The freshly dewed grass felt cool against her calloused feet as she slowly walked around the perimeter of the pond. As the moments passed, she desperately tried to recall the memories which had faltered her. How was it that she was incapable of remembering? It was a cold, distant feeling, and she longed for the memories to return. Sometimes, she felt as if maybe she was never given a life to perceive, and that could be why she had no recollection. But-that-that just could not be so, for there was something-someone she remembered. It was a pleasant sort of memory, and as she focused herself time and time again, it was never clear. Who was this person-man who plaqued her dreams each night? At times she would ask her Mother, but then a strange event accured, and the mother found herself making excuses and never answering. She would simply say, "Ginny, do not worry. Things will be better in due time."
Ginny, how was it even possible that she couldn't even recall her own name until someone reminded her. Sometimes, Ginny would forget what it felt like to shed a tear, but then remembering him, or the figment she knew of him, the tears would appear. Nothing was familiar and everything was strange. But she knew that it was not suppose to feel that way. For it was her family and yet she couldn't remember them, but Ginny surely remembered this mystery of man. One time Ginny thought she had heard her Mother talking about this man, but she never caught a name. His hair-she remembered his hair one night. It was a bit strange, long and untidy, dark and unruly, but simply perfect in every way. Ginny was certain that she loved this man. As the nights would pass by, different things of this man would be revealed, and Ginny felt herself falling in love all over again.
Wha-what if this man was no longer living? The thought frightened her, and Ginny vowed never to let it resurface itself again. Who was this man? Ginny was sure he was someone important if she rememebred her more then anything else, but still-nothing was clear. At times, she felt herself remembering things simple, such as that she loved the smell of rain, and that she loved to pick lilies. Why? How was it that she was chosen, out of so many people, to be the one with nothing left but vacant dreams. Ginny often wondered if this man ever thought of her, and it was comforting to think that maybe-maybe he did. Certainly, she felt as a young girl, wishing and hoping that the man of dreams would once again feel the same, but it was comforting, and she was no one to pass up a little comfort.
As the days would come and go, nothing ever seemed familiar, and nothing ever really made sense. It took all the strength in the world to choke back tears and try to forget. Ginny could only laugh bitterly at that thought, since things being forgotten were quite familiar. When Ginny would want to try and remember, she would ask one of her family members, perhaps her brothers, what some of her favorite things in the world were. As usual they were always glad to take the time and explain. But, none of them ever mentioned a man with long and unkept hair! Ginny knew that secrets were being kept, and it only brought her spirits down more. How could they go on? Pretending as if everything was perfect, when it was clear that things were far from. With a heavy sigh, Ginny finally realized that the life of this man she could not name, was to be forgotten, as the same with everything else.
Often times Ginny would look through old photo albums, and sometimes she would come across torn out pages. She was sure someone was keeping something from her, and for what purpose? One night she lay in bed, listening to the sound of the chirping crickets and the splashing of the frogs in the pond, when she came across an unfamiliar voice. It wasn't hushed, but really quite loud. "Molly, you can't keep me from her forever!" The voice was deep and full of heartache, who was this voice? Could they be talking about her? Of course not, that is completely rediclous. "I will do what I feel necessary for the protection of my daugher. Now Harry, please leave before Ginny wakes up." Little did her mother know that Ginny was wide awake, and was currently making her way down the stairs. As she peered her head into the kitchen, it was as if her breath was taken away from her. The-the voice, the man-it-it was him! Her mother turned around startled, staring into the eyes of her daughter.
"Ginny, please-pleas I am begging you, walk away and never look back." Never had she heard her mother with such desperation in her voice, and for the reason she wasn't sure of. Ginny considered turning away and never looking back, but this-this was the man she dreamed of for days on end.
She did not turn away, but moved forward, her body trembling fiercly. "Who-who is that?" Her voice timid. "I-I, do I know him?" The older women did not answer, but turned to look at the man who stood in the kitchen, his hands shoved deeply into the pockets of his trousers. "Can someone just tell me why I know him and yet everything about him is a mystery?" Ginny's voice cried out in desperation and no one said a word. "Please..."
The man, which she always recogized because of the way his hair fell in front of his gorgeous green eyes stepped forward. His hands reached out for Ginny, but she wasn't sure what it meant. He took her trembling hand and kissed it gently. For the first time, in such a long while, Ginny smiled. She wasn't sure what caused the event to happen, call it instinct or something else, but she kissed him softly on the lips, not pulling away. Her body filled with a peaceful warm as the taste of his lips lingered. The unkept hair man smiled and said but one short sense. "Ginny Weasley my name is Harry Potter and it is a pleasure to meet you."
The End.