Title: Letter to Hermione

Author: Chosentwo4381

Email: chosentwo4381@yahoo.com

Summary: Ginny is over Hermione

Archiving: list sites, ff.net, and the Realm

Disclaimer: I donít own the characters. I donít own the song that the title comes from. I do own the Harry Potter notebook that this was written in and thatís about all.

Authorís Note: My motherboard is dead. Iím sitting in a campus computer lab typing this. Iím bitter. Gateway has yet to call me back about my computer. They must pay. Okay, now that Iím finished with my truncated bitter diatribe, this has nothing to do with the David Bowie song of the same name. Itís also unrelated to anything else Iíve written.

Dedications: To Tash for being my favorite list mum.

Iím over you now. You might not believe it, or you might be glad to hear it and wonder what took so long. Either way, itís true. I sat out on a rock by the lake everyday after I found the two of you together. You pretended to agree with the conventional wisdom of the rest of the school, that I was upset about him, while privately attempting to convince me that Iíd always mean something to you even though weíd both always known that it wouldnít last and what would people think if they knew?

So everyday for months, Iíd get up before everyone and go down to the Great Hall and grab toast before going to sit by the door of whatever class I had first, my lunchtimes were spent in the library or in unused classrooms, Dinner was spent down on my rock until my stomach began to grumble, then Iíd go to the kitchens and get food before retiring to a dark corner of the library until it closed. Then it was straight to bed, never lingering in the common room, only to start all over again in the morning.

Then it hit me today, as the sun gave way to the moon that Iíd been blinded by you; deluded by your authoritative presence, your status, the perfection in your kiss. You were at least partially right, I should have known it wouldnít last, but not for any of the reasons that you try to give. It, we, would have ended because I couldnít measure up. Iíd convinced myself that you meant all the things you said, whether moaned in the throes of passion, or whispered as we lay sated in your bed; replete with satisfaction, but all they did was prolong the illusion. Until the day I found you and it shattered like my heart.

But out here, watching the sunlight on the lake give way to the silver moon, I realize that like the moon can never match the radiance of the sun, I can never match his splendor. So be happy together. Have you beautiful children in your manor and donít think about me.


Because I wonít be thinking about you.


Harry Potter

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