Many thanks to my beta OuchKibble for all of her suggestions!

Disclaimer: All of the characters belong to JKR, except Erma, who is a figment of my imagination.

The title is based on a song by Sarah Connor, From Sarah with Love.


From Hermione with Love

Hermione sighed, running her tired fingers through her hair. Her eyes travelled from the blank piece of parchment in front of her, to the overflowing wastebasket beside her desk. The sun was casting its last rays across the sky and she lifted her head to look out of her window, rolling her neck and inhaling the fresh autumn breeze. At least she still had a pretty good view in a time of war and destruction. One could still sense something was not entirely right, however. Not a sound could be heard: no doors slamming, no people talking to each other, and no birds chirping in the trees.

She scrunched up the blank piece of parchment in frustration and threw it in the corner where the others lay. She knew she had to write this letter to make herself feel better, but no matter how hard she tried, the right words were not coming to mind. Finally, long after night had fallen, she reached for another piece of parchment and determinedly placed her quill at the top of it.

"Dear Harry,

I hope this letter reaches you well. I have not heard from you in such a long time and I do hope you are all right. Your silence is a bit unnerving, to tell you the truth, but maybe it's for the best."

She looked down at what she had written. "Maybe it's for the best?" What was she thinking? However, she was too tired to start from the beginning. She kept on going, thinking that whatever she wrote had to be better than this everlasting silence.

"It's been hectic here. We have so many injured people in the wards; the staff had to conjure more rooms. Everything from Cruciatus to Imperius and of course, the usual injures. People are really starting to panic. There are a lot of familiar faces as well. Luna works here along with Parvati Patil. I've seen Neville in and out of the hospital a few times. He's a specialist when it comes to plant injuries and the like."

She was rambling and she knew it. What did Harry care if she'd seen Luna and Neville? He was still out there risking his life. She let the quill drop from her fingers and looked at her owl, Erma. She had been sitting on the windowsill all day, waiting for Hermione to finish the letter.

"Not too long now," Hermione whispered, smoothing Erma's feathers. The owl looked at her reproachfully.

"But enough about me. How are you? I know I shouldn't mention anything, but Erma is a smart owl-she'll never get intercepted. How is the search for the last Horcrux coming along? Have you seen or heard from Voldemort at all? He must know that there is only two pieces of him left by now. I still don't understand why you didn't want me to come along and help you. Or why your letters consist of only two sentences. ' I've been working hard and I'm getting closer. How are you?'

The thing is, I'm feeling really lonely and it's just so hard to keep going without being able to hear properly from you. Everyday I see people damaged so severely by different curses they have become unrecognizable. Some have been slaughtered, some are begging me to kill them so that their pain will be over. Through all of this, I'm alone. No word of comfort from anyone, no shoulder to lean on, no one to tell me that it's going to be ok. Somewhere deep inside, I know that it's partially my fault.

I've been wondering if this distance between us would exist if I had . . . Well, there's no use reminding you. I'm sure you remember. The thing is that after you left . . . after you left that night, I did a lot of thinking, Harry.

Hermione stopped writing and listened intently. She could have sworn she heard something move outside. Getting up cautiously, she walked to the door and opened it, her right hand clutching her wand. Nobody was there, though. She sighed, locked the door and began to pace back and forth, stretching her legs and arms. Was Harry being distant because of what had happened that night? Could he be avoiding her because she had not reciprocated his love for her?

"Ever since that night, Harry, I have thought and thought and I could only come to one conclusion. I have started loving you as well. I cannot stand the thought of you with another. I know I have absolutely no right to say this after the way I must have hurt you. I know that you've probably moved on. I know that you might smile and shake your head when you read this, but I can't take it anymore.

Especially now, in these times, I have realized not to take anything for granted, because you never know when you might lose it. I keep thinking that something might happen and I'm not there with you, to help you, to hold you, to be there for you, to see you one last time, to tell you that I love you.

I see your face everywhere. Everything I touch, everything I smell, everything I do reminds me of you. I can't live like this any longer. I need you here beside me. I need to hear you say that it's going to be all right like you used to when we were young. Remember those days Harry? We were always worried about one thing or another, but never like now. Remember when we used to sit under that tree by the lake and do our homework? That seems so far away now. It's as if it happened in another lifetime. How I wish I was back at Hogwarts with you."

Tears were spilling down her cheeks, though she made sure they didn't fall on the parchment. She knew Harry was good at figuring out things like that. Her body shook with held-up sobs, but she did not stop writing. Her feelings were spilling out, everything that she had tried so hard to keep bottled inside.

"Someone once told me: You know what the saddest thing in the word is? To love someone who used to love you. Because you know that you once had a chance and you threw it away with your own hands. You know what you're losing. But I think there is one thing that's sadder. Not being with the person you love when he needs you most.

I refuse to believe I've lost you, Harry. I need to hold on to this thought. I hope that somewhere in your heart there is still a remainder of that old love. You've probably tried hard to cover it up, to heel your bruises, but that's not necessary anymore. Please tell me I'm not too late. Tell me that there is still a chance for us.

We could go into this fight together. You do not need to be alone Harry, and you never were. I was always with you: heart, mind, and spirit. I still am. If you are willing to forgive me, there could be another world for us, a world where we face everything together.

My heart aches when I think of you, my thoughts become one big blur, and I know I can't go on like this. Now I understand what you told me so long ago. That we were meant for one another, that together we could do anything, that it could not be any other way.

That is why I'm writing. With my heart in my hands, I'll wait for your answer. If it's a yes, I'll be the happiest woman. If not, I'll make it through just like you did, but I'll never forget, Harry. Never. Please write back.

From Hermione with Love"

She put the quill down, feeling tired, and she looked up at the full moon. Her mind went back to their third year when they had seen Lupin transform and almost lost Sirius. Erma pecked her hand, seeing that she had finished writing, but Hermione waved her off, holding the parchment tightly in her hand. She fell asleep with her head in her hands, knowing that she would never send Harry the letter that held all of her feelings and emotions-that held her life.