Hey guys! This is just a short one-shot that popped into my head earlier and I thought would make a nice little story. I'm not sure how fond I am of the finished product, but I've done with it what I can. I hope you enjoy it and, hey, if you do, feel free to drop a comment in the box before you go and let me know!


Ginny Weasley descended the Burrow's steps, returning to the ground level after searching the above rooms for her boyfriend. When she reached the bottom, she turned and stopped in the doorway of the living room, glancing around, but found Ron and Hermione still to be the only ones inside, as they had been when she'd first searched the room a few minutes earlier. When she'd asked then, Ron had answered unhelpfully that he thought Harry was with her. Now, he and Hermione were both too busy to notice her return and Ginny quickly determined that they were definitely alone.

Slightly frustrated now, she turned and made her way back into the kitchen. She'd been searching the house for quite a few minutes now to no avail and was starting to believe that Harry really had gone home already and hadn't bothered to say goodbye to any of them.

It was a Sunday night in early July and most of the Weasely family, along with significant others, had gathered for dinner at Molly's behest. Bill and Fleur were leaving early the next morning for a holiday in France to visit the Delacours and had left a few minutes ago, but everyone else, sans Charlie who was in Romania, remained. Her mother stood at the sink finishing with the washing up and Percy was seated at the kitchen table reading through the day's copy of the Daily Prophet. Harry, not unexpectedly at this point, was nowhere to be seen. Ginny sighed in annoyance.

"Everything all right, dear?" her mother asked, looking away from the pots and pans cleaning themselves in the sink.

"I can't find Harry," Ginny explained, flinging herself dejectedly down in a chair across from her brother. Percy spared her a glance over the top of his glasses and went back to reading.

"Is he not still outside?" Molly asked, gesturing toward the back door, "He was trying to get the baby to sleep not long ago. I told him it might be more peaceful there."

"Oh," Ginny said, feeling slightly foolish, "I'm not sure. I didn't look out there." She stood up again. "Thanks, Mum." Her mother hummed in acknowledgement and turned back to her work.

Sure enough, Ginny found Harry standing on the Burrow's back porch, fourteen-month old Teddy Lupin asleep on his shoulder. Harry made a habit of visiting his godson often, but because he was still so young and Harry was so busy with the Aurors, Teddy normally lived with his grandmother. Andromeda, however, had had a commitment tonight and wasn't due back for another few hours. She had asked Harry to babysit for her and he'd been more than happy to help.

The day had been a bit warm, but it had cooled significantly after the sun went down, leaving it quite comfortable. It was a clear night and the stars shone brightly above. An owl hooted in the distance. Harry didn't appear to notice her right away and Ginny took the opportunity to study him in the dimness. He stood looking out over the yard, his gaze far away and perhaps it was just her angle or a shadow, but she thought he looked a bit sad. She closed the door behind her and began crossing the porch to him.

He looked over at her approach and offered a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "There you are," she said, coming to stand next to him.

"Were you looking for me?" he asked, quietly so as not to disturb the baby.

"Yes," Ginny admitted, "I was starting to worry you'd gone and left without saying goodbye."

"I would never do that," he said.

"Yeah, well, I was searching for a while."

"Sorry."

"It's okay. Finally got him to sleep?"

"Yeah," said Harry, "It was a bit loud inside."

Ginny said nothing but reached up to gently stroke Teddy's hair. His characteristic turquoise usually took on Harry's jet black when his godfather was around, but it had since faded almost completely back to Remus' sandy brown, the baby's natural hair color, in sleep. Harry continued staring out across the yard and Ginny could tell, for certain now, that something was definitely bothering him.

"Are you okay?" she asked quietly after a moment.

He looked at her for a second, and then down at his sleeping godson. "Yeah. I'm fine."

Ginny, unconvinced, gently pressed, "What is it?"

Harry looked at her again for a few seconds before sighing and looking back out at the backyard. "It's silly."

"I don't care. Tell me."

Harry sighed again and then, meeting her eyes, said, "I was thinking about Hedwig. That owl sounds a lot like her." He nodded vaguely in the direction of the owl she'd heard. After a second, he added, "I really miss her sometimes."

"There's nothing wrong with that," Ginny replied, "She was a great owl."

Harry nodded in agreement. "I wouldn't have survived Privet Drive without her." His eyes had drifted back to the yard again, toward a small copse of trees that was likely the owl's roost. "She was the only one I had there."

Ginny sighed, leaning into him comfortingly. It was something she'd noticed often since the war's end, after they'd all moved past the initial shock and grief; that it was often little things, small reminders, that brought memories, both good and bad, flooding to the surface. Ginny often found herself thinking of Fred whenever she walked past the large dent in the wall outside her bedroom from the time he'd snuck Charlie's broomstick inside the house, or when she noticed his seat was left empty at the dinner table. She often thought of Tonks when Teddy wore his hair turquois, or of Colin when she saw someone with a camera. She wondered offhandedly if the same had been true of Harry since even before the war, and she decided it likely was. He'd just lost way too much for far too long. "I'm sorry, Harry. She deserved a longer life than she got."

"Yeah, she did. I think with everything that was going on back then, I didn't really have time to process how upset I really was when she was killed. And when the war was over, with all the people that died, it was stupid to mourn an owl."

"No, it wasn't," argued Ginny, "You said yourself you wouldn't have survived living with your relatives without her. She was the only friend you had during the summers."

Harry blinked hard a few times, clearly fighting tears; and then shook his head. "This is ridiculous. It's been nearly three years since that happened."

"She was the first friend you had from the Wizarding World," surmised Ginny, grabbing his free hand in hers, "Just because she wasn't a person doesn't mean she wasn't your friend."

Harry gave a small smile. "I know. I don't think Hagrid realized just how great a gift she was."

"Hagrid gave her to you? I didn't know that."

Harry nodded. "He got her for me the day he took me to Diagon Alley to get my school things before my first year. She was the first birthday present I ever got."

At this, Ginny had to fight down a sudden anger, as she always did when she was reminded of just how terribly Harry was treated by his Muggle relatives. "That doesn't surprise me," she said gently, unsure herself which part of his statement she was referring to. "Do you think you'll ever get another?" she asked then, "An owl, I mean."

"I dunno," Harry answered, "I suppose I'll probably have to at some point. I can't really rely on the Ministry owls or borrow Pigwidgeon forever, can I?"

"Maybe we'll have to buy one. Together. That way we can have a reliable means of communication once I start training in Hollyhead next month."

Harry didn't reply immediately, but turned and looked at her after a second, wearing a genuine smile. "We just might have to do that," he replied. Neither said anything more as the two exchanged looks for a moment. Then Ginny, with a gentle sigh, relaxed back into him again and they stayed there in comfortable silence for another minute. She was pleased with the knowledge that she was the only one with whom he would ever talk about such things.

"I should probably get him inside," Harry said finally.

Ginny's only response was to straighten, keeping only their hands connected. Harry lifted their entwined fingers and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of her hand, before leading her back toward the Burrow's back door. And as they stepped inside, she noted, the owl's quiet hooting continued to sound in the distance.


I was super heartbroken when Hedwig died in the series, and I think this is a nice memorial to her. I hope you liked it. Thanks for reading!