Love is like a telemarketer. The harder you fight it the stronger it fights back, and even though you start to realize how much you want that heart shaped waffle iron, you decide to hang up the phone. And then it's gone.
But true love is more like a love letter. When you read it for the first time your heart skips a beat and you fill with passion and trill. And then the letter ends but the feeling doesn't subside. And every time you read that letter after, the feeling is back.
Ginny had one of those letters, written by a boy named Harry. A boy who she'd given her heart, only to have him drop it to the ground and walk away, then rush back, brush it off, give it a band-ade and a hug, and asked it to marry him. It had responded, "yes."
A yes that Ginny wasn't so sure about anymore, her heart was all for marrying the man, but her head was a little smarter. He was the boy who lived, the chosen one, a celebrity in a sense. And what was she doing with a celebrity. She wanted to live her life. And she was afraid that the man she was planning to join in ons would hold her back. The truth was she had the feeling that Harry really just wanted a friend, not someone to share his life with. She had spent her life living in the shadow of her older brothers and she didn't need to live in the shadow of Harry Potter for the rest of it.H
But what was she going to do about it was the real question. She couldn't leave the man she loved. It would tare the both of them apart. And she couldn't be a stay at home wife watch the kids, and crocheting forever. The only thing she could do was talk to him.