Author's Note: Continuation after not being bothered for so long. I guess it's been annoying me. I hope it's not as soppy as last time. Again apologies for italics.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, or Ginny Weasley.

Because of You

Dearest Ginny-

No. Too… lovey-dovey. Bin that.

To Ginny. There are some things I would like to tell you, and will do in the enclosed letter-

No. Way too formal.

So. Ginny. How are you doing? I'm fine.

Nah. It's all wrong. Clumsy. Try again.

Ginny—hi. It's me. Harry. Yep, you guessed it. I got your letter a few weeks ago. I kept starting replies but they seemed rubbish so I had to start all over again. Sorry for that.

I don't know what to say. It's weird, life. One moment you have a thousand words stored inside you, spilling out, yet at other times your mind is blank. Numb. Still, I'm writing to you now, aren't I? So I guess that counts. I've never been good at letter-writing so if you'll excuse me for phrasing it all rather coarsely.

About your letter. Taking it or leaving it? That's not like you. It's a shame—you shouldn't waste your life. I mean, no offence but you used to be a real character. And it's me that's made you like this.

I don't know what to say.

Loving me? That's… that's… that. I don't know. You know, there was a time where I would have given anything to be with you, yet thanks to Voldemort that all changed. But he's defeated now, and you helped me. And now, yes you're right, I'm travelling the world. I'm enjoying it. I'm enjoying not having to worry all the time. That doesn't mean I don't care, though.

I still care about you. I do, truly, honestly, care about you. I always have. Maybe I was a little ignorant of it at first, but that doesn't matter because I'm not living the past any more. You shouldn't be, either.

I'm sorry that you're affected like this. If it was me that did it, I didn't know. I didn't mean it. I don't.

Ginny, you have to stop thinking like that. Your only lifeline... You have friends, and family. You care about them and they care about you. And it's about time you realised it. I know that it seems cruel now. But you'll find out that it helps you in the long-run. You don't need me. You're strong, or at least you were the last time I saw you. I want you to be strong. If anything, be strong for me.

I'm a Quidditch star. You said it. I know it sounds bigheaded and everything, but, well, I admit it. I am pretty famous. But it's not the fame I care about, you need to understand that. It's not because of the fame that I'm writing you this letter.

I accept that you've liked me since we were young. I know. Believe me, I know. Too much, I reckon. As for forgetting you—I couldn't. Not now, not tomorrow, not next year, never. So there's no need to worry about that, honestly.

You should visit me. At the moment I've taken to staying in hotels for four weeks at a time before moving on to a different city or country, but I'm planning on buying a nice villa in Spain. Sunny, you know? Away from dark clouds, away from the past.

The thing is, Ginny, well… I don't know how to tell you this. But I can't keep you stringing on, it'd be too cruel. It's cruel anyway… but it's better this way. You need to know, you have a right to. You should. Ought to. Whatever.

The thing is, Ginny, that I'm engaged.

I'm sorry.