The Letter.
Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley couldn't believe their eyes. It had begun. Fear had spread through everyone, and everything. The wind seemed to stop blowing, and the sun seemed to stop shining. The one thing there to comfort them, was the fact that they had each other. The trio had agreed to stick together, through thick and thin, they would stay together and fight until their deaths. But she had broken their promise.
It had been a wet and rainy morning, when Harry Potter awoke to find a letter, carefully placed beneath his glasses. He had read the letter, scanned through it at first, before reading every single word twice, just to be sure of it's content. He had been so sure that the letter was a fake, had even woken his best friend, Ronald Weasley, just to be sure that his eyes were not deceiving him.
But that thought was shattered.
The letter was real. The letter spoke of only the truth. And the truth hurt much more than he had expected.
The two men had stood for a while, unsure of what to do. But they knew that there was no time to hesitate and linger. Whether she joined them or not, there duty was to fight, and they were needed, desperately so, on the battlefield.
Harry Potter sighed and glanced at his redheaded friend. They glanced at the letter one last time before throwing it into the blazing fireplace in front of them. It was time to leave, forget her words and leave for the sake of everyone around them. Indeed, they did leave, they did leave for the sake of everyone around them. But somehow, they couldn't forget the words that were written in that letter.
'To my dearest friends,
By the time you are reading this, I shall be somewhere far away – from the war, from England, possibly from Europe itself. I am not sure where I am going, but I know that I must leave, before it is too late for my escape. I am so sorry. So sorry that I have to leave you, at this critical moment, so sorry that I must run from this, but I cannot bear it.
I do not know how much time you have, but I feel the need to explain. It was a few weeks ago, that I began having my doubts. I knew that I had to fight. Against the Death Eaters, against all those 'bad' people that wanted to rid the world of people like me. People of impure blood, ones that were considered 'dirty'. But although I knew that I was one of their main targets, that I had to fight, to keep my life, I didn't want to.
I didn't want to fight.
I didn't want to kill.
I didn't want a part in this war.
I began thinking, more and more. Each night, I would trek up to the astronomy tower, where I could see the stars and ponder. Each night, I would cry, knowing that my life may well be over soon – and if my life wasn't going to be over, then someone else's was. I was confused. Torn, between what I thought was right, and what I felt was right.
Which path would you have followed, your head, or your heart?
I thought that no one could understand what I thought. I thought that perhaps I should tell you, my friends, so that perhaps you could try to understand. But I dare not. What would you think if I told you? Would you persuade me, that I was delirious, that I was wrong in my thoughts? I didn't know.
But it was one night that I found someone, who truly understood. He was in the astronomy tower one night. We began arguing at first, until I asked him why he was alone, thinking, at this time of night. He didn't reply. We stood beside each other that night, not speaking, but somehow I knew that he was thinking exactly what I was. It was strange. I would have never expected that he was the one to understand.
The next night after, we met once again in the tower. This time, we talked, and I learned many things from him – more than I ever thought I could.
I had already realised that the pure weren't the innocent. But I had never realised that the good was just as bad as the pure.
Ask yourself, what are we going to war for? To kill those that want to kill us? We are just as bad as them, killing in an attempt to 'save the world' when really, we're no better than them. How can we say that we're fighting for the good when we are doing what the bad are also doing? We're merely stooping to their level. And he made me see that.
You're probably wondering whom this 'he' is. Why I haven't mentioned his name yet, why I talk of him so highly. He, is the man that I have left with tonight. And you might recognise him, with his platinum blonde hair, his cold, grey eyes and that smirk that he never seems to wipe off his face. And you may never be able to see what I see in him, but please understand.
I will wish you luck in the war, although it is sad to say that there can only be losers. I will say farewell, in hopes that we will meet again. And I shall end this letter, just like how I have done before.
With lots of love,
Hermione Granger.'
A/N: Hey! I know, I'm really sorry that I haven't written anything in a while – and this isn't even a proper story, just a One-Shot. But I did say in my profile, I've been taking a short break! And I have a new fic coming out soon – I haven't quite finished it, and it needs quite a bit of editing, but I think it might be worth the wait!
Please review and leave constructive criticism! Lots of love,
ILUVRONWEASLEY