I know it seems stupid, for me to write you a letter. I know you're not going to read a single word of this. I know it's pointless, that I'm wasting perfectly good ink.
But it doesn't matter.
It's been five years now since you died. Five years of pain, of sadness, of desperation.
But despite all of this, my love for you is as strong as it was when you were here, in flesh.
I still think about your inquisitive eyes, your heartwarming smile, your soft voice.
I think about the promises we made to eachother. The way you would always find a way to cheer me up, no matter how angry I was, no matter how many rude things I said to you.
I don't know why you put up with me, Cedric. But I'm really glad you did.
Now I've become quite numb to it all. All I have are scars, all my blood is gone. I sometimes wonder if my heart beats anymore.
But when you first died, that first year.. I can't describe it. No words will do.
When I saw you, laying motionless on the grass, I felt like I stopped breathing. Like time stopped.
I screamed, though it was distorted and came out more like a moan. My mind froze, I couldn't comprehend it was you, laying there, pale and white and sick looking. I couldn't. It was like I was in a dream. Everything was hazy and blurred.
And then slowly, it became real. I first realized it, actually realized it, about an hour afterwards. When I was alone.
I screamed. I threw things. I ripped up my books and all of my parchment. The only thing I didn't destroy were the letters you had written me, the notes you had dropped into my hands in the corridors.
I felt like I was going to be sick. My head pounded. My heart was racing.
Everything changed. Nothing has been the same since.
I know you won't ever read this. I know this is just pathetic of me. I know I won't ever hear you say my name again, or your laugh. But I can't help but hope. It's the only thing that's keeping me breathing.
I'll always hope.
Hermione