Disclaimer: The characters known to be created by J.K. Rowling do in fact belong to J.K. Rowling. Only the main character is mine.
A/N: So this is new. The idea came to me some time ago and I'm just now getting it out. This story will be written in place of Sister Circle, which has currently been put into hiatus. Hopefully, you'll like it. Tell me what you think. P.s. this is not a one shot. There will be more letters to come.
July 31
Dear Harry,
Today, on your eighteenth birthday, two hours or so ago, you left us.
No one is quite sure what happened. Ron, Hermione, and I didn't really see anything but the flashes of bright, green light coming from yours and Voldemort's wand. His body lay on the ground but you were no were in sight. Just your wand.
The Weasleys, Hermione, and I all came back to Grimmuald place. They let me hold your wand until we bury it in place of you. It's lying on the bedside table right now. We all sat around the kitchen table for a while, your place open as if waiting for you to walk in and say, "We did it! Voldemort's gone!"
Then we all went to our own rooms. Ginny is sitting staring out the window. Hermione's crying. I've wanted to cry since we've got back home but I couldn't. The only thing I wanted to do was to talk to you, so I started writing this letter in my diary.
It's crazy. I still haven't come to terms with the fact that I'll never see you smile anymore, or see your eyes sparkle at the simple mention of Quidditch, or kiss you again.
I remember the first time we kissed, back in sixth year. You were so mad about Dumbledore, we all were, but you were so, so upset. I remember you yelled and cursed at Ron, Hermione, and I and then stormed out of the room. I was so angry at you. I thought you were so selfish and arrogant, to think you were the only one who ever cared about Dumbledore. I came after you and found you in the Owlery, fuming. I don't think I even let you talk. I slapped you, right? And then I just started yelling at you, telling you what a git I thought you were and how you hurt me, Ron, and Hermione. You seemed to just take it all in, listening to me yell, watching me pace around the room, scaring off the birds. Then, strangely enough since I hit you, you grabbed me and hugged me. I started to cry and you just held on to me. I kissed you first, I suppose. And then you kissed me back. What a weird way to find out someone likes you, huh?
Oh, I miss you already Harry. I wish you could just walk in through that door downstairs where Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Remus, and Professor McGonagall are discussing how to go about your funeral and what to do with the house and all your things. I want to run downstairs and tell them to leave it all alone, to leave you alone.
I'm sort of waiting for that moment when I'll snap and cry and break things. Sort of like you did after Sirius died. Sort of like I did after my little brother died. But I don't want to mess up anything here because every room holds some part of your presence.
I'm confused though. I don't know whether to be mad or sad. Of course I'm sad because you're gone, but I'm mad because, I don't know, I suppose I expected you to be stronger and to always be there. I mean, you'd be attacked by Voldemort six different times. Why did this time have to be any different?
We're not staying here, at Grimmuald place long. Only until your funeral is over. Then, Hermione and I move back into the Burrow with the Weasleys until my eighteenth on August seventh. By then, Hermione and I should have our own place.
I remember a couple of weeks ago before you left us, that we went walking in the peace before the war. We found a nice open area next to a lake with Weeping Willows surrounding the area. You tried to break up with me again, like you had after Dumbledore died, telling me you didn't want them to use me against you, you didn't want me to get hurt. Crazy how you were the one to get physically hurt and I'm the one feeling as if moving will be painful.
Do you remember what I said? I do. I said, "Harry, in the last eight years, you've led me through all different sorts of hell and I'm still here, aren't I? What's one more battle field? And you know what else? We're going to finish this battle and then you and I are going to come back here and build a nice little house for the two of us."
You smiled at me and said, "I'm going to hold you to that."
I suppose though, out of everything, I'm scared. You were like my anchor, Harry. Every time I felt like I was going to lose it, you were there to make sure I didn't and vice versa.
I hate having to miss you for more than just a couple of weeks in the summer. But forever and ever, it'll always hold true, that I love you Harry.
Love, Katrina.