Work Text:
Corrections In Red Ink
Author's Note: Originally published on May 1, 2026
~*~
Hermione swiftly intercepted the tightly-folded note Ron tried to pass to Harry, eliciting several hissed swears from the redhead behind her. She shot Harry, seated to her right, a dirty look. How many times did she have to scold them for not paying attention? Apparently, six years to date wasn’t enough.
Professor Flitwick carried on, unaware of what transpired, giving Hermione a chance to examine what she’d confiscated.
Several hard pokes in the back interrupted her.
“Give it back.” Ron’s quiet voice sounded harsh.
She shook her head. They’d never learn if she took it easy on them.
“Please, it’s private," he insisted.
She shook her head again, making sure not to draw attention.
This was new. Ron never cared if she saw the notes they were passing; it was usually crude jokes about professors or silly doodles. The desperation in his voice meant something, and the familiar tingles of curiosity moved through her.
She cast a subtle Silencing charm and unfolded the parchment.
"Hermione!" Ron hissed again.
Her eyes flew across the page and the contents shocked her, causing her to stifle an audible gasp. She surveyed the room. She blushed. She re-read it two more times, before her brow furrowed in deep sadness.
“This won’t do," she absentmindedly muttered to herself. "Drastic action is needed.”
Surreptitiously, she reached down into her bag and felt for a familiar inkwell, bringing it to her desktop. Dipping her quill deep into the glass bottle, she readied for her task. She had already done her work for this class two weeks ago—and this was more important than Charms.
"Bloody hell," her friend complained behind her.
She tutted and whispered under her breath. Utter absurdities filled the page in familiar black lettering, which she diligently edited with ruby-red ink. She was so upset by what she read, she didn’t stop to reconsider the weight of her words. She simply amended Ron's document until she was happy with it.
“That’s better.”
She put away her ink and blew on the parchment to dry it, before rolling it up. A moment later, Flitwick dismissed them.
Harry bolted immediately, rushing to his weekly Quidditch planning session with McGonagall. That left her alone with Ron outside the classroom. The lanky boy she'd grown up with couldn't meet her eyes, so she studied him. The bright pink tips of his ears. His long nose and freckles. That gorgeous ginger hair she'd secretly inhaled when he dozed off in the library.
She pushed the parchment into his hand. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have read it, but I made some additions to compensate."
He grabbed the roll and shuffled a foot on the stone floor. Still not gazing at her.
She kept her voice calm. "See you after Arithmancy."
Before she could stop herself, she softly kissed his cheek, then fled down the hall.
~*~
“What the hell?” Ron asked himself.
He remained anchored to the floor, his shaky hand reaching for the warm spot where her lips had touched his skin. When he finally got himself unstuck, he made a beeline for the common room. Thank Merlin for having a free period at the right time.
He unrolled the note. The parchment was marked up with red, his desperate words of self-pity crossed out and replaced with her neat writing in crimson.
Reasons Hermione Granger Will Never Fancy Me
Too late, she already does
1. We fight too much
You challenge me like no one else does. That’s a good thing… mostly.
2. I’ve made her cry too many times
You’ve also supported, complimented, defended, and protected me.
3. She fancies Krum or McLaggen or you (bloody hell I hope not)
Incorrect. Viktor and Harry are only friends, and McLaggen? Ew. Seriously.
4. I’m not good enough for her
You are the absolute best for me.
5. I have nothing to offer her
Your heart is all I want.
6. She thinks of me as a brother
I DEFINITELY do not.
7. She doesn’t think I’m good looking
You are so hot handsome. I love your height, your hair, your blue eyes, your hands…
8. I don’t have any experience with girls (please don’t rub it in mate)
That’s nothing to be ashamed of.
It saddens me that you think of yourself and our relationship like this. If you truly fancy me back, come and find me.
He had to re-read her words a hundred times to make sense of them.
Did she really… fancy him back?
Hope built in his chest, layer upon layer, the more he studied her corrections. He was so engrossed in memorizing every word of her perfect script, he failed to realize the period ended. Which meant Hermione was free. He jumped up from the settee and bolted out of the portrait hole in search of her.
He waved the note in his hand like a madman as he raced down the corridors, dodging his fellow students. He finally reached the Arithmancy classroom to find Hermione alone. It gave them the privacy they needed.
He stopped short of running into her. His breathing came out hard, after darting across the castle. She gazed back at him and waited.
He swallowed and showed her the parchment. “Is this true? Or were you just having a laugh?”
Her grin was bright. “Every single word is true, unlike what you wrote.”
“Really?”
She nodded.
It was all he needed. Courage burst inside of him, unfamiliar yet powerful. “Sod it all! Hermione Granger, I fancy you like mad.”
“Oh, Ron. I’ve waited years to hear that.”
He stepped forward and pulled her into his arms. Hermione's eyes filled with tenderness. The same feeling bloomed in his chest. He licked his lips. So did she.
That was the last straw. He pressed his mouth to hers.
Her grip on him was tight. They deepened the kiss, his hands lost in her hair. They finally broke apart in a daze, staring at each other lovingly.
“I fancy you, too, Ron Weasley.”