Comparisons are easily done once you've had a taste of perfection, like an apple hanging from a tree I picked the ripest one I still got the seed...

It had been four long years since the Minister of Magic knocked on my front door and told me he was gone. Four years of pain and misery. Four years since Ron passed away. Sounds so peaceful that, doesn't it? Passed away. When I imagine what happened in my head its anything but peaceful. He was on a mission with Harry, tracking down some rogue Death Eaters. Nothing he hadn't done a million times before being an Auror and all. But we always had that moment before he left. That just in case I never see you again moment. I never imagined that one day that moment would become the last time I ever saw him. Spoke to him. Touched him. The love of my life. I had gotten back in touch with Viktor Krum a year and a half ago and he's been very good to me. But he'll never be Ron. It may be comforting to have someone lying beside me at night again, to have someone around. But my heart will always belong to a ginger haired man named Ronald Weasley.

You say move on where do I go? I guess second best is all I will know...

"'Mione. If anything ever happens to me, I want you to know that- that its okay"

"What's okay?"

"Its okay to move on"

Those words haunted me. When he said them, I felt hurt. How could he give me up to someone else so easily? When dead or alive the thought of him with another woman would destroy me. I didn't understand it, until he was actually gone. I was alone. I had my in-laws fussing over me, and Harry of course, but I was completely alone. At the end of every day I would return home to our empty flat. No one to cook dinner for. No one to ask me how my day was. No one to snuggle up next to on the sofa and enjoy a nice cup of tea with. He didn't want me to be alone. But I didn't want to be with anyone else. And then Viktor came back into my life and I had decided that I was ready to give Ron what he wanted. I wasn't going to be on my own anymore, even if it meant that, to me, I was settling for second best so that my husband could smile down upon me and know that I was okay.

Cause when I'm with him I am thinking of you, what you would do if you were the one who was spending the night, I wish that I was looking into your eyes...

I'd be laying in bed with Viktor late at night. In the bed I once shared with Ron. He'd be snoring like a pig with a chest infection. I would lay on my back and stare at the ceiling for hours, wondering what I would be doing right now if it were Ron laid beside me. I'd be putting the world to rights and Ron would be sat up, nodding along whilst scoffing a bacon sandwich. He'd finish his midnight meal and then we would just lie there together, in perfection. He would drape his arm around my shoulders and gently caress my skin the way I always liked it. I would sigh happily as he'd kiss the top of my head and tell me he loved me. But I will never have a night like that again. I would wake Viktor up with my constant fidgeting and my tossing and turning and he would just smile at me, shifting the hair out of my eyes. And then I would stare deep into the depths of his eyes. And in the split second of a blink, I would see Ron's eyes, looking back into mine. How I loved those deep pools of blue. How I loved to run my fingertips softly across each freckle that covered his face. How I hated that I could never get that back.

You're like an Indian summer in the middle of winter, like a hard candy with a surprise centre, how do I get better once I've had the best, you said there's tons of fish in the water so the waters I will test...

People who didn't know Ron and I would think we were an odd couple. Our differences were abundantly clear. But what they didn't know was that those differences made us stronger. They made our love what it was. What it is. We balanced each other out. He taught me how to relax and enjoy life. I taught him how to be responsible and mature. That was us. We completed each other. I don't feel whole anymore. I put on a brave face for Viktor. I go crazy and grin and wave at his Quidditch games. I ask him about his day as I make him lunch. I don't have to make him suffer. I'm grateful to the man who came back into my life to look after the mess that was left when Ron Weasley left this world. I struggled to see the point. The point in waking up everyday. The point in smiling and being brave and laughter. The point in life. There was no point anymore.

He kissed my lips, I taste your mouth, he pulled me in I was disgusted with myself...

It was a shock. Viktor had come to visit for the twentieth time and made me lunch. We were just talking when he took my hand in his. I had this urge inside of me. The urge to let go. I needed to be touched. I needed to feel the touch of another human being. When his lips softly met mine I felt sick. I didn't know what I was doing. I'm not even sure I was okay with what was happening, but there I was. Letting Viktor Krum run his fingers through my hair as his mouth moved against mine. But I did nothing to stop it. My hands met his jaw as I deepened the kiss. And all the while I was thinking of Ron, and somehow, I could taste him. That probably sounds insane and I cant even begin to describe how Ron tastes but I felt it, and I couldn't bring myself to let go.

You're the best and yes I do regret how I could let myself let you go, now the lessons learnt, I touched it I was burned, I think you should know...

Every time I look into the eyes of Viktor Krum I am wracked with guilt. Mr and Mrs Weasley had given us their blessing. Harry was happy that I hadn't put my life on hold forever. I'm doing what Ron wanted but I feel so awful every single day that I live and breathe. I didn't want to let go. I still cant let go. But in some way or another it appears that I have. The Prophet rumoured that Viktor had been seen looking at engagement rings. My answer would be no. I have feelings for Viktor, he looks after me and he makes me feel safe. But I will always be Mrs Weasley. I can never officially belong to someone else. My heart belongs to a boy I fell in love with in school. A boy called Ronald Bilius Weasley. And I will always be his, whether we meet again or not. I have to live with the fact that I will never have children with the man I truly love or watch him lose his trademark ginger hair as it starts to turn grey. I have to do what he asked of me. I have to move on. But I am happy with the thought that the last words my husband ever spoke to me were;

"I love you, Hermione Jean Weasley. Always."