Harry Potter and all associated characters and concepts belong to J.K. Rowling.

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She had had the unopened letter for over a year. It was addressed in Ron's bad handwriting. To Hermione. Read in the event of my death. Ron. Now she had nothing to do but open it.

Dear Hermione,

I had hope you never read this. Mostly because I don't want to die. But if you are reading this, there are some things I need to tell you.

Hermione, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for every time I was a git. I'm sorry for every time I didn't think you for helping me pass transfiguration and potions and every other class. I'm sorry for every time I ignored you. I'm sorry for every time I laughed at you for living in the library. Mostly I'm just sorry that I'm dead.

Hermione, for most of the time I've known you, I've been a coward. I didn't want to know how much you meant to me. Because that would have meant admitting I was wrong. I always tried to tell myself I liked you in spite of how much you studied, and that you followed rules, and that you were always at the top of every class. But that's not true. I've liked you because of how much you studied, because you followed rules, and because you were at the top of every class. In part, it was selfish. I knew I could always count on you to get me out of trouble. I've never forgotten the time, our first Halloween at Hogwarts, that you lied to McGonagall to get Harry and me out of trouble when we were the ones who nearly got you killed.

Hermione, when I am completely honest with myself, I don't know why you even put up with me and Harry. Especially me. I have gotten you in trouble, made fun of you, and tried my best to make you do my work. And all through that, you have been my friend.

Hermione, you amaze me. You work more in one week than I do in a whole year. I think that sometimes, when I've been mad at you, I've really been wishing I could be as good as you. You are braver than Bill, smarter than Percy, more loyal than Fred and George, and more loving than Mum.

Hermione, I hope I found the courage to tell you this before I died. I love you. I am sorry for all I've done to you, for all that I'm not, and for all that I have and haven't said. Mostly I'm just sorry that I don't have a life to spend with you.

Ron

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Hermione looked up from his letter, eyes full of tears. "Ron, I love you. I only wish I had told you sooner. I love you."

"So you're glad I'm not dead?"

"Yes, I'm glad you're not dead! Honestly, Ronald, what kind of a question is that?"

"Just, just making sure."

"But why did you ask me to read this now? We're safe, the war's over." A horrible fear gripped her. "Ron, please don't go do something stupid."

"I… I hope I'm not doing anything stupid." He took a deep breath and spoke quickly, before his better judgment could regain control. "Hermione, I love you. I didn't want to say anything, because it would have made it to hard to face losing you. But now I can. And what I'm trying to say is that" he an even deeper breath "showing you this letter is the only way I could manage to ask you to marry me."

For once Hermione was speechless. But only for a moment. "Yes."

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