I don't know why I'm writing this to you now. I can hardly think that the Death Eaters are actually going to deliver it to you. Maybe to distract myself from the fact that in 15 minutes, they're going to come in here and kill me.
I'm sorry about the fight we got into. I didnít want to die with either of us angry at the other. I hope youíre not angry at me. I never did stay angry at you long after a while. Within a few hours I couldnít even remember what we were fighting about, usually. I canít right now. Did you remember that often? I donít think you did.
You should tell Harry and Ginny I love them. If Ginnyís still alive. We got separated before I was captured. I hope she escaped. I hope sheís back with you now.
Did you know, I wanted to have a child? It was a silly wish of mine; there was no real reason for it, and of course it wouldnít at all have been a good idea, at least right now. If we both had lived to see this war end, then I might have told you. Would you have liked to have a child? I suppose I should have some idea whether you would or not, but I donít.
I wish I had known you better. It might shock you that I would say that. I do know you were always convinced Iíd figured you out, and for you to understand me was impossible. But in the end, as deeply as Iíve known you after these ten years, I wanted more. I wanted the intimacy of decades of marriage. I wanted us to grow old together, smiling at each other and arguing with each other every now and then. I wanted grandchildren too.
Donít think Iím not grateful for what we had. In fact, I think I need to finish this letter now, because theyíll be back any minute, so let me say I love you. Youíve been everything to me, and all Iíd have demanded I be allowed to keep, had I lived through this.
The letter apparently had been delivered to the Leaky Cauldron by an owl with dark eyes and a cruel beak. A Death Eaterís owl. The current bartender had forwarded it to Kingsley Shacklebolt, who had forwarded it to Remus, who had forwarded it to Ron. The Death Eaters had obviously intended to cause him pain by delivering it. And they had, but even so, Ron sat with it for hours, until he could recite it from memory, loving every last heart-tearing word.
Ginny had escaped. She had also found Hermioneís body the next morning. It had been-two months ago? Three? Ron didnít care. Life was never ending hell. It seemed slightly easier if he didnít know how much longer it was going to go on, but could think that the end was nearer.
But it was only while reading the letter that he was able to cry for his wife, who too was all heíd have wanted to keep for living through the war. And after that he wrote on the parchmentís margins:
Iíll join you soon. Donít know how soon, because I canít just die. That would be turning my back on Harry and everyone. But Iíll get myself killed usefully, I think. There are plenty of ways to do that.
I know youíll probably be really mad at me for this when I reach the afterlife. But please, I just donít want to live without you, not in the world weíve lived in. Keeping on until the right opportunity to have it done is going to be hard enough.
A wave of his wand, and the letter burst into flames.