And in the End

Dear Draco,

Our relationship has always been made of letters. Hate letters, love letters, invitations, notifications, and now, apologies and farewells. This is the last letter you will ever receive from me, Draco. The last letter I will ever write. I wish I could see you, speak to you just one more time. After all, what I have to say cannot be said in writing, perhaps cannot even be said in words. But you will not, cannot see me again and so I am left with only this option, only this chance, to write, to write and pray that you will open this letter and read it and know by my words about what is going to happen to me. About what happened to me.

What happened to me was that I fell in love.

What is going to happen to me is death.

I wish I could say that I meant that figuratively, that without you I am an empty shell, a memory, a burned out start and therefore as good as dead. But while I am all those things, and more, Draco, always more, I am also dying. There's nothing left to do. All the riches in the world could not save me now. Not even your love could save me. I'm too far gone, always was.

I can't tell you how or why I'm dying because if I do, I'm afraid I'll break down, not because I fear death, but because I fear dying without your forgiveness. Do you forgive me, Draco? I forgave you a long, long time ago.

I have to write this letter because I owe you so much, because I love you, because while perhaps it isn't all my fault, most of it is and I must try to make things right.

I suppose I should start at the beginning. It all started, really, in my first year, when instead of making things right, I made things wrong. And then wrong-er. We've often talked of the connection Tom left with me, but I suppose we forgot to talk about what changes he made in me. I was put in Gryffindor because of my love of trying to make things right, and I came out of my first year with a fear of making things wrong. And so for a while, I ducked my head down and hid, knowing that that way I could make no mistakes. And when I emerged, I sought only perfection, only you.

I don't remember when I first knew I was in love with you. It was after I threatened you with a spork, but before you started calling me "Mademoiselle Cutlery." It was after we started looking at each other, really looking, but before you kissed me. It was before yesterday, after tomorrow. That love has never faded. It has twisted and changed and been ripped in half, but it has never gone away. True love never does.

Is that what we had? True love? Do you still love me, Draco? Or have you moved on? I saw your engagement announced in the paper. I sometimes think of the day you proposed to me and wonder if she is as happy as I was.

But I am rambling, I fear. I meant to write you an apology, a farewell, an explanation. I have apologized, but I have not fulfilled what I set out to do. I don't have enough time to do this, but I will try the best I can. It's so hard to say goodbye to the only one you have ever loved.

I keep trying to pinpoint the exact moment where everything started to fall apart. I have come up with many different options- the dinner with your mother, shopping with Pansy, running into Harry for the first time in years, discovering that while you loved me, you couldn't bring yourself to work for me.

That hurt.

I wanted you to be mine, always, and when I looked in your eyes, I didn't see that desire reflected in them. You didn't try to stop me when I went with Harry that once, and I thought that was because you didn't care about me anymore. I thought you only were still with me because you were used to me, because you wanted the security I brought.

You never told me to stop because you wanted me to know that you trusted me. You knew that if you did stop me I would feel pulled down, injured, controlled, and then our relationship would have fallen to pieces. But I broke your trust, and so it fell apart anyways. Funny, that.

Harry and I never did anything, Draco (though not for lack of trying on his part.) We talked, we laughed, I cried on his shoulder. And when you asked me how I could expect you to believe me when you obviously did not trust me, when you asked me how I could expect you to love me when I was running to someone else, he was the one I ran to. I thought you didn't love me, never let you tell me that you did. I had sought perfection, and you were no longer perfect in my eyes.

But if you weren't perfect, then no one was.

So I left you. I left you in disgrace and when people asked me what happened to us, I would laugh. And then one day, instead of laughing, I cried. But it was too late. I had lost you and I could never have you back.

Never.

And I'm sorry. I betrayed you. I ran to your enemy when you needed me most. I betrayed you when you wished only for my trust. And when I looked back, it was all too late.

We had a one in a million chance and we took it, we took the love and happiness it provided, and we lost it. If my death causes any grief in you, I hope you will remember what we had and be happy to have had that chance.

I hope that you will read this letter and I hope that you will forgive me. More than that, more than all of that, I hope that you will be happy. Because that's what love is. Apologies, forgiveness, grief, and most importantly of all, happiness. We were happy, once upon a time, and I hope you will never forget that. Or me.

Farewell, Draco. We will never meet again.

All my love,

Ginny