If there was one thing Ginny wanted more than anything, it would have to be the ability to think about something besides Harry, for at least a second.

Ginny was sitting at her desk in her bedroom, writing a letter. The letter was a work in progress, having went through countless drafts that all somehow ended up in the dustbin. Most drafts had only become a scribbled sentence or two long before being crumpled and tossed away, and none were longer than a few paragraphs. The unusual thing about this letter, however, is that it would never be sent, could never be sent, because it was written to someone who did not wish to receive it.

Ginny held back frustrated tears as she crumpled yet another scrap of parchment and tossed it behind her, and jabbed her quill back into the bottle of ink. At least, she thought he would not want to receive it. She knew that it would be very dangerous for the letter to reach him, because it would mean that other things could reach him as well. No, she knew she wouldn't risk it. But if she could write it, and get her jumbled emotions onto parchment… it might be worth all this trouble.

She leaned back in her chair, closed her eyes and tried to relax, as if she were in her Tree at Hogwarts. She took slow breaths, twirling her hair between her fingers, being still, emptying her mind. Thinking only of the feelings in her heart.

Of Harry.

Ginny leaned forward, reaching for a small piece of parchment and her quill, and yet again, began to write.