Disclaimer: The characters belong to JK Rowling, not me. Got that? Good.





A/N: This just sort of came to me when I was trying to fall asleep last night, so I wrote it. It's a letter, in case you spaced on the summary, and contains mentions of slash, H/D slash. So, yes, I've hit a slight block on my other pieces, unfortunately, this will have to do for now.





Like a Last Kiss

Dear Hermione,

Hi, it's me, Harry. I'm sure you're wondering why I'm writing you a letter. After all, I see you regularly, and I can always apparate to your house if I need something. But some things just can't be said in person, what I have to say is like that. Please, Hermione, try to understand all of this, and if you can't understand, try to forgive. It's so important to me that I'm forgiven.

To begin with, I really did love him, I still do, I always have. Even when we fought, I loved him. And, when he died, it was as though my heart had been ripped out and torn apart. Not one of you understood this, not one of you even tried. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not blaming you in the slightest, I'm not trying to point fingers and lay the blame on someone. It was all our faults, or none of ours; it doesn't matter anymore. Honestly, I don't think it ever really did.

Yes, everything got bad when Draco died, well, things weren't great before he died, none of you could understand the choices we made. But, when he died, it all got so much worse. Do you know how he died? Why he died? I bet you don't, but I do. He died at the hands of his father, his goddamned, manipulative, deserves to burn in hell, bastard of a father, because he turned down an invitation to join Voldemort. And, you know what else? He turned down that invitation because of me, because he loved me. You didn't know that, did you? I would have told you, had you asked.

I'm crying, you know, three years since Draco died, and I still cry when I think about it. He was brave, right up till the end, of course, he'd be furious with me for calling him brave, but that's what he was. Bravery tempered by a calculating nature. A lethal combination, this I know quite well. He fought for us, with us, until the moment he died. And, do you want to know what his last words were? "Live for me, Harry, I love you". That was only the fifth time he ever told me that he loved me, Hermione, only the fifth time. But, even before he'd ever said it, I knew, that was one of the things I never needed to be told.

Now, I know that this is starting to sound like I'm blaming you, all of you, for my troubles, but I'm not. I'm only trying to make you understand, and, with that understanding, bring forgiveness. I can't believe I'm still crying over this, the tears, now that they've started simply won't stop. I know what you'd say, if you were here, "There's no set time limit on grief, Harry", or something to that effect. Well, maybe not, but it's making it difficult to finish my letter.

Anyway, what I'm trying to tell you is that I wasn't trying to hurt anyone when I got with Draco; I was trying to follow my heart. And, I am so sorry that things went so badly because of it. I don't expect understanding, maybe that's more than I deserve, but I can always hope. Really, Hermione, all I want is to know that I said these things; that I tried to apologize at least once. If it helps at all, think of this as a sort of last kiss. And, please, when all hell breaks loose, try to explain to Ron. Remember, death is only the beginning.

Yours in Eternal Sincerity,

Harry J. Potter

Order of Merlin, 1st Class

Hermione Granger, with tears in her eyes, carefully set the letter down and looked at the newspaper sitting beside her. The headline on the front page read:

"Harry Potter Is Dead"