"There's the silver lining I've been looking for," she whispered, and then she was kissing him as she had never kissed him before, and Harry kissed her back, and it was a blissful oblivion, better than firewhisky; she was the only real thing in the world, Ginny, the feel of her, one hand at her back and one in her long, sweet-smelling hair—

-Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, The Will of Albus Dumbledore

And it isn't much, not at all, but it's something.

And it's not something to remember you by, to be honest. If Harry is going to remember you specifically, you would hope it would be for something much more important than a stolen kiss on his seventeenth birthday.

Maybe, you think, it's best that he forget about you altogether. (You think he's thinking the same thing, but you really never know with Harry.)

But if he is going to fight for something, you think, let it not be for kisses in the smallest bedroom, but for nights in the Gryffindor Common Room. Let it be for close Quidditch matches against Slytherin. Let it be for Ron and Hermione and maybe even you. Let it be for chocolate frogs and peppermint toads. Let it even be for that Christmas he spent here, with the gnome taking center stage as a not-so-angelic tree-topper. Do not let it be for some short-lived romance.

It's something, though. A kiss concealed by poster-covered walls.

Until your lovely brother walks in, that is.

He has a talent for that, you think. And he isn't very fond of privacy. You wonder how he will feel about this if he ever gets a girlfriend again. And if not to quiet Hermione once and for all about how very blind he is, then for the pure comedic value of it—you have no trouble at all thinking of a bushy-haired someone that would be an excellent start.

But that isn't important right now, because all you can think is that he will be gone the second the wedding is over—along with everyone else.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione—all gone. You know they're going. If mum can figure it out, so can you. You're not an idiot, after all. You can put two and two together.
And you heard their whispered conversations in the dead of night. There's something called insomnia, they seem to have forgotten, and indeed it becomes more pronounced when one is anxious. The Dark Lord's power at an all time high is a generally anxiety-causing event.

You had noticed Harry's unnecessary haste in setting the table with you, the way he seemed quite keen to avoid any sort of conversation. It's not that you're an expert or anything, but Harry's a pretty bad liar.

You saw his leaving from a mile away.

But you—you cannot stop them. You cannot even try.

You are not some love-struck teenager like in those Muggle films. (You think that's what they're called, at least—those pictures with sound. But that's not the point.)

So maybe you're still just a bit in love with him. And yes, you are technically a teenager.

But the day you let that define you—

You sure as hell aren't going to let it, are you, Ginny?

And maybe you're a bit (well, a lot) upset when they leave once and for all. They're your friends! They can't just leave you.

But they can, because that boy with the messy hair is the Chosen One as they've been calling him, and he is the bravest (and one of the most annoying) blokes you've ever met. And that bushy-haired girl and that lanky boy are his best friends. And they're the only people he'd ever let come with him.

You aren't even going to kid yourself otherwise. You aren't going to think, "Maybe if I were older..." or "Maybe if we had been together longer..." because he still wouldn't have let you come. No matter how much Ron and Hermione's bickering may get on his nerves, they're the only people he'd let join him. End of story.

So you start your own little rebellion here at Hogwarts, because you can't just sit around like some princess in one of those silly muggle stories. Death Eaters are in charge of the school! Snape—Dumbledore's murderer—as headmaster! The Carrows—the Dark Lord's loyal servants—as teachers! Muggle Studies has become a class in which muggles and those who appreciate them are shunned. And Defense Against the Dark Arts—once one of your favorite classes—has become hell, simply a way to create fresh Death Eaters. You're not just going to sit around and wait for a hero that's not coming for a long, long time.
So you, Neville, and Luna—you're fighting. And Michael, Hannah, and Ernie. And Colin, Lavender, and Parvati. You are all fighting.

And you know that somewhere Harry, Ron, and Hermione are doing exactly the same thing.

And just for now, you think that is enough.

AN: I really enjoy writing Ginny. That much, I think, is obvious. Much thanks to my fantastic beta-reader, harrypotterobsessed33. So, as always I'd very much like feedback. Especially your thoughts about Ginny. Because I always imagined her being like this. But scrolling through here, it seems I'm one of the only ones. Thank you very much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!