I remember the dancing. We would prance around the room, with a childish manner that would never be shown in the outside world. I remember how I would step on his toes for years, until we were both professionals. I've never met a man who could dance like him. We did everything. Flowery dances with room for our interpretations to the serious and stern stomps we'd do, holding back giggles.

Yes, we giggled. I can see the way you're looking at me, but he giggled. Some people even thought he couldn't smile. But he could smile. He had a beautiful smile. If you could see it now, you'd feel that light...that warmth. His smile begged you to smile back.

The world didn't know his smile though. The world knew his more pompous side. The side of him that came off stuffy, but was really nothing more than desire. A desire not to be poor. A desire to provide his family a better life. A desire to make the world a better place. He always loved to show off his achievements. His achievements were our achievements. He shared his joy with us, even if we didn't always understand. His need for us to be happy often came off as a need to be praised, but that was never it.

I know him, better than anyone I suppose, because I loved him more, and that was our relationship. I was the one who cared. He was the one who understood. That's what we do. I know that by looking at us, you can tell we're a close knit family, but people never really get who's friends with who.

For example, I know people think that I just worship Ron, and he's my hero and protector. We actually have as little to do with each other as possible. He does his thing and I do mine. But it wasn't like that with him. We did our thing. Even though some of our bonds were stronger than others, we were loyal.

Which is why it always surprised me when I heard my brothers doubting who he would side with. I knew, even further than my heart that he was with us, always and forever. And in a way, maybe he still is. I don't know. But, even if he isn't, he was there when it counted, with us.

Which brings me to that night. He was supposed to go to a ministry meeting with my father, but he stayed home, saying that his place was us, and it was too dangerous for us all to be alone with Death Eaters running about. How right he was. I wish I could have made him go that night. Selfish as that is, I would rather have...Voldemort...running around than have my brother dead. I almost hate myself for that. Being so selfish and clingy. That's my one thing though. People often tell me that I'm the most selfless person they've ever met, and now I turn my head and think about that. I hope that I'm not damned for that, but I don't care. He was my brother. And I loved him.

But more than anything, I wish it was me. I wish I was the one who died. Because I don't do anything. I have no purpose. My purpose was caring for him, and he's gone now. And there's nothing more that I can do here, but wish that it was me.

Harry's eyes scanned the paper, and turned to the quiet young woman beside him, looking more like a lost lamb than a 23 year old. "It's...beautiful Ginny. I love it. I didn't know you two were so close."

"Thank you Harry," Ginny sniffled, "I don't think anyone knew really. Even Ron thought that I idolized him, up until I told him off a while ago...remember?"

He laughed, quietly, one of those laughs that you laugh in reflection, and not really because you look on it fondly or because it was truly funny, but because you just have to laugh or do anything but cry anymore. A release.

And as Ginny sat up, and made her way out the door, when she knew he couldn't hear, she whispered to the night.

"I lied. I wish more than anything that it was you."