I think everyone always knew they would end up together sooner or later. Whether it was ever acknowledgment consciously or not, everyone knew. I knew too, but that didn't stop me.

Who had I been kidding? I knew perfectly well that I hadn't a hope of keeping his interests for long with I her /I there.

I sat in the Common Room, shredding bits of parchment before me. I hated what had just happened. How could I have I let /I it happen?

I looked back and tried to think of anything I could have done to change the present, to prevent the break-up. What I could have done differently so that I could be sitting here right now with my boyfriend instead of a picture I had sketched and then crumpled up because I couldn't stand to see his face?

I'll admit it. I tried to convince myself that she was forever out of the picture. They refused to say two words that weren't full of hatred to each other for months! Surely anyone would assume that two such people in that state had forever lost any romantic interest in each other. Right?

I She /I wasn't upset right now. I She /I was probably up in our dormitory, dreaming of how life would be different now that Ron was all hers, how he would now hold her, and…

I clenched the parchment in my fist for a moment. Hating myself for doing it, I smoothed it out. I was no artist, but I still wanted to look at something that mildly resembled his features.

I knew it was wrong to be so glad whenever she would sneer at him. I knew it was wrong to secretly thrill inside he when laughed at her. That meant Ron still thought of her as something laughable—someone he could never have any feelings for.

But then there were other times. When he thought no one was looking. When he would look at her with such a longing, sorry, puppy-dog look that said he would do anything in the world for her. I liked to imagine that was just a trick of the light or that it was just my own insecurities playing themselves before me.

Of course I was wrong.

That look made me want to burst into tears and ask what in the world I could do to be more like her. But I didn't want to be like her. I wanted to I be /I her. Because she had what I wanted. She had Ron.

I growled. I just couldn't understand either of them. /I She /I wasn't for him! Ron Weasley—my Won-Won—was, of course, put on this earth for I me /I . It made no sense for them to have any feelings for each other—even friendly feelings! He was good-humored. She was no-humored. He liked to have fun. She didn't know the meaning of the word.

They were complete opposites! And whenever they were in each other's presence for more than about eight seconds, some row was sure to break out, and they wouldn't talk to each other for a week. How in the world was it that they could ever last?

How many times had I heard Ron telling Harry what a freak Hermione was? How many times had I heard her muttering in her sleep what a jerk he was?

I remembered all the other things she had mumbled about him while unconscious. I Brave, sweet, loyal. /I

I scoffed at "loyal" as I cringed at the memory of him coming down the stairs with her. I quickly pushed those thoughts away.

So what if she mumbled about him? That didn't mean that they were "destined to be" or whatever! In fact, couldn't all their rows and the fact that it seemed amazing that one had not killed the other be taken as a sign that they weren't destined? That perhaps it was only their love for Harry that kept them together?

Love for Harry. I had hoped that I had misinterpreted all the signs and that she didn't like Ron. Perhaps she liked Harry.

But I knew that wasn't the case. I was a fool for even trying to convince myself of that.

I was a fool for liking him in the first place. I shouldn't have ignored all the signs, all the looks, all the hints that they obviously liked each other very much. Anyone who was around them must have picked up all the little things. Even I did. I just chose to ignore them.

I don't know why I let myself like him. I knew sooner or later he would be taken, and I had a feeling it would take a lot to make her let him go. I don't know why I thought I would be enough to make that happen.

It was so strange. When first term started, it was like I was seeing him for the first time or something. I realized how he had risked himself so many times for Harry, how he had put himself in harm's way for the good of the world…how very, very I tall /I he was. I found that tall very, very sexy. Admittedly, that tall probably weighed much more in my high thoughts of him than just about anything else.

As much as I hated to admit it, I think I knew all along that we just weren't destined to last. We were both being shallow. I was dating him because he was tall and sexy. He was dating me because…I have absolutely no idea. Probably something to do with I her /I , though I always liked to think he was doing so because he thought I was beautiful. Or maybe because we were so much more suited to each other than he was to I her /I .

But maybe there was something more to their relationship that we just didn't have. His affection for her must go deeper than skin because, to be perfectly honest, Neville's toad is a pleasanter sight than she is.

I looked down at the sketched face in my hands that I had unknowingly started to trace the features of with my fingers.

Maybe I was wrong before. Maybe the fact that they always made up, the fact that their relationship always seemed to survive anything life, You-Know-Who, or I threw at them, meant that they I were /I meant to be.

Well, one thing was for sure. I wasn't supposed to be with Ron.

I tore the paper. That felt good. It was almost as if by tearing the paper containing his face, I could tear any memories or feelings of him from my body.

I brushed away the tears that had started to fall. I was goingto get over this. Ron never loved me, and…I never loved him.

Besides, there were others out there far sexier than him.