Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any characters within his universe. JKR and Warner Bros. owns all that. This is strictly for the fun of it.

Dear Harry,

How are you? I hope well, but I suppose I won't know till I'm there too. I wish I knew for certain this would get to you, but of course I won't know till I see you again. You told me if anything were to happen to you I should go on with my life, and I've been trying. I think most of our friends are doing better than I am to be honest. Ron and Hermione got engaged last month. Can you believe it? They're getting married next year, the sixth of September to be exact. Funny how you've been gone for over three years now, and that you won't be there when they finally get married.

I've been seeing a lot of Neville lately, which I guess is the whole reason I'm writing this stupid letter. Hermione suggested it. She said it might make me feel better to "talk" to you about it. But the thing is, I'm not talking to you. I can't talk to you because you're not here. And if you were here I wouldn't have to talk to you about it.

It scares me, to be honest. It scares me that I'm falling in love with him, when I still love you. It scares me, knowing what I know about the prophesy. That damn prophecy, the whole reason I don't have you now with me. It makes me think, what if? What if Neville had been 'The-Boy-Who-Lived' and you'd grown up with your parents? Would I have fallen in love with Neville first? I don't like to think that's true. I like to think, to know that I loved you because you were Harry. Because of how you were on the inside, not because of what you did as a baby or because of what you were destined to do.

I loved you because you were good and brave and your smile stole my heart from the first moment I saw it. I'm sure you would have been all those things had your parents raised you. Harry, sometimes I want to be so selfish. I want to hate you for dying and leaving me here. Other times, I want to blame myself for not keeping you safe, for not being able to save you. Then there's times when I think, 'Okay, I didn't want this for myself or for Harry, but it happened, and I'm going to make the best of the life I have.'

Do you think we even would have lasted if you had lived? Sometimes I wonder that, too. I wonder if perhaps it was just the war that brought us together and our mutual experiences with Tom. I wonder after he was gone if we might have just parted ways, needing different things emotionally from our partners than we could have given to each other. I have all this doubt and fear of what we were for each other, what you are to me now.

And you know when it's hardest? It's hardest when he kisses me, when we make love. Because I can't help but think of you and how every kiss and caress was done as if it could have been our last, your last. We were mad for one another, Harry. Absolutely stark raving mad and we couldn't get enough. Every time was so desperate and wild with passion and lust, partly because of how young we both were, partly because of what was going on around us. With Neville, it's all so different.

He's gentle and attentive, and he takes his time in everything he does. It's like he's so afraid he'll do something wrong, he does everything with extra care. It's all so deliberate, not crazy and fumbling like we were. Merlin, what am I doing? I'm talking to my dead boyfriend about having sex with my new boyfriend. But Harry, please try to understand. I waited, for what I'm not sure. But I did wait. Every second of the day I held onto some wild hope you'd come walking through the front door. You never did, though. You never will.

I even went through a time when I thought, 'Well, if he's not coming back to me, I'm going to him.' I got so close Harry, and to this day I'm not sure what held me back. I kept having dreams of that veil, the one Sirius fell through. Then one morning I woke up and I didn't want to die anymore. I wasn't happy by any means, but I knew that you wanted me to live. I knew I had to.

That's all in the past now. Our life together, whatever it was or could have been, isn't anything more than a memory and a fairytale. This is my life now, and I guess I just want to make sure it's alright. I don't know why I'm asking permission, you're dead. You are dead and I can't do anything about it. I can't love you like I wanted to, and all the what-ifs in the world aren't going to change that.

So why do I feel like I'm betraying you every time I tell him I love him? When I close my eyes while we're making love, why does every time you took me up against the wall or in the floor of my room or in the middle of the Gryffindor common room at three in the morning play through my mind? Why can't I make it stop? I just want to go on with my life like you told me to. Why are you punishing me? Why am I punishing myself?

I'm never going to get answers to these questions, I know. I'm just going to have to hope that it stops eventually. It will. I know it will. I tell myself that everyday. 'Ginevra Weasley, just let go. Let him go and let yourself go and move on.'

But I'm afraid. I'm afraid that if I let you go, if I stop thinking about all my memories with you everyday, I'll forget them. I'm afraid I'll forget you, and that's not what I want. I just want to know it's okay in my heart to love someone else. I want to be able to give everything I can to him without betraying me and you, Harry. So, that's what I'm going to do. I'm going to say goodbye. You are not forgotten, but you are not part of my life anymore. I never ever wanted to say that. I did want to spend my life with you, despite my fears that it might not have worked out. I think it would have, because we understood one another. So hopefully you'll understand why I'm doing this.

Goodbye, Harry Potter.

Love always,

Ginny