Hermione stopped at the door to the room she normally shared with Ginny and knocked lightly. After the revelation of the Chamber, Ron had insisted they find Ginny immediately. Hermione agreed after a brief hesitation and the trio set off to find her while Neville departed.

Softly, she called out, "Ginny, it's Hermione. May I come in?" After a moment of no response, she tried again a little louder, "Ginny?" She attempted to turn the handle but found it was locked. She turned back toward Ron with her brows furrowed, eyes questioning. Ron just shook his head sadly before walking further down the hall.

Hermione huffed and turned to Harry, "Can you go after him? I know Ginny said she needed to talk to her own friends," she shifted nervously and a pained look crossed her face. Harry felt guilty too as Neville's earlier words and their implications crossed his mind again. "But she could probably use a female to talk to. If Luna and her father hadn't left immediately from the station, I imagine Ginny would have contacted her instead of Neville."

Harry, already over the brief disagreement he had with Ron before the revelation of the Chamber, nodded and rushed to follow his friend while Hermione returned to speaking to Ginny through the closed door. Ron must have been walking slowly, for even with his longer legs, he was still in the hall when Harry reached the top of the stairs. Harry was surprised, however, when Ron continued past the room they shared and up the stairs to the third floor. Perplexed by his friend's actions, Harry followed. Harry caught up to him on the third-floor landing.

"Uh, Ron?" Harry questioned.

Ron glanced at him briefly. Distractedly, his eyes glancing at the doors that lined the hall all the while, he explained, "Ginny won't be in her room. She locked the door to make us think she is, but I guarantee she's not. She used to do it all the time at the Burrow. I just need to figure out-" Suddenly his eyes brightened and he took off at a brisk pace toward the fourth floor.

Harry followed slowly, unsure if he was ready to talk to Ginny yet or even if she was ready to talk to anyone. She was deliberately hiding- wasn't that an indication that they should leave her alone? He was just about to raise the question but found himself stopping without conscious thought when he saw the room Ron had entered.

It was Sirius's bedroom. He hadn't ever been in it, even when Sirius was alive. That thought served as a stark reminder of the lifetime of possible experiences Harry could have shared with the man that were now lost forever.

His moment of hesitation allowed Ron to slip inside. When he closed the door, however, the latch didn't engage in time and the door remained open a crack, allowing the murmur of the Weasley siblings' voices to reach Harry's ears, and he was suddenly struck by a sense of deja vu. Almost in a daze, Harry walked closer as he remembered.

Harry closed the door to the study behind him and leaned back against it, trying to overcome the feeling of unease that had settled over him. He had gone looking for Ginny to apologize. Ginny had snapped him out of his funk when he was worried about being possessed by Voldemort earlier, but at the time he had been too relieved to consider the full ramifications of just what he had done by forgetting. After those feelings had passed, he had felt like a huge weight had been lifted and was able to see clearly again. What he saw left him feeling horribly guilty once more.

It had only been one day that he had suspected something was wrong, only one day spent suspecting he may have been possessed, and it had left him feeling terribly angry, guilty, and afraid. Ginny had known she was being possessed by Tom Riddle and had to live with it for months. He had been afraid and guilt-ridden when he suspected that he had something to do with Arthur Weasley's attack, even with the redemption of having alerted the Order in time to save his life. Yet Ginny, an eleven-year-old Ginny no less, had suspected at first and later known she was being possessed and was responsible for the petrification of other students. She, just a girl then, had to live like that for months, without any hope of redemption. And Harry, having gone into the Chamber and faced the monster that had taken her himself, had somehow forgotten.

Harry was pretty sure he hadn't ever felt so guilty in his life as he did when he realized that. So, he had searched the dreary rooms of Grimmauld Place until he found her in the study connected to the master bedroom. He had found her sitting at the grand piano running her fingers over the keys and given her the most sincere apology he had ever given anyone. Ginny had nodded, acknowledged he was having a particularly bad year and thanked him for the apology before turning back to the piano, effectively dismissing him.

That was how he found himself standing in the hall, leaning against the door he just exited and wondering how he could feel even worse now than before he had apologized. The other Weasleys had warned him before he went searching for her to beware of her bat-bogey hex, claiming that Ginny was capable of throwing it wandlessly when she was truly angry. If he was being completely honest, Harry had to admit he was actually a little afraid of it. Ginny hadn't been angry though, surprisingly enough. She had been perfectly calm.

Harry frowned to himself. Maybe calm wasn't the correct description? Ginny had been… stoic. That's why he felt so unsettled. Ginny wasn't stoic. She always let you know what she felt, one way or another. She didn't do things by halves. Everyone else had tiptoed around him, placating him, but Ginny had told him he was being an idiot to his face and without any remorse. He had seen her be compassionate too, seeking out and aiding those others ignored, like Luna and Neville. She could fly off the handle, forgive unconditionally, light up a room with merriment, or any number of other things, but since he'd actually gotten to know her, she had never failed to express her feelings.

Ginny hadn't done that just now. She hadn't done anything at all. She hadn't accepted or rejected his apology; she had merely acknowledged it. That was what was so wrong about this. He had never seen Ginny so unresponsive, and it unsettled him more than if he had had his own bogies attacking him. He was just debating whether or not he should go back in and try again when he heard the piano being played on the other side of the door. He wasn't aware Ginny could play the piano. That fact, teamed with her lack of response made him inexplicably angry. Why couldn't she just be honest with him?

"Come on, Red," Harry heard his godfather say as the piano cut off. "You know that's not fair." Thank you, Sirius! Guilt and indignation had been fighting with one another inside him, but the anger had been winning.

"He forgot, Sirius!" Ginny's angry voice came through the cracked door clearly. She continued more quietly, but just as fiercely, "He almost died saving me from that bloody chamber, and he forgot that it was because Tom possessed me for nearly a year!?" Harry felt his indignation deflate, punctured as it was by the guilt that statement brought on.

"I know. I remember how affected you were when we first met, even months later," Months? But they didn't meet until last year, Harry thought, confused, but Sirius continued, distracting him from that thought, "and I know you're hurt, but you and I both know Harry, and he's definitely kicking himself now."

"I know," Ginny replied, much more subdued. He heard her expel a large breath, "I didn't want to make him feel worse, but I couldn't lie and say it was okay." She let out a muffled sound of frustration before continuing, "I'm not even angry with him, not really. I'm more angry with myself. You've heard the stories. You know what I was like when I was little. I was always enthralled by the story of the Boy-Who-Lived, dreamed of marrying him like some fairytale princess," Harry winced, decidedly uncomfortable being thought of that way, but also at the bitter chuckle she let out, "but that died a long time ago." Harry let out a sigh in relief and relaxed, but her next statement made him tense again. "Tom made sure of it. He was quite adept at pointing out all the ways I could never measure up, particularly once he had started using me, damaged goods he'd sa-"

"Gin-"

"Save it, Sirius." Ginny snapped. "Don't get soft on me. I don't want to hear your gentle encouragement any more than you want to hear mine."

"Alright, alright. You got it, Red," Sirius replied placatingly. "No bat-bogey necessary," he added cheekily, and Harry could envision the wink he undoubtedly sent her way.

Ginny laughed, but there was no laughter in her voice when she continued, "He wasn't wrong, even I could see it. The Boy-Who-Lived nonsense? I didn't know Harry. I came to, after that whole fiasco, see him as just Harry. You know that, but the damage had already been done. I was always going to be that little girl to him..." She trailed off, bitterly.

"He doesn't see you that way anymore," Sirius replied.

"Maybe not quite like that, but he'll never see me the way he sees Ron or Hermione," she said reasonably. Harry felt guilty again, this time because he realized she was right. While he didn't see her as the besotted fangirl she once was, he did still see her as just Ron's little sister, someone always there, but on the periphery. "I'm just disappointed in myself, because, for all I had thought that I had let any expectations go in regards to him, I was wrong. While I didn't expect him to notice me or to be one of them, I always expected that even if we never talked about it, at least he understood."

"Understood what exactly?"

"He was the only one who had been in the Chamber, who had seen, who could possibly understand just how much Tom had taken from me," she said quietly. Harry thought back to finding her face down in the chamber, her body cold, and so close to death that he had thought for a moment that he had been too late. He shivered, recalling it had been the most terrifying moment of his life. There was a pause, during which time she must have bolstered herself because she continued in a stronger tone, "but clearly I was wrong, so it's time to let that go. All of it."

Harry heard her begin to play again. It was a pretty melody, but there was a sadness there as if it were saying goodbye. It made something inside Harry's chest ache unexpectedly.

He heard her ask Sirius, "Wanna help me expel some demons? This is what I was working on." Sirius released a bark of laughter just before a guitar joined in. Ginny hummed in approval and said something about the old days? What old days? Harry thought confused, but again he was derailed from thoughts of Sirius and Ginny's relationship when he heard Sirius let out a low whistle.

"Don't look at me like that. If you don't like what I was writing, then maybe you shouldn't have barged in and interrupted," Ginny said testily, but lacking any real bite. For a moment, all Harry heard was silence, until Ginny broke the moment with a huff. "It's not really about him; it's about me saying goodbye to my former self that fancied herself a princess and had any expectations of the white knight who saved her, even just those of understanding," she said defensively.

"Mmhmm," Sirius hummed in reply, but even Harry could hear the doubt in it.

"It's- I-," Ginny stuttered, before releasing a heavy sigh and composing herself. Harry assumed that's what she was doing anyway, because when she started again it was a coherent explanation, even if it was disquieting. "There was a moment, Sirius, just a moment, where I literally watched comprehension dawn in his eyes. He really, truly, forgot until I smacked him in the face with it. And at that moment, I was her again. Little Ginny Weasley, a silly little girl with a silly little book," Harry shivered, the memory of how Riddle had said those exact words with such derision ringing in his head, "who was so far beyond notice that no one- not her roommates nor her teachers, not even her four older brothers- noticed when she went missing for hours at a time or returned covered in blood or filth, even when the school was on high alert."

Harry, already having felt the cold tendrils of guilt clawing at him when she had started, now thought he may literally become sick with it by the time she had finished. How was it that they all had missed it? How was it that she had forgiven any of them? How could he have forgotten? His heart nearly broke however when he heard what was undeniably Ginny sniffling. It didn't sound like she was actually crying, but she was still clearly struggling to contain her emotions. The sick feeling intensified.

"Come here, Gin," Sirius said softly, and then Harry heard shuffling and soft murmurs. Harry wondered briefly how he could have missed how close the two are. Then again, a voice in his head reminded him, there's a lot you didn't notice about Ginny Weasley.

"I'm not her, Sirius. I haven't been for a really long time. I can't become her again. I won't let anyone reduce me to that. Not even for a moment."

"I understand. I do. You need to do what's best for you," Then Sirius said gravely, "Just don't give up on him completely, okay? He needs all of us, including you, whether you realize it or not."

"I would never abandon him, Sirius," she replied so genuinely that it sounded like a vow. "I just, I need some time, I think."

"That's fine, beautiful. I'll give you some privacy. Come find me if you want to talk."

She hummed in the affirmative and the piano started up again. Unfortunately, it masked the sound of Sirius's footsteps and Harry barely had time to step back against the wall and out of sight before the door opened.

When Sirius saw him, he threw a glance over his shoulder to make sure Ginny hadn't seen anything, before shutting the door quietly. He then motioned for Harry to follow him further down the hall where they couldn't be heard. They came to a stop at the far end of the hall where Sirius adopted a casual position leaning against the wall opposite Harry. His godfather's stance and gaze appeared nonchalant, but Harry could sense the reproach hidden beneath the facade.

After a moment of awkward silence, Harry couldn't take it anymore and said what they were both thinking. "I haven't done right by her, have I?"

Sirius continued to eye him dispassionately. "No, you haven't. After her first year, she really could have used a friend, but none of you bothered."

"We messed up her first year, but were there for her after that," Harry defended.

Sirius raised his eyebrows, "Really? Because the way I heard it, the second the train pulled away her dear brother sent her off on her own."

"What?"

"Now, I've only heard one side of the story, so I could be wrong. But apparently you needed to have a private conversation with your two best friends and Ron promptly told his sister to piss off." Harry eyed him in disbelief. He'd remember if Ron told Ginny to piss off. "Fine, I think it was actually, 'Go away, Ginny.' You and Hermione didn't protest and Ginny wandered the train for a while on her own until the Dementors made an appearance."

Harry thought back. Though he didn't remember the exact circumstances, he did remember being overwhelmed by thoughts that the "mass-murderer Sirius Black" was after him specifically and he wanted to discuss it with his friends immediately. Focusing, he vaguely remembered Ginny boarding the train with them, a small altercation with Ron, and then she was gone and he was in the compartment with just Ron, Hermione, and a sleeping Lupin.

His expression must have tipped off Sirius to the validity of his claim because the older man nodded. "Yeah, I thought so. Now, you were only thirteen yourself and I'm sure having a madman after you was a bit distracting, so let's set that aside and call your inconsideration a youthful indiscretion. You're fifteen now though and it seems you haven't gotten much better."

"Hey! Ginny and I are friends now. She's in the D.A. with us." Harry defended himself, starting to feel abused by the continued line of questioning.

"Okay. Well, tell me then, did you get her anything for Christmas?"

"A Honeyduke's Gift Set of chocolates," Harry responded proudly, happy to have a positive answer.

Sirius nodded. "And how many people did you give that particular gift?"

Harry frowned, "Well, not that many. Just my dorm mates really, as well as Bill and Charlie."

"In other words, you buy personalized gifts for those you are closest to, and the gift boxes for the people you thought you should buy for, but don't know well enough to know what to get them or at least to take the time to search for specifically."

"I guess," he said reluctantly, before he added, "but it's different with Ginny because she gives chocolates to everyone for Christmas too."

"Ah, but she makes those herself and does all the packaging, so each one is different and personalized."

That brought Harry up short. She really made the chocolate herself? He was impressed. While he had known she did all the packaging for each person specifically, he had always kind of assumed Mrs. Weasley actually made the candy, because it was really good.

"I didn't know that," he said quietly.

"Look, I'm not trying to give you a hard time to make you feel bad. I just want you to actually be aware of it. Truthfully, I think you've done both yourself and her a disservice by not trying to be a better friend to her. She'll surprise you if you give her a chance."

"Yeah," Harry said thoughtfully, but even he could hear the depressing quality to his voice. He really was feeling awful about it now that he was looking back with some perspective.

"Don't worry too much pup. Ginny, she's a sweet girl. She doesn't expect anything from you. She'll just be happy you got her something."

Feeling somewhat relieved, Harry made his way back to his and Ron's room. He sat down on his bed, trying to figure out all that he had been feeling. The last twenty-four hours had been a whirlwind of emotion for him, even just in regard to Ginny. The guilt he felt at having forgotten, the relief when she confirmed he hadn't been possessed, the anger at her lack of transparency, the fear that she had given up on him, the relief when he realized she hadn't. It was a lot to think about. Everything that had happened between them seemed so important in a way Harry would never have anticipated.

He reviewed the conversation he had overheard again in his mind and was startled to realize why it had all affected him so much. Without his realization, Ginny had been a cornerstone in his camp. She was always there, quietly backing him, unwavering, but unnoticed and, apparently, unappreciated.

Even more startling, he realized she had never asked for anything from him- not explanations, nor attention, nor gratitude. In the early days, she had been distracted by him to the point of clumsiness, endless blushing, and giggling muteness, but she had stood up for him in Flourish and Blotts none-the-less. She had never expressed her interest to him in a way that asked him to return it; it had been her brothers who had endlessly brought up her crush to embarrass her. She had sent him that singing valentine second year, but then again, she hadn't signed it or tried to take credit; it had been Draco Malfoy who had called her out. Even in his third year, when she gave him that shrill singing card, it hadn't been romantic; it had been a song that he had heard Mrs. Weasley singing many times over the summer, a song Ron claimed she had sung to all her children to comfort them when they were younger. As he thought back, he could come up with a dozen similar instances in which Ginny had done something to support him without his conscious realization of it.

These realizations made him feel somehow both better and worse. He hadn't realized how much he had depended on that quiet support. It was gratifying to know that he had her loyalty and that she wouldn't abandon him, no matter how self-centered he had been. It was awful to realize just how much of a prat he had been not to have noticed these things earlier. He knew something had been broken between them today, even if he hadn't been aware of its existence before tonight, but there was hope yet that he could fix things. He had taken her for granted before, but he wouldn't do it again. The lingering guilt felt like a living thing, but it helped strengthen his resolve; Ginny was someone he could trust and he would do better by her moving forward.

As Harry came back to the present, he was met with an overwhelming sense of defeat and guilt. After the earlier revelation that Ginny was already at direct risk from Voldemort, Harry's anger had fled entirely. How could he have forgotten the significance of the Chamber and Ginny's connection to Tom Riddle again? These feelings were only compounded by the realization that- even after all that he had learned from overhearing her conversation with Sirius- he still hadn't made much of an effort to change his ways. He had certainly become closer with Ginny as the year progressed, but he was so busy dealing with first Cho, then Umbridge, the D.A., the occlumency lessons with Snape, O.W.L.'s and a slew of other things, that she had completely been pushed from his mind. Frowning to himself, he realized that she had probably been dealing with quite a bit herself, yet she still found time to help him whenever he needed it.

He groaned internally and chastised himself. Was he always going to be such a selfish berk when it came to Ginny Weasley? Was it any wonder she was so upset to learn they had been bound when all Harry ever seemed to do was let her down? Sure, he had saved her life when it was on the line, but if he had actually been her friend to begin with, she wouldn't have been in the position to need saving.

A bang against the wall and Ron's shout drew him closer to the room.

"-careful! Do you have any idea what you could have just done to all of us if you had broken that!?"

"Relax, brother. It has an unbreakable charm on it. Sirius wouldn't have let any damage come to it. Besides, the magic has already left it and seeped into us to bind us into the betrothal; it's nothing but a vial of blood now," she said patronizingly as if he was a small child.

"How do you know all that?" Ron replied defensively. "You weren't there after Mom and Dad gave us the book."

"I know because I caught him researching it." Harry heard her pacing furiously. "I told him how wrong it was to do that to Harry. And I thought he had agreed to let it go. Poor Harry has never had the love he deserved." He heard Ron make a sound to interrupt, but Ginny cut him off. "Us excluded, and you know it's not the same thing anyway. He's never had his own people to love. He's always had to sacrifice love for safety with the Dursleys, and Sirius has forced him to do it again, except this time he won't age out of it. He'll be stuck with me for the rest of his life."

"Well, he listened to you a bit, didn't he? You've always loved Harry - don't try and say you don't anymore because I won't believe you."

"That's not the same thing and you know it," she said dismissively. Harry didn't even have time to contemplate what that meant before she continued, her voice laced with frustration, "I'm just- I'm so angry, Ron. So, so angry with Sirius. Part of me loves him for trusting me with him. Harry- he was the only thing in the world that kept Sirius going most days, so I know how hard this was. But I can't squash the part that hates him for it too. I want to hug him and hex him simultaneously, but he's not here for me to yell at! And I miss him and don't know what to do about any of it!" Her voice rose until it crescendoed desperately. As Harry recognized the depth of Ginny's pain and confusion, Neville's earlier words came back to him.

"Hey, Ginny, calm down. I mean, you and Harry are bound and will probably have to marry at some point, but at least it's Harry, right? Everything will work out in the end, yeah?" Ron weakly tried to reassure his sister, sounding slightly desperate to Harry's ears.

She let out a humorless chuckle. "No, Ron. It won't. All I've ever wanted was to be really, truly loved. The way Mom and Dad love each other. Even when I was younger and I wanted to marry the Boy-Who-Lived, I just thought it was so sad. Here I was with six brothers and two parents, while this little boy who saved the wizarding world had no one. It wasn't fair, and I wanted to be his best friend, his family, his comfort. But… I'll never get a chance to find that now, and even though I love Harry, it won't be the same. Neither of us will have that experience - the excitement of finding someone to fall in love together with."

"Ginny," Ron started, sounding uncomfortable, "Harry wouldn't… Harry will-"

"Oh, I'm sure Harry will always be perfectly loyal. He'll help carry my trunk, escort me to Hogsmeade and buy me pretty things," she said in a false breathy voice, before dropping back to her normal pitch. She continued sardonically, "Hell, I'm sure Sirius left him a big, beautiful Black family ring as a special 'fuck you' to Walburga Black that he'll present it to me as a proper betrothed should, and I'm sure all the girls at Hogwarts will fawn over it and tell me just how lucky I am. But I won't be, because none of it will ever be real. It will always be out of duty. Can you, for a moment, imagine how that feels, Ron? To have what appears to be what you've always wanted, but know it's nothing more than an illusion?" By the end, her voice had lost all its cynicism and was simply laden with sadness.

Harry was feeling overwhelmed at this point, and cursing himself for eavesdropping once again. He had known no good could come from it, but he just couldn't resist all that he learned about Ginny in these unguarded moments. Right now though, with his feelings on the subject already a knotted mess and clouded by his own grief, he couldn't take hearing any more of Ginny's confusion and pain and decided it would be best that he leave.

Harry pulled the note Sirius had left him out of his pocket as he walked down the stairs. Originally, he had intended to head to his and Ron's room, but he paused as he passed the master bedroom when he heard Buckbeak squawk from inside. Somehow, knowing that Sirius had spent so much time with the creature while they were both fugitives relegated to this house, reading Sirius's final message to him in the company of the hippogriff seemed appropriate and he entered the room.

Harry bowed to Buckbeak as was customary and received a bow in return quickly. He must be lonely, he thought to himself guiltily. I should spend some time with him. An indeterminate amount of time had passed before Harry realized he was lavishing the hippogriff with attention more out of procrastination than compassion and gave the creature one last pat on the beak before moving away. He paced for a time before reminding himself that he was a Gryffindor - how many times had he faced Voldemort now? - and delaying wouldn't change it. Even with the reminder to himself, it was with shaking hands that he opened the envelope and pulled the parchment out. Haphazardly tossing aside the envelope, he began to read.

Dear Harry,

Before I get into the purpose of this letter, I need to offer you an apology.

In her first letter home after the break, the lovely Miss Weasley sent her mother a letter that contained a postscript concerning my behavior. I'd paraphrase, but I'm quite fond of Red's wording: "Can you please tell Snuffles that I'm very disappointed in him? We were all very upset that he wasn't able to join us for the trip to King's Cross, but the train station is no safe place for a dog. His frustration was no excuse for his bad behavior, especially for snapping at Harry the way he did. He actually did hurt him, even if there won't be a scar. I expect a full apology- tail tucked between his legs and all- immediately the next time we see him, or he can expect his nose to hurt for a while. Also, give him a hug for me to let him know I'm not too mad and that I miss him."

Given that you're reading this letter (and seeing how I update it regularly), I'm betting my current circumstances wouldn't allow our girl to follow through on her threat, but she was correct that you deserved an apology from me. Being cooped up in this house feels like its own prison sentence, and it's driving me a bit mad honestly, but that's no excuse; I shouldn't have said what I did. It was wrong of me to indicate that you are in any way less than James. While he may have been an irresponsible arse at fifteen, I have no doubt that if your father were here now, he would have agreed with you. Your mother... she was something else. Even at fifteen, she would have agreed with you and sent me to my room with my tail tucked between my legs for even thinking of it. You truly are the best of them both. Don't ever doubt it, not even when I'm acting like a reckless prick. I don't even need you to forgive me, so long as you remember that.

Back to the matter at hand… The simple fact is that if you are reading this, I'm no longer around, and the betrothal ritual Arthur and I performed has been completed. I won't bother going into the details and justifying it, because you'll hear that from Molly and Arthur (and if for some reason all three of us are gone, then I'm sure you and Gin can piece it together on your own.) So let's just get into why it's an issue.

I know it must seem unfair to you, and the truth is that in a lot of ways it is, but that's just the way life is sometimes. Before you go blaming yourself like a self-centered git (sorry, kid, but you do do that), it's not just about you. In fact, there are many more reasons to do this for Gin than there are to do it for you, though you can certainly benefit from it as well. I do regret that I'm stealing your choices, but I cannot say I'm truly sorry. I did what I believe is necessary to protect you both.

In the interest of honesty, I'll admit I wouldn't have suggested it with her, or anyone else for that matter, if the circumstances weren't so dire for both of you. If things had to be this way though, then I'm glad it's the two of you; there is no one I'd rather entrust either of you to more than the other. I love you, Harry. You were the closest thing to a son I had ever intended on having and you gave me a reason to carry on when it would have been much simpler to give up, and I love Gin too. She was like the daughter I never dreamed of having. She's so much more than I can adequately describe to you here, but I'll do my best, because I need to know that I've done everything I can to make sure she is taken care of.

You see, if there's one thing I've noticed around here that actually surprised me, it was that Gin-girl is often pushed aside. That's not to say that no one cares or that she is unloved- she's not. She's not like you or me, in that her family does love and care for her very much, but what everyone seems to forget is that she is an actual person with a lot to offer and not just the youngest Weasley. Some forget about her, others underestimate how much she has to offer, and her family, in particular, seems to think she needs to be protected. You fall into all three categories. I know saying this won't alleviate your inevitable guilt, but my aim is not to make you feel bad. After you read this, my hope is simply that you'll think it through and do better moving forward.

I will admit that you must have wised up this year, because when the twins arrived they had an interesting story to tell about how Gin had approached them for help creating an opportunity for you to reach me.

While I'm glad, there are countless other times she knew something that you didn't that could've helped you too. She's smart. Did you know that she's in the top five of her year? Probably not. She's also compassionate. I know for a fact she goes out of her way to connect with any outsider she comes across. She's selfless, too. After your second year, she got over her crush but still took to avoiding you simply because she knew she made you uncomfortable. I can't even begin to tell you how sly she is. That I'll leave you to discover on your own. (Be warned: she has thoroughly embarrassed plenty of students older than you who have offended her, and she won't hesitate to knock you on your arse if you aren't careful.)

In case you need more proof… here comes the part where I betray confidences in death that I never would have in life. The day I met Gin, she was a distraught twelve-year-old wandering the grounds of Hogwarts alone who happened to come across a sickly stray dog that she refused to let suffer. The truth of the matter is that she found and unknowingly saved me. She noticed my illness, named me Snuffles, fed me, kept me company, and even gave me her best cloak to keep warm. I owe her a great deal for the hope she gave me that day and all the others afterward that she came back. However, she also confided in the lonely stray all about her life, her trauma, and her fears. She would soothe herself by brushing my fur with her fingers and releasing all the pent up words that she claimed would die in her throat in the presence of others.

Based on the things she shared Harry, I can't begin to tell you how lucky we are that she is as strong as she is and that she cared for you. With the exception of the first time, at the Halloween feast, the basilisk was meant to go after you. If she wasn't an exceptional witch or didn't care so much or so deeply, she never would have had the strength to fight Riddle's possession enough to prevent the beast from going after you directly for the kill. It wasn't by chance that you and the others didn't die, Harry. That was all due to Gin's strength.

Really, she's a brilliant witch, magically and otherwise, and despite everything, she has always been unswervingly loyal to you. I know I've gone on and on, but I need to make sure that there will be at least one person left who recognizes it when I can't be there anymore.

So, please - even if I haven't managed to convince you with my rambling - be a better friend to her. I have no doubt you'll quickly come to realize all that you've been missing. You can start by asking her to show you my secret stash, where you'll find a special book I've left behind for you, where you will find far more than I could ever hope to tell you in a single letter.

Never forget, Harry, that you are loved even in death. We'll be waiting for you, hopefully many years down the road after you've lived a long and happy life.

Love Always,

Sirius

Harry processed all this information feeling slightly as if he'd been stunned. He tried to do what Sirius had asked and focus on reframing his view of Ginny instead of wallowing in self-loathing. Last Christmas he realized he had underestimated her support, but he just hadn't known until now by how much. Wracking his brain, he tried to think of any occasion that Ginny had offered him assistance in which he had refused it. He couldn't come up with a single instance. She seemed to have an instinct for when he truly needed something and if he would be receptive enough to accept it from her.

Then he tried to think of if he had ever done the same for her and cringed when he realized he couldn't think of any. Maybe it could be said that it was because she was a witch and therefore more emotionally intelligent than he was as a bloke, but it still didn't excuse his ignorance of her. Now, knowing she had done so much more for him than he thought (and suddenly he doubted this was the extent of it), he felt like banging his head against the wall.

Ginny had been indignant while claiming Harry was stuck with her, but, as far as he could tell, it was the other way around. Ginny- caring, loyal, strong Ginny- was stuck with him, an insensitive prat who had never given her the credit she was due. Sirius had tried to tell him, but he hadn't learned a damn thing.

But Sirius knew that, yet he loved you anyway, a voice whispered in his head. It was soft, feminine, and comforting.

Harry couldn't recall anyone ever saying those words to him directly, by spoken word or in writing. The unconditional love he felt from Sirius, even from beyond this life, shattered the numbness he had held onto to ward off the grief. Finally succumbing, Harry sunk into himself and cried as the waves of pain washed over him.