You listened to me. I told you things no one else will ever know. From the first moment I met you, I knew you were different. I didn't identify it as 'love' until just recently. I never told you. Voldermort is dead, and I am supposed to be happy. But I'm not, because you aren't here to be happy with. It wasn't my fault, that's what everyone keeps saying. But, I'm the 'Chosen one'. I was supposed to help people, random people who don't know or care about me. Instead, I lost the one consistently bright part of my life. Death is a part of life, but the death I had always envisioned for you, for us, was peacefully in your (our) bed at an old age. Instead, you died on a body strewn battle field, surrounded by our friends.
They are my friends, Ron, Ginny, Neville, and Luna. You, though, were more than that. You were never jealous of me (of something I would have given up no less!), you never assumed anything- except that I would make it through, and I'd protect you. I failed.
I'll never be truly happy again. No matter how good it seems, there will always be the dark spot: you aren't there.
I love you Hermione.Some of my famous angst. Haha. Anyway, let me know what you think! Just push the little purple button. One push!