Ron,

I'm excited on seeing you and Harry again! I honestly cannot wait! I wish you guys could come visit.

Great News! Neville was released yesterday! They said he was cured. He left me a note saying that he was sorry he couldn't voice his good-bye, but that he wished me luck in my recovery and that he'll be seeing you guys soon!

I'm really happy Ron! I can't wait to see you again!

Love,

Hermione.

Harry sighed and raked a hand through his hair. Justin was right. This bit of keeping up writing for Ron was killing him. Plus, Hermione's letters were so off the wall half the time, he had a hard time just staying neutral in conversation.

"What would you do Ron?" Harry asked the sky. It was a dark cloudy day. Thunder rumbled in the distance as an answer.

He laughed. "You would do the same thing probably. I'm happy for Neville though. He recovered fast. Which means there's hope for his parents now. He sent me a letter. Saying on how he remembered so much, that they had to separate him from Hermione before he had a chance to say good bye."

"Its just so weird, how he wrote. Said it felt like a bad dream. The war and everything. A dream turned into a real life nightmare. He's also mad at the fact that I've been pretending to be you. But he understands, that he most likely would be doing the same if he were in the same situation. Neville did bring up a good point though; What happens when Hermione remembers?"

A rain drop splattered on Harry's nose. He leaned against the tomb stone. "She'll cry. Your definitely right. I just can't bring myself to stop writing to her. Neville said when they were separated, she was actually doing very well. Remembering some spells, but still believes she's remembering childhood fantasies."

The heavens turned loose, and let the water from above come pouring onto the ground. The rain pour down heavily, causing a dreary looking mist, to match Harry's mood. He pushed the wet hair off of his face, not caring that he was already soaked.

Harry sighed. "See-ya later man, I'll have to think of a way, but for now, she just needs you." He ran a finger down the marble of the stone, and turned away into the mist of the rain. Giving a heavy sigh, he wanted to do something he hadn't done in a long time. Curl up on his bed and cry.

Zapping back to his cozy little flat, he nearly screamed out in shock at the person who was standing at the desk.

"Harry.." the voice wavered, unfinished letters in hand, with mascara stained cheeks.

"Her...mione?" Harry stuttered, shocked.

"How...how...how could you?" she shrieked, sending the zillions of papers that was stacked on the desk onto the floor. A hiss was heard and a bolt of ginger fur, zoomed behind the sofa.

"Hermione...I...I"

"I don't want to hear it Harry," she interrupted. "I want to know why. Why, when you knew I was in the hospital with a zapped memory. Didn't take me long to notice that you actually dot the i's and cross the t's. Did you think you could actually get that one by me, when Ron never did."

Harry was silent. He knew this day was coming, but not today of all days.

"I was so hurt, so hurt Harry, that you of all people, could lie to me like that. When it finally dawned on me that Ron wasn't writing back, that you were writing..I made an effort to get better. Some areas are still blurry. But why Harry... WHY?" she cried again, crumpling the letter that he had finished and shoved it in her pocket.

"You really want to know why Hermione. Do you even KNOW where Ron is right now?!" Harry yelled. He lost his temper, but he couldn't help it, not today.

"Where IS he Harry. Why isn't he getting my letters?!"

"He gets them I read them to him every single day."

"WHERE IS HE HARRY?!" Hermione yelled, throwing a paperweight across the room. It zoomed past Harry's head, and shattered the mirror above the mantle.

"He's dead Hermione! He died protecting you! His last words were, take care of my Hermione!" Harry shouted, all his rage and sadness building up inside.

Hermione froze at Harry's outburst .

Harry fell to the floor on his knees sobbing. "You don't even remember how he died, how a death eater had you cornered. How I was cornered by Voldermort. The bastard ordered to have you killed, tortured, to a slow painful death.

Ron , he was already badly wounded, and near death, but he got to you, and shoved you out of harms way.

The torture alone had already caused you to go into a shell.."

"Where is he?" Hermione repeated again, ice taking over her tone.

Harry glared at her. "You still don't believe me, do you?"

"Why should I Harry? You already lied about so many things, about how Ron and yourself were doing great, about how you PRETENDED to be Ron. How could you?"

"You forget one thing, Hermione. You were there at his funeral. It wasn't until a MONTH after that you forgot everything. So don't blame me. You're not the only one who lost someone during that war. I lost not only my best mate, but BOTH of them"

"Always so mellow-dramatic Harry, now are you going to tell me where Ron is or not," Hermione sighed.

Harry marched up to her and snatched her elbow, raising it in the air.

"Harry your hurting me!" she snapped.

"You've become some snotty bitch Hermione, I'll show you."

"Hrmph!" She sounded, she knew she was in the wrong, but she was so angry she didn't care at the moment. Harry apperated them both to the grave site.

"There Hermione are you happy?" he snapped, giving her a soft shove to the tomb stone where she could read the encryption.

"This can't be true!" she wailed, sinking to her knees, tears soaking the earth. No answer.

"Harry?" she called, looking up. Nothing. But a piece of parchment, where Harry had been standing.

Sniffing, she picked it up. Yellowed with age, the familiar scrawled handwriting brought fresh tears to her eyes.

Hermione,

If you're reading this now, I'm no longer on this earth, but traveling on a new adventure, awaiting for you and Harry, to make the trio complete again.

I wrote this letter out before the battle, hoping that I could throw it away afterwards. Hoping that the worst, wouldn't come to this. I asked Harry to take care of you. If it did, he was to love you and care for you to the best of his extent. If you are reading this, and I'm sure you are, the shocking truth is still setting in.

Yes, you lost me, but you still have someone. Harry. It might not seem like it, but Harry needs you. You're the only person left in this world that truly cares about him. Don't mess that up Hermione. Its better to die alone, knowing that you have friends who care about you than living your life locked up in a tower holding grudges against someone who only wanted to help you because they love you.

Your extremely smart Hermione. You feel lonely now. Harry's just as lonely.

(Towards the bottom, the handwriting was scribbled, and the page was stained with blood.)

Even more lonely now, I know I won't make it. Harry needs you more than ever Hermione. Grieve. Love. Live. That's what I want for you. I love you Hermione.

Ro...

The letter ended there. A pen mark went haywire and Hermione crumbled again. It was very possible that was Ron's very last moment, and it caused her insides to wrench with guilt and sadness. After the way she treated Harry, made her want to crawl into a hole and die.

Sniffling, Hermione grabbed her wand and apperated back to Harry's flat, hoping to smooth things over and start a new page.

"Harr..."

The house was empty. No pictures on the wall, no furniture. Only a sad looking desk, with pens, paper and a fat ginger cat on top, swishing his tail.

Hermione walked over to the desk, and put her hand to her mouth by what was staring back at her, between the cat's paws.

One single picture was left. A picture that had been taken when she and the boys were 11. The picture where Harry, Ron and herself had decided that they would be friends forever.

"Oh, Harry." Hermione sighed, tears falling down her face.

She looked around the empty room. It looked as empty as her heart felt. It dawned on her that Harry was doing exactly what Ron would have done for him if the situation was reversed. Heck she knew she would do it as well.

Feeling more alone now than ever, in the empty room. She looked at the picture, and ran her finger down the glass. A teardrop splattered on the smooth surface, when the flash-backs came at full force. Ron's death, how he wailed in pain. The funeral, where Harry made a heart-warming speech. Her breakdowns, Harry trying to keep her from sinking into a world where nothing was wrong, The letters. How Harry saved every letter she wrote to Ron. She sniffed and pulled out the newest letter, that she had shoved into her pocket.

My Lovely Hermione,

Please don't read this until you can remember.

I've been doing this for the past few months now, but it's becoming too much.

Ron isn't here anymore. Before you go and freak out at me, Hear me out, maybe reading and understand my actions, you'll be able to understand why.

Ron told me to take care of you. It was like he knew what was going to happen. I still can't clear my head of the painful wail he let out, the way he was still able to give me a grin, and tell me his final wishes, even with all the pain he was in.

I know things will never be the same between us, Hermione. I did something what I have realized is unforgivable. I just hope you find it in your heart to understand my actions.

I will miss you if we never speak again. But, as harsh as this might sound, I did my part. I kept my promise to Ron, and I can only wish you the best.

If you go to the bank, go to cell 15238, the pass-code is 645. In there, you will find the deed to the flat, and enough money to last you for a few years. You don't have to accept it, I hope you do though.

In the end Hermione, I'm sorry. Not for what I did, but for the pain you'll be going through. I hope all turns out well in the end. Know that I would trade places with Ron in an instant, so he could be here with you.

Never forget, I truly love you, not just as a friend. But as a sister.

Forever Yours,

Harry

Hermione read the letter again, her lip quivering as tears stained the page.

"I'm sorry Harry." she cried, sinking into the chair, and cried.

A man looked in the window, watching the woman in the empty room. He put his fingers to his lips and then pressed them to the pane. "Goodbye."

the end