A/N: Definitely not my best work, but it was trapped in my head all afternoon.
Disclaimer: I own nothing... Especially not Harry Potter
When Ron Weasley walked into the common room late one night after a long detention with McGonagall, he saw Hermione, sitting by herself in a chair. He walked over and sat down across from her, attempting to peer across the empty space between them at the parchment on which she was writing. He let out a strange noise – he could have sworn he saw his own name on that parchment. When she looked up and saw him, she jumped a little and quickly hid the parchment in her book.
"What's that?" Ron asked curiously.
"Oh nothing," Hermione said, hastily shoving the parchment back into her bag, "just some extra credit."
"Really? And what's my name doing on your extra credit assignment?"
Hermione froze for a moment, but then continued to hastily shove the rest of her belongings into her bag.
"Don't be ridiculous, Ronald," she said, "Your name wasn't on that paper."
"Oh yeah," Ron said, smirking slightly, "Well who is he then?"
Hermione stood, crossed her arms, and looked down at him.
"Who's who?" she asked, her eyebrows furrowed.
"The other Ron Weasley," Ron said, crossing his arms and looking back up at her from where he sat on his chair.
Hermione dropped her arms.
"Okay, fine," she said, sighing, "Your name was on it, and it wasn't extra credit. But I don't want to talk about it right now," she added hastily.
Ron huffed and turned his head away from her to look at the fire. His features were illuminated, and his expression was hard. His lips cracked into a wry smile.
"Ridiculous," he whispered harshly to nobody in particular.
Hermione, who was still standing in front of him, looked confused.
"What's ridiculous?" Hermione asked, now sounding nervous.
Ron turned to face her, the grim smile still playing on his lips.
"You are," he replied, and Hermione looked offended, "We've been friends since the beginning of time, and you don't even trust me enough to tell me what you've written on a stupid piece of parchment. It can't be that bad, so what's the big deal?"
"Ron I…" Hermione started, but Ron interjected.
"It's not just the parchment either," he continued, "It's everything. I thought, well, never mind. It's not important anyway."
Hermione gingerly sat down in the chair, her eyes on his face and her look, stern.
"Ron, I never meant to do anything wrong," she said softly, "Whatever it is you want to say, just say it. It is important."
Ron looked at her and sighed, his expression now sad, "I just… you don't trust me anymore."
Hermione leaned back in her chair and laughed softly. Ron looked at her with a hurt expression.
"Ron, I trust you," she said, "I don't want you to think I'm crazy, that's all."
Hermione took the parchment out of her bag and looked at it. She sighed.
"Well, I suppose it doesn't matter anyway," she said, and then looked up at him, "It's my will."
"Your will?" Ron repeated curiously, "Like a last will and testament?"
"Yes, that's exactly what it is," Hermione replied, "Times are getting more and more dangerous, and if I…"
"If I die, then I want things done a certain way, and certain messages relayed."
Ron's gaze went from Hermione to the paper folded in her hands.
"Oh. Well, I can understand why you wouldn't want me to read it, so I don't have to…" Ron started.
"No, you might as well,' Hermione asked, "If not now, you might never."
She held out the parchment and Ron stared at it for a moment before looking at the woman seated before him. Then, he took the parchment with a shaking hand and sat back in his chair. He opened it slowly, his hands fumbling over the crisp folds. Ron was nervous, but then again he was about to read Hermione's last wishes. He read the first line of the page.
As my last will and testament, I, Hermione Jane Granger, have the following wishes and messages to be relayed.
Ron felt his breath catch in his throat, and smoothed out the page over his knee. He lifted the paper and leaned back in his chair, and continued to read.
First and foremost, to my family, meaning my parents, as I have no other known family; I leave a final farewell, and the rest of my possessions that are not mentioned in the rest of this will. Mum and Dad, I thank you for raising me to be the woman I have become, and for loving me as unconditionally as you always have.
To Harry James Potter, I leave you with a few of my prized possessions, including my wand and all of my non-school-related notebooks. I hope that they can help you to defeat Voldemort if you have not already done so by this time, and if you have, then keep them as a record of events and reminders of my friendship and dedication. I leave you with my spellbooks, and I hope you use them well.
Ron chuckled a little as he read this, as much as he was saddened – it was just too Hermione to give Harry her spellbooks. Hermione gave him a questioning look, but he ignored her and continued.
Harry, you have been a best friend to me, and I want to know that you have been the brother I never had. You have been there for me whenever I needed you, and for this, I am grateful.
To Molly and Arthur Weasley, I leave my vault at Gringotts. I do not have much, but no money can amount to all of the love and care you have shared with me over the years. I am eternally grateful for all that you have done for me, and all the sacrifices you have made to make this world a better place.
Ron closed his eyes when he reached his own name.
"Hermione, I don't know if I can read this part," he said, and Hermione understood what he meant.
"Please Ron, just read it. It will make everything so much easier if you do," she said quietly, though the common room was quite empty.
"Alright," Ron said, and opened his eyes, his heart hammering in his chest.
Finally, to Ronald Bilius Weasley, I cannot say that our relationship has been an easy one, though I cannot say that I would ever take it back. There is no material thing that I can give you to satisfy what you have given me, so I will give you something more important. To Ronald Weasley, I leave my unconditional love and undying trust; my heartache and my sorrow; my gladness and my satisfaction. I know I may never tell you, and though you may never feel the same, I can't die knowing that you will never know. However, I leave in your possession the best manmade token I can give; a locket of silver with my initials engraved on it that I have worn since our fourth year at Hogwarts. I hope that you can keep it safe, as I kept my secret safe for all these years.
My last will and testament. May it be fulfilled upon my death.
Ron looked up from the paper with a shocked expression on his face. He watched her and realized that his mouth was open, so he closed it, swallowed, and tried to find something to say. Hermione looked at him and sighed.
"Ron, I can understand if you don't feel the same," she said desperately, "Now you know why I didn't want you to read it in the first place. I'm sorry."
None of this seemed to register with Ron, who merely stared.
"Where is it?" he asked quietly, eyeing Hermione, "Do you have it now?"
"What? Oh!" Hermione said, realizing what he was talking about.
Hermione reached up and swept her hair off her shoulders. She undid her tie and laid it on the arm of the chair. Her hands went slowly to her neck, and Ron tried not to gasp as she undid the first button of her uniform, and then the second button. He clasped his hands together in his lap as the third and fourth buttons came undone, and finally the fifth. Her collared, white Hogwarts blouse was pulled taut, as to not reveal anything inapplicable, but was still lower than any v-neck shirt that Ron had ever seen.
After recovering the initial shock, Ron noticed a long, thin, delicate-looking silver chain was around her neck, reaching as far down as she had unbuttoned. Ron thought that there was no need for a chain so long, but thought that it was something to marvel at all the same. He realized that he would have never noticed this chain on a normal day as it was so thin, but he definitely noticed it now. At the end of the chain was a small, silver heart-shaped locket that matched its chain in looking delicate.
Ron stood and sat down in the same chair as Hermione, and grabbed her hands. She looked up at him, frightened and vulnerable, and he realized that she did trust him, and immensely at that.
'Why else would she have just opened up like this?' Ron thought, 'I could just take advantage of her now, and nobody would ever know. But she trusts me. She trusts me. '
"Hermione, I," he started, but he didn't know what to say.
He looked down at the will in his hand, and looked back at her.
"All of this," he said, "I… I don't want you to die… I don't want to even think about it."
Hermione pursed her lips and looked at him sadly.
"Who says I will?" she said quietly, "Maybe, maybe we'll make it through this war, and everything that we… that I hoped for, will come true."
"Don't you understand?" Ron asked, his brows furrowed, "Your hopes and dreams… well, they're mine, too. Ever since fourth year, I've wanted to tell you, but I couldn't. I just…"
Ron stopped talking, and when he looked into Hermione's eyes, he knew she understood.
"Was scared," she finished for him, and he nodded.
"Of rejection," he said, and he rested his forehead on hers, their eyes still connected.
"I won't reject you, Ron," she said softer still, "If you don't reject me."
Ron gently lifted her chin with his hand and their lips met in a sweet, loving kiss. His fingertips slowly traveled down the nape of her neck and further, and she made as if to protest, but then thought better of it. He moved straight down the open area of her shirt, but with no intention of doing anything sexual or taking any detours along his path. His fingers stopped when they rested upon the locket, and he broke away from her kiss. She looked up at him, her eyes wide, knowing that she was susceptible to attack, but Ron was not looking at her. He had picked up the locket and was analyzing it with much interest.
The locket was small, and had graceful carvings along the sides, and the letters H.J.G. carved in the middle in a loopy, graceful writing. Hermione reached up and gently took the locket from him in her fingers. She opened it, and a tiny piece of parchment came out, folded in half. She buttoned her shirt up again and took her wand out from her bag.
"Here, look," she said gently, placing the tiny parchment in his hand and tapping it once with her wand.
"Engorgio," she whispered, and the paper grew to normal size, "Specialis Revelio!"
The once blank parchment became filled with writing Ron recognized at once as Hermione's. Ron held the paper close to his face and read lines here and there.
"What is this?" he asked, interested.
"I wrote it after the Yule Ball," she said, and Ron tore his eyes away from it to look into hers.
"Can I read it? The whole thing?" he asked.
Hermione smiled and rolled her eyes.
"That's so like you," she whispered, "You get a taste, and then you want the whole thing."
"Well, that doesn't answer the question," Ron insisted in a sharp whisper.
"No, you can't," she replied, shrinking it down and hiding the words one again, "Not today."
Ron looked put out.
"Alright," he said, "But someday?"
"Someday," Hermione replied, folding the parchment in half and placing it in her locket.
She tucked the locket back into her shirt and stood. Ron stood also, and picked up her bag for her.
"Thanks," she said quietly, shouldering her bag, "It's late; we should go to sleep."
Ron nodded and the two headed off for their dorms. Ron stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned around.
"Hermione," he said, and she turned around halfway up the girls' dormitory stairs, looking curious.
"I-I love you," he said sheepishly, "I have, for a long time."
Hermione smiled at him.
"I love you, too," she said, and walked up to her room, happy for the first time in days.
A/N: Few things are more enjoyable than a sweet, fluffy oneshot. At least for me. I hope you liked it!
Reviews are nice, and feel free to send flames...I have my fire extinguisher ready.