With every day that goes by, my heart pleads for him that little bit more: my best friend, the boy who I never thought in a million years would be the one for whom I would fall. Yet he is, and he always has been, I've just constantly tried to stop myself from realising it until now, because I knew that he hated me; Hermione Granger, the teacher's pet, the girl nobody could ever like, in any way, because she was too wrapped up in her school work and getting good grades, not in getting people to like her, no wonder she didn't have any friends. That is, until the day of the troll in the dungeon; the day that changed the course of my life forever.
I'd never had very many friends, even in muggle school my best friend was the gentle-faced librarian who'd recommend books for me to read at lunch times, when I had no one to play with and the teachers had no more extra work to give me. I loved to read, I'd lose myself in the intricately woven fabric of the mysteries to be deciphered, the selflessness that the main character usually tended to portray in any given situation. Unlike most others my age, I'd spend hours trying to understand the so-called 'baddies', trying to work out why they behaved the way they did, their ulterior motive for their vindictive, cruel personalities, for I was unable to accept that they were just born 'evil'. I suppose, even as a 10 year old girl, I knew that there had to be more to people than pure malevolence; there has to be a reason for someone to have such little compassion.
So, regrettably, it has to be said that, coming to Hogwarts, I did have my doubts about Harry potter, the boy who lived. In that train compartment, the first day of my life, I saw the 11 year old boy who'd lost both of his parents to murder, been hunted down by the most feared wizard of all time, been sent to live with his aunt and uncle who despised him more than anything, been lied to his entire life, like me, never had any friends, and I was petrified that he'd be like one of the characters in my books: tortured so far by his past that he turned to darkness. And that was not something I wanted for that unfortunate, considerate, humble little boy who had no idea what the next seven years had in store for him. That's why I'm so proud of what he's become, the boy who went with his best friend to save a little girl from a giant troll, the boy who risked his life to try and stop he-who-must-not-be-named from rising to power, the boy who has protected his friends countless times, and the man who wants to save everyone else, wants to protect even those who hate him. That's why I couldn't leave him; that's why I didn't go with Ron, no matter how much I'd wanted to.
Because, you see, despite appearances, had I had the choice, had it been a question of going away with Ronald Weasley, to be with him forever, or saving the lives of the entire wizarding world, I would have chosen to go with Ron. Selfish it may be, but even if I'd saved the lives of millions of innocent wizards, I don't think I could have coped with never seeing his face again, never hearing his distinctive laugh ring out through the corridors of Hogwarts again, never listening to his endless strings of "Cheers Hermione" every time I agreed to help him with his homework again, never being able to tell him how much he means to me.
But that's not the situation we've been thrown into. It was not a case of Ron or the wizarding world; it was a case of a few blissful days with Ron, followed by years of torturous guilt for leaving our best friend alone to defend us all and then, eventually, the death of the both of us and all of his family because he was unable to succeed without us, too overcome with depression, loneliness, our treachery , or staying and fighting, destroying all the horcruxes we can find and then, when the time comes, defeating Voldemort and saving everyone else, as well as Ron. Then maybe, after we've won the battle and peace is restored, maybe then he'll understand why I couldn't leave with him, why I had to stay, to save him, to give us a future.
He has to appreciate why I'm doing this, know that it isn't for me, or for Harry, not even just for him. He'll know I have to stay, we have to win and I have to survive for my parents. Somebody has to find them, return them to their old lives and give them back their selves, so that they can be happy; so I can be happy. For it isn't just Ron who misses his family, not just Harry who's parentless and alone: my parents don't even know I exist. How am I supposed to continue pretending that it doesn't faze me? How can I keep up the pretence that I don't long for the security of my mother's welcoming arms wrapped tightly around me, telling me that it's all going to be ok? I just can't do it any longer, it hurts too much.
That's why I can't talk to Harry anymore; I could never heap the burden of my own problems onto his already heavily loaded shoulders, because I know, without a doubt, that he'd tell me to leave, that he'd be fine without me. He'd tell me to go to Australia, to find my parents, to keep them safe and keep myself safe. But, unless I stay and we destroy all of the horcruxes, nobody will ever be safe again, even though Harry Potter won't accept that I want to be here, that I want to help, just like Ron had wanted to help, not just for his best friend but, like me, for his family. I know exactly what he'd say about how I'm feeling: he'd wrap his arm around my shoulder as had almost become second nature to him recently, and remind me of the promise he'd made to me so many weeks ago, when we were still in the comfort of Grimauld Place.
It was the first night, we were all freezing cold and terrified of what lay ahead of us, so I'd asked if we could all sleep in the living room, because I knew we'd all feel safer, together and ready to escape at a moment's notice. Harry had fallen asleep, mumbling as though in pain, although Ron had reassured me that this was a common occurrence it still unnerved me somewhat and so he'd resorted to staying awake in an attempt to comfort me, despite his own need for comfort. We talked about his family; I told him they'd be fine, that there was no way they would have been killed, that Voldemort was too clever to make such a mistake as to kill one of few remaining pure blood wizarding families whom everyone was aware was in allegiance with Harry Potter, because to kill one of them would be to make it crystal clear that they, Harry and Dumbledore had been telling the truth: that Voldemort was back and he was in control of the ministry and so the whole wizarding world was at his mercy, because he likes to have his secrets. This seemed to warm Ron somewhat, and so he told me that my family would be safe too, that he wouldn't even be able to find them because I'd done such a good job on their memory charms. It didn't take long for him to realise that this was my main problem, that the charms would be so strong they'd never be able to remember me if I tried, this is where his promise came in. He'd said that no matter what happened, no matter how long it took, when the war was over, he'd come with me to find them, he'd do whatever it took to bring them back to me, to make them know who they were again, to make me happy.
That's why I will never give up on Ronald Weasley, because he swore to me that he would do all he could, and if there's one thing you can count on him for, it's that he'll keep his promises. So all I have to do is continue searching for horcruxes with Harry and hope beyond hope that Ron will find us again, and that I will be able to forgive him for leaving me.
However, how will he be able to find me if we're surrounded by protective enchantments and concealment charms, sleeping in a different part of the country every other night? That's the problem, if Ron couldn't find me, I don't know how I would survive, but if Ron could find me, that would mean that Voldemort could find us and that would be a worse fate than any other, because if Voldemort found us, that would mean certain death and, consequently, I would never get to see the face of Ronald Bilius Weasley ever again. That is not something I am even willing to contemplate.
So, the only conclusion I've grudgingly managed to come to is that we must keep running, we must destroy all of the horcruxes, and then maybe, just maybe, I'll get my Ron back, and all will be forgiven, for he will be safe in my heart and my heart will be fixed.