My Dearest Hermione,

How I long to take back what I've said. How I long to take back what I've done. It's been three days since you were lost to me. Three long, hard, cold days without you here. And the fault is mine alone.

I was even the one who initiated our relationship. I was the one who held you back. And despite my better judgment, I told you everything. Everything. Even though I was afraid of what you might think of me. Would you think me lonely? Would you think my sick and twisted sense of humour just went to a whole new level? Would you run from me like I was a pervert? I didn't know, and I took that chance. I didn't regret my choice to do so until now. Because now you are gone. And the fault is mine alone.

You didn't want to leave. I made you. Thought it would be for your own good. I never thought that it would backfire on me. My own gut feeling that you would be better off without me. That you would be better off away from me. How could I think that it was true? They already knew about you and I. About us. So how could I think the best thing was to get you away from me? So the fault is mine alone.

I didn't know that you would leave. Go after the cause, the reason, for my asking you to leave. I was under the impression that the plan would be carried out with you safely inside the castle walls. You would be upset, I expect, as you were when you left my company that last night. I would be a part of the plan to rid this world of that same cause, that same reason. I was convinced that I would not be coming back, so having you hate me was the best thing. It would hurt you less if I were gone, and you thought nothing of me. But I was a fool. You came along, threw yourself into the final confrontation. And the fault is mine alone.

Hermione, my love. Last year, I told you. Last month, I showed you. Last week, I pushed you away. And last night, I said my final farewell as you were lowered to your final resting place.

And the fault is mine alone.