand was shaking slightly as he pulled out a quill and piece of parchment.

Dear Hermione,

He felt his heart pounding in his chest as he paused for a moment, not knowing where to start. He sighed and decided to start with the truth. There was no room for pride in a situation like this.

There is something that I need to tell you. I don't know how you will respond to this letter, but I have to tell you the truth. This letter is so hard to write, I hardly know where to start.

I have a secret that no one knows but me. Something that I've held close to my heart for the last five years because I was too much of a coward to let it be known. So just hear me out with an open heart. I have a few questions of my own.

There aren't many things that I'm afraid of. Spiders, yes. Death Eaters, no. Your cooking, slightly.

He bit his lip. This was going all wrong. He sighed and decided to continue without changing anything, if he thought twice about this he might not go through with it.

But the one thing that terrifies me more than death itself is the way I feel about you. I love you Hermione, more than I ever thought I could love someone else.

I remember the day we went our separate ways and even now, years later, I feel the same ache that I felt that day. You took a piece of me with you that day, and I've been carrying a piece of you with me. I thought it was all part of growing up. I thought that we could break apart and be stronger for it through the war, but I was wrong.

I've never loved anyone the way I still love you. My thoughts are on you a thousand times a day. I wonder where you are and what you're doing. I wonder if you ever think about the time we were together. If you ever go over those nights we shared before the war changed everything.

I'm not sure what I'm supposed to say to your news. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do. I can't let you do this without knowing how I feel about you. That's why I'm writing this letter, in an effort to let you know that you don't have to do this.

If this what you want, if this is what you need, I can't stand in the way of that. You won't let me. Just think this through. I'd love to kiss you on the cheek and wish you good luck, but I have a feeling that that would be the wrong thing to do. Wrong for me, definitely. But wrong for you also.

Of course I know about Andrew. Do you think I wouldn't know about a man you've been seeing for six months? Ginny's told me about the way that he dotes on you. About the expensive gifts and flowers. About his muggle movie star good looks. Whenever I ask her about you she goes on and on about how you've never been happier. About how you always have a smile on your face. I was happy for you. I never wished my regrets on you.

Is it anything like what we had, though? Does he know your secret fears and dreams? Does he know your heart? Do you ever feel like the war took more than our innocence?

Sometimes I think about the days before the war, before we had to sacrifice everything and I cry. I mourn still for those friends lost, for Harry, for us. I was never happier than in those careworn days at Hogwarts, and I've never been since.

I know those days are gone, never to return. I used to think all we had was the memories of each other as we were. I see now that's not true. We're still here even if they aren't.

We could make memories of our own. We could start over.

I don't know what I'm supposed to say. The thought of you marrying someone else makes me feel like I can't breathe. It makes me feel like I'm suddenly losing everything all over again. I wish I could tell you it's okay. That I didn't feel the way I do. That I don't think of you, that I don't remember those nights we spent together, or your laugh, or the way you just have to look at me and I feel like you know exactly what I'm thinking. I wish I could say I was happy for you.

But I can't. Don't do this, Hermione.

Marry me instead.

Ron's had froze in mid air. His breath caught in his chest. Marry him? He sighed. This was hopeless.

She was going to read his letter and she was going to feel horrible and probably embarrassed. He wouldn't ever be able to look her in the eye again. Watching her marry someone else was going to be hard enough without the knowledge that he had pledged his undying love to her and she had turned him down politely.

She would be polite, he knew she would. She would even be compassionate about it, but that wouldn't change the fact that he had a chance in hell of getting her to change her mind.

Hermione Granger didn't accept proposals lightly.

He should know that better than anyone.

Frustrated he folded up the letter and threw it in the waste bin. He was being stupid. He didn't know what to do, but he shouldn't do this. It would just be too cruel, to Hermione and to himself.

There was a knock on the door. He went to it and opened it.

"Ron, do you have an extra quill and parchment?" Seamus asked with an anxious look. "I'm supposed to write Lavender and I'm all out."

"Sure," Ron said listlessly, pointing toward the desk. "In the top drawer. I'm going for a walk."

"Is everything alright?" Seamus asked looking at him closely.

"Fine," Ron said stepping past him.

Seamus shrugged and made his way to the desk. He quickly wrote his pregnant wife a short note to tell her how things were going. He noticed a pile of letters ready to mail on the corner of Ron's desk and a note Ron had written to himself to mail them out.

It had been decent of him to let him use his quill and Seamus was going to the post office anyway. It only took a moment for Seamus to decide to return the favor. He reached for the pile of letters, knocking over an ink bottle in the process. He cursed as he struggled to mop up the mess and the letters fell to the ground. He quickly righted the ink bottle and picked the letters up from the ground and even one or two that had fallen in the waste bin.

He made one look over the room to make sure there was no sign of his clumsiness then smiled and shut the door quietly behind him.

A/N: I wasn't planning on making this more than a one shot, but this ending suddenly occured to me. What do you think? Should I continue?.