Unfinished Letters
He knew how he felt. He just struggled putting them on paper. He'd felt this way for years. He'd tried to write hundreds of letters. But no of them sounded right. Like the one from third year
'Hermione,
That bloody cat. I swear. It's his fault. The truth is, I don't give a damn about that stupid old rat. Really, I don't. But I can't explain it, I guess the reason I make it seem like I do is because well- erm- well i don't really blame the cat. I blame my self. It's just there's something about when you screaming at me, your hair is flying, your cheeks are flushed, -and don't get me wrong, you're scary as shit when you're mad, it's just-'
That's where that letter stopped. But he new what the rest of the letter included. Because when she was screaming at him, there wasn't anyone else. Just them, and while sure, she was screaming, she was beautiful- but most importantly- all her attention was on him.
Or fourth year- he'd practiced asking her to the Yule Ball in front of the mirror, but when Harry had walked in he'd resorted to strictly paper practice.
'Hermione,
I was just wanting to ask it you'd-'
But no, that wasn't it. He'd written another
'Hermione,
You are really pretty and-'
Hell no! And another
'Hermione,
I was wondering if maybe you'd like to, um-'
But that damn Victor Krum had beaten him to the punch. If he only hadn't been such a fuckin-
No he couldn't let himself think that.
Then fifth year- that had been a hard year. He was worried about her constantly. He worried and worried. At least once a night, he'd sneak out the map and check on her. He wrote letters and letters.
'Hermione,
You are amazing. It's scary actually. You are the bravest person I know. Without you, me and Harry would've died in first year. You had the guts to start the D.A. you'll never cease to-'
He didn't finish. She had walked up. He scrambled to stuff the paper in his bag, his ears getting hot. He smiled. She has been coming up to tell him something exciting, though he didn't remember what. All he remembered was how excites she was. He loved her when she was excited about something. She was so damn passionate.
But then again, there were not so great memories. Ones he wished he could cast off. Ones like where after they broke into the Ministry he had to watch her lay there, unconscious, and know it was his fault. If he hadn't gotten caught up with those damn brains. If he hadn't been such a fucking idiot- but to be honest, that was the past, and she was safe now.
Sixth year was not a good year for him. His outlet was to write letters. He wrote hundreds of letters to Lavender. All simple short, and to be honest, very rude.
But there were so many to Hermione. Some were clenched in balls, from times when he'd been too frustrated, and others with tear stains, from his weakest points.
'Hermione,
I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I don't know why you are so angry at me. I'm sorry if it's because I ignore you when Lavender is around. I don't like her really. She just keeps me distracted, so it doesn't hurt for me to think about how I really love-'
Her. He loved her. It was in one of his weakest moments of sixth year when this had been made apparent to himself. And it broke his heart to think she'd never feel the same way.
And seventh year-or as he and Harry not-so-affectionally called it, The Damned Camping Trip- had been rough. He tried to tell her. He tried.
'Hermione,
I need you to know, if we don't make it through this fucking escapade-'
But they all ended like that. Just angry rants.
Then there were the ones he'd written while he was...gone.
'Hermione,
I love you. I'd do anything for you. It kills me to not know if your ok. Without you, I'm nothing. I can't function with out you. I'm so sorry. I should've never left. I am the worst person. When I find you, I'll understand it you hate me. You should. I hate me. '
So many letters, almost all identical, right down to the way you couldn't read them because they had been soaked in tears. While at the cottage, that's all he did. He wrote and wrote and wrote. He cried and cried and cried.
But then, in the midst of war, something had changed. She had reciprocated his feelings. She had kissed him. It was magical. It stopped time. After the war, after- erm-talking late into the night with her, he knew, she was the one.
He sent her more letters. Some went to Hogwarts while he was at Auror Training. Some to her office, to plan a lunch date. None of which he had. But for some reason, all the unfinished letters sat at the bottom of his old school trunk
3 years later, when he had proposed, he'd written that on to paper too.
'Hermione,
You are the smartest woman I know. I love you. And I don't know why, but for some reason, you love me back. I have no fucking clue what I did to get you. But you deserve better than me, and I know that, but you know what Hermione? I'm selfish! And I'm okay with being selfish. So I what I'm trying to ask you is, would you make me the most selfish man on the planet, would you please spend the rest if you're life with me? '
The proposal had gone well-yes, he'd stuttered, and she had scolded him on his language, but what really counted, it that she had said yes.
And here seven months later, he sat at his desk, the one opposite Harry's, and was trying to write 'd long ago stopped writing things down. Instead he actually talked to her, no more secrets, no more pent up feelings. But here he was, writing once again.
Last night, over dinner, Hermione had mentioned writing their own vows, and- because he loved her, and this is what she wanted- he had agreed.
As he thought about those letters, he realized what he needed to do.
2 months later, he stood at the alter, next to a stunning Hermione, dressed in white, with a breathtaking smile on his face. It was his time, he reached in his pocket and read his letter to,
'Hermione,
I started to write you letters in third year. For some reason, I could never finish them. I think I was scared to admit to myself how much I cared about you. However, I kept each one. I wrote down reasons I love you, apologies, and basically anything I was to scared to tell you in person. But two months ago, you mentioned at dinner that you wanted to write our own vows, the next night instead of getting drinks with Harry like I told you-'
She slapped him lightly, tears pooling in her eyes,
'I went to the Burrow. I climbed up to my old attic bedroom, and I dug through my old school trunk, and pulled out all those unfinished letters. There were so many, but I picked out a few, and I'm going to finish them.
In third year we fought over my rat, and your cat. We fought and fought, but if I had been to tell the truth back then, I started the fights for a reason-'
"What!" Harry complained " I went through hell-"
"Shut up Harry! You'll get you speech,"
He looked back down on his paper
'- I started those fights because when we fought it was like we were then only two people in the room. You only had eyes for me. And as I've told you before, I'm a selfish person.
In fourth year, I wanted so bad to take you to the Yule Ball, but Victor-'
He waved into the audience at Louise's godfather-
'-beat me to the punch. And boy was I bitter. But what I wanted to tell you was that you've always been the most beautiful woman I've had the privilege to know.
In fifth year, you were my hero. I had know idea you were so brave. But Umbridge sparked something in you, something that made you break multiple school rules-'
She blushed a deep red.
'-you were my role model. Then later that year I cursed my self for not being able to protect younger a curse. I remember hating myself. I vowed then not to let anything hurt you.
The next year I failed. I broke your heart. However, I had no clue why you were so mad, now I do of course. It was that year I realized I loved you. I used Lavender-'
He waved at Lavender, who had allowed him to talk about her in his speech.
"-to distract me from the woman I truly loved.
The next year, I wrote a lot of letters. Most rants about how I hated camping-'
She and Harry laughed while the majority of the audience looked puzzled
'-but then I - I broke my promise again, I left you and Harry, for my own selfish reasons. I still apologize-'
She squeezed his arm, letting him know there was nothing to apologize for.
'-and that's when I realized I couldn't live with out you. I couldn't stand not knowing if you were okay every second of everyday. I couldn't function with out you. I love you Hermione, thank you for making me the luckiest man on the earth. I know Harry's jealous.'
You are the most beautiful, passionate, forgiving,loving, and smartest person I know. I have no idea how I lucked out, and got you.
So, I promise to love you with every fiber of my body.
To fight with you-because that's what we do- and I promise to do it with passion.
I promise to remind you of how beautiful you are-because sometimes you try to forget.
I promise to never break your heart, to protect you.
And I promise to never break my promises again.
I promise to love you and never let go.
I promise to always be there.
Ginny glared while Hermione laughed through the tears now pouring down her face.
Two weeks later, when they returned from their honey moon, he gave her every unfinished letter. But he also gave her two finished letters, which were framed and hung in her library.
AN: So this is my first fanfic? I hope it's okay :) It's a one shot but I have another one written that is like paired with this one. If you want I can post it? Thanks for reading :)
So you've seen the story that's been bubbling in my brain! What did ya think? Please tell me if I used the wrong spelling or grammer but remember I'm American.
-CareyGrace