She arrived at Ron and Hermione's late in the afternoon after much mustering of long-forgotten courage.
Ron answered the door, and his face told her quite clearly that he didn't know what to make of her anymore. He was angry. He was hurt. He was lost. But she wasn't here for him, so she kept her head raised and walked bravely, at his reluctant direction, to the guest room.
Harry's eyes weren't red from crying as she'd worried they might be, but she could hear Hermione fervently Reparoing in the living room, which was clearly indicative of some previous heavy emotion. He stared at Ginny in silence for a moment, and then gestured for her to come in.
And so they talked.
Ginny explained, and he listened. Harry explained, and she listened. They were communicating for the first time since he'd proposed – for the first time in almost two years.
They talked. They explained. They listened. They decided…
"A break?" she asked, incredulous. "But Harry, I betrayed you... in so many ways. How can you even think about wanting me back?"
He sighed wearily. "You say you want to find yourself again, Gin. So you do that. You take some time, and you figure out who you are. And, you know, maybe I need to do the same for a bit. When we're both ready, we'll talk some more."
Her heart lifted just a smidgen. He wasn't just going to cast her out of his life. There was some chance for her to make things right with him, to make up in some small way for the things she'd done – even if they weren't together. "That- That sounds like a really good idea to me."
The next day Ginny handed in her resignation to the Hollyhead Harpies, sent a carefully worded letter to her mother, and left for Italy. She'd always wanted to go to Italy and it was really just right there. The small Tuscan villa that she rented was quaint, but beautiful, and it lent itself perfectly to quiet contemplation. She purchased herself a journal at the nearest market, and began her soul-searching.
Three months Ginny spent in her peaceful isolation, refusing contact with anyone back home, and determinedly working through her issues. As she carefully examined who she'd been, who she was, and who she wanted to become, she started to slowly regain herself. She kept a list of her best characteristics, past and future…
Confident
Loyal
Brave
Honest
Passionate
Caring
Opinionated
… the list went on.
She also made a list of the things she was but didn't like – the things she wanted to change, to leave behind – both the parts of her that weren't truly "her" and the parts that were, but which she wasn't happy with. This list, she burned.
As she defined "Ginny" – became "Ginny" – she was able to step back from the things she'd done and was slowly beginning to forgive herself, to let herself move on and be whole again.
However, another, altogether unexpected, effect arose from her self-reflection. As she scanned her memories, relived each moment – good and bad; as she forgave herself, and became strong once more, she began to fall in love with her husband. The beautiful rings on her finger, which she had once cursed for the lies they seemed to whisper to her, began to hold new meaning. It posed an interesting question: could one really fall in love with a memory?
Some days she thought she was crazy for it – clinging to something that would lend her life meaning outside of her search, or perhaps still desperate for her happy ending. But as the last days of her third month in Tuscany passed with ease, and each day increased her longing for him, she began to accept that it was true. She was somehow absolutely, irrevocably in love with Harry Potter.
The desire to tarry at the villa, to avoid facing her feelings for him, and most of all to avoid facing his feelings for her, was almost overpowering. But she was now Ginny once more, and she knew it was time to go home, and to bravely confront the world.
So, no longer a twisted, wraith-like distortion, she returned to the Burrow with no small amount of trepidation.