I give her all my love
That's all I do
And if you saw my love
You'd love her too
I love her
She gives me everything
And tenderly
The kiss my lover brings
She brings to me
And I love her
A love like ours
Could never die
As long as I have you near me
Bright are the stars that shine
Dark is the sky
I know this love of mine
Will never die
And I love her
-The Beatles
And I Love Her
Susie Bones
April 2003

I would watch her run through the fields, past the trees, her wild, flaming hair blowing out behind her. She would collapse next to me, out of
breath and flushed, but her big brown eyes dancing. Ginny had always loved to run, wherever and whenever.

"Will I be able to run next year?" she asked me once right before school was to begin. We were lying on our back, watching the clouds.

"Of course," I answered, "There's always around the lake or the Quidditch pitch."

She smiled, reassured and sat up. Harry was in the house with Hermione, trying to finish his homework. For the time being, Ginny was mine.

"That's good. I'm hungry. Let's go eat."

She pulled me to my feet. I stood before her, looking down at her, right into those big eyes of hers. My hand was still in hers and she dropped it suddenly, looking away. I cleared my throat, the both of us feeling suddenly awkward.

That was when it began, when my feelings for Ginny took a dark turn and were no longer in any way brotherly.

That night I would stop by her room (the next day was our trip to Diagon Alley) to see how she was holding up and somehow I ended up in her bed, in her, and she was murmuring my name softly, running her perfect hands over my back and chest, our bodies rocking together in perfect time and when I came into her, it was like coming home.

That was the beginning, the beginning of a twisted, torrid romance, one we kept hidden from everyone. Even ourselves, it seemed like at times.
She mooned over Harry, and I mooned over Hermione … during the day. But at night, sometimes in classrooms at school but mostly throughout those long, perfect summer nights, Harry and Hermione were the farthest things from our minds. We were only children in the beginning, but the years quickly passed and somewhere along the line our objects of pretend affection fell for each other. Without anyone to direct our passions toward, those nights became more fervent, even a little violent at times.

Of course we were nearly caught a number of times. Even despite the Silencing Spell Ginny would put up in the classrooms, despite Harry's Invisibility cloak, patrolling teachers were a dangerous hazard.

And then came sixth year and everything changed. Ginny and I were more or less caught up in the whirlwind of events.
Muggles had been murdered ruthlessly ever since the Tri-Wizard tournament, so the news of murders came as little surprise. But then Muggles and wizards began to disappear, Professor McGonagall turned up dead one night, Remus Lupin was killed, Pettigrew was murdered, Sirius was redeemed … and then the war began. Dad went to fight on the front lines. Draco became our ally after one Quidditch game. I was never quite clear on the circumstances (Ginny and I were under the stands) but when half a dozen Death Eaters appeared, Draco did an amazing thing by knocking Harry out of the way of a Crucitias Curse. And so, Draco became a friend of Harry's after that. It took a lot of prodding on the parts of both Hermione and Ginny, but I finally accepted the fact.

Then Ginny dropped out of school to fight. I protested, pleaded, threatened, and cried, but she remained firm in her decision to go to the front lines with Dad, Bill, and Percy.

Our last night together was the best and worst night of my life. Even years later, and writing this, I still can't talk about it.

I watched her leave Hogwarts forever, knowing somehow I'd never see her again. The wind was blowing that day, making her vibrant locks fly around her head. I was reminded of those innocent days when she ran in our yard, so carefree and alive. I sat down on the steps and cried, harder than I'd ever cried in my life. I felt lost, empty without her near.

Harry tried to comfort me, in his own way, and I appreciated it, but it did little when I got an owl from Mum. April fifteenth; a Tuesday. How clearly I remember that morning, that cloudy, dark day. Hermione glanced quickly at Harry and he gripped her hand. It seemed like the entire Hall went quiet, but that was just my lack of focus. I gripped the letter tightly and practically ran from the Great Hall.

I read the letter sitting on my bed.

Dear Ron, it read,

Fred and George send their love and say their goodbyes. They've closed their joke shop and are going to fight as well. I feel badly for them. I know how much they wanted that shop … and despite all our arguments, I want them to have it. So, all my children have gone away, except for you and Charlie. Don't get me wrong, sweetie. I want you to stay in school. And I need Charlie at home.
It's awfully lonely at home. Charlie's working at the Ministry these days, and I've got a job down at the village as a waitress. I might be working among Muggles, but at least it's money, right?
Well, dear, I didn't owl you just to tell you all this. I'm afraid of have some rather … difficult news for you, sweetheart. I know how close you two were …

Ginny's been killed, Ron. I'm afraid there's no other way to say it, other than a blunt statement, but she was killed yesterday. An unavoidable Avada Kedrava curse, which you know are against the rules of wizarding war. Voldemort plays dirty, I'm afraid.

Oh, Ron, I know how much you loved her. She was a bright ray of light to fill this house full of boys. My only daughter and now …

I love you, Ron. Don't you forget that. Owl me when you want to talk.

Love,

Mum.

But she didn't. She didn't know how much I loved her. She would never know, no one ever would. I sat there, holding the letter, completely numb. Harry and Hermione came pelting into the room just as a finished and I wordlessly handed the letter to Harry, who in turn gave it to Hermione when he was finished. Harry sat next to me on the bed.

"I'm sorry, Ron," he said. He seemed unsure of what to say, what to do. I couldn't blame him. After all, it's not every day that your best friend's sister dies, is it?

I didn't cry for her. I was too angry with her. Even during the funeral for and for the rest of the year, I didn't cry. How could she have done it? How could she have left me, left us? For a long time, I thought I hated her.

Then when I got home at the end of the year, Mum told me she had found something. I was confused, but my confusion turned to wild hope when she handed me a letter with my name in Ginny's writing on it.

"She told me to give it to you should anything happen to her."

When she said that, my heart seemed to deflate. It was just a useless organ inside my body. I nodded mutely and took the letter from her. It was still fastened shut and I was glad Mum (in all her infinite curiosity at things shut up from her) had not read it.

I read the letter sitting on Ginny's bed, among her things, her most loved possessions. I felt myself trembling and I suddenly felt sick, an emotion that had been absent that day Mum sent me that hateful letter. Her handwriting brought back a flood memories and I felt my chest tighten. Blinking rapidly, I took a deep breath and turned to Ginny's letter.

Dearest Ron,

It sounds funny, when it you say it. "Dearest Ron." So formal. But you are dearest to me, out of everyone in the world.

Please don't me mad at me for going away. I wanted to help; I wanted to do something that would matter. I hated just sitting there at school, pretending everything was fine. Maybe I did help, a little. In the end, any way.

I love you and I hate the idea of leaving you, maybe forever. If you're reading this letter, then you know I'm not coming back. Much as I want to, much as I hate the thought of dying, I can't come back to you. I can't lie, safe and secure, in your arms. I can't kiss you, hold you, giggle with you, blush when you whisper sweet nothings in my ear.

Possibly it's better this way. I despised keeping our love secret. Our love was special, deeper than any love anywhere in the world.

I love you, I love you, I love you, a thousand times I love you, to make up for all the times I won't be there to say it back.

How I wish things were normal! How I wish things were such as they were on the summer days I would run through the fields and you would chase me, as they were on those nights when it was just us, the two of us proving that love can come from anywhere and nowhere, can happen to anyone.
Even us. *Especially* us.

Don't hate me for leaving your. I'm doing that enough for the both of us. We'll be together one day. We're special, you and I. Somehow, someway, we'll be reunited. It always happens.

And don't be angry. Don't hate me and don't be angry. Please, Ron, please don't. It makes me want to cry just thinking about it. I want things to be the way they were before the war started, but that can't happen. The best I can do is try to help stop it.

Don't follow me, Ron. Stay at Hogwarts, with Harry. You're safe there. I don't want you to follow. I want you to live your life to the fullest and move on. It does not do to dwell on dreams.

Again, I love you. Always remember that. I'll always love you, no matter what. Wherever I'm going after this life, I'll still love you.

It is said that there are five top kisses in the world. I don't know what they are, but the kiss I'm sending with this letter blows them all away.

All my love and more,

Ginny

And still I couldn't cry. I thought it would be appropriate, but it seemed that day on the steps had drained me. My eyes got watery, but the tears wouldn't fall. My grief ran too deep for tears.

It does yet. Even as I sit here writing this, a fully-grown man working for the Ministry of Magic with a wife and two children, I cannot cry.
I'm not angry at her anymore. I've come to terms with her death, sort of.

Harry and Hermione are married, happily. Harry's playing Quidditch professionally and Hermione's teaching Transfiguration at Hogwarts. She wants Harry to teach the flying lessons when his Quidditch days are done. Harry's not so sure.

Fred and George came back all right. They've calmed down a great deal, though. No more joke shops for them. Dad is fine, too. He lost one arm and is mostly deaf, but he's fine. Bill, and Percy were killed. Charlie was killed by a rampaging dragon after the war. I cried for them.

But not for Ginny. Sitting and thinking of those summer days and nights, the days before Hogwarts and during, watching her grow up, watching her run, realizing my love for her, wanting to die myself after she was kidnapped by Tom Riddle her first year … all those memories run around in my head constantly and I still can't cry for her.

Still, writing this little thing has helped, in some ways. No one's going to read this until long after I'm dead, mind you, but I've got a scar now, instead of an open wound. I miss her and I'll always miss her, the same as I'll always love her. But I did as she asked and moved on. I married Lavender Brown. We have two boys. Bill and Percy. They don't much remind me of my own brothers and that is more of a relief than a disappointment.

As long as I can remember Ginny running, free and alive, then I'll be all right.

And I love her.