Words have finally come to me, at three o’clock in the morning no less, but I’m not complaining. It’s not like I was sleeping anyway.

We were best friends, everyone knew that. But something no one knew, I always thought of you as more than my best friend.

There were some times I was sure you thought of me as one of the guys, a second Ron.

There were other times, however, when I’d catch you shooting glances at me during lessons or meals, and you’d smile shyly before turning away when I glanced back. Those times I wondered, if I told you how I felt, would you understand? Would you feel the same? Unfortunately, my cowardice always got the better of me, and I never did tell you how I felt. Probably the biggest regret of my life.

It was the end of our third year. Sirius ran off into the forest and we ran after him. We saw the hundreds of dementors around him and I became more frightened then I had ever been in my life. What if you passed out again like you had on the train? I looked over to you, because for the first time in my life, I hadn’t a clue what to do next. But you did. You told me to think of something happy, and if I hadn’t thought of how much I wanted to kiss you that very moment, I don’t think I would’ve stayed conscious nearly as long as I did.

In fifth year, nothing had changed. In fact, my feelings for you had grown. We were in Umbridge’s office, and she had her idiot squad of Slytherins holding us captive. She was screaming at you, demanding you to tell her who you had been trying to contact with Floo powder. She convinced herself it was Dumbledore, of course, and was screaming at you, ‘Why? What was so important you needed to risk expulsion to contact him?’ I could tell your mind was drawing a blank. It was right then, at that very moment in my life, that I realized I loved you. More than you could ever hope to know. And I couldn’t just let Umbridge ruin your life, you had already had too many awful things happen to you. So I came up with a story off the top of my head, it was brilliant, a reason to get Umbridge near the centaurs without her suspecting a thing on account of her own greed. I knew it was a huge risk, but I didn’t care. For what was the first time in my life, I didn’t give a damn about the risks or the repercussions; all I gave a damn about was you. And that remains true, even to this very day. Why else would I be writing this letter?

You, Harry Potter, are the only case in which I, Hermione Granger, am guilty of procrastinating. I knew I had to tell you how I felt, and I wanted to tell you how I felt. Again, my own cowardice stopped me. Saying, ‘What if he doesn’t feel the same way? Can you go on being friends like you were?’ And that was my fatal mistake. I had nothing to lose, because I didn’t just want to be friends anymore, no matter what the cost. I should have told you how I felt a long time ago. Maybe you understand my predicament now because even though I am finally writing this letter, you will never know how I feel about you, and that kills me inside.

If I had told you a year ago, a month ago, a week ago, maybe I would be able to live with myself. But I didn’t… and I can’t.

I know you wouldn’t want to see me feeling sorry for myself like this, and trust me, I don’t want to see it anymore than you do, but what am I supposed to do now?

I love you, Harry. And I don’t think I’ll ever love anyone else in my lifetime, which is a frightening thought. I think words have left me now, because I find myself at an utter loss for them. I guess I’ve said all that I need to say. I feel like I should end this letter final, with a clear-cut conclusion, but I can’t. I don’t want to either. I think it’s because that would be like saying goodbye, and if I said goodbye to you, Harry, I would convince myself it really was goodbye, and I honestly don’t believe in goodbyes, I’ve simply known you for too long. I’m not sure if that makes any sense, but I don’t think it needs to. I think you’d know how I felt without even needing to read this letter.

Love always,