AN: Ah. Turn back if you can't handle extreme strangeness and long songfics from an Alanis junkie who's had too much caffeine.

Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter. Rowling does... just toying around with their emotions for a bit. Mine are too screwed up to fool around with. The song Unsent was written and performed by the wonderful Alanis Morrissette... the real queen of angst. *I'm just a protégé.*

Dedicated to: Puppy. For some reason beyond my knowledge, this song reminds me of us. Read on.

NOTE: Apologies to Alanis, but I've shuffled the paragraphs around a bit to fit the plot better. *sigh* Please don't sue me, I can't even afford my own Internet card anymore! *bursts into hysterical tears*

Unsent

Hermione sat in the dark of her room, and by the light of a dying candle, began to compose letters to all the boys she had ever loved. After all, it wasn't as if she had anything better to do. And now that you think of it, she's been meaning to do this for such a long time.

dear matthew

I like you a lot

She ruffled the feathery peacock quill and set the tip to paper. It was a gift from Seamus. Her first boyfriend. Hermione sighed softly, letting her mind wander back to those long lost days at Hogwarts.

He had been quite the conventional first boyfriend. He had been sweet and shy and naïve and bashful and blushing. The little gifts tucked into her schoolbag, an awkward peck on the cheek every now and then, and if he got up the courage, a bunch of roses charmed to never wilt.

I realize you're in a relationship

with someone right now and I respect that

It was the typical first romance. No one ever said "I love you" to the other, and the other never expected it. An inexperienced kiss in the shadows of the Gryffindor common room, sneaking glances at each other over bubbling cauldrons, holding hands while walking down the corridors...

But he fell in love again. And it wasn't with her.

Hermione watched the wax drip onto the paper, which had barely Dear Seamus... written on it. She took in a deep breath.

Say hello to Lavender for me please.

She could remember the day when they broke up, Seamus and her. It was simple, with Seamus blushing again, and Hermione sniffling, and nodding her consent, and waving goodbye.

I would like you to know that if you're ever single

in the future and you want to come visit me in california

I would be open to spending time with you and finding

out how old you were when you wrote your first song

But Seamus was a good friend. And they still kept in touch, and someday... Hermione hoped to see him again. But she knew, in her heart of hearts, she couldn't love him again. And neither could he.

dear lou

Shadows of her past always seemed to follow her around. Like the shadows flickering on her wall, she was surrounded by the ghosts of her past heartaches and pains.

For example. That Viktor Krum poster over her bed, with the scrawled signature on the right-hand corner...

we learned so much

He had come back to her in sixth year, the year after she broke up with Seamus, the year where she was just beginning to heal. And he had helped her heal, the best way he knew how.

He loved her.

I realize we won't be able to talk for some time

and I understand that as I do you

the long distance thing was the hardest

But still. He had to return to Bulgaria, and despite his many invitations for her to join him, Hermione had never seen him again.

Which was sad. Viktor was a sweet person, albeit a bit rough. He was easy to talk to, and always there as a shoulder to cry on. Hermione smiled, then let the smile fade away.

Of course, he wasn't exactly all that nice to hug.

and we did as well as we could

But they had tried to keep the relationship alive. Letters between them flew back and forth on the wings of eagles, and the gifts from Bulgaria on the nineteenth of September were always thoughtful and lavish.

we were together during a very tumultuous time

in our lives

They had tried, because Hermione found Viktor sweet, and Viktor found Hermione beautiful.

But it sort of died down. And they were just friends now.

Just friends.

I will always have your back and be curious about you

about your career

about your whereabouts

He was still in the news. Still one of the most famous Seekers in history. And Hermione was glad for him. However, she didn't want to sit beside his throne and be his queen.

She wanted a simple guy. Someone who could make her laugh. Someone warm and wonderful to hug.

dear marcus

And there was Ron.

He was all that above and more.

you rocked my world

you had a charismatic way

about you with the women

He was incredibly funny, and quite sweet when he put his heart to it.

Their love was silly and sweet and over too soon. Hermione glanced at the book Ron had given her for Christmas, and stifled a laugh.

The Wizard Kama Sutra.

and you got me

seriously thinking about spirituality

and you wouldn't let me get away

with kicking my own ass

Ron was jealous, though. He grew incredibly suspicious of Harry near the end of seventh year, and the tension between the three friends grew so much that one day... it all crumbled into dust.

but I could never really feel relaxed and looked out

for around you though

So Hermione ran to Harry, sobbing as if her heart was breaking, and which it really was. Harry welcomed her with open arms.

Dear Ron: We haven't been in touch lately, and I guess that's fine. I don't think I can handle you just yet, scars reopen, and heartaches may never mend...

Hermione stretched, her arm sore from writing. "We were very pretty together..." she whispered into the night. "Too bad it didn't live on."

and that stopped us from going any further

than we did

Her relationship with Ron was quite satisfying, because Ron was a very physical person, and never thought twice of giving his girlfriend a hug. However, things never got farther than the occasional make-out session up in one of their dorm rooms... because Ron was...

Hermione squinted into the narrow candle flame, thinking of the right way to phrase it.

Ron was cautious. He was no virgin, though Hermione was, and as Ron said: "I'd rather deprive myself of pleasure than to have you suffer pain."

Hermione found that sweet, but to tell the truth, she knew Ron was scared.

and it's kinda too bad because we could've had much more fun

She shrugged. "Oh Ron. We could have been so beautiful..." She flexed her fingers, and the gleaming bracelet on her arm caught the candlelight, and she frowned at the memories it brought back.

dear jonathan

Hermione held her wrist up to the light, admiring the glittering amber jewels, the obviously very expensive silver bracelet. "Draco..." she whispered, slowly shaking her head. "You always did buy the most expensive presents..."

I liked you too much

And how she fell in love with Draco, and how he fell in love with her too, would always be a mystery, as enigmatic as the birth of the universe. But what mattered was that they fell in love, and that the universe was created.

It was a whirlwind of passion, lust and something that bordered on danger. The candlelight flickered in Hermione's eyes as she thought back to the wild "scuffles" in the broom closet, the humid nights when they would lay side to side on Draco's satin sheets, their naked skin touching each other's and sending electric sparks jolting up their spines, breathing uneven and staring at each other through intense, half-closed eyes.

The physical side of the relationship was the strongest side there was, and Hermione put a hand to her blushing cheek as she remembered the way Draco would pull her to him in the middle of a crowd, and kiss her deeply right then and there...

And he had loved her. Or so she liked to think.

I used to be attracted to boys

who would lie to me

But then again, the night she came from early from her part-time job and found him in bed with Pansy... let's just say that it changed everything.

He had lied to her. And he had lied to Pansy. Pansy knew nothing about Hermione, and Hermione had known nothing about Pansy either... until that night when Hermione pointed her wand and Draco, and in the softest of voices, told him to get the fuck out of her house.

and think solely about themselves

Hermione dipped her quill once more in the emerald green ink. The color of Slytherin House.

Draco: We made a good couple. Permanently on fire, just couldn't keep our hands off each other... you were my firebrand, everything dangerous in my life... and I liked that.

But you were just too... flawed. I'm sorry, but I couldn't handle your lies anymore. Your flirting was fine, you did it to me, and to every other pretty girl you met..

It was good while it lasted. But you knew, and I knew, that it couldn't last forever.

She continued to write, the nib of the quill pressing so hard into the parchment that it shredded.

and you

were plenty self-destructive for my taste

He was the most dangerous relationship she ever had... and one of the sweetest, and most passionate. However, when you play with fire, and no matter how beautiful the flame may burn, no matter how alluring it flickers, you're almost always bound to get burned.

at the time I used to say

the more tragic the better

The scritch-scratch of the quill was the only sound in the otherwise silent room, and the candle flames burned lower and lower.

I was young and foolish and easily led astray... Draco, to tell the truth, I was fooled by your sweet nothings and promises of forever. But that was what they were. Nothings. And forever only lasted a day by your side.

However... and here, Hermione paused, smiling a grim smile of admittance. I liked it. I liked the stolen kisses and the wild nights, the empty promises, and the fragile dreams... I had believed in forever.

Hermione sighed softly. She had loved him. True. But he had never loved her.

the truth is whenever I think of the early 90's

your face comes up with a vengeance like it was yesterday

That was the last night she had ever seen Draco, the night she had dragged him out of bed with Pansy. And he was standing in front of her, beautifully cool and composed, elegant even... arms crossed over his naked chest, the sheet around his waist resting on his narrow hips...

They had never talked after that. Not an owl, not even a stuffy letter wishing her a "Happy Christmas" or anything of that sort. And maybe... Hermione thought wistfully. It's better this way.

dear terrance

And finally, there was one last man left in her life.

Hermione breathed in the cold night air from her open window. The only man for me. she thought with a smile of satisfaction.

Harry.

I love you muchly

He had always been there, hasn't he? Through Seamus, through Viktor... heavens! Through Ron! And most especially, through Draco.

Hermione recalled the night she had Apparated without warning into Harry's apartment at Godric's Hollow, drunk and unsteady, eyes bloodshot and red-rimmed, hair in tangles and face streaked with tears.

And Harry had rushed to her side, and caught her when she toppled over.

Come to think of it... he's always caught me whenever I fell...

And she was content.

you've been nothing

but open hearted and emotionally available and supportive

and nurturing and consummately there for me

Hermione couldn't believe it, even now, as she sat in her room drawing light from the flame of one candle. He's been there all along, walking along behind me and watching my back, waiting for the day when I will turn around and away from all my past relationships, and fall into his arms...

Seamus' relationship would always have been the most memorable, and Ron's the funniest. Draco's was the most passionate... but Harry?

Harry's was beautiful.

I kept drawing you in

and pushing you away

They weren't perfect. They had their own fair share of fights, which ended with one kissing away the other's tears, and tender love-making by the firelight.

Draco and I never fought, but we kept secrets... and that's the worst thing anyone could ever do in a relationship... Hermione pondered, chewing meditatively on a hangnail.

I remember how beautiful it was to fall asleep

on your couch and cry in front of you for the first time

"Maybe I was in love with him the whole time." she called out to the night, and it whispered back in the cold wind. "Maybe he was the perfect one for me all this while..." she squeezed the quill hard, memory filling her brain with it's intoxicating smoke.

Barging into his house, clothes half-off, collapsing onto the couch and sobbing her heart out... being able to say only one word over and over and over... "Ron."

Harry had set down a mug of peppermint tea beside her, sat down quietly across her, and watched his best friend cry herself to sleep.

Hermione woke up later that evening, to see Harry watching her with such a tender expression of concern... and regret... that she couldn't face him, and the emotions bubbling up inside her... and so she faked it. She folded up the feelings and tucked them away under lock and key, telling Harry that she was alright, and she felt ready to face the world...

So the world came at her, along with a certain tall, pale, beautiful Malfoy.

And when that relationship ended, she found herself once more on Harry's couch. But this time, she was also in Harry's arms.

Hermione closed her eyes and smiled.

you

were the best platform from which to jump beyond myself

"Harry..."

"Mm-hm?" came a sleepy voice from under the bedsheets behind her.

"I love you."

"... I love you... toooo... come to bed now, won't you, darling?"

Hermione glanced at the letters on her desk, knowing that she would never be able to send them off. She sighed once, folded up the letters and hid them away under lock and key.

One puff, and the candle went out.

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