Dear Hermione,
You can probably tell who I am just by looking at the writing so I'm not even gonna bother. Heck, you might be looking at me while you're reading this if you're in the common room. I don't know what possessed me to write this. Probably the fact that this is the end of our fifth year and well, I just want you to know before it's too late and we never see each other again. Then why am I writing it now, you ask? Because who knows when I'll get the courage to actually give it to you. So I guess you're wondering what is it that I want you to know so much.
But I won't tell you yet. I want to tell you some other things first.
Before your read any further I think it'll be best if you know WHY I'm writing this. No, I haven't gone temporarily mute or anything. It's 'cause I've never been good with words. Like when I was six, my mother told me to tell my aunt how wonderful she looked in her new dress. I ended up telling her how very different she looked in it. When I write, I can have second chances. Just scrunch it up and start over again. But when I say something, that's it. It's been said. I can't scrunch up my words and shove it down Malfoy's throat. And I don't have to be there when you're reading this. To see you laugh out loud and mutter "in your dreams, Ronald Weasley." Because the reaction I want will only happen in my dreams. The dreams where you fling your arms around my neck and kiss me.
Remember the first time we met? Harry and I were stuffing our faces when you barged in asking about Neville's toad. We used to despise each other then and I'm pretty sure you still despise me every now and again. I thought you were a snobby know-it-all and I'm pretty sure you felt pretty much the same. But there's somethings you can't share without ending up liking each other, knocking out an ugly mountain troll is one of them.
Then in second year, when you were petrified. I was bloody scared. Ask Harry and he'll tell you all the embarrassing details. Actually, on second thought, don't ask Harry - the details are too embarrassing.
Third year, for once, we didn't have to face You-Know-Who. Well, lets rephrase that, Harry didn't have to face You-Know-Who. Good thing he did it alone though, I'm too much of a wimp to have been much help. That's another thing 'Mione. I used to think that we were destined to be friends and more but then I look at the two of us and realize that you're too good for me. I'm just Weasley number six. Harry Potter's sidekick. Hermione Granger's tag-a-long, and yes I am called that. But look at you. The smartest witch in Hogwarts. The youngest witch to ever master magic without a wand. You created your own spells. You're brave, smart, beautiful.
But back to the flashbacks. Remember in fourth year when you went to the ball with Krum. And how I said that you were fraternizing with the enemy? Well, he wasn't Harry's enemy. He was mine. He could offer you all those great things that I couldn't. Fame, fortuneā¦..
He won you over in a week when I was still trying to win your heart three and a half years after I started trying. Ten that was when things started to get scary for me. I knew it wasn't just a crush anymore but then what the heck was it? And then when he asked you to go to Bulgaria. I knew I'd lost. How was I was I meant to compete with him? So instead of trying to convince you not to go, I tried convincing myself that I WANTED you to go. That I didn't care about you. That you were just 'one of the guys'. That you had betrayed Harry by going off with Krum. But hey, where did that get me? Into a very loud row with the person that meant the most to me.
And then this year, when Dumbledore announced that there was gonna be another ball I decided to ask you. I'd lost you once, I wasn't gonna let that happen again. So we agreed to go as friends. Of course, you looked so beautiful that night that I had to use all my self-control (which is quite minimal) to stop myself from doing something stupid like telling you how I feel. I didn't want to ruin our friendship, 'cause I've seen it happen 'Mione. Someone develops feelings for their friends and when the friend finds out, she freaks out and never talks to him again. I didn't want that to be the case with us 'Mione. That's one of my greatest fears you know (even more than spiders) that one day, we'll pass each other on the street or somewhere and we'll have on of those weird artificial conversations. The ones where "How are you today?" mean "I'm too polite to admit it but the very sight of you disgusts me. Of course, I could never think that way about you 'Mione but now I'm rambling.
I almost told you that night 'Mione. Almost 'spilled the beans' as Fred would put it. But there were just too many 'what ifs'. What if you runs screaming in terror? What if you faint? What if you slap me over the head and never speak to me again? What if you decide to set an acromantula on me? What if I stuff up the friendship we already have?
I guess that's the whole point of this letter then 'Mione. To tell you what's really going through this head of mine when I see you. And try to do that without making too much of a fool of myself but I think I've done that already. People say you can't fall in love when you're fifteen. That your hormones rule your life, so I can't say whether I'm in love or not cause I've never felt it before but if this ain't love I don't know what is. What the heck, I'll just call it love. Who cares what they think love is? This is what I think it is. I don't know how or when I fell in love with you 'Mione but I can tell you that I can't seem to fall out of it. Even turning Krum's figurine into a voodoo doll didn't help. You can burn this letter if you like but the most important thing is that you've read it. I know it's too much to hope but I just couldn't not tell you.
But 'Mione, I want you to remember something for me. If a time ever comes when you feel like you're not special to anybody, you'll always be special to a particular red-headed loser.
'Cause 'Mione; a bloke doesn't belch slugs for just any girl.
Ron.
You can probably tell who I am just by looking at the writing so I'm not even gonna bother. Heck, you might be looking at me while you're reading this if you're in the common room. I don't know what possessed me to write this. Probably the fact that this is the end of our fifth year and well, I just want you to know before it's too late and we never see each other again. Then why am I writing it now, you ask? Because who knows when I'll get the courage to actually give it to you. So I guess you're wondering what is it that I want you to know so much.
But I won't tell you yet. I want to tell you some other things first.
Before your read any further I think it'll be best if you know WHY I'm writing this. No, I haven't gone temporarily mute or anything. It's 'cause I've never been good with words. Like when I was six, my mother told me to tell my aunt how wonderful she looked in her new dress. I ended up telling her how very different she looked in it. When I write, I can have second chances. Just scrunch it up and start over again. But when I say something, that's it. It's been said. I can't scrunch up my words and shove it down Malfoy's throat. And I don't have to be there when you're reading this. To see you laugh out loud and mutter "in your dreams, Ronald Weasley." Because the reaction I want will only happen in my dreams. The dreams where you fling your arms around my neck and kiss me.
Remember the first time we met? Harry and I were stuffing our faces when you barged in asking about Neville's toad. We used to despise each other then and I'm pretty sure you still despise me every now and again. I thought you were a snobby know-it-all and I'm pretty sure you felt pretty much the same. But there's somethings you can't share without ending up liking each other, knocking out an ugly mountain troll is one of them.
Then in second year, when you were petrified. I was bloody scared. Ask Harry and he'll tell you all the embarrassing details. Actually, on second thought, don't ask Harry - the details are too embarrassing.
Third year, for once, we didn't have to face You-Know-Who. Well, lets rephrase that, Harry didn't have to face You-Know-Who. Good thing he did it alone though, I'm too much of a wimp to have been much help. That's another thing 'Mione. I used to think that we were destined to be friends and more but then I look at the two of us and realize that you're too good for me. I'm just Weasley number six. Harry Potter's sidekick. Hermione Granger's tag-a-long, and yes I am called that. But look at you. The smartest witch in Hogwarts. The youngest witch to ever master magic without a wand. You created your own spells. You're brave, smart, beautiful.
But back to the flashbacks. Remember in fourth year when you went to the ball with Krum. And how I said that you were fraternizing with the enemy? Well, he wasn't Harry's enemy. He was mine. He could offer you all those great things that I couldn't. Fame, fortuneā¦..
He won you over in a week when I was still trying to win your heart three and a half years after I started trying. Ten that was when things started to get scary for me. I knew it wasn't just a crush anymore but then what the heck was it? And then when he asked you to go to Bulgaria. I knew I'd lost. How was I was I meant to compete with him? So instead of trying to convince you not to go, I tried convincing myself that I WANTED you to go. That I didn't care about you. That you were just 'one of the guys'. That you had betrayed Harry by going off with Krum. But hey, where did that get me? Into a very loud row with the person that meant the most to me.
And then this year, when Dumbledore announced that there was gonna be another ball I decided to ask you. I'd lost you once, I wasn't gonna let that happen again. So we agreed to go as friends. Of course, you looked so beautiful that night that I had to use all my self-control (which is quite minimal) to stop myself from doing something stupid like telling you how I feel. I didn't want to ruin our friendship, 'cause I've seen it happen 'Mione. Someone develops feelings for their friends and when the friend finds out, she freaks out and never talks to him again. I didn't want that to be the case with us 'Mione. That's one of my greatest fears you know (even more than spiders) that one day, we'll pass each other on the street or somewhere and we'll have on of those weird artificial conversations. The ones where "How are you today?" mean "I'm too polite to admit it but the very sight of you disgusts me. Of course, I could never think that way about you 'Mione but now I'm rambling.
I almost told you that night 'Mione. Almost 'spilled the beans' as Fred would put it. But there were just too many 'what ifs'. What if you runs screaming in terror? What if you faint? What if you slap me over the head and never speak to me again? What if you decide to set an acromantula on me? What if I stuff up the friendship we already have?
I guess that's the whole point of this letter then 'Mione. To tell you what's really going through this head of mine when I see you. And try to do that without making too much of a fool of myself but I think I've done that already. People say you can't fall in love when you're fifteen. That your hormones rule your life, so I can't say whether I'm in love or not cause I've never felt it before but if this ain't love I don't know what is. What the heck, I'll just call it love. Who cares what they think love is? This is what I think it is. I don't know how or when I fell in love with you 'Mione but I can tell you that I can't seem to fall out of it. Even turning Krum's figurine into a voodoo doll didn't help. You can burn this letter if you like but the most important thing is that you've read it. I know it's too much to hope but I just couldn't not tell you.
But 'Mione, I want you to remember something for me. If a time ever comes when you feel like you're not special to anybody, you'll always be special to a particular red-headed loser.
'Cause 'Mione; a bloke doesn't belch slugs for just any girl.
Ron.
