Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

A/N – Penultimate chapter… oh the sadness. And this story had received over 100 reviews! THANK YOU SO MUCH!

Ten.

Hermione regretted her decision to walk out on Ron almost the minute she got back to the Burrow. It was stupid, she thought, stupid, and immature, and over-dramatic, and there had been no need for it. She had never wanted to become one of those girls who thrived on drama – who invented reasons to get upset to gain attention, or to get people to feel sorry for them. After all, she had had enough to cope with during the last few months.

She just wished she had been able to deal with the situation with Ron in a better way.

He probably thought she was a complete idiot, she realised sadly. That was why he hadn't tried to talk to her. He didn't want her anymore. Not now he'd realised what a complete headcase she was.

She realised she couldn't even begin to explain to him how she was feeling. She knew that even if she tried, she would end up stuttering and butchering whatever she had prepared to say, confusing herself and Ron further. He didn't deserve that, she decided. He deserved so much better. He deserved a girl like Lavender. Someone confident, and sure of themselves, who wouldn't overreact to the slightest thing, and who wasn't afraid to tell him how she felt. Because Hermione was afraid. She didn't even know how she would begin. She couldn't just walk up to him and just casually mention that she'd been in love with him for so long. She couldn't just drop that she saw him as the person she wanted to spend the rest of her life with into a conversation about Quidditch.

It suddenly struck her that she should write about how she felt. She'd never been one for keeping a diary, unless it was an exam revision schedule or a device for noting down important dates, but all of a sudden it seemed the perfect thing to do. If she wrote down how she was feeling, it would help get her emotions in order and calm her down. After all, she mused as she looked for her favourite quill, she always felt better after writing an essay.

Using a brand new piece of parchment, bought only a few days before, Hermione began a letter to Ron.

Dear Ron,

I will understand if you don't want to read this. You probably don't think I'm worth the trouble any more. That's what I'd be thinking right now.

I don't know why seeing Lavender talking to you upset me so much. I suppose its because I know I'll never even compare to someone like her. It's hard to believe anyone would ever want me when there are people like her around. People who always know what to say, people who don't need to get the best marks in everything they do to persuade themselves they aren't useless – in other words people who are better than me in every way. I know I shouldn't be so hard on myself, but I've always been like that. While I was wearing the Horcrux locket, I could feel all these doubts coming to the front of my mind, like how you didn't want to spend time with me, and how I would never be a good witch because I'm a Muggle-born, and that the Snatchers would soon catch me, and anyway, I'd be useless helping Harry anyway, so it would be better if I left. I sort of knew it wasn't true, but something made me believe it all. And then you left, and I thought you really didn't care about me, and the locket had been right, and I'd never be happy because I'd lost you, and I swear, I thought my heart had broken.

I can't even believe I'm saying this to you, it's so embarrassing. Especially this part. I think you might be the best thing that ever happened to me. Seriously. You're the first thing I think of when I wake up, and the last thing I think of before I go to sleep. It sounds so pathetic. I always swore to myself I wouldn't let that happen to me. I always thought to myself, who needs love anyway?

Well Ron, it turns out I do.

As long as it's with you.

I hate how I sound here. But can I just say, you are the only person I would even consider sounding like that for. I know we probably didn't get off on the best ever start, but to be honest, you didn't look like the man I'd end up falling in love with when I first stepped into that compartment. I'm glad things change.

I'm not even going to describe how everything changed, because I can't even pinpoint when it happened. It doesn't matter anyway, because I highly doubt you even want someone like me as a girlfriend anyway. You're so kind-hearted, you make me laugh, and when you hold me I feel so happy I sometimes think it can't be real. And I guess it never really was. It's all my fault really. You deserve someone better.

Well, if you change your mind about me, just say. And if you can't, then just say as well. Because even if we can't be together, in that way, I'd really like us to stay friends. Because you're the best friend I've ever had. Even though we argue, a lot, I know it's because you care. Well, at least I think it is. I hope it is.

Yours,

Hermione

xxxx

Hermione looked over the words, hating how it made her sound so desperate, so needy. Even though, she realised, that was what she was. She had come to need Ron, she needed to know he'd be there for her, and that she'd be able to be there for him. She needed him to hold her, to stroke her hair, to hold her hand, to keep her safe. And everything she'd written in her neat, curved handwriting was the absolute truth.

It really hurt her to feel so helpless. Getting involved with another person meant just that – that she couldn't have complete control, as they would have their opinions, their thoughts, and their decisions counted too.

But then there was a good side to it all, she thought to herself, as she found an envelope for her letter. Even the memory of Ron's lips on hers during the battle made her nervous, yet joyful at the same time. The way that, for one mad moment, she had truly believed that if she had carried on kissing him then everything would be okay, and they would both survive, and she would never have to feel alone again.

She performed the charm to seal the envelope, so that only Ron would be able to open it, and addressed the front with the words "Ronald Weasley". Somehow, writing his name made everything seems as if it would be alright. The way the 'R' in his first name curled, and how special it looked to her when she had written it.

She opened the door carefully, dreading actually having to see him. Then she would have to give him the letter in person, and she would have to watch him read it, and see him smile when he realised he didn't actually have to pretend he liked her at all, and he could be free.

She bent down and placed the envelope so that it was leaning against his bedroom door. She contemplated knocking on the door and then retreating to her bedroom, to make sure he would read it, but something made her pause. Then, that same something made her turn around.

She noticed a small, folded piece of paper just outside the room she had just left, with her name written across the front. Her heart started to beat faster, as she retrieved her own letter and took the note back into the room, closing the door behind her.

Hermione walked slowly over to her bed, nervously anticipated the content of the note. She unfolded it, her hands trembling, and quickly read through the messy, spidery writing that she recognised immediately as Ron's.

A smile began to creep across her lips as she read, tears shining in her swollen eyes. As she reached the final paragraph, she started to giggle to herself. She had been wrong entirely. He didn't resent her, he didn't want to be just friends. He wanted her… he loved her.

She could feel the tears in her eyes spilling down her cheeks, her hands clasped to her mouth. She quickly reread the letter, looking for some kind of catch, but there was nothing. He didn't care that she wasn't a girl like Lavender. And he felt the same way as her. He wanted her with him as much as she did.

Ripping her letter in half, she took out a new piece of parchment, and scribbled a reply, her heart in her mouth. She returned to the landing, and pushed the parchment under Ron's door, knocked softly, and waited.