The change in Harry's view of Ginny Weasley began just after the fiasco in Ministry of Magic. In the days that followed - days filled with grief, self-blame and rage - only a few positive thoughts managed to pierce the numbness of his depression. The thought of his friends, who had followed him blindly and bravely into the unknown, filled his heart with a faint hope that not everything had been lost with Sirius Black's death.

He spent the first few days of summer locked in his bedroom at Privet Drive, lying on his bed, sleeping, or staring blankly at the ceiling. It was the first time he had done so voluntarily. Usually, being locked in a room at the Dursley's meant that Petunia or Vernon had had enough of his presence and locked him away. But this time, it was Harry who did the locking. They had no idea what had happened - how could they? And Harry wasn't going to share, no, thank you very much. But the Dursleys didn't complain (which was also a first). His isolation meant they could ignore the fact that he was here for the summer again. If it wasn't for the occasional midnight trip to the kitchen for food and a few bottles of water, Petunia would probably have thought he had left long ago.

After three days of pure depression, something good finally crept in. Ginny Weasley had written him a letter. When it was delivered in the dark of the night by an overexcited Pigwidgeon, he assumed it was from Ron and almost didn't open it. In the few days since he had returned from school, he had received several well-meaning letters from his friends, but they did nothing but make him feel worse. Hermione sent advice on how to deal with grief (I am not dealing with this with some book about psychology), and her constant "I know how you feel, Harry, but…" did nothing but push him deeper into his pit of self-blame. How could you know, Hermione?! When was the last time you lost someone? When was the last time you lost the last person who could be considered family? And when was the last time it was your actions that killed them?!

Ron's letter was the complete opposite—he pretended nothing was wrong, probably trying not to make things worse. Instead, he wrote about random tidbits of life at the Burrow. It was slightly better than Hermione's constant reminders, but it didn't help either. (Ron, I'm sorry, but right now, I really don't care about your fight with the twins, nor do I care about the latest Chudley Cannons match. I've got more important things to worry about.)

But Ginny… Her letter actually… helped a little? He opened it out of sheer curiosity after realizing that the neat handwriting on the envelope couldn't belong to Ron. And what a letter it was—three pages, front and back. She wrote about her heartbreak over what had happened, about how worried she was for him. She wrote about Sirius—how they had become close the past year when the Weasleys spent the summer at Grimmauld Place, how they had stayed up late talking about their fears, hopes, and secrets. She shared how she had blamed herself after the diary and the Chamber of Secrets, how she had spent months waking up screaming and crying, terrified that it was her who had done it. And she wrote about how it was Sirius who had finally reasoned with her—who had helped her understand that it wasn't her fault. That the blame belonged to Tom Riddle, to Lucius Malfoy, and maybe even a little to Dumbledore and the Hogwarts staff. (Seriously, how could a school full of competent adult wizards overlook the fact that an eleven-year-old was being possessed?)

She also wrote that she knew Sirius would never have blamed Harry. Sirius had lived through self-blame himself—after the Secret-Keeper switch, through Azkaban, and beyond. He would have blamed himself, but not Harry. Never Harry.

What surprised Harry the most was the fact that he believed her words. She had poured her heart out in a deeply personal letter, despite the fact that they had never really talked to one another before (why the hell not?). She opened up to him because she knew that's what he needed—to feel like he wasn't alone. So, her letter was the first letter that awful summer that Harry actually responded to. And that was when his view of Ginny Weasley started to change, though he didn't realize it at the time.

And so they exchanged letters throughout the following weeks. Slowly, with one letter every few days, Harry found himself opening up to her. She understood things in ways his other friends couldn't. Ginny was different. Like him, she understood blame and darkness. She understood his thought process and helped him work through it. And she did help him. After just four letters, Harry found himself feeling a little excited at the prospect of receiving another one.

Ginny kept her writing personal, but after the first deep and sorrowful letter, her mischief and humor began to shine through. It didn't take long for her to accomplish something Harry hadn't thought possible just days prior—she made him laugh. She wrote about a prank she pulled on the twins after Fred had teased her for being "too girly" to play Quidditch with them. She had gotten revenge by sneaking into their room and stealing a vial of their experimental dissolving potion—the one that, when spilled on clothes, also stained skin for a week. Fred had blue fingers at the time, George's were bright orange, and neither knew why their colors were different.

Ginny, naturally, had poured the potion onto their usual chairs at dinner. The result? The twins parading their bare, colorful bottoms around the house, to the delight of their older brothers and even their grieving mother. (Who was still out of the sorts after Percy's abandonment. In retaliation, they had made her a crown with "Prank Queen" scrawled across the front in bright letters, which she wisely refused to wear, fearing another prank in return.

Harry read it all, grinning as he imagined the twins' shocked faces.

In return, he wrote about his lazy, boring summer. He described how his only companion was Hedwig, how he avoided his relatives, how he hadn't left the house since school ended. He also wrote about the Ministry (I am SO sorry, Ginny, you got hurt because of me. I should have never…). That opened the door to conversations they had never had before. He told her about the graveyard—the terror of facing Voldemort, the weight of seeing Cedric fall.

They wrote about the Chamber and their roles in it, finally apologizing to one another for never talking about it before. He told her about his first year—about the troll incident that led to his friendship with Ron and Hermione (Seriously, some things cannot happen without becoming best friends, and knocking out a mountain troll with Wingardium Leviosa is TOTALLY one of them.). He even wrote about the Mirror of Erised, something he never thought he'd share so freely.

They vented about their frustrations. "I CAN'T BELIEVE THE PRICK GOT ENGAGED! And to FUCKING Fleur Delacour! Can you believe it? And don't be all hormonal teenager-like about it, like my brothers. She is NOT that pretty! I am SO calling her Phlegm for all eternity because she called me 'leetle girl' at supper last night." And little by little, Harry started to feel better.

He even began leaving his room for meals. His relatives, naturally, were confused.

"Was worried you'd died in there, boy," Vernon sneered. "Decided to laze around all day, have you? No more! Be more like our Dudley—actually doing something with his life, not like your useless self. Starting tomorrow, I want you out of the house right after breakfast. Got it?"

"Got it, Uncle Vernon."

Later, he wrote to Ginny about the injustice of it all.

"…dudley is 'doing something with his life'? Bullshit. He just goes around bullying little kids. But he's right about one thing—enough lying in bed and feeling sorry for myself. I'm going out tomorrow. Not because vernon told me to, but because I should be doing something… more productive… Like walking around the neighborhood and feeling sorry for myself. You know, change of scenery and all that."

By the way, I am writing their names without capitals intentionally, because they don't deserve any. Got the idea from you actually, but I am not good in making up fun nicknames like Phlem, so no capital letters it is.
So, since tomorrow my letters should be more interesting than this. Well, probably no., Surrey is as boring as my bedroom. Can't wait to come to Burrow, I sincerely hope it would be soon. Merlin, I hate it here.
Hopefully soon,
Love - h."