I always needed time on my own.
I never thought I'd need you there when I cry.

I was always the youngest. Always the only girl. Always the one that needed to prove herself to others. I always isolated myself. The last time I cried was when I broke my arm when I was five.

But now, we are in a war. You and Ron are missing. George is missing an ear. Mum barely speaks, and so do I. And I cry. All the time.

And the days feel like years when I'm alone.

How long has it been? The calendar says you have left a week ago. A week? The calendar must be wrong. I count every time I cry. Three hundred and twenty-one. How could one cry and reassemble herself so many times in a mere week? It feels like it has been months. Years. Decades. And it might be. You might never get back.


When you walk away, I count the steps that you take. Do you see how much I need you right now?

And at the wedding. Hooded faces. People screaming. Someone was pulling me to safety. But I could only look at you. Only you as your eyes moved nervously over the crowd screaming for my brother. Only you, as after eight nervous glances and fifteen steps back and forward, you grabbed his and Hermione's arm and turned on the spot, going away. From me. From us. From safety. To the Unknown.

When you're gone, the pieces of my heart are missing you.

Would it be too much of a cliché if I said there was a hole in my heart? It probably would, and I was never that kind of girl. You are gone, my brother is gone, and so is my best friend. There is an empty place in my heart.

When you're gone, the face I came to know is missing too.

I remember everything about you. I remember your horrible raven hair. I remember those beautiful eyes of yours. I remember the line your jaw line made. I remember your arms, my safe place, and my harbour. But you are not here. And the memory is nothing like the real you.

When you're gone, the words I need to hear to always get me through the day, and make it okay.

Every day, a new death. A new disappearance. Someone I knew and loved getting hurt, going missing or dying. And you are not here to tell me that it is going to be okay. That this war will end. That we will all be happy again. And I need that. But no one can say those words to me. Because no one believes them anymore.

I've never felt this way before. Everything that I do, reminds me of you.

I try to forget about you. Did you think I would be any other way? But everywhere I go, everything I do, you are there. Making lunch, flying, cleaning the house, teasing Fleur. You are everywhere, and I cannot make you go away.

And the clothes you left, they lie on the floor.

And they smell just like you, I love the things that you do.

Your clothes are still on the floor of Ron's room. The enormous pair of jeans you got from your cousin. The Weasley jumper my Mum made for you last Christmas. I like to wear them, no matter the looks that I get. They smell like you, you know. Broomstick polish and treacle tart. And yet again, they remind me of you too. The way you play with my hair. Or that spark in your eyes when you know you are right. The little things I love about you.

We were made for each other, out here forever.
I know we were.

I knew we were going to end up together. Ever since I first saw you at King's Cross. Before I even knew your name. That time the colour of your eyes became my favourite one. And I know that we still belong. I know that we will be together. That you will survive this war. That we all are. Because that is our only way to keep each other strong.

All I ever wanted was for you to know, everything I do I give my heart and soul.

I was always passionate about things. I wanted to learn how to fly; I stole my brothers' brooms. I wanted to get and 'O' in a test and I worked hard to get it. I wanted us to be together, and I did everything I could. And once we were, it was just as I wanted. I loved you, and I still do. I showed you that. You knew exactly what I feel for you.

I can hardly breathe I need to feel you here with me.

I let my mind be flooded with pictures of us. With thoughts of you. And I lose my breath for a second. Are you still alive? Do you still love me? I need you here. To feel you, to see that you are still alive and unscathed, that you still feel as strongly for me as I do for you.

I miss you.

But time goes on, does it not? Eventually, we have to move on. And I do that. I smile when I feel like screaming. I fight. I breathe. I hope. I miss you. I live.