Author's Notes: Firstly, thanks so much to Clio for the beta. This is probably my least
reviewed and least *liked* fic but it remains to be my favourite, I don't care if I'm the only one who likes
it. And J.D. Salinger, thanks so much for writing Zooey and Mrs. Glass so well.
"Wow, that was…wow," Ginny muttered the first words that entered her mind, "It's just so…"
"I know, I know, wow," Ron said, "I wish it weren't so believable." Ron shifted his gaze to the far horizon, as he felt the soft breeze blow over his face.
"But I thought you were over her?" Ginny asked with concern.
"I am now," Ron said.
"You mean for the past year you were pining for her?" she asked.
"I kept wishing that they'd break up, that she'd turn around and tell me that she was mistaken, that it was me she loved," he said.
"And?"
"And it never happened," he finished.
"Why did you have to ask her that?" Ginny asked.
"Closure, I guess," Ron answered.
"Or maybe you're expecting that she wouldn't know what to tell you," she concluded knowingly.
"I wasn't expecting, I was just hoping," he corrected her.
"So, how do you feel now?" she asked, bringing her hand on his shoulder.
"It's like catharsis," he told her.
"I think a year is a pretty long time to pine for a childhood crush," she thought aloud.
"You should talk," Ron teased.
"I once saw them down in the common room. She had her nose buried in his robes; she said that she loved his smell. The funny thing was, he just came from Quidditch practice and he was sweating like a pig, probably smelled like one too. But for her, he smelled like heaven. She sees past everything, past his robes, past his scar, she actually sees him, just him. It was right, everything about them was right. Who am I to say it was wrong. Who am I to object to that?"
"Doesn't mean it hurts any less," Ron muttered.
"No, it doesn't."
"We really are siblings," Ron said.
"Yes, except I have more sense than you do."
"What do you mean by that?" he chided.
"I knew from the start that I should just accept it, and move on. Harry couldn't possibly be the right one for me; he's the right one for Hermione. My Mr. Right is out there. So is yours."
"Ooh, my Mr. Right is out there too?" Ron kidded.
"Bite your tongue," Ginny said, punching his brother's arm lightly.
"Owwww!" Or maybe not so lightly.
"So what do you plan to do with this?" she asked, as she handed him the parchment.
"I'm thinking of archiving it. You know, make a scrapbook entitled 'To all the girls I've loved before,'" Ron joked.
"You're so funny sometimes, my dear brother. I love you," Ginny expressed. She lunged forward and gave Ron a hug that he happily accepted.
"Right back at you, kid," he said, ruffling his sister's hair.
"Stop that! I'm not a cat," she protested, moving away from him. She slowly stood up and began to walk the trail to their house. "You coming?" she asked him without turning back.
"In a minute, I just want to see the sunset."
Ron unrolled the piece of parchment and read it alone. He wondered what he looked like, sitting there and crying in front a piece of parchment.
Dear Ron,
I don't know why you asked me this, but you seemed so sincere that I just had to answer. Why? Does there need to be a reason to love someone? I think the answer is that there is no reason, there is no logic, it simply is. I love him for the whole and the parts, for the beginning and the end. I won't try to explain what exactly I feel for him, I don't think Aristotle got that far into logic to be able to explain my love for Harry. All I know is, underneath that scar, I find myself inscribed in his head. I live in his soul, I inhabit his heart, he has me within every inch of him and I don't think I can ever get away. And I'm sure I don't want to. Does that answer your question? It's the best I can do; I hope it will suffice.
Love from,
Hermione
Ron chuckled lightly. "Cheesy crap," he thought. He stood up and began to walk away.
"I hope someone will write me cheesy crap like this someday."