Earlier that morning, at 11.59 am to be exact, Hermione was enjoying her first day away from school by studying for the upcoming year.
Suddenly, Hedwig swept in through her window, she always kept it open for that stupid old owl Errol who seemingly couldn’t tell the difference between glass and air. The snowy owl handed Hermione a letter from Harry amongst the many others and flew away.
That was odd, why was Harry writing already?
She began to pry open the top, noticing a tear mark next to a shakily written ‘Hermione’ and alarm bells sounded in her head.
Whatever this was about it was not good. He had changed recently and not for the better. He had red rings around his eyes every morning, tired eye bags a permanent fixture on his face, his mouth fixed in a frown his muscles seemed unwilling to remove.
The letter read:
Hermione,
I don’t want to have to do this. I guess this letter is me explaining why I’ve acted so weird lately. I know you didn’t expect me to throw myself into my work and disappear more often then not but I guess it finally got you off my back. I’m glad to see you have moved on with Ron.
To be quite frank, I am going to kill myself tonight. By the time Hedwig sends you this letter it will be too late, I will be gone.
Some part of me hopes Hedwig gets there in time. I don’t want to leave you Herm. Or Ron, the stupid git. Or Lupin. God even bloody Snivellus. But I need to see my parents and Sirius again.
Please don’t cry for me, please don’t mourn for me, I have been dead since Voldemort fired the killing curse. Yet nobody noticed because it wasn’t my body that was found by the stairs, a faint memory of the courageous man he used to be. Nor was it my body in front of the cradle, willingly given as a sacrifice to save the one thing she cared about more than anyone. The lily flower Snape mourned as if she was his own.
I hadn’t felt true happiness before I met you and Ron. You brought joy into my life and I hope you can bring joy into my death. In my eyes you were my saviours, and some delusional part of me hopes you will come save me even now.
Maybe this letter will get to you before I do it and you will come rushing over before the blade even touches my skin, berating me for scaring you and hitting me over the top of the head with whatever is closest.
But I’m not delusional, I know that won’t happen. The Boy-Who-Lived will finally die. I have left you a quarter of my gold from my vault and some old family books in my will. I hope you can use what I leave behind and become the great witch I know you are. You could even be minister!
You were always very perceptive, being the brightest witch of our time and all, so I know you haven’t completely looked past my odd state these last couple of days and thank you for checking up on me, but I simply wanted had to do this. It has been on my mind ever since I first dragged that blade across my wrist.
I’m afraid I cannot write much more. I still have to begin my letters to Ron, Snape, Lupin, Dumbledore, Luna, The twins, Molly and Ginny.
I will always love you like a little sister Herms, don’t forget that.
Love, Harry.
By the end of the letter Hermione was out right sobbing and scrambling over to the telephone to call the Weasleys. They recently installed a new phone due to Arthur’s insistence and she knew their number off by heart.
It answered after two chimes of the ringer but her mouth seemed to be frozen. She couldn’t even begin to open her mouth, consumed with guilt.
‘…..Harry?’ A voice on the other end said, trembling yet sounding painfully hopeful.
She recognised it as Ron’s, he sounded like he had been crying.
‘No Ron, just me.’ She finally croaked out. Her hands couldn’t hold the phone still.
‘Oh.’
‘I’m guessing you got his letter too? Please come and pick me up.’
‘Yeah. We all did. We were just on our way.’
‘….. I love you.’
‘I love you too Hermione.’ And with that he hung up.
She stared at the wall in disbelief and began to cry.