Rekindling love.

Hermione wandered through the path she once used to walk every day. She tried to embrace the surroundings she once loved; but, today, too many thoughts overwhelmed her brain, too many questions were being constantly repeated in her head. She had been walking for nearly half an hour in an attempt to relieve herself from her now lonely home. Despite her desperate attempts to stop the pain she was feeling, she, for the majority of the time, strolled while staring at her worn out shoes. That was until she hit the bottom of a tree. Glancing up, she stared up at the huge Oak tree that had confronted her and before she could touch its branches, Hermione started to feel tears trickle down her cheeks. Too many memories haunted the tree, too many days had she spent at the tree, laughing and smiling. In a desperate surge of anger, she kicked the tree as hard as she could and watched bark fly off into the forest.

'WHERE ARE YOU?' she screamed in frustration.

'WHY DID YOU LEAVE ME RONALD WEASLEY?'

Bursting into hysterical tears, she lowered herself on to the nearest log and felt her hands shake as she wiped the tears from her face.

'I NEED YOU!' She continued to scream until her voice became too hoarse to even whisper.

'Ron...', her voice was so quiet, not even somebody sitting next to her would be able to muster what she had said.

Hermione had never felt so isolated. She had lost everything and everyone she loved. Her parents didn't know she existed, her best friend Harry Potter, had been out of the country for months now on Auror duties and her boyfriend had left her when she needed him the most. 'Accio bark', she whispered once her voice could manage it. Soaring towards her was the piece of wood she had kicked off the tree previously. She glanced down at the piece of wood in her hands, still etched inside were the letters 'R.W + H.G' in a huge roughly drawn heart. Remembering the exact moment Ron had carved the letters in with his childish handwriting, fresh tears started to flow. Not knowing whether to treasure it or get rid of it, she thought for a while as her cheeks became puffy, red and raw from the constant tears. Eventually deciding to slide in to her coat pocket, she stood up and walked in circles, kicking the same stone, thinking of how she could slowly piece her life together. She thought of everything: Love Potions, jinxes, spells, anything to make Ron fall back in love with the Hermione Granger he once knew. But, she knew none of them would work. The love she had developed for so many years, the love she thought would last forever had ended before she could work it out. She couldn't take it anymore and decided to walk home.

When she sloped through the front door, Hermione dropped herself on to her sofa and wallowed in misery. Not knowing where to turn or what to do, she remembered some advice her Mother had once given her. 'Write all your problems down, write a letter to a person you're upset with if you 're that desperate - just make sure you don't send it!', her voice echoed through her mind.

Taking out the pen that had prize position the table (the same pen Ron had bought for her on her last birthday) and some old parchment she decided to write.

Dear Ronald Weasley,

I don't know where start. I should be angry at you, shouldn't I? I should be furious that my boyfriend had the guts to leave me all alone in the home we had just moved in to. And, I am. I really am. You really DO have an emotional range of a teaspoon. But, the other half of me is collapsing. So fast and so quickly that I don't think I can do it any longer without you. The feelings I feel, the loneliness within me are unfathomable. I want you back. I don't want the consoling words of a friend, telling me things are going to be okay because they're not, I know they're not. The only thing that can make this better, is you. The first day I saw you, when my 11 year old eyes glanced over to you in the Great Hall, I knew that I loved you. Pathetic coming for an 11 year old (who would believe in love when you're that young?), but it wasn't the type of love that made me think 'I want to kiss him', it was the sort of love that made me want to be your friend forever. Be that person you would come to with your problems and pain; but, also be the person that's there to congratulate you on successes and happiness. For me, I thought we had true love. I thought that feeling and emotion I had for you - I thought that was true love. I don't know how you felt when you saw me. Probably not the same. Who would love Hermione Granger? But, the point is, we have gone through ten times more than any couple has and that's a guarantee. Our childhood was a doomed fate - being Harry Potter's best friends is always going to be hard, no matter what; but, the thing is that we pulled through. I don't mean we pulled through finding Horcruxes or the Philosopher's Stone; I mean we supported each other emotionally. When we felt slightly jealous that Harry was as famous as he was (there's no denying it, we did), we spoke to each other. We told each other that we don't need fame; all we value is friendship and loyalty. You supported me. Do you remember that night in the Forest of Dean when we spoke all night once Harry had fallen asleep? You had me hanging on every word you spoke. You had me feeling so fulfilled, even though we were in a hopeless situation - and that's what I want back. I want the pleasure of having your soothing words and comforting touch. I am not trying to 'beg' you to come back - that would destroy all the pride left within me, I am just telling you that I love you so dearly. When you left that night, when you said these exact words: 'Goodbye Hermione. I'll see you around, I just can't do it anymore', you left me scarred. You left me scarred, afraid and alone. To feel that emotionally ruined by a sentence must mean a lot. You made me realise how totally fickle life is. That one day you could be on Cloud 9, the next you could be hitting rock bottom. You came out that you were leaving me so randomly. It was right after dinner, wasn't it? I had just cooked your favourite, Lasagne, when you decided to tell me you couldn't do it. Out of the blue. You know what my reaction was, it wasn't nice, but what would you expect? I don't want to relive it, I don't want to go back to what is probably the worst day of my life. You're never going to read this anyway, I'm just taking advice from the woman who no longer knows I exist. But, if you take one thing from this letter - just remember, Ronald, I've loved you since day one. Please, please come back.