-Disclaimer: I own nothing.

-A/N: Hey everyone! I just finished HBP a few days ago and OMG, I was totally crying during the last few chapters of the book. And what happened with Ginny and Harry, God, all I could say was FINALLY. Haha. The whole Lavender and Ron situation was pretty funny, though. Overall, I really liked HBP, despite what other people think.

Oh and another thing, I really like Sassy!Ginny. Some people don't like the way JK Rowling suddenly gave Ginny a "personality," but I think it was perfect. I mean, the books are through Harry's perspective, right? So obviously, he didn't really notice her before, so she didn't get a chance to really know Harry. Now that he likes her, of course it's going to seem like she suddenly developed a personality overnight, because Harry is really seeing Ginny for the first time, if you know what I mean. Plus, she's older now, so of course she'll have grown as a person. Lol, I guess that's enough of my ranting. But if anyone wants to chat/discuss HBP with me, then feel free to IM me. My sn is iLOVEhobbits0623.

And by the way, I have renewed my hatred for Snape. Oily git. Hehe. Happy reading and please review!

NOTE: This story was written long before HBP and will probably have some things that differ from the book. I'm not going to go back and fix everything, because I was nearly done with the story anyway, before it got deleted.

Peace,

Gene Kelly

Dear Harry,

This is about the third letter I've written you today. I just don't know what to do anymore. I'm completely lost without you. I found an old sweater of yours that you had lent me, in the far back of my closet. Automatically, the scent triggers a fresh set of tears.

It's been a month since the Second War has ended and there's no word from you. Ron keeps persuading me to keep up hope and that you're fine, just probably busy somewhere. Hermione always advises me to do something to take my mind off of you but it's an attempt done in vain.

I can see it in their eyes. They're forcing themselves to move on. But I don't want to move on. I want to pick up where we left off. I want to look at my brother's Qudditch posters without instantly remembering that night out on the pitch.

I'm trying to be strong but how can someone be strong when their entire world is falling apart and all they can do is sit and helplessly watch?

We had the beginning of something good, you know? That summer was probably the best I've ever had in my life. For once, my life made sense…we made sense. And then you had to go and before I knew it, the wizarding world was at war.

It was probably the most horrific moment I've ever experienced, opening the Daily Prophet only to drink in the bold headline of: WAR HAS BEGUN!

I literally went weak in the knees.

Do you know how badly my heart ached, knowing that you were involved? Do you know how much I needed you then, how much I needed you to assure everything was all right and how much I needed to see that lazy grin and your messy hair?

If only I had begged you to stay. Maybe you would be here with me, instead of lost out there, somewhere. There hasn't been word of you since the final battle. Voldemort was defeated, of course. But he wasn't vanquished without a determined struggle.

They all say that it came down to you and him, head to head. They all say that you had this fierce look about you, with fire in your eyes and acid in your voice. They all say that the final fight lasted well over two hours and that you endured a few blows, too.

But they all don't know where you vanished. They all say that when Voldemort was conquered, a powerful explosion ricocheted like a terrible tidal wave throughout Manchester, like the earth was opening up and swallowing evil itself whole.

Many people were thrown fifteen or twenty feet from their original spot. They heard your voice cry out in surprise but didn't view where you'd fallen, due to the thick clouds of jet-black smoke and ash. And when the debris were cleared, you had disappeared into thin air.

No one has seen you since.

The search has been going for about a month now but I think people are ready to give up. The only clue left behind was your glasses, which were broken beyond repair.

Do you know what you're doing to me, how much your absence is killing me? I thought for once that I could have the perfect happy ending. You'd come home a war hero and we'd get married and have kids. Instead all I'm left with is a bundle of memories and tattered photographs.

I miss you, Harry. Don't you realize that I'd do anything to get you back? Do you realize how overjoyed I'd be if for once, I'd get a reply?

Some people speculate you're dead. But I won't believe them. If you had perished, I would have known. I would have felt it. But I think that you're still out there, searching for a way to get home.

You've just lost your way, is all.

Come back to me. Please, just come home.

All my love,

Ginny

Ginny Weasley sighed as she placed the wrinkled letter back in its hiding spot. She had been rummaging around her closet, looking for the box of wedding invitations she'd just bought, when it had gracefully floated to the floor.

The front of the envelope was simply addressed, "Harry." Curiosity getting the best of her, she had torn open the paper, only to be assailed with a past she had hoped to bury long ago. After reading only the first two lines, she had felt her heart collapse to her bedroom floor. She'd done such a good job of concealing the wound that over time, she'd forgotten about it. Or maybe it was rather not an action of forgetting but of ignoring.

Whichever it was, the technique had been working for quite some time. It had even allowed her to place all the letters and photographs and various mementos, in a special box in a discreet hiding place. She always kept out one photograph, though.

It was a candid one that she'd taken herself. They had been outside, messing about on their broomsticks and after an hour or so, decided to have a bit of a rest. He was grinning at the camera and his hair was flying all over the place; even messier than usual.

His broomstick was carelessly slung over his shoulder and his shirt was demolished with dirt and sweat. His eyes were twinkling with jest and slyness, probably because right after he'd involuntarily gotten his picture taken, he'd showered her with the watering hose.

The picture brought up memories of better days, days when war wasn't obligatory and an obstacle in the distance. It sat in a maroon frame upon her nightstand and each night, before she turned off the light, she would study it for a few moments, issue it a small, pleasant yet nostalgic smile and then roll on her right side to fall asleep.

She certainly would never forget him but after a year and a half of mourning, wondering and praying, she decided to move on. In the back of her mind, she sometimes found herself having faith in the theory that one day he would appear on the doorstep of the Burrow, greeting her with arms wide open.

But this was instantly dismissed as soon as she conjured the idea. It was silly to keep holding on, when everyone had highly advised her to move on.

There hadn't been much information as to his whereabouts and practically no one had seen him since that fateful battle. There had been a few reports of an occasional sighting, but these had only been false alarms. It got frustrating and painful to station herself on a pedestal of such high hopes, only to be violently knocked off.

So, one day, after another sequence of dreams that involved his endearing smile, Ginny Weasley decided to move on once and for all. She figured it wouldn't do her much good to spend the rest of her life wishing for something that obviously wasn't going to happen.

It wasn't easy, by any means. Some afternoons, her mother would come home from shopping to find her crying in her room. And some mornings, Ginny just didn't have the motivation to get out of bed. But little by little, as slow as a snail, she was able to put away all the old relics without a second glance or hesitation.

Harry would have wanted her to move on and be happy, right?

She had to repeat this thought continuously to herself as she sealed the box shut and stuffed it on the highest shelf of her closet.

Pretty soon, living without Harry seemed relatively normal. She adjusted to this strange and new chapter of her life. And surprisingly, she adjusted well enough to get engaged.

"Ginny! Have you found those invitations yet? We have to send them out today, you know!" Mrs. Weasley's voice stridently called.

Ginny sighed and gathered the handful of cards, then nudged the closet door shut with her foot. Tomorrow would mark the last week before her wedding. Truth be told, Ginny was terrified. It wasn't that she was afraid her marriage wouldn't last, she was afraid she wouldn't be able to say, "I do" at the alter.

She loved Dean that was for certain, but deep down she knew she could never love him like she had loved Harry. There was something about young and first love that always withstood the test of time. Something about its genuine passion and innocence could not extort an ounce of its romance.

Dean Thomas had waited nearly a year to propose. He wanted to make sure she was ready and secure. He knew how hard it was for Ginny to put the past behind her and wanted to make sure he wasn't rushing her into anything she would later regret.

She had dated Dean towards the end of her fourth year (his fifth), but things hadn't worked out. They had remained good friends though and it was he that had been her shoulder to cry on, during the strenuous time of mourning.

Nearly her entire family had gone to war, with the exception of Percy, herself and her mother. Ron and Hermione had signed up the moment they'd received news about the official start of it. Much to Fred and George's wives, Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet, they too had gone off to face the perils of good vs. evil, alongside their best friend, Lee Jordan. Percy continued to work at the Ministry of Magic and her mother had signed up for a volunteer job at St. Mungo's, helping in any way she could.

It was astonishing at how many patients transferred by the hour. So many people came flooding in, that St. Mungo's requested extra and experienced witches/wizards to help. Ginny had actually wanted to go to war with the rest of her Hogwarts classmates, but her parents and Harry had refused.

When Ginny had confronted them about it, her Mother looked like she wanted to burst into tears and her Father's face turned a sickeningly ash and white color.

"What if something were to happen to you? You're our only daughter!"

On their last day together, Ginny had expressed her feelings of self-recruitment to Harry but he had delivered just about the same response as her parents. She could still remember his reaction down to the last motion.

He'd gripped her by the shoulders, gazed sternly into her eyes and demanded, "Ginny, whatever you do, don't go to war. It'll keep me a lot less worried at night, knowing you're safe at the Burrow."

She had nearly burst out into tears, right then and there. The anxiety, grief and despair of it all were weighing down upon her. She didn't want to face the awful "what ifs" and possibilities of the worst.

"But I want to go with you. I can fight, too. Nearly everyone in my family has signed up, including my Dad. I can't sit at home and do nothing!" she had vehemently protested.

He had sighed and wrapped her in his arms, burying his nose in her mass of fiery hair.

"Please, Ginny. Promise me. Don't sign up. I couldn't bear it if something happened to you. Besides, I won't have anything to look forward to when this war is over," he added with a weak smile.

And just like that, he walked out the door and out of her life, taking her heart with him.

"GINNY! I don't have all day!"

Ginny rolled her eyes and headed down the stairs, her shoes thrusting against the weathered wood, just to signify her arrival for her mother's fastidious manner.

"Hold your horses, Mum. I've got them right here!"

Ginny met her Mother in the kitchen and tossed the invitations on the table. Ginny had her own apartment, just outside of London but had decided to plan out the wedding arrangements at home, so she would have the help of her parents.

Mrs. Weasley frowned at her daughter's sardonic tone but quickly gathered them up and made a hasty count. The War definitely had turned the Weasley household upside down, not to mention rattled Mrs. Weasley down to the very last nerve. Ginny had never seen her Mother worry so much. She often stressed herself out, that she'd get terrible head colds.

"Have you addressed them to everyone on the list?"

Ginny pressed her lips together and studied a stray Wizard's Chess piece that had been located on the chair next to her. Planning a wedding certainly wasn't the easy sprint she'd thought it to be. It was more like a three thousand-mile marathon. There was just so much to do in so little time!

"I think so. Why, did I miss anyone?" Ginny questioned, settling onto a nearby stool.

Mrs. Weasley shook her head and tied a few invitations to Errol, the family owl.

Ginny had invited about forty-five people, including her closest friends and family. Dean had invited about thirty people, so the couple was just under ninety guests. Though Dean had offered to pay just about the entire wedding, it wasn't a cheap event for the Weasley's. The two planned to have the actual ceremony outside, on a cliff overlooking the ocean. The reception would be at the Weasley house.

"No, I'm pretty sure you have everyone accounted for. You made sure you invited Grandmother Patricia? You know how much of a fuss she'll make if she doesn't get one," Mrs. Weasley questioned.

Ginny watched as Errol gave a prompt hoot, then flew out the window.

"Yes, I invited her."

"Good. Oh, your father said he'd stop by Madame Ravine's after work, to pick up the dress. I do hope it fits all right, now. I don't think I'll have enough patience to handle the seventh fitting," Mrs. Weasley huffed.

Arthur Weasley still worked at Ministry of Magic, in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Department. But rumor on the street was that due to his outstanding leadership at the ministry throughout the years and especially during the war, he was pretty soon going to be appointed Minister.

Ginny cupped her head in her hands and gazed at her Mother.

"Mum, were you unsure before you married Dad? I mean, were you absolutely positive that it was the right thing?"

Mrs. Weasley rose an eyebrow, a little suspicious at her daughter's words. She knew how much of a struggle it was for Ginny to get over Harry and had a feeling that the torch she'd carried for him hadn't fully died.

"Why? Are you having second thoughts about marrying Dean? Because dear, if it's too soon then I'm sure he'll wait a few more months," Mrs. Weasley optimistically guessed.

Ginny shook her head, though it was halfway true.

"No, it's not that, Mum. I really do love Dean, I do. It's just that…I'm not sure I'll ever love him like I love-loved Harry," she sheepishly confessed.

Mrs. Weasley sighed and snatched a stool to pull up next to her daughter. She took a moment to pause and think of the best possible wording of her response.

"I won't lie, you and Harry had something special. I think that's been the happiest I've ever seen you. But as much as you loved him, it's time to move on. I don't want to say the unthinkable but no one's heard from Harry for about two years. You have to let go some time or another. I think Harry would only want to see you happy."

Ginny nodded.

"I know. And I mean, sometimes I still catch myself thinking about him. I sometimes look at the door and I think any moment he'll just throw it open and be there, untouched and just as I remembered him. I love Dean, though. But I just don't want to do something I'll regret. I don't want to go into this marriage loving him halfway. It has to be all or nothing. I mean, I think I'm ready but how do I know?"

Mrs. Weasley grabbed her daughter's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"What does your heart say?"

Ginny thought for a moment, almost expecting a loud and vivid reassurance from her heart. But she was greeted with silence. How did she know if she was ready?

She had thought she was over Harry, but this morning's discovery of the letter obviously proved otherwise. She really did love Dean and appreciate everything he did for her…but she just didn't know if she loved him as much as he loved her.

But then again, Harry wasn't coming back any time soon. Did she really want to spend the rest of her life wondering and praying for a dream that would never come true? And her Mother was right. Harry only wanted to see her happy. Spending the rest of her life alone and bitter wouldn't solve anything…or bring him back for that matter.

Ginny threw her Mom a smile.

"It says I'm ready."

Mrs. Weasley beamed and let go of her hand.

"See? Trust yourself, Ginny and everything will work out all right in the end."

The daughter and mother shared a smile. Just then, there was a loud crash as Errol smashed into the window. Mrs. Weasley let out a cry of surprise then rushed over to the window to retrieve the bird.

"Oh Merlin! Ginny, go by Floo to Ron's and ask him to borrow his owl. It looks like Errol needs a bit of rest."

Ginny couldn't help but chuckle as she scurried to the fireplace. She was fully aware of what might lay in store for her, if venturing to Ron's flat. She had dropped by, uninvited and announced just a week before and well, let's just say she caught him at a rather bad time, in a rather surprising position with a rather embarrassed Hermione.

"I'm right on it, Mum."

Ginny sprinkled a bit of Floo powder around and clearly stated: "45A, MULBERRY STREET, LONDON."

As she felt her body being tugged by the force of the magic, she couldn't help but think that maybe the wedding was actually going to turn out to be a good idea, instead of a disaster.

The twenty-something, handsome wizard looked at the countryside of England, breathing in deeply, a grin crossing his features. He'd finally made it back to his homeland. He fiddled in his pant's pocket and grabbed his newly repaired wand.

His clothes were a bit oversized and dusty, but he couldn't be anymore relieved.

During the final battle, it had gotten snapped in half. Fortunately, despite the fact that he was a stranger in their town, the elderly French couple had fixed his wand without charge. They had asked him about the scar, of course, but due to his amnesia he wasn't able to remember much.

But a year had passed and he'd finally gotten his entire memory back. That is, he'd finally been able to place her face with a name. Despite the fact he'd contracted amnesia, her face was the only thing he could recall. It was a beautiful face indeed but it frustrated him beyond belief that he couldn't remember her name.

He'd have quick flashes of memories; a kiss here, a walk along a Qudditich pitch there but they were never long enough to supply him sufficient information.

All he knew about the angel was that her face was the thing that kept him alive. He was as much in love with her as the day he met her, absolutely crazy about her. As he stuck out his right hand, he knew it would be seconds before the Knight Bus appeared.

And then he would be able to go back home. The little bit of money the French couple had given him was just enough for the long bus fare. He took a mental note to owl them a letter of gratitude once he got home.

The familiar purple bus screeched to a halt and Harry stuck his wand back in his pocket.

With a grin, he boarded the bus, ignoring the attendant's expression of disbelief. He couldn't figure out why the attendant was gazing at him in such awe. Though Harry was immune to people's gawking, this was a different kind. This awe wasn't due to the lightening-bolt shaped scar on his forehead. It looked like he'd seen a ghost or something.

Harry settled into onto an empty bed and gazed at the window, as the scenery blended together in a swirl of vibrant colors.

"Ginny, I'm finally coming home."