Dear Ron,
I don’t know how I found you after all these years. I think, perhaps, I had just about given up all hope of seeing you again until I stumbled across your name in the paper. When I read it, my heart skipped a beat and I felt as if I would burst with joy.
I have found you after all these years. When the idea of writing to you first formed in my mind, I wasn’t sure what to say, and even now I am trembling as I write this. It would be a sad thing to say that I am sorry, for I have led a good life and have never wanted for anything. Yet somehow as I write these words, a single emotion plagues my senses, and I feel that I must tell you of it before I can go on and pen another word.
The emotion is regret. Regret! Every night before I fall asleep, a chill creeps over me, and I cannot help feeling that the man who once lay beside me is not the man I should have married. He has been gone now these two years, and I am now the widow of what once was a respectable and prestigious Muggle doctor. For years, I was separated from the Wizarding world, and from you. He is dead, and my days as well are numbered. My graying head is bent with age, but even as an old woman I cannot help but feel at a loss.
Some might call me Niobe. Ron, throughout my marriage I took pride in what I had, without a thought to what I had to lose. I watched my children grow and marry, all unaware of the double life that I was leading. I had you to lose, and lose you I did indeed. Ah, Ron, were we not young once as well? I close my eyes and I can still see you, standing by the lake beneath the maple trees. Ah, youth that makes us blind to reason! At one point, I think, we had a chance. I followed my head and not my heart, and now I have lost the world.
Dr. James was a fine man. He was kind and honorable, and chivalrous in his every movement. He loved me. Dare I say I loved him as well? I do, for I was lost when he died and left me here. But this is a hole that will heal in time, and even more now I can see your face at night. My parents made the match when I was young, and they wanted only the best for me. You know better than anyone that it is not in my nature to disappoint. They had only my best interests in mind, but it was I who never took the time to figure out what my best interests really were.
In time I will forget that I ever knew you, for age will cloud my memory, and my own name will be a mystery. For now, however, I know that I love you, and time cannot take that away. I some distant future we may once again meet, but you have undoubtedly forgotten about me. I write because I have not forgotten about you, and I may even love you in the end.
Regret it the principle by which I live my life. Every breath I take is yours, and I cannot let go of what we once had. I have led my life. I have lived beside a man who loved me. I have wanted for nothing. But every second now I have thought of the one who had everything “ the one who I loved. You are my only one.
I am sorry for leaving you for the man my parents chose. I am sorry for never saying clearly how much you truly meant to me. There are days when I can hardly believe what I left behind. I left behind true happiness. I left behind true love.
How can I say this? I really was happy while my husband lived. But you and I knew the real meaning of happiness; you and I knew the meaning of true love. It isn’t every day that a girl stumbles across that one man who has everything she ever dreamed of. I was lucky enough to that girl, and I threw it away.
When all is said and done, I apologize. I have led a happy life “ with another man, not with you. Regret is all I feel these days. Sometimes I even forget about you. But I still smile when I hear your name; I still remember those days in the autumn; and sometimes when I lie awake at night, I can hear you whisper my name.
Yours, forever and always,
Hermione Jane Granger
Ron ran his fingers through his grey hair one last time. This Hermione Granger “ he remembered her. When they were younger, she was the one that made his eyes shine and his heart soar.
He looked at his bed with the slight depression where a woman lay. Her head was streaked with grey as well and her eyes were shut tight in slumber. Ron sighed. Suddenly, regret didn’t seem like such a bad word to describe his life. Clarissa was not a bad woman … nor was she the love of his life. This Hermione … she had been the one.
Ron thought for a moment. Maybe if he had fought for her, things would have been different. Ah well, life was like that. Ron took the woman’s hand and she stirred.
“What is it?” she asked quietly, stretching her arms.
“Nothing,” Ron said gently, smoothing her hair with his aged palm. He looked at her and meant what he said. “You look beautiful.”
Satisfied, the woman rolled over and fell quickly back to sleep. Yes, regret was a good word. He hadn’t thought that he loved Hermione Granger anymore; there were even times when he forgot about her altogether.
Then again, he thought to himself, turning the letter over and over. Just looking at her name made him smile, and he swore he could see her face from time to time … if only in his dreams.
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A/N- If this is too short, it's not my fault. I wrote it in an afternoon, and I REALLY needed some down time. Maybe another one-shot, and it'll be onto business as usual.