There's no need for an author's note here really. It's just a little something which I came up with the other day.
The title's obviously from the song by Jimmy Page and Robert Plant, or Robert Plant and Alison Krauss. If you don't know it, find it and listen to it; it's a beautiful song!
To those of you who read Friends Reunited, I promise another chapter will be up soon. I have one written but I don't like it, so I want to write another one which will hopefully be better!
I'm sorry I have to tell you this in a letter, but I know what it'd be like if I actually spoke to you about this. I'd be too scared to say everything I want to say, and you'd listen for about two minutes, and then interrupt. I need you to promise that you'll listen to what I say, and think about it.
It's hard to know where to begin. I've written this so many times now, there's a huge pile of parchment on the floor by me. I need to clean it up before a certain someone goes mad and tells me off! Sorry, I'm going off the topic. I'm trying to put off starting, because I don't know how. How can I get going? We've known each other a long time. There aren't many people I'm really close to like we are; I could probably count them on one hand. We've been through so much, and I think everything that's happened recently has brought us even closer together.
I realised something though, when we were lying around in the garden the other week while Fred and George were swimming in the lake. I was shifting around because the ground was uncomfortable, and you pulled me to you and let me rest my head on you. It felt really nice, and comfortable. I don't mean comfortable as in comfy, although it was. It's hard to explain what I mean. It just felt nice, like we fitted together, if that makes any sense.
After that, something changed. Every time you whispered a joke in my ear before, I didn't feel anything, except perhaps annoyance that your joke wasn't funny. Now, whenever you do it, a shiver goes through me, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. And whenever you hug me, I try and make it last as long as possible, because when you let me go, I feel cold and unsafe. When we're sitting near each other, it takes a huge effort not to snuggle up against you, and I find myself hoping your arm will brush against mine, or that you'll give me a smile. I'd do anything to see you smile. I don't even mind when I can smell you in my hair or on my clothes. In fact, I rather like it; it's calming. What have you done to me?
I'm going to stop writing now, because I can see how pathetic I've become. This is probably the shortest thing I've ever written! I don't even know why I'm telling you all this. I know nothing's ever going to happen, although sometimes a little part of me likes to imagine something could, just because we seem to fit together. I suppose I need you to tell me what I already know so I can get over it. Or perhaps I'm hoping that you'll tell me that you think something could happen between us. I don't know. I'm sorry I feel like this.
Harry came up behind her, her letter in his hand. He put his hands on her shoulders, making her gasp. She knew who it was. She turned to face him, but she noticed he wasn't wearing the smile she loved so much. He opened his mouth to speak, and she knew what he was going to say before he even said it: the four words she was dreading.
"Hermione, you're my friend."