A/N: This is my first attempt at fanfiction. I have written before, just never any fan fiction. This is just a short little one shot whose idea came to me out of nowhere. I hope you all like it, and I know that all authors ask this, but please review. I would sincerely appreciate it, and any constructive criticism is welcome. Enjoy!

An icy cold gust of wind swept through the Hogwarts grounds where there were hundreds, maybe thousands of people gathered. Their reason for being there was not a pleasant one, in fact is was entirely the opposite. No matter how it was viewed, the reason behind this gathered could never be viewed as being pleasant.

Ginny Weasley wrapped her much too large, hand me down robe tighter around her lithe frame. Ginny knew that she should be, if anything, sad. Though for an unknown reason, she wasn't. At the moment she felt nothing, she was void of any emotion. It was as if she was a mere observer of the scene, not an actual participant.

Feeling a tug on her robe, Ginny turned around to find her brother Ron. He indicated that she should come with him. Silently she followed him, weaving in and out of the crowd. Slowly, they meandered their way toward the center of the action, if one could call it that. The nearer they drew to it, the more black clad people there were to dodge around.

After what seemed like forever, the pair reached the wooden dais that had been erected only the day before. Right beside it was Hermione Granger, Ron's best friend and girlfriend. When they reached her, she flung herself into Ron's embrace, and began weeping silently into his shoulder. He could only hold her sobbing frame, knowing that no words would be able to comfort her. Ginny could only mutely stare at the base of the dais.

For many minutes they all stood, secluded in their little corner from the rest of the people present. It was only when a voice announced that the ceremony would begin in five minutes that Ginny was broken out of her reverie. She glanced at Ron, and with his nod of encouragement, she made her way to the steps of the dais.

Slowly, painfully slowly, she ascended them. She only focused on putting one foot in front of the other and then repeating the action. Ginny could feel the emotional numbness begin to lift from her as soon as she touched her foot to the bottom stair. The closer to the top she came, the more feelings began to affect her. There were many different feelings present.

Loss.

Ginny had reached the top of the dais and began to move toward the coffin that stood in the center of it.

Grief.

With each step closer, Ginny doubted her ability to do this, her ability to pay her respects to a dead friend.

Anger.

Ginny paused. Another step would bring her to the point where she would be able to see the corpse. No, his body, she corrected herself. One more step and she would see his cold, lifeless face that had been laid out for all to see.

Despair.

Knowing that she owed him this at least, she stepped forward to view the coffin, and more importantly the dead body of Harry Potter inside it. Seeing Harry's face, eyes closed, facing up at her, triggered her tears. They began to fall, steadily and silently down her cheeks.

As Ginny gazed down upon the body, millions of memories swarmed through her head, memories of them together. She remembered the late night talks they had shared, the walks around the lake, even the quidditch practices and games of exploding snap. In that instant Ginevra Weasley remembered every single moment she had ever spent with Harry Potter.

She remembered his visit to the Burrow in the summer before her first year. She remembered how he had saved her life from Tom Riddle in the Chamber of Secrets. She remembered everything. The flood of memories would have made anyone else happy, or at least a little less sad, but this was not so for Ginny.

As she continued to stare down upon his face Ginny still felt the extreme range of emotions. Loss, grief, and despair. But overpowering all those emotions was the feeling of regret. Regret for never telling Harry of her true feelings for him. Regret for never telling him that she loved him.

A new myriad of memories flowed through Ginny mind. These were memories of all the times she had a chance to tell Harry of her feelings, but hadn't. Now he was gone and he would never know.

As Professor Dumbledore cleared his throat and began Harry Potter's funeral, all Ginny Weasley could think of was the emotion that was threatening to overpower her. Regret.

FIN.