Ginny was bored out of her skull now that all the kids were at school, Harry was off on one of his hush-hush missions for the Auror office, and she finished writing her articles for the week. The home was altogether too empty. Silent except for her pacing barefoot on the carpeting, the faint smell of breakfast eaten a while ago, and rooms which seemed bigger now that the children weren't here to make a mess. Altogether, it was disconcerting. She turned on the Wizarding Wireless, listening to some bland music they play in the mornings on dead news days.
They loved bad news days. That meant nothing is happening. Harry had an unfortunate habit of getting into one "save the world" situation a year, and those never happened during the times when there was nothing on the news. Also, it was a particular pleasure knowing that the media don't have anything to say about them. The press loved to peek into their lives, and it was a decade since her last year of school since they could settle into wonderful domesticity. While most people would shudder at that, Harry could find nothing more romantic. Ginny decided that she would have to fight with him soon, so he would get her flowers and take her on a romantic weekend.
Walking to her room, it was an easy decision to make to go shopping. Hermione had books, Harry had going to the pub with Ron, and she liked buying shoes. It's a stereotype, but Ginny never minded those... or rather chose to ignore them altogether. Conventional she was not, a female sports writer who saw her husband as just another bloke who better shape up (well, it was unfair, but someone had to keep him in check, and he loved it). Overall, what she had, what they had, just worked. Him, super-cop, big boss and go-to-guy when the world needs saving. Her, the fiery woman with an iron will who scared the gossip columnists away. Together, they managed to live the life of their dreams, which would be described by most as boring, but they appreciated it just for that.
She took a quick shower, and then decided to pick up some clothes. Appraising herself in the mirror, she found that she had finally lost her youthful appearance and was now a full-on mother. Slight wrinkles around her eyes (a little bit of makeup each morning and they vanish). Some stretch marks (after three children, it is unavoidable). Her ass was a bit more full (Harry loved it, but what would he know, he's a man). Her boobs sag a bit (even though they aren't that big, perky at forty is a tall order). She frowned at her reflection, and it frowned back. People didn't understand how she could be critical of her looks. When she was younger she didn't act that girly, so she was making up for it. All of a sudden, she felt old.
Putting the kettle on and starting some toast, Ginny heard an owl smash into one of the windows. It was knocked back and down into the snow on the ground, a letter attached to it's foot. She opened the window and then walked to the kitchen to fetch the bird a snack. It finally got off the ground and landed on her shoulder, making it particularly awkward to remove the letter. Ginny fed it after she managed removing the parchment, and watched it fly away, as she closed the window lest the winter chill undo all the hard work the fireplace had been doing for hours. The fresh smell of a snowy day was a reason for merriment all the same.
She opened the letter, and started reading:
Ginny dearest,
If you are reading this, then I have died trying to save the world. I know, with all the stupid stunts I pull luck has finally caught up with me. Saving the world, again, is hard work. If the world was perfect, we would have much more time together, possibly live to a ridiculously old age where we would be unable to eat solid foods because our teeth fell out so long ago. But if the world was perfect, then it wouldn't need saving once a year or so, and someone other than me could do it.
This is the last thing I get to tell you, so... I love you, and have never loved another. I was attracted to Cho, a little bit. Hermione was a sister to me. But you were, to my last day, my only true love. Everything I own is yours now. Use it to take care of our family. The only parents I knew were Molly and Arthur, the only family I've known was our family. My only regret is that I couldn't be this sentimental without you around right now.
Be happy. Find someone else. Marry. Don't waste your life missing me, just remember me fondly. And hex the brothers when they need someone to remind them how to behave. Especially Ron, when Hermione can't deal with him.
Love you forever,
Harry Potter.
... Ginny reread the letter over and over. It wasn't fair. They survived war. They were just reaching middle age, which was still very young. Looking back up at the mirror, she saw that she was still beautiful. Still that fiery red hair, clear skin, delicate fingers, slim waist. If anything, she was far more feminine than she had been when they married. She hadn't become her mother, content with being a housewife. And now he was gone.
Twenty four years together, and Harry was gone. Died saving the world. Sobbing bitterly, she remembered every time she told him to stop trying to save everyone and everything. That it wasn't his life he risked, but he risked the hearts of the entire family. Salty tears reached her mouth, and her breathing became more and more labored. It shouldn't end this way. It's not fair. Her Harry, best friend, lover, husband. Her happiness, pride, and secret. The one man that no one knew quite as well.
She heard the door opening, but couldn't be bothered to look up, busy rereading the words. The tears were streaming down steadily, and they felt like they would never stop. Clutching the letter, a bit of her husband, her late husband... her thoughts came crashing to a halt at that. She dropped the letter and ran into their room, into his closet, and clutched his robes that held traces of his smell. A hand was on her shoulder, she finally noticed. She looked at the source of that hand.
It was Harry.
She stood up and slapped him for all she was worth.
"What was that for?" Harry enquired, hand to red cheek.
Ginny ran to him and kissed him for all she was worth. Which was quite a lot, because after decades of snogging, she could get quite voracious with her husband. He had to push her away so he could breathe.
"So, what did I do this time?" Harry asked with a smirk.
"You evil-" *kiss* "-evil-" *kiss* "-man" *kiss*. "Why did you send me this?" Ginny shouted, pushing the letter right into his smug face.
Harry grinned bashfully.
"I forgot about it. I wrote it before my seventh year at Hogwarts. I wasn't sure if I'd make it, so I wrote it and charmed it to reach you if I died. Something went wrong I guess." He said.
Ginny smiled. Harry had written that when he was barely seventeen. And every sappy word was still true. She grabbed him by his shirt and dragged him to the bed. Her man needed some special treatment for that (well earned) red cheek all. If he was punished for two and a half decades ago, he may as well be rewarded for the two and a half since.
After all, the kids were away.