Dear Ginny,

I miss you so much. What day of this torment could it possibly be that has driven me mad with such longing? Why day 2 of course! Teddy's gone back to Andromeda's now and I'm very lonely. Except for Ron, but I don't fancy snogging him much. We're planning on getting a flat this week, probably in Diagon Alley. Close enough to work, but also very conveniently located to Fortescue's. His niece has taken up the business. George has officially decided to reopen Weasley's Wizard Wheezes and he's moving back into his flat up there. Your mom is several levels of weepy over everyone leaving, and I feel awful, but get this- Percy, Percy of all people, is taking a break from the Ministry for a while and is just keeping Molly company. Sometimes, the Humungous Bighead is bound to do something right. It feels sort of wrong leaving the Burrow. Yours was the first family I've had, and it's hard to go. But as I'm a working adult, with grown up needs such as ice cream and a new broom, it was a decision I had to make.

In Diagon Alley today, I bought a new owl. It was a lot sadder of an experience than I could have possibly imagined and I felt like a prat. It has been more than a year, but she was all the company I had at Privet Drive. It felt weird replacing her, but you, and your minxish ways, have convinced me that renting owls is far too dumb an idea when I plan on sending you hundreds of letters.

Anyways, tell everyone at Hogwarts I say hello. Well, avoid Trelawney, but aside from that… Oh and I guess, tell Hermione I say hi, since we promised we'd write once a week, and though she is one of my best mates, one day feels like cheating. Ron, however, is currently writing what I can only guess is an entirely pathetic sonnet to our dear friend, and as he is humming Celestina Warbeck, I can only guess that when Hermione undoubtedly reads it to you, that you will gag. (When you read this to her, be sure to leave out that part. She is just as sickenly smitten.)

But I'm the bleeding hypocrite here because I'm humming Weird Sisters, because it reminds me of you, and I'm picturing your beautiful laugh as you read this slightly sappy (but undoubtedly crass in comparison to Ron's I'm sure) letter. And of course Ron can't call me out on my biggest bit of hypocrisy, because he doesn't know, but he hasn't proposed marriage at the ripe age of eighteen, not even off-handedly. (Don't read that to Hermione either.) But I love you and I have no regrets, clumsy and dorky at this as I am. I love you, your hair, and your kisses, and the way you are with Teddy. I cannot wait to see you 108 ridiculously agonizing, painful days from now.



Dear Harry,

I passed on your messages to all here at Hogwarts. I censored the bits that you asked for, and a little bit more. I'm a possessive person, and I wanted to keep most of your letter all to myself. I felt slightly bad about laughing when Hermione read Ron's letter, but you were so right Harry, it was bloody ridiculous. I wanted to cry for him, but Hermione took care of that. You're right, she is just as smitten as Ron is, though I can't say much for her taste.

I too, am plagued by the thought of 108 days before I see you again. Your letter helped some though, and I hope you get this in time for it to help you.

As for Hogwarts, Harry, it is hard to put it into words. The castle is a safe place Harry, but I am not safe. I am hunted, I swear to you. I'd like to hex you a thousand times over for being the damn Chosen One, or at least for being so bloody irresistible, because I have been questioned relentlessly, being the- I believe my title was "The Girl Who Got the Boy Who Lived." I wanted to throw up only that far in, but it was the bloody beginning Harry, no, not the worst of it. I was asked if I had BLEEDING NAMES FOR YOUR BUTTCHEEKS! MERLIN'S TIT! That was the funniest of the questions, but a lot more were worse. Questions about our sex life were fun as hell- not- because if these eleven year old brats don't understand the words "piss off" they certainly won't understand the hypocrisies and complexities of Ronald Weasley. Questions about the Order suck, because everyone is pretty much gone. Questions about Dumbledore's Army definitely suck, because these kids, these stupid kids, even though they lived through bloody terror, don't understand that combat isn't cool, but that it was necessity only that drove us to fight, and that the fight took children, and that if it didn't take children it took childhoods. Questions about the battles I lived through, fought in, lost a brother in, lost mentors and friends in, and thought I lost you in, these are the questions that I lose it at. I have cried seven different times today which is the worst record ever, and I hate it. I want to be home.

I want to look at Fred's picture on the living room wall. I want to remember him, I do, but I want to remember him as my brother who loved happiness. And I want to be that happiness for my family, and especially for George.

I want to look into Teddy's eyes, and see that his parents were not casualties of the "Harry Potter War" but wonderful people that sacrificed everything for their son's future.

I want to steal your photo albums again and look at your mum and your dad and Sirius and Remus and silently thank them for the man their sacrifices preserved.

I want to hold you and tell you yes and know that there was a point to all of that heartache that is bigger than some generic victory and know that you weren't the only one who fought and sacrificed and won, and love you more than they can imagine. Alas, I have to wait 9 months for that, so things look pretty bleak.

I'm sorry for this ridiculously depressing letter. I'm sure tomorrow I'll be as cheerful as Gilderoy Lockhart signing an autograph, and I wish I could shred this letter and write you then, but I promised.

I love you,


Just before she dozed off to sleep, an owl flapped against her dormitory's window. She liked Harry's new bird. It was an idiot just like him. The bird carried a letter and a small package and Ginny decided to open the letter first.

Dear Ginny,

It is September 2nd and I have already cheated. I have written you twice in a day. I am a pathetic fool when it comes to you, Gin. And I am so sorry. I probably should have worn my invisibility cloak throughout my life, then maybe people would leave me (and you, definitely you) alone. Regarding my butt cheeks, I have already christened them as Vernon and Petunia Dursley, but you are free to call them whatever you wish. Regarding our sex life, of that I am sorry, and your prat of a brother will be too. Regarding the serious stuff, I'm so sorry. If you want them to change, you might want to try honesty. Though you are scary as hell when you want to be, you have always been smarter than you are terrifying, and telling those girls how things happened might be just what the doctor ordered for the pandemic of crazy you're dealing with. And if all else fails, or if you can't, call in a favor from Peeves. He regards Weasleys (minus Bill and Percy) with the highest respect. Have him tie them together by their hair or something.

You'll survive this, because you are Ginevra Bad-Arse Weasley, and I have faith in you.

Love you,


P.S. You don't need to steal it. It's yours. Don't worry, I remember them just fine.

She ripped the package open and discovered that Harry had sent his photo album. She shook with sudden sobs as she stroked the familiar cover and opened it.

She'd be fine.

She knew it now.