Always, Your Hermione

The pearly haze of light from an almost full moon shone down on the lone figure of Hermione Granger. She was sitting on the sill by an open window, knees pulled up to her chest, staring out across the shadowy world, as the cool night air blew across her face. The only sound to be heard was that of relatively strident snoring; Hermione turned to look at the perpetrator; Ron was slumped in an armchair across the room, fast asleep, his mouth open slightly. Harry was curled up on a couch near to him, also sleeping, a thick black travelling cloak Hermione knew to belong to Kingsley Shacklebolt covering him.

She smiled to herself sadly. There was so much she wanted to say to them both. She wanted to tell them how much they meant to her, before...

Before it's too late, Hermione thought to herself. She choked back a sudden lump that had appeared in her throat. She dared not say a word to the two people who meant more to her than life itself for fear of it sounding like a goodbye; she had been trying not to act like something terrible was around the corner, but, in her heart of hearts, she knew it was. She could feel it. For the first time ever she truly feared she might only have a short time left with her friends. Of course she tried to convince herself that she was wrong, but the feeling was still more than she could bear.

Voldemort was about to seize hold of the wizarding community again. Or, at least, he was about to attempt to. The past few months had seen many minor battles fought between members of the Order of the Phoenix and the alarmingly increasing number of Death Eaters. There had been casualties, fatalities on both sides, though each side had so far been comparatively unsuccessful in making any kind of progress. But a battle was looming, everyone knew it, a battle to determine things once and for all - a battle to end all battles.

Hermione sighed heavily and rubbed her eyes. She wished that she were sleeping soundly, safe in the refuge of her dreams, like her friends. But then, she supposed, her dreams of late hadn't exactly been much more comfortable than reality.

She had given up trying to doze off after she'd heard Harry's digital watch bleep quietly to announce it was two o'clock, but now, merely sitting alone with her thoughts was beginning to get to her. Slipping silently off the sill, Hermione stretched and yawned satisfyingly, before walking over to a small coffee table in front of the suite where Ron and Harry lay sleeping. Blank scraps of parchment and a couple of stray quills lay discarded on it, along with a small bottle of midnight blue ink; Hermione retrieved the ink, the biggest piece of parchment she could find and the sharpest of the writing implements, and then walked back over to the window and resumed her seat.

If I can't tell them face-to-face... she thought as she gripped the quill. She took a deep breath, before dipping the quill in the bottle of ink and beginning to write in her tiny, neat hand.

Boys,

I'm sitting here in the moonlight, watching the two of you sleep. I haven't yet managed to drop off myself; I suppose that's because I have things on my mind. Either that or the noise is preventing me from getting any further than a light doze; Ron, you snore louder than Hagrid after a gallon of mead. I'd put a Silencing Charm on you, only I'm not sure I could do it without waking you and besides, I doubt you'd thank me for it.

Anyway. There are things I want to tell the two of you that I can't bring myself to say to your faces. (I do sometimes wonder why I was sorted into Gryffindor, what with my apparent lack of courage.) So, I'm writing this letter to you instead. Don't worry - I'm not going to get all mushy on you. Well, maybe I am. I don't know. But if I do, it's only because it's almost three in the morning and you know how emotional I get when I'm tired. Please bear with me. There are things I have to say.

Before I met you both, I didn't understand what real friendship was. The closest I had to a friend was the librarian at my Muggle primary school, though I'm not sure even she liked me all that much (I think my correcting her when she quoted books and such like irritated her). However, when I met the two of you on the Hogwarts Express, my life changed forever. In the time it took to make that first journey to school, I somehow made a start at forming the most significant relationships in my young life. I'm not sure either of you know just how much your befriending me back then meant. I probably would have ended up the friendless school know-it-all had it not been for you two putting up with me. (All right, I may still have managed to become the school know-it-all, but at least, thanks to you, I wasn't friendless.)

In the past seven years that we have been at school together, I have laughed with you, cried with you, tutored you (rewritten essays for you, Ron), chastised you and got into more trouble than I care to remember with you. I have shared the best and worst moments of my life with you. And now we're about to depart Hogwarts for good and fall off into no-man's-land... in the middle of a war, I might add, where futures are uncertain, to say the least. Not that I want to be pessimistic, but who knows what tomorrow may bring? No matter what happens, I want you to know that I wouldn't change a single thing when it comes to you both. If I could go back to that very first journey on the Hogwarts Express, I would still want you as my friends. Despite the many dangerous situations being friends with you has led me into, no one else would make me as happy as you two have done on a daily basis. You have made me who I am today, taught me what it is to have people in your life whom you would lay down your very existence for...

I love you. Both of you. There, I said it. Or, rather, wrote it. There will never be any two people who mean more to me than you do.

Harry, you have been through more than I could ever imagine. Yet you are still here, ploughing on, doing everything you can for those around you, and all with a smile on your face. I want you to know that I am so proud of you. You're the strongest person I know, and you have the warmest of hearts. When this war is won, you will be standing tall, a symbol of hope and victory for our world. I love you like a brother (you are most definitely the sibling I never had), and I treasure every moment I get to spend in your presence.

Ron... I'm not entirely sure how to word this. What started off as friendship has grown to so much more - for me, anyway. I don't love you like a brother, as I do Harry... I love you like a lover, like a woman does her man. (I hope you haven't fainted with shock at reading that or anything. It can't have come as that much of a surprise, can it?) Whether you realise it or not, you are the centre of my world. Wherever you are will always be home to me. There is nowhere I would rather be than by your side. You make me laugh, you make me smile, and you make me feel safe. We may have our arguments, but whatever is said, I never stop loving you. And I never will. Maybe, once the war is over, we can talk? Maybe you might consider taking me out somewhere? Just a suggestion, no pressure.

Well, if you have read this far, I'm guessing you'll both either be sitting open-mouthed, or laughing derisively at how mushy this has got. I must say at this point that if either of you ever mention the contents of this letter to anyone - anyone at all - I will be forced to seal both of your mouths shut. Permanently. And possibly disembowel you too. Love or no love. Just so we're clear.

Seriously, though, I had to tell you how I feel. After seven years, I thought it was about time. You two are my life. My all. And I don't care how soppy that sounds. It's the truth. I will stand shoulder to shoulder with you tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day, and the day after that. Through it all, whatever may come, I will be there. Forever. I hope you remember that.

All of my heart,

Always, your

Hermione.

Hermione looked back over what she had written. She took another deep breath and heaved a sigh. Dropping her quill, she folded the parchment in half, before taking her wand from her night robes and pointing it at a side table a few feet away. She whispered, 'Accio', and slipped the letter inside the summoned envelope. Retrieving her quill, she marked For Ronald Bilius and Harry James on the front of it. Hermione smiled to herself; she knew Ron would grumble at her use of his middle name.

Getting to her feet again, Hermione walked back over to the coffee table. Ron grunted something about spiders in his sleep as she returned the quill and ink to their place. Hermione gazed at the snoozing redhead and then stifled a giggle; Ron swatted clumsily at his face a few times, mumbled another few incoherent words, before falling silent. His snoring had ceased and the air was quiet for the first time that night. Both Harry and Ron lay peaceful in front of her.

Hermione sighed. She looked down at the letter in her hands and then back up at her sleeping friends. She decided to leave her epistle somewhere Harry and Ron wouldn't immediately find it, so that hopefully she wouldn't be around when they read it; she thought it might be a bit awkward if they discovered her innermost feelings with her present. That was precisely the reason why she had put everything in a letter.

Looking around for somewhere to place the envelope, Hermione's eyes fell on Ron's travelling cloak, which was lying on the back of his chair. She moved quickly and quietly over to it and, careful not to wake Ron as she did so (or prompt him to start snoring again), she slipped the letter inside one of the pockets.

There, Hermione thought with satisfaction, done. Instead of returning again to her seat at the window, she crept around Ron in his chair, to the couch where Harry lay sleeping, where she had been attempting to sleep next to him some hours before. She resumed her earlier position, snuggling up next to Harry, who stirred slightly as she pulled a portion of Kingsley Shacklebolt's clock over her.

The last things Hermione saw before she closed her eyes were her friends. She smiled to herself; her heart was still anxious, her stomach still twisted with worry, but as she finally fell into a welcome slumber, all she could think about was how much she loved her friends.

*

Harry looked at his best friend, whose face was stained with tears. He didn't know what to say. There were no words. All he could do was put his hand on the arm by his side and squeeze it tightly to make his presence known. He sighed and took off his glasses, wiping at his eyes, his cheeks, and his brow with his free hand... his own features were as damp as his companion's, his heart obviously just as full of hopelessness as he shoved his glasses back on, screwed up his face and cradled his head despairingly.

The war was over. The battles, finished. The Order had won. Finally, after months of fighting, months of casualties, months of fear and worry, it was all over. No one need fear Voldemort ever again; the Dark Lord was most definitely gone for good this time. Harry had made sure of that. After what Voldemort had done, Harry had made absolutely certain that he was dead and gone.

Harry knew he should probably feel a little triumphant, happy even, for having defeated the most evil wizard ever to walk the earth, and for having survived the whole ordeal more of less intact, at that. But he didn't. All he felt was absolute and complete sorrow, desolation, unlike anything he had ever felt before in his life. He had suffered losses prior to this one, yes; he had lost his parents before he had even had chance to get to know them; only a couple of years ago he had lost his godfather, someone who had been like a father to him. Those things had hurt, they had cut deep and he had felt an immense amount of pain, but that pain had been nothing even close to what was screaming through his body now. Harry felt like he couldn't breathe, like his heart was going to explode with grief. He wasn't sure how he was going to manage to carry on. But he knew he had to. If only for the person at his side, he knew he had to keep going. He had to get them through this. After all, they were hurting as much as he was, if not more. Harry squeezed the arm again.

'Ron,' he whispered, his voice throaty and weak.

Ron whimpered, but said nothing, his head hung low.

'Ron, you're shaking, mate,' Harry managed to say as he got unsteadily to his feet. He retrieved Ron's travelling cloak that had been discarded on the floor a few feet away. 'Here.' Harry draped the cloak around his friend's shoulders before dropping back down beside him on the floor. He wiped his face again, took a deep breath and then put his arm around Ron. Ron pulled him into a grateful hug.

'Why Hermione?' Ron choked out as he clung desperately to his bespectacled friend.

Harry felt warm tears fall lightly onto his shoulder and soak into his robes. He held onto Ron tighter. 'I don't know mate. I just... don't know.'

Ron shuddered and fell into quiet, despairing sobs. Harry felt his heart break in his chest.

When the embracing young men finally parted, each sniffing and rubbing their eyes, there was a short silence. Ron, still shaking, shifted and pulled his cloak tighter around his body; there was the quiet sound of something falling to the floor.

'Hey -' Ron frowned and looked down at the ground. A small crème envelope lay at his feet. He stooped and picked it up.

'What is it?' Harry asked, his face also falling into a puzzled frown.

'Dunno,' Ron sniffed. He turned the envelope over in his hands and read the neat handwriting on the front. 'For Ronald Bilius and Harry James.'

Harry stared at the enveloped, knowing exactly whom the letter was from by the handwriting. He sucked in a deep breath. 'That's Hermione's handwriting,' he said quietly.

Ron looked at Harry, his eyes red and watery, his chin wobbling slightly. 'She used my middle name... that's just like her...' A single tear ran down his face. He looked down at the envelope, and then back up at Harry with questioning eyes.

Harry nodded.

Slowly and carefully, taking a breath to steady his trembling hands, Ron began to open the letter.