A/N: I'm totally pouring out my heart and soul into this one *tear* I'll be okay ;)

Disclaimer: None of the terms or characters that appear in any literature authored by J.K. Rowling belongs to me. They rightfully belong to J.K. Rowling. Any other allusions mentioned on this page do not belong to me either.

Chapter 15

    After the enjoyable meal with Harry and Ron, Ginny recalled the plan she prepared in the morning to go into the garden to write in her diary. She thankfully found that no one was present in the plot. "Good, no one can bother me," she said to herself and sat down on what looked like a lawn chair. It was orange velour and had tassels piped down the seams. There was a yellow beach umbrella hanging over it. She donned a pair of sunglasses that Hermione let her borrow after she told her how she thought they were so cool.

    Ginny contemplated on what to write in her diary. Naturally, she would write about most of the important events happening in her life at the moment—and there was no doubt that she would be asking herself where to start. For some reason she had the longing to record her latest dreams.

    She started with several of the dreams she had that begun with the Quidditch match and grabbing the Snitch under Cho's nose. She noticed how detailed she made them, as she hadn't had any of those recurring dreams for several days and it was common for her to forget any dream she hadn't recorded right away.

    Then she jotted down the one about her preparing for Harry's arrival and Winky showing up. "I would have totally made a fool of myself if I actually had the nerve to dress up for him like that!"

   Ginny then noted one she had during a recent nap. It was about Harry, but it was rather pointless. She and Harry were riding a horse down a deserted road. He was straddled in front and had a bottle of firewhiskey in one hand, and the rope in the other. He didn't have his glasses on, but he was dressed very ruggedly and was wearing a ten-gallon hat. Ginny was sitting behind him but both her legs were on one side of the horse. Harry kept looking back at her and smiling. He kept on saying, "Whoa, there, fella'!" That was all she could recall of it.

    She didn't forget the strange dream she woke-up to that morning. It involved running through fields of flowers, and Harry's tongue being that of a serpent's before they kissed—which didn't happen. At that moment, she found her most recent dream to be quite humorous. "Well, he's a parselmouth!" she told herself. Then she thought, if he was an Animagi, would he be a snake or a stag?

    There were no more dreams she could think of to record into her diary. Ginny felt that she should write more. Writing in her diary was sort of a therapy for her. It allowed her to be solemn and reflect on herself and the world around her. Reading back on how much she progressed as a person also let her analyze her self-worth. It was the story of her life, and it was for her eyes only, unlike the time when she poured her heart out to Tom Riddle back in her first year which caused serious damage to others and herself, but it was also the beginning of her bond with Harry. Like her dreams, her diary-writing, or more specifically, her treatment against the world came down to Harry.

    "It might be something to share with him in the future," she said softly. She wanted to reveal her views and feelings with something other than a piece of parchment, but with someone, and that someone had to be the only person who would understand where she came from. That person wouldn't have been Hermione, Mrs. Weasley, Luna Lovegood, or any of her brothers, much less Tom Riddle, but it would be the person who was meant to see it.

    It might have been too early for Harry to take in everything Ginny wanted to disclose, but Fate did hold its place. It wasn't just a romance she sought after, or else she wouldn't have developed much since her first year. Ginny still didn't fully comprehend who she was. The pieces of her life were scattered amongst her, and every year more and more pieces would align in place. There was still long ways to go, but the focal point of the picture that she wanted to come together wasn't situated. Even though, she didn't recognize her motives, she had a drive to seek the portion of the puzzle that held everything together.

    Ginny wasn't sure if Harry was the one to fulfill her ambition of copiously finding out who she was as an individual. She wasn't even sure if she had that goal set in her mind. The fact of the matter was that her mind wasn't taking its toll, but that her heart was in full effect.

    "I think I know what I have to do," she said quietly. I'll write a letter to Harry. It's not something I will show him now. I can straighten my feelings if I know what I want to tell him. And I will have full confidence in the things I can't say to him now because he won't read it.

    She turned to a fresh new page in her diary and began to write.