A/N: Okay, so I wrote this a while ago, and digging through my google drive I found a bunch of old stuff I had written. This is the first piece, after much revision of course.
Enjoy!
DEAR RON,
I had known of heartbreak before November's cold wind and stewing winds of sadness. But it was those times of melancholy and bitterness that taught me of the deterioration of the human heart. There were some nights that really and truly exterminated any hope that I had for myself. To think that all of this was spent over you later seems silly; but being caught up in your own itinerary of pain and conquering the rolls of unhappiness, is unequaled by other thoughts. You are lost in the black tides that wash you as you sob.
It was that night, that one night after you ran off with the despicable Lavender Brown, that I was overcome, and lost the battle of strength, the tussle between myself and missing him, because of my belief in you.
Pain. It is a small word for a colossal feeling. Through pain, you become a carapace; shuffling forward, your hands unconnecting, your brain ringing. Pounding out all other noise. You try hard not to cry, to let go and sweep away. I lost. In those moments, leaving is all you can do, all you can do to keep yourself from shouting, screaming, yelling, losing everything and burning away into a small shred left upon the floor.
I cannot tell you what you said as an excuse, I cannot tell you what Lavender did. For as this happened, I was lost, my only leak to the world they were in was the expression on your accursed face. Confusion, blundering ignorance. I was caught up in it, yet falling away from all of that. I cannot tell you what spell I sent at you, where I went, who I passed. I only know I sat under a table in the library and cried myself to sleep; my hands wrapped tightly around each other in an unforgiving embrace. A mocking of heartbreak. Heartbreak was even despicable. This wasn't heartbreak, this was pain.
That night, was the one that I was sure my battle was lost; and even then it took me three days to stop from crying, beseeching my lungs to work without water; at every time we passed. Harry seemed unsure of what to do, and didn't excuse him.
I cried.
Later, when you asked me what I did when you were with Lavender, I told you that I cried. Simple; and not even close to what I did. Don't apologize.
That is what happened.
Have a good day, love.
HERMIONE GRANGER