We believe in God in the Wizarding World, though Muggles think we don’t. They call us names like pagan, which I don’t even understand what it means, and I had to ask Hermione how to spell it. But we also believe in fate. Believe you make your own decisions for good or bad, and then you have to face the consequences. At least that’s what Mum and Dad told us.

I guess it was fate that I walked into Harry’s compartment the first trip on the train. I guess it was fate that Harry and I…well, I admit Harry talked me into it…went back to find Hermione and I wound up saving them from a troll. And I guess I could make a list of the adventures Harry and Hermione and I got involved in and call that fate, too. But was it fate that Harry wasn’t killed when he was a baby? Was there something else? Was something else looking out for him that day? Besides his mother’s love?

So if the first thing was caused by something larger than fate, what does that make everything else after it?

I thought about a lot of things this last year. More thinking than possibly the five years before that put together, Fred and George would say. Really.

When Ginny embarrassed me in front of everyone, shooting off her mouth about what I haven’t done and everyone else has, I had to show her. Yeah, Lavender is pretty, but she was willing was all. I suppose anyone would’ve done. Well, except for the two people that I wanted more than anything. Harry and Hermione.

People always think I’m thoughtless, but I’m not…most of the time. If Ginny had thought about it for more than two seconds, she might have put two and two together. Why hadn’t I done anything with anyone? Because I love my two best friends. How could I chose Hermione over Harry? And how could I ever chose Harry?

Well, I guess fate took a turn when Harry and Ginny started seeing each other. Poor Hermione by default? Well, I didn’t mean for that to happen. For some reason, in my head, I meant for all three of us to be together forever, somehow.

And I have to admit when I said that to Harry, said Hermione and I would come with him to his parents’ house, I was glad that Ginny wasn’t around. It would just be the three of us. Always.

*****

So Hermione and I went to Harry’s foul relatives after a fortnight to get him. I was glad he would never have to go back.

We went to the Burrow and had a bit of fun getting ready for Bill and Fleur’s wedding. Not that Harry and I helped all that much with the planning, but it was a laugh watching Mum get herself into a right state about the whole thing, and Ginny being fitted in a horrible looking dress.

I saw glances between Harry and Ginny, and I wasn’t sure I liked it, but as far as I could tell, Harry was staying away. Hermione wasn’t really spending time with Harry and me. Wasn’t sure I liked that either. I wasn’t sure what I liked. Or who.

We knew after the wedding we would be leaving for Godric’s Hollow. I hadn’t said anything to Mum yet. Dad knew. Harry and I told him right away. He wasn’t happy, but he understood.

Bill and Fleur’s wedding was nice, as far as weddings go. We hadn’t had a Weasley wedding in a while, so it was fine. Hermione sat on one side of me, and Harry was on the other. I did notice the importance of that. I’m not always an idiot.

How we were sitting all right next to each other. Not one in front of the other. But equal.

*****

When Hermione and I became friends again (a while after my cuts had healed on my hands from her damn birds), I asked her point-blank if she had kissed Krum. I knew the answer, so I didn’t get mad when she said yes. I think I was more hurt than anything. Stupid, really. Why shouldn’t she have kissed him? Since I wasn’t. Kissing her, I mean.

We talked and stuff, but with Harry being all noble and everything with my sister, Hermione thought we should do the same. That was okay by me. I didn’t want to start something I wasn’t sure I could finish. Without hurting her. Again.

Then there was always Harry. Standing there, waiting. Looking at me. I knew Harry sometimes didn’t say what he thought I should hear. But what that was now, I didn’t know. Was fate at work again? Was it that something bigger? Was I meant to be with Hermione or Harry or neither?

Why must people choose? When you have two friends, two best mates, and you know you should be with one because everyone thinks you should, but then there’s the other one, the other best mate that looks at you and you wonder if he wants to say something that you should hear. But you aren’t sure that even if he made you listen, you’d believe.

The easy one. The easy answer, but was that the one I wanted?

*****

So the day after the wedding, we left for Godric’s Hollow. Mum threw a fit. A big one. The biggest. But we went anyway. We had to. Well, Harry had to, so that’s why we had to.

It was all rubble when we got there. We didn’t really know what we were looking for, or where to begin.

I noticed Harry pick up some of the bricks, tossing them into a pile off to the side. I picked up a few bricks and did the same. I didn’t know why I was doing this, just that if Harry was, then I guessed I should. Hermione walked around the outside of what used to be the house.

I stopped and watched Harry start to move the bricks to a corner of the foundation and stack them on top of each other. I walked over and picked up two bricks, one in each hand, and put them on top of the ones Harry had stacked.

I felt him look at me. I could feel my ears turn red. I picked up two more bricks and put them next to the ones Harry had stacked. He turned and grabbed more bricks, and so did I. We stacked them until they were as tall as me and they formed three walls. Hermione continued walking around the house. She seemed to be searching for something. None of us said a word.

Harry walked over to some grave stones down a trail from the house. I watched him go. Hermione started to follow. She always does that. I whispered to her to stop. Leave him alone. She listened for once.

We watched Harry from where we were. He crouched down to the stones and touched them. I felt bad for him. He dropped to his knees. He clasped his hands together. He leaned forward until his head touched one of the stones.

I longed to go to him, but I knew that he needed to be alone. For now.

But suddenly the stones were in shambles. The bricks had fallen. Hermione was crying on my shoulder. I didn't understand a lot, but I thought maybe when it came time to meet You-Know-Who, it would take all three of us to match his power. I stared at Harry and he stared back. He knew it, too.

I patted Hermione on the back, trying my best to comfort her.

Harry walked over to a pile of bricks and picked two of them up, one in each hand. He stacked them on top of each other. He picked up two more and put them next to the others.

I wanted to help him, but I didn’t. I held Hermione. Harry didn’t need my help. He was rebuilding his house, and I knew he wanted to do it on his own.

*****

Hermione, with all her common sense, liked to talk and get things out in the open. Harry, mostly, didn’t make me say things I didn’t want to say in the first place. Hermione, I knew where she stood most of the time. Harry, I never really knew what he was thinking.

And me, I wanted things easy. Simple. But I also wanted to do what was right. I didn’t really like talking and getting things out in the open. I didn’t want to say things I didn’t want to say in the first place. I didn’t know where I stood about anything. Well, most things. I always knew what I was thinking, but it never made any sense.

Being with Hermione was safe and nice and comfortable. But whenever I thought about Harry, it felt strong and intense. When we fought in fourth year, it was bigger than any small bickering Hermione and I had gotten into. I was mad. For no good reason, when I stopped to think about things. Which made me madder. At myself. At Harry. But mostly at myself.

Our friendship seemed stronger after the Second Task. I knew I couldn’t promise not to argue with him ever again, but I knew our friendship was so resilient that nothing would ever break it. That’s the word - resilient. Had to ask Hermione how to spell it. It’s a good word.

We continued on our journey, looking for things, helping Harry. But I still didn’t know what to do. I knew now wasn’t the time for the two of them to worry about me. What I thought and felt. How torn I was. Especially Harry.

*****

As the year went by, we went a lot of places.

We went to Hogwarts, we went to Grimmauld Place, we went to the Ministry of Magic…but all things come back to Godric’s Hollow. Of course they do.

When we were at Hogwarts, Ginny was around. My relationship with Ginny was strained. I knew it. I think she thought it was because of that wicked argument we had last year, and that was part of it. But it was also because I knew that she was expecting to be with Harry when we took care of You-Know-Who.

But I didn’t want that to happen. What the hell I wanted, I didn’t know. Well, I knew what I wanted. I wanted it all. I wanted Harry. I wanted Hermione. But it‘s the same old line. Doing something about it was a different story.

I hated going back to Grimmauld Place. I hated Kreacher sneaking around. But I knew Harry had to go, especially since he owned the place.

And the Ministry of Magic. To that room again. I didn’t want to go, but I knew Harry needed me. I stayed close to him, for my sake as well as his. Hermione seemed to have all this courage. I didn’t seem to have any. I wouldn’t tell Harry that, though I think he knows. He knows what goes on in my head. And puts up with me anyway.

*****

Godric’s Hollow. With its three brick walls. And it’s graveyard of rubble. I didn’t know why we had to, but Harry said so. When we arrived, we all looked and saw that there was something glittering in the center of the house. Harry went towards it, but Hermione said no. But Harry went for it anyway. And so as he picked it up, he yelled and dropped it like it was hot.

As soon as he dropped it, something came out of it. It’s hard to explain. Something rose up. I can’t explain it. I don’t want to explain it.

Harry stepped back, and Hermione grabbed my arm. I was the last one to understand, as usual.

I saw Harry grab for his wand. I heard Hermione grab for hers. I must have grabbed mine, because I suddenly had it in my hand. And then I stared at the back of Harry’s head, watching him. And that something rose higher. Higher than all of us. And then the bricks fell.

*****

Fate or something bigger.

I guess I’ll never know.

But I do know that even when you make choices, other things get in the way. Then you realise you can make all the decisions you want and call it fate, but it doesn’t matter. Something bigger makes them for you. Something bigger makes things happen, and you lose control. But then you realize you never had control in the first place.

And was it the right decision? Would I have made it on my own? Without something making it for me?

I guess I’ll never know.

So it was another brave woman who saved Harry that day. One who loved Harry, too. And one who loved me, in spite of myself.

She ran in front of him. As much as I understand why she did it, I wish she hadn’t. Not that I wanted anything to happen to Harry. Of course I didn’t. But I didn’t want anything to happen to her either. Just like my decision. Didn’t want it one way or the other, just wanted it easy.

Of course, I knew it wouldn’t be easy. Or happy.

*****

I wish I had made the decision myself.

Would that have changed things? Would she still be around? Would I be okay?

I love Harry. But I did love her, too. I’ll always love her. Was it fate that took her away? Or something bigger?

Is that God? I don’t know. I’ve asked Harry if he believes in God. He wrote that he doesn’t know. He says it’s not that he doesn’t, it’s just that he doesn’t know.

He knows I love Hermione. He loved her, too. But he’s smarter than me. He doesn’t forget her, but he doesn’t let her death get to him. He knows things happen for a reason. He knows she made her own decision that day.

I really wish I had made the decision myself.

But I was scared. Or didn’t want to make a choice. Or just didn’t have the courage. I stood in front of no one that day. I’d like to think I was standing with them, equals, for all the good reasons I tell myself. And I wonder if given another minute, if I would’ve looked at it differently. And then things would’ve turned out differently.

I know Harry feels some guilt about me, but like her death, he gets on with it. Accepts it, while knowing I can’t. Get on with it.

*****

You would think now that You-Know-Who is gone, I would be content to live my life happily with Harry. Going to Sunday dinners at the Burrow, going to work, coming home, spending time with Harry, having sex.

But still I refuse to listen.

Because I worry about things that could happen, that I don’t deserve all this happiness. God or fate will tell me otherwise.

I never really like being alone anymore. I never really did. Most of the time, except when I was being a git, I had Harry and Hermione with me.

Even though the silence follows me, just knowing Harry is in the room helps.

But still I refuse to listen.

And I can’t ask Hermione how to spell big words anymore.

So, when I finish this entry, I will put down the quill and shut the book. Then I will push myself away from the desk and put the book away. Harry will watch me. He knows there are unhappy things in this book. He will stare at me, and want to say things he knows I don’t want to hear. But he won’t say anything.

I’ll look at him and give him a huge smile. I’ll get up from the desk and walk over to him and wrap my arms around him. I’ll walk him to our bedroom, kissing him the whole way.

Then we’ll fuck. I’ll forget about all the bad things that have ever happened. I’ll think about loving Harry and how much he loves me. And how I do deserve the life I got. And how I do deserve Harry. And how Harry was the right decision all along, I just left it up to something else.

But when I’m alone, it nags at me. So, except when I’m writing my thoughts in this book, I refuse to be alone. And Harry doesn’t say anything because he knows I can’t hear.