My
First year: I met you for the first time on the Hogwarts Express.
A silly boy with a dirty face red-orange hair, and blue eyes.
You were trying to turn your rat yellow. Your robes were shabby
and your wand was second hand, but you knew more about the Wizarding
world than I did. You grew up knowing about Floo powder, Quidditch,
the owl post. You knew all about magical creatures, Dragons,
Gnomes, Elves, and Goblins.
I was only a ten-year-old Muggle-born, who'd never even so much
as known about the existence of the Wizarding world until I got
my Hogwarts letter by owl post. I never knew about Diagon alley,
or any of the magic schools in the world. I never knew any of
it.
But you, you'd never hold that against anyone.
My
Second year: So many times you stuck up for me, so often you
jumped to my defense, even when it turned out to bring misfortune
to you. Like the slug-belching curse you intended for Malfoy.
I was so relieved no one noticed how badly I was blushing after
that. It isn't everyday that a girl gets her honor revenged,
or in your case, attempted to be revenged.
My
Third year: Oh so much I wish I could say how I feel about you,
but every time I speak to you, it seems the words come out all
wrong. I often wonder if one day I'll say the wrong thing and
you'll stop talking to me, and never speak to me again. I was
terrified that was the case this past year. Scabbers, I though
Crookshanks had killed him, but I just couldn't make myself say
it, my stupid pride held me back, and you stopped speaking to
me.
My
Fourth year:. My own foolish pride kept me from asking you to
the Yule Ball. You hurt me again, only thinking of me as a last
resort. My God what an argument we had that night. That was the
first time I'd slipped up and given my feelings for you away.
Do you remember? Did you catch it? You stood staring at me, mouthing
something. I laid awake all night that night wondering whether
you'd picked up on my angry tout.
Thank God, we managed to stay friends.
My
Fifth year: You were there for me in what I hope was my darkest
hour, when my parents were killed. You held my close, helped
me to shed the tears I'd held for days. I knew then, one way
or another, I had to do whatever it took to keep us together or,
at the very least, to keep us close.
Even Harry noticed, I think.
My
Sixth year: You have no Idea how hard it was those long months
this past year when we thought you'd been killed by Voldemort.
I had no shoulder to cry on without you. This year seemed the
longest and most difficult of any in my time at Hogwarts.
The year you died. And even though you came back to me, thanks
to Harry, it will pain me to remember that time, that feeling
of utter loneliness.
Our
last year at Hogwarts seemed to fly, didn't it. From the highs
like that unbelievable Quidditch game where you, Harry and Ginny
managed to beat the entire Slytherin team. To the staggering
lows of Dumbledore's death. I don't know what the future may
hold, I only hope it has some light in it.
For those who live to see it.
My
last entry. I've been working on and off on this letter to you
since my arrival at Hogwarts our first year. I suppose it was
to be a love letter I never worked up the nerve to give to you,
even after we'd made our feelings clear to each other. Now as
it turns out, I think this letter is the best way to fully describe
how it is I've felt about you over the years.
I
regret that this letter will most undoubtedly be the only thing
left of me when this is over. But I can't let Voldemort kill
Harry, you know that. What I also can't do is let you join me.
I don't think I'll be coming back from this, so I want to make
this very clear to you, Ronald Weasley. If I die, grieve, but
don't go to pieces. Nothing will make me happier than to know that
you'll find someone else and fall in love again. And don't give
me any of that sentimental you're-the-only-one-for-me rubbish.
You will find another girl, you may not feel the same way about
her, but I know you'll love her just the same. I want you to
find someone, help continue the Weasley name.
I
must go, time is running out. Good-bye Ron.
With
eternal love,
Hermione
