I look at you, Hermione Granger, standing over there with him, and I feel like crying. But I can't, not now, not here.
You are so lucky, Hermione, and I hope you know that. I think you know that. Because you love Ron Weasley, and he loves you, and you just married him.
And you are lucky in so many other ways too. Look at you, with your butterscotch hair, and your sunshine smile. Everyone can see how you make his soul glow. And your adventurous mind, always envisioning amazing things. You spark his life in ways I'll never know. He looks at you as if life is perfect. I wish I could be like you, because you make me look so plain. Even my name is plain. Lavender Brown. Simple.
And on his stag night, when you were fretting to me and Parvati about him being drunk and at a club at night, we reassured you, because I know that even though it's midnight and he's drunk, you're the one in his head.
And I try not to hate you, because I just want to know what it feels like to have him adore you.
And it's stupid to think that I could compare to you, the pretty girl with the butterscotch hair.