Hi, good day/eve/night/whatever time it is that you have the misfortune on stumbling on this story. This story pops in my head after I've watched a documentary about something (I would not tell what it is for now). It constantly pops in my head that I realized that I need to write it in order for me to get rid of it out of my mind (Does that makes sense?). I don't know if I should continue this because it's a bit weird for me but maybe I would, it depends. So, I'll just post it like this so I can have a peace of mind. Anyway, you don't have to read this if you don't want to and I think you shouldn't read this because it's badly written and I just posted it here because I can and this is my account (LOL).

Disclaimer: All characters are own by J.K.R.

...

I stared, despondent, as he walked towards the door. I watched as he turned around and faced me with a rather pained look. Tears were streaming down my face, cascading down like an endless waterfall. I can feel a huge lump in my throat and my brain's in a haze, disabling me to form coherent thoughts to tell him to stay. To tell him I am sorry.

I hear him drew a shuddering breath, probably trying his best not to cry again. I can see his knuckles turning white as he gripped the doorknob so hard, as if his life depended on it.

"I –I ... take care of yourself. I will no longer be here for you," I heard him said sadly, his tone hesitant and a tad imploring. I know he's giving me a chance to fix everything but I don't know how to in my current state. I shifted my gaze to the door, too afraid to meet his eyes and see the pain I've recently put in there. "So, I guess this is goodbye then... Goodbye, Hermione"

I, of course, didn't respond. In fact, I did nothing as he finally walked outside our flat, bringing everything he own with him in that knapsack he'd charmed as I screamed at him like a banshee telling him all sorts of insults I know from all the years we've been together. My heart keeps on telling me to stop being an idiot and go follow him and beg him to stay. To tell him I don't mean everything I've said a while ago. That I've said what I've said in my aim to verbally abuse and to inflict pain, not because I really mean them. But my brain says that it was better this way. I guess, when people around you make you suffer every time you're in their presence, there's a huge possibility that you'd be doing exactly the same thing towards others to just somehow get back at your original tormenter. It doesn't make sense, I know, but you get the point. Not that Ron make me suffer, well he can but no, it was the opposite actually. He was my anchor, my personal cheerleader, my source of moral support. It was that blasted Wizengamot.

A slot was finally available and I've been doing my best to snatch that position. But most members of the council were Pureblood extremists, if you'd ask them about that expect them denying such allegations for they were expected to be fair and just to everyone, but you'll just know that they are, Pureblood extremist that is.

For months, I've been doing my best to prove myself that I'm worthy enough for a position in the Wizengamot. But that's the funny thing about politics, isn't it? Everyone has their own hidden agenda. You should be valuable enough for them. It wouldn't matter what you can do for the society as a whole, what matters is what you can do for them. Of course, you couldn't really blame them; self-preservation is, after all, a primal human instinct.

Any human being with a brain can put two and two together and could say that I'm fighting a lost cause. Because if you're part of the majority of the Wizengamot which are obviously the "Pro-Pureblooders", as Ron has so eloquently named them, why would you allow a Muggle-born in the club, especially, if the said club can make or break or bend a law? The answer, obviously, would be a big, freaking nope. They wouldn't care if you help save the world. Once they're done with you, they're done, that's it. It's unfair, I know, but that's just how things go. Even my friends know that, well Ron point it out to me first but since it was me, he tried his best to support me all the way anyway. But, what did I do? I drove him away.

As I stay frozen, still stunned, in front of the foyer, I almost got deaf by the silence that suddenly enveloped me. Then it finally hit me like a huge tidal wave surging precariously towards me, Ron's gone. The phrase "All alone" keeps on flashing back and forth in my mind as I let myself collapse on the floor. The phrase, needless to say, is untrue. I still have friends, so technically one could argue that I'm not entirely alone. But, that's the thing, they're just my friends. Not that I'm belittling the role they have in my life. No, it's not that. It's just that, I need Ron.

I need him to hold me tight, drawing comforting circles on my back, as I tell him how bad my day was and how every single day I am losing hope in my faith that I'll have that dream slot given to me. I need to hear him formulate strings of curses addressed to the majority of the Wizengamot because they are slyly oppressing me and hear him say that if they wouldn't give me the position it'll be their loss.

That, actually, can make me all riled up at him, and would then arouse a rather heated row between us. I don't want to hear him saying 'if they wouldn't give you that position it'd be their loss blah blah blah', there shouldn't be an 'if', I should get that position no matter what. He, up to this time, still doesn't understand my perseverance on having a position on the Wizengamot. Even my friends don't. They don't understand which in turn irritates me and turned me into a nasty, infuriating hag that Ginny once told me that I am. Not that I could blame them, really. Their intellectual levels are far way below me. Yes, it sounds mean but it's true.

So, instead of making everything worse and further tainting my relationship to my friends, I avoided them like a plague. They, in turn, were very much inclined to return the favour. I don't know why I get rather insufferable towards other people when I'm passionate on doing something, it's just... me. I don't know why they don't get how much I want to have that position but maybe they would never do. They are not a Muggle-born like me, after all. Only having a Muggle-born in that blasted council could assure me and other Muggle-borns alike, the fair treatment we most certainly deserve. So, I have to get it. Ron formulated alternatives for me, ways that would insure Muggle-borns' fair and just treatment without me arse-licking (Ron's terminology never cease to make me cringe.) each Wizengamot member to secure the position. I dismissed all of it, of course. I have my own method and I am following them.

I know Ron's only looking after me. After the Malfoy Manor incident, he took it upon himself to make sure I am safe and that I am treated well. I am and would always be grateful on him for that. But I admit, though it's nice and all, I feel like I am bit suffocated every time he goes all knight-ish to me. I love Ron with all my heart but I am not a damsel in distress, for crying out loud!

But Ron is Ron. One thing you'll find endearing in him is his protective nature. But I am who I am, though it's nice to be protected, I am capable of protecting myself, thank you very much.

Everyone says that we are polar opposites. While, I believe that opposite do attracts, I also know that sometimes our differences can torn us apart. And that exactly what just happened a while ago. We were torn apart.