Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter. I'm just playing in her world.
A/N: This is the first time I've written anything like this, so I'm sorry if it's not great. Also, I hate Ron/Hermione with a passion ... but this just had to be written. Inspired by 'When You're Gone'(Avril Lavigne), 'Mama Do' (Pixie Lott), and 'I Hate Everything About You' (Three Days Grace). See if you can catch the references.
You've hurt me more than I thought possible. Last year, when you used Lavender to get to me, that hurt. But this? This pain is almost unbearable. You've betrayed us, back-stabbed us. We thought you were our friend, Ronald. I guess we were wrong. Oh, how we were wrong. I can't even say your name now without crying; we can't talk about memories of school, because you're always a part of them; we can't mention any of the Weasley's, because the topic always leads to you.
Harry depended on you. He depended on your friendship to keep him strong. I depended on you being there for us. You were always the one to make witty remarks to lighten the situation. You were always the one I could yell at to release my anger. You were always the one who made us laugh when we wanted to do nothing but curl up in a corner and pity ourselves. You were always the one, just the one, always there with us.
But now you're gone.
You left us. I never thought you'd do it. For the first couple of weeks, I'd wake up early, walk around, hoping to see you running back. I hoped to wake up to the smell of burning food as you attempted to make breakfast. I hoped you'd jump out from the trees, yelling, "Surprise!", and tell us you never really left. I hoped to see you as we snuck into town for food. I hoped to wake up and, well, see you. But it was a waste of my time, hoping. I gave up eventually, forcing myself to believe that you weren't coming back, forcing myself to believe you weren't a real friend to Harry and myself, forcing myself to believe you really didn't care enough to stay.
Harry's suffering as much as me, too, you know. He just hides it better. He tries. But I hear him talking to himself as he watches the entrance of the tent at night, talking to the air as if you could hear him. He says he's disappointed in you, that he couldn't believe you'd do something like this, that there's a pain in his chest that won't go away. I can see it in his eyes, too. Pain, suffering, heartbreak. I know I'm not the only one affected by this, by your absence.
He tries to help me. When I'm crying at night, he'll crawl over to me and hug me, like a true brother, a real friend. When the time calls for it, he'll crack a witty joke, like you used to, but it rarely makes me smile. He lets me yell at him, but I always end up crying apologies and pleading for forgiveness, because it just doesn't feel right to blame him and scream at him – it makes me feel guilty. When I'm on the lookout at night, he'll join me and put a blanket over my shoulders; he'll put his arm around me and tell me it's alright, even though we both know it's not; he'll tell me we're alright on our own, even though we both know we're not; he'll tell me we'll manage without you, even though we both know we won't. He's there for me, and I'm there for him in return. Unlike you.
I've been thinking about my parents lately, to try and keep my thoughts away from you. It doesn't work. What would my mother think if she knew about the relationship between you and I? What would my father say if he knew you had hurt me this way? What would they do, Ron? Of course, you wouldn't know. You've never met them, not properly. Mother would be angry that you had mistreated her only daughter. Father would hurt you because you'd dared to do such a thing to Harry and I. They're very protective, my parents. You should be thankful that they're in Australia with no idea that I exist, or else they'd be out for your blood.
You've torn my heart, Ronald Weasley. Torn it into little pieces, and then let a herd of hippogriffs stampede over it. You've cut it slowly and painfully, teasing it, torturing me to the brink of insanity. Laughed menacingly as you watch it bleed, tear, and shatter. I should hate the part of you that hurt us, betrayed us, left us. I should hate every fibre of your being. I should hate you, just everything that is you. Just for living. But I don't. Oh, how I've tried. I've told myself to hate you, tried to convince myself that you're just another Peter Pettigrew. But none of it works. My fragile, broken, insane little heart still wants you.
I feel the wrong way toward you, Ronald, and I'll hate myself until my dying day for it. You're wrong for me, all wrong. You abandoned your friends when they need you the most, and you've done so more than once; you've toyed with my heart and been a hypocritical git more times than I can count; you've used me to your advantage, for school, for getting out trouble. I shouldn't feel the way I do, but I can't help it. I hate everything about you.
But I still love you.
Yours forever,
Hermione.
A/N: Catch the song references? I hope so (:
Reviews are appreciated!