A Chance

    Ron glanced up from his parchment to the clock on the Common Room wall. 12:09 am, it read. He chewed his quill for a moment (Not the most satisfying snack, he thought to himself) and went back to writing:

Dear Hermione,

    I'll bet it feels weird receiving a letter from me. It sure feels odd writing one. But the things I have to say... well, I can't exactly put my thoughts into words (it's a curse, I swear). I hope that by writing this letter I can make more sense of my own feelings, and hopefully you won't hate me for what I say on this piece of parchment.

    You're one of my best friends, and I would never want to lose you as a friend. But over the past few weeks I've been feeling a little... okay, a lot differently about you. Hermione, I like you. I like you as more than a friend - way more than a friend. And I don't know what you feel for me but I just have to tell you what I'm feeling. I can't keep it all bottled up any more and I'm so afraid that you'll never know. I know that if I never tell you this, I'll never have a chance with you. So I guess it's all worth spilling my heart over.

    Hermione, I don't want to ruin our friendship. As a matter of fact, that's the last thing that I want. All I want is a chance to show you how wonderful you are. A chance to give you the love and the respect that a girl - no, a woman such as you deserves.

    If you're willing to go to Hogsmeade with me next weekend, maybe we can talk about this. I want to hear your thoughts... even if you think that we should never be together. I'd rather know that I have no chance at all than keep all these feelings bottled up inside me forever. So please, please give me a chance Hermione.

                    Love,

                     Ron Weasley

    The redhead rolled the parchment and tied it with a ribbon, then took a short midnight walk to the Owlery. Tying the parchment to Hedwig's leg (he had decided that Hedwig was a more reliable owl than his other options), he began to second-guess himself. *Maybe this isn't such a good idea after all. I mean, what if she decides that we shouldn't be friends at all? What if she blabs to ever---*

"Ron?" He turned around to see Hermione standing less than five feet from him.

"Hermione! What are you doing here?" He quickly removed the rolled-up letter from Hedwig's leg and stuck it in his pocket.

Hermione glanced around the room. "I could ask you the same thing."

Now Ron was blushing. Should I tell her? Should I show her? "Oh, just sending off a letter," he replied as casually as he could.

"Oh, okay. That's why I came here too, I was going to use Hedwig, but I see you've already jumped that train, so I can wait till tomorrow I guess," Hermione said quietly, shuffling her feet.

In a sudden burst of courage, Ron stepped towards the brunette. "Well, the letter I was sending was for you, so I guess I could give it to you now."

Her eyes went wide. "A letter for me? That's... ironic."

"How is that ironic?"

"Well, my letter was for you. I just had some thoughts I couldn't say out loud, and I thought I'd write them," she replied. Biting her bottom lip nervously, Hermione took a step towards Ron. "Can I read your letter now? Maybe after I read yours, there will be no point in giving you mine."

He looked at her seriously. *What if her letter says the same thing as mine does? What if she says yes!! But... what if she knows already and she wanted to write and tell me that we couldn't be friends any more? Well, I guess it's now or never.*

"Sure, I guess," he said, his voice faltering a bit. Ron handed over the parchment, and stood a bit awkwardly while Hermione opened it and began reading. He smiled inwardly at the way her lips moved when she read, and nearly panicked when he saw the tears in her eyes.

"Wow, Ron, that was absolutely beautiful," the girl whispered. "I... I had no idea you felt that way for me."

"Well to be honest I didn't know either, until a few weeks ago. I just started realizing that, well, you're more than just my friend, more than just Hermione, the Bookish One. You're Hermione, the Beautiful One." He blushed and looked over at her.

Hermione's face suddenly got serious. "No, Ron, I won't go to Hogsmeade with you next weekend." She bit her lip again. "I won't go because I don't think we have to talk about this."

"What do you mean?" Ron felt the urge to cry or punch something.

Hermione looked up at him. "I mean that I like you too. We don't have to have a long boring discussion about it. My letter... well, I couldn't tell you in person that I like you. I was afraid that you didn't like me, and that I'd make a fool of myself."

"Wow. I am so relieved," he said quietly. "I thought that you didn't like me, I thought you were telling me that you didn't want to even discuss it. Wow," he added again for good measure. Hermione laughed at him and took his hand.

"Why don't we take a walk back to the Common Room, and we can talk a little there. This Owlery is... well, awkward," Ron said to her. She nodded her head in affirmation and together they walked back up to the Common Room.

Six hours later, Harry walked in to find his best friends asleep on the couch. "Finally," he said to himself, and walked down to breakfast.