Listen H E R E to the playlist that inspired the letters in Shattered
September 2010
Hermione,
I stood on the front step and watched you go. It was a pain like no other, watching the person I love slip away, powerless to stop it. But now, I feel lost without you.
I’ve been strong for so long, pretending I could handle this, that I never realised how much I needed you. The world around me rushes by—strangers hurrying home, faces I don’t recognise. But you, Hermione... you were my safe haven, the only place I ever truly belonged. And now, without you, I feel like I can’t breathe.
I keep thinking about that moment, the worst mistake of my life, how I let you go. My world is crumbling, and I can’t help but wonder if I could have done something to make you stay. I should never have let you walk away, I should've never given you a reason to walk away.
I’m crushed, Hermione. I never thought loving you would hurt this much. I thought I was strong enough to let you go, but I was wrong. I’m lost, and I don’t know how to find my way back without you.
I love you. I always have.
Goodbye, Ron
July 2011
Hermione,
The nights are the hardest. The lights are low, and my hands feel as cold as the wheel I grip, driving aimlessly through streets that no longer make sense without you. You still have my coat, you know, the red one that always looked better on you but it’s more than that—you’ve taken the warmth, the comfort, and the part of me that believed we were forever.
I find myself lost in the fog, unable to see the road ahead, both literally and figuratively. Tonight, I stood at your door, hoping you wouldn’t be home, just so I could get used to being alone. My willpower is weak, and I fight the urge to reach out, to call you. But I know it’s better if you just let it ring. Don’t come looking for me. If you’re truly letting go, then I need more nights like these to drown in my sorrow and fall apart without you here to catch me.
I’ve tried to resist writing these words, words I know I shouldn’t send. But it’s hard to heal when I keep stealing glances at your picture and reliving memories that now feel like ghosts. So, I look away again and keep driving, hoping the road will lead me somewhere far from this ache.
You have to let me drown in this darkness. I need to learn to face it without you. Days blur into nights, and I’m left here, calling out to a love that no longer answers. If you’re truly moving on, then I need more nights like these to break, to grieve, and maybe, one day, to forget.
Goodbye, Ron
August 2012
Hermione,
Congratulations on marrying a fucking Death Eater.
I hope you're happy. I hope this was worth it. You threw everything we built away—for him. For Malfoy, of all people.
I’ve spent weeks trying to make sense of it, trying to understand how you could just change your mind and walk away from our history like none of it mattered. Like I never mattered. Do you even care how much I loved you? How much I still...
No.
I’m done. I’m done losing sleep over you. Done seeing your face in every bloody corner of our home, the Burrow, all the places we used to go. Done remembering how you’d smile at me like I was the only person who ever made you feel safe. What a lie that turned out to be.
I wrote you that letter. The one I sent, the one after you left? Do you still have it? Is it collecting dust on some shelf while you're tangled up in his sheets? Did you even read it, Hermione? Or did you toss it aside the moment he looked at you with those cold, grey eyes?
I can't keep doing this. I can’t keep chasing the ghost of us while you’re off building a future with him.
I never thought I'd say this—Merlin knows I fought against it—but I don’t want to love you anymore.
I won’t love you anymore.
Because whatever we had... it’s gone.
And I hope that haunts you the way it’s been haunting me.
Goodbye, Ron
December 2012
Hermione,
I tried to find solace at the bottom of a firewhiskey bottle, drowning in memories I can’t seem to erase. I’ve huffed so many potion vapours trying to numb this ache. I’ve spent too many nights lying on the bathroom floor, broken and alone, haunted by the words you left me with—that you didn’t want me anymore.
You left me standing there, crying, feeling like a fool for ever believing we could make this work. I’ve wasted so many tears on you, Hermione, tears that I can’t seem to stop. I wish I could erase every memory of us, but they linger, cutting deeper with each passing day.
You didn’t give a damn about me in the end, did you? I gave you everything I had, and it still wasn’t enough. And yet, here I am, stuck in this endless loop of regret and longing, unable to move on.
But I have to. I can’t spend another sleepless night consumed by what we lost. I’ll do whatever it takes to get you out of my head, out of my heart. What you wanted, I couldn’t give, and what you did... I’ll never forget.
I’m done wasting my tears on you.
Goodbye, Ron
March 2013
Hermione,
All I want is nothing more than to hear you knocking at my door. If I could see your face just once more, I swear I could leave this world as a happy man. But when you said your last goodbye, signing those divorce papers, something inside me shattered. We were hardly divorced before you were falling into bed with him, I’m sure. Then you fucking married him.
How does it feel being a mudblood fucking a Death Eater Hermione? Do you remember how he watched and did nothing while his aunt carved you up?
I don’t think there’s anything left to break. I’ve been lying in tears, night after night, in a bed that feels too empty without you by my side.
If you loved me, Hermione... why did you leave me?
You took everything—my heart, my soul, my very sense of self. You brought out the best in me, a part of me I never even knew existed. You wiped my soul clean and filled it with something pure, something I thought would last forever. Our love... it felt like something out of a storybook, like magic in its truest form.
But now, I’m lost. I still can’t stop wondering why you left. Why did you choose him?
I keep telling myself that I need to find someone else, someone who can heal these wounds. But how can I, when all I want is you? No one will ever be you, Hermione. No one will ever fit the way you did.
Take my body. Take everything. I have nothing left without you.
Goodbye, Ron
May 2014
Hermione,
I've been searching for something to hold onto, something to guide me back to the place where everything made sense. Take me back to the night we met, when I still had all of you, before everything fell apart.
If I could return to that moment, maybe I could tell myself what to do, how to keep you from slipping through my fingers. Maybe I could stop myself from falling so hard, from loving you so deeply that losing you now feels like I'm being haunted by your ghost.
I had all of you once... and then most of you... and now, nothing. Just memories that replay in my mind, tearing me apart.
I don't know what I'm supposed to do, Hermione. I don't know how to exist in a world where you're not mine. I wish I could go back to when the night was full of fear and tears, and yet, you hadn’t touched me then. When there was still hope.
Find me a fucking time turner.
Please... take me back to the night we met.
Goodbye, Ron
December 2015
Hermione,
I'd like to say, "I'm okay," but I'm not. I try to move on, to silence my mind, but I can't. I’ve tried, really I’ve tried.
I can't be sober, I can't sleep. You've found your peace now, but what about me?
We had time, we had our lives ahead of us. You promised we'd grow old together. We had dreams, plans... a future. We had a home. We had talked about what we would name our children–Rose and Hugo. And now, you're gone. They’ll never exist. Our home never filled with their laughter and love.
I'm left here—colder with every passing day.
If I could have one last word, one last moment, I’d ask you why. Why did you leave me behind? Why did you break the promises we made?
I can't see ahead, Hermione. I feel like I’m drowning in memories of what we were, what we could have been. You were my everything. And now... I’m lost.
Please... just one last word. One last moment. I miss you so fucking much.
Goodbye, Ron
February 2016
Hermione,
I can't stop this beat inside me, this relentless pulse that won't let go. The scars, the sparks, they burn through me, and I keep hoping... hoping you'll come back.
I know it's irrational. I know you've chosen him. But why can't we be together? Why did you leave me behind?
It's not fair. You were my world, Hermione. We had dreams, a future—one that’s now shattered. I don't trust myself with these memories, with this longing that won’t die.
If I could just hear your voice, just once more... maybe I could breathe again. Maybe the ache would stop.
But for now, I’m lost, still haunted by the scars and the sparks of what we once were.
Goodbye, Ron
December 2017
‘Mione,
I don’t even know why I’m writing this. Maybe part of me hopes you’ll read it. Maybe you’ll burn it. Maybe you’ll tuck it away somewhere and forget about it, the way I’ve spent these past years trying to forget what it felt like to love you.
But I can’t forget.
I think that’s the cruelest part of all this. That after everything—after the screaming, the accusations, the broken things and broken promises—I still love you.
I always will.
I’m so sorry for the screaming, for the accusations, for all the things I broke. For all the promises I broke.
I’ve written so many letters like this over the years. Pathetic scraps of parchment, soaked in firewhiskey and self-loathing. Full of my delusions of what happened. Ignoring what I did. Knowing what I did. Guilt fuelling my self destruction.
I never sent them. I couldn’t. Because deep down, I knew none of it would change the fact that you’re gone. That you chose him.
And I don’t blame you for that.
I blamed you for a long time, though. I hated you for walking away. For finding comfort in him. For being happy when I couldn’t be. But the truth is... I pushed you there, didn’t I?
I let the darkness swallow me whole. I was always the weakest of us, just like the time I abandoned you and Harry while you hunted down the Horcuxes. I was never as strong as you and Harry.
The war broke something in me. I think it broke something in all of us. But while you and Harry found ways to keep going, I...
I fell.
It started with a Sleeping Draught here and there. Then Calming Potions. Just something to quiet my head, to stop the nightmares, to make it through another day at work without falling apart. But it never stopped. The more I relied on the potions, the more I lost myself. Until one day, I looked in the mirror and didn’t recognize the man staring back.
And you... Merlin, ‘Mione, you tried. You fought for me, harder than I ever fought for myself. You begged me to get help. You stood by me through the worst of it. Even when I lashed out. When I spit hurtful, vile words at you. Even when I became someone I swore I’d never be.
I’ll never forgive myself for that night.
For the moment I became the thing I hated most.
I hit you.
And even now, I want to rip my own heart out just thinking about it. Because I promised you, I promised myself, that I’d never be the kind of man who let his anger turn violent. But I did. And that’s when I knew I’d lost you.
I think I’d already lost you long before that, though.
I see you now, ‘Mione. From a distance. The way you smile with him. The way he looks at you like you’re the brightest thing in his world. I used to think I was that for you once. Maybe I never was. Maybe I was just a stepping stone to the person you were always meant to become.
You’ve grown without me. You’ve healed. You’ve built a life I never could’ve given you.
And Draco...
I hated him, you know. For taking what I thought was mine. But I’ve seen the way he loves you. How he protects you. How he worked for your love when all I did was expect it. He’s a better man than I ever was.
I don’t hate him anymore. I can’t.
I think... I think I’ve been waiting for this ending.
I lost my job. My family doesn’t know what to do with me. Harry... I pushed him away, too. I’ve pushed everyone away. I did that.
I don’t know how to exist in this world without you.
I’ve tried to crawl out of this hell I built for myself, but I can’t. I’m tired, 'Mione. So bloody tired of waking up every day in this endless loop of regret and shame. Tired of drowning in every bottle and every potion just to feel nothing.
I know this will hurt you. And I’m sorry for that. I never wanted to hurt you more than I already have. I hope you know that. But I knew if I didn’t send this... if I just disappeared... you’d spend the rest of your life trying to understand why. Please know the letters before this one were written in the depths of my worst days, hopped up on vapours and firewhiskey. For this letter, this decision? I’m probably the most sober I’ve been in nearly 15 years.
I don’t want you to waste another moment on me. I don’t want you to remember what I became, just who I was. Remember our Hogwarts days. Remember when it was me, you, and Harry off on some wild and dangerous adventure. Remember the days at the Burrow.
You deserve the happiness you’ve found. You deserve the love Draco gives you. And he... he deserves you.
I was never enough for you, Hermione.
And maybe I was never meant to be.
Please forgive me. For all of it. For not being strong enough. For not being the man you needed. For loving you too much and not enough all at once.
I love you. I always will.
But this... this is my final goodbye.
Ron
The final letter slipped from Hermione’s trembling fingers, floating gently to the floor where it joined the pile of parchment already scattered beneath her. Letters filled with heartbreak and sorrow, anger and rage, written by Ron but never sent, each one more devastating than the last.
Her breath hitched as her vision blurred with tears, her chest tightening with panic and grief.
No.
This couldn’t be real.
Behind her, she heard the soft creak of the doorway. She didn’t have to look to know who stood there.
Draco.
His face was pale, etched with pain, his stance heavy with dread as he croaked her name, "Hermione."
A sob tore from her throat as she turned and threw herself into his arms.
“He’s gone, isn’t he?” she choked out against his chest, her tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt. He didn’t have to say the words. The parcel of letters had arrived hours ago, and once she had gotten the courage to begin reading them, each with just the date written on the envelope, in his handwriting, addressed to her, she couldn’t stop.
The moment she saw the change, the moment he had written ‘Mione instead of Hermione. His final letter, it was so heartbreakingly clear.
Draco’s arms wrapped around her, pulling her close as he pressed his lips to the top of her head. He wished—Merlin, he wished—he could take this pain from her. That he could carry this unbearable weight of loss for her. But he couldn’t.
He’d known this day would come.
They both had.
From the moment she walked away from Ron all those years ago, Hermione had carried this fear deep within her. That Ron’s battle with addiction would eventually consume him. That one day, there would be nothing left to save.
Draco knew that fear too well. He’d lived it.
It was at a support group for those who loved an addict that Draco had seen Hermione for the first time since the war. Draco had been there for his father, who, after ten years in Azkaban, had emerged a broken man—lost to the ghosts of the past and to the potions that numbed the horrors he couldn’t escape. Lucius’ mind had shattered, and Draco could do nothing but watch as he slipped further and further away, until finally, years and years after his release, he had to be placed in an intensive care facility in the end.
Draco and Hermione had been shocked to see one another that night. Hermione standing there in an oversized red jacket, her hair more wild than usual, wringing her hands nervously, eyes darting around the room. Draco stiff, his face carefully blank as he listened to others share their heartbreak over their loved ones' addictions. He couldn’t help but look to where she sat, and sometimes he’d catch her looking at him too. He never imagined he would share anything in common with Hermione Granger, nor did he expect, after all they’d been through in school, the war, for her to ever want to speak to him. But grief has a way of recognising itself in others, and over time, a fragile but steady friendship began to form and held over the next year.
Months of cafe coffee after meetings, exchanging stories of grievances and pain. Late nights, apologies for their past, and easy forgiveness. Months of long walks in the park gathering the strength to return to their homes where the very reasons they ended up at these meetings awaited them. Draco couldn’t imagine not having Hermione in his life. She was the most solid presence in his life. She grounded him. She made him want to be a better man. She was without a doubt his best friend.
One night, Hermione had Apparated into Draco's living room. He had keyed her into his home's wards months before, always assuring her if she ever needed a safe place to land his home would always welcome her. She had taken one look at Draco and her legs had given out and she fell to the floor, tears streaming down her face, barely able to breathe through her sobs.
Ron had hit her.
Draco could still feel the rage that had burned through him when he had seen her bruised face, when she told him. How she explained the addiction had turned Ron into someone violent, someone cruel. How she explained this wasn’t the first time, just the first time he had hit her face. How Hermione had finally packed her things and left, slipping away with only her beaded handbag and a shattered heart.
Draco had never crossed the line. He gave her a room in his flat, always respected her space, her grief, her guilt. For nearly a year, they coexisted as friends, quietly finding comfort in one another’s company. They had movie nights, and takeaways, inside jokes, they argued about potions theory, and trips to Muggle London where Hermione showed Draco how wrong his father had been about it.
They had existed in this bubble of being flatmates, as best friends for just over a year. But everything changed that New Year’s Eve.
He could still remember the fire in her eyes as she stormed up to him at the bar, where a very drunk Lavender Brown had been attempting to flirt with him. Her hands tugging at his jacket sleeve, her heavy eyelashes fluttering at him.
Hermione had grabbed him by the collar, told Lavender to “bugger off,” and kissed him right there, in front of everyone. He had been shocked, never having even entertained the fact he would ever be worthy of a woman like Hermione Granger.
But with that single kiss, he never stood a chance, he was irrevocably and hopelessly in love with her.
That had been seven years ago. Five of them spent happily married. Four in their countryside cottage. Three of those years as parents to the most beautiful curly headed blonde twins, Carina and Taygete. And in all that time, Hermione’s love for Ron had never faded. Not truly. Not in the way that mattered. Because part of her heart would always belong to the boy who had been her first everything, her best friend.
And now he was gone.
A sound from the entrance hall caught Draco’s attention.
Through the doorway, he saw Harry standing there, distraught and broken, his eyes puffy and rimmed with red.
Hermione pulled away from Draco and stumbled toward her oldest friend. Harry caught her in his arms as she collapsed against him.
“He’s gone, 'Mione,” Harry whispered, his voice trembling. “We’ve lost him.”
Hermione let out a sound that didn’t even seem human, the kind of grief that tears through the soul and leaves nothing behind.
And all Draco could do was stand there, helpless, as the woman he loved shattered in front of him.