Drabble
What was that? Did he hear something? Ron bolted off the bed, leaping towards the window. He stuck his head out the small open window as far as he could before the breadth of his shoulders stopped him.
Nope. Nothing. Damn.
Slowly, he pulled his head back in and dropped back onto his bed. A loud snore from across the room had him look up irritably. His best mate, Harry was making up for all the lost sleep he’d had over the last several years. In fact, Ron had never known Harry to sleep as much as he had over the last couple of months. Harry rolled over in his sleep, grunting loudly, and Ron wanted to throw something at him.
Shut the hell up.
His feelings towards his best mate hadn’t exactly been cheerful lately. Not only was Harry back with Ron’s little sister, but they were together all the bloody time while Ron was constantly in a state of unabated arousal, longing for his own girlfriend. It had now been two months and twenty-three days since he had last seen Hermione, just after their return from Australia. Since then she’d been miles away with her parents.
She had been writing to him almost daily, depending on how quickly Pig flew between Oxford and Devon. But Ron had been wound up ever since she had written that she was going to Brussels for a week with her mother and father, something about a conference, whatever the hell that was.
He hadn’t heard from her in five days and he was losing his mind. There were still Death Eaters out there as well as other threats. Kingsley had warned that certain Dark threats had let it be known that “taking care of” Harry Potter or one of his best friends who had helped him defeat the Dark Lord would be seen as a huge power move. Grnted, there were less who wanted them dead than there had been before the war, but they were still out there. And so was Hermione. And she was alone without him to protect her. What if Death Eaters had found her and her Muggle parents? For the hundredth time, his mind tortured him with memories of her being tortured. What if -?
SMACK!
Pig was fluttering around so much he’d missed the open window. Jumping up, Ron reached out and caught the bird.
“About time!”
Relief flood through him as he saw the parchment tied to Pig’s leg. He couldn’t get it off fast enough. As soon as he finished, Pig collapsed upon Ron’s bed. He had to pick his owl up and lay him in his cage.Tossing a few treats at his bird, Ron sat down with the parchment.
He unrolled enough to see Hermione’s handwriting.
Dear Ron…
She was alive. She was alive and well enough to write to him. Hermione had written this letter with her own hands. She had touched this parchment. Lifting the paper to his nose, he sniffed and caught a faint whiff of a familiar, gentle scent. He sighed, only realizing then how tense he’d been.
This letter had gone from her small hands to his. He sat there for a moment, savoring the feeling. It was amazing, really. Here he’d been so worried - no, terrified - and it was all right. She was all right.
Laying back on his bed, trying to ignore the whistling sound now coming from across the room as Harry breathed in his sleep, he began to read.