Dear Harry

Dear Harry.

Dear Harry,

I hate you. But I love you even more. And I'll tell you why.

I was always different as a kid. I always knew there was something, an invisible barrier that separated me from my classmates. That's why I turned to books. I thought that I could fill the void in me with knowledge. But the void, the blank hole that was waiting for something wasn't in my mind. It was in my heart.

And then I got my letter. The hole receded then, it got a little smaller, less significant. Because I had found what had made me so different from everyone around me. I knew that I was going to a new school and that everything was going to be ok. I was going to be the same as everyone else. I so wanted to fit in, to belong, that I read every book I could find on the Wizarding World, and recent events, so as not to be left out, so that I would know what everyone at school was talking about.

I was so excited when I stepped through the barrier onto Platform Nine and Three Quarters. I was closer to home than I had ever been. I looked through the compartment window when Neville lost his toad and when I saw you it was like that void totally disappeared. I knew who you were, of course, but I wanted to know who you were, if you catch my drift. I wanted to be the one who helped you when you fell down. I wanted to make the sadness I could see in your eyes, behind the mask of the same excitement I felt, go away. I could see you already had a best friend. I didn't want to intrude on that. I just wanted to be close to the person who I knew I would always be at home with, wherever we were. But you shunned me. That was the first thing that made me hate you. I had found a place where I could just be, and you shunned me.

Nevertheless, I knew not to give up hope. I could gain your friendship. I knew it would be a hard task after all, to you I was an 'insufferable know-it-all'. I went back to the one place I knew I could be safe: the library. I knew it gained me the reputation of the goody-goody two shoes of the house, but the library had always been my safety net in the muggle world, and part of me still clung on to those old insecurities. I also knew that you would never come down here, you hated the library, you and Ron, you hated doing work. And that only reminded me of how different you thought we were. I never wanted to be a workaholic, you know. I wanted to be known as something more than Hermione Granger: Bookworm; Hermione Granger: Teacher's Pet. Because I wasn't. I didn't want people to say ' Oh yes, Hermione Granger, the one who hangs around in the library. I wanted them to say, 'Oh yes, I know Hermione. Harry's friend, but so much more than just Harry's friend.'

I never once thought that our friendship would come in the shape of a troll trying to kill me. And yet it did. I was so happy I put all the blame on myself. I let some of the true me shine through. The 'I-don't-care-what-you-think-of-me' Granger attitude. I get it from my mum.

We were friends then but it still didn't fill the void completely. I still longed for something more.

And then, at the end of fourth year, I kissed you on the cheek. You looked so sad. I just wanted to cheer you up. It wasn't just for you, though. I needed something to hold me for the summer.

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I hate you for ruining my dream. I came to Hogwarts knowing that I would be home. I met you and everything was fine for a while. Then Voldemort came along and ruined my life. I wasn't safe. I wasn't home. I was in the middle of a war and I was sixteen. You told me the prophecy and I was happy. But I was selfish. I knew I wouldn't have to try and kill Voldemort because I knew I couldn't. I was a coward. But then I reminded myself that you could. And that made me love you even more. I knew that you could end this war.

That was when I realised. I'd known all along that I wouldn't be me without you, but I'd never realised that it was because I was in love with you. That all this time, I'd been wanting more; more than just a friendship. I wanted you, Harry, and I still do. I realised that I didn't just love you, but I was in love with you, and I loved you. And no one will ever change that.

And that's why I'm writing this letter to you. To tell you that I love you. I love the way that right now as you're sitting next to me in the common room as I write this, you're respecting my privacy and not trying to read over my shoulder, as Ron was until I drew on his face with my quill. I love the way you smell, like fresh air and grass and soap, I love the way that you are so caring. I love the way that you can always cheer me up. I love your feel, I love your voice, I love your looks, and I want to be able to love your taste. But most of all I love you.

When my parents were killed in Seventh Year I blamed you, Harry. I remember shouting at you in the common room in front of everyone; saying that it was your fault, saying it was because I was your friend. And you just stood there with a sad smile on your face and let me vent all my anger, and when I'd finished you just gathered me up into a hug and let me cry all my pain away. I love the fact that you forgave me for blaming you. I love you for helping me; because you knew what was needed when someone you love is killed by Voldemort. You know what it's like for people you love to die, so you helped me get through it. I was torn apart by that news for months, but I just looked at you and everything was all right. I knew that you had gone through much worse and that you were still standing, living, breathing and I told myself that if you could do it then so could I. I still needed your help that year. I lagged behind a bit in classes but by the end of the year I was back on top, and it was all because of you. We've just sat our last N.E.W.T exam together and I thank you for making me able to walk into and out of an exam room feeling confident again. I don't know how you managed to study yourself and help me, when you normally have enough trouble motivating yourself, but I am forever grateful that you did.

I want to thank you, Harry, for bring happiness, comfort, support, and most of all, love, into my life.

I will always love you,

Hermione.