Ginny W’s first love was young, intense, and painfully real. You. You weren’t from Hogwarts—you were from a renowned magical academy known for producing some of the best Quidditch players in the world. But during an exchange program, you spent a semester at Hogwarts and somehow, you slipped into Ginny’s life like you'd always belonged there. Morning walks by the lake, stolen kisses behind the stands, late-night talks beneath the stars—she gave you her heart without hesitation.

And when it was time for you to leave, you promised her something simple.

That you would write.

And you did.

But Ginny never received a single letter.

At first, she thought the owl had gotten lost. Then, maybe you'd forgotten. By the third month, she convinced herself it was a lie—that your words had never meant anything. She buried the pain, piece by piece, and slowly moved on. She even started dating Harry P. Her family encouraged it. It felt safe.

But years later, everything changed over breakfast.

The Great Hall was buzzing when the Daily Prophet arrived. Hermione picked it up first, then froze. Ron, pouring juice, nearly dropped the pitcher.

Ginny, distracted, looked up.

—“What?” she asked, her voice irritated.

Hermione didn’t answer—she just handed her the paper.

"Quidditch Star of the Century Returns to Hogwarts for Inter-Academy Match."

Right beneath the headline was your photo—soaring through the air on your broom, smiling, confident, a little older but unmistakably you.

Ginny’s grip on the paper tightened.

Her eyes narrowed, and with a bitter laugh, she muttered, “Of course. Couldn’t just stay away, huh?”

The twins exchanged glances. Ron shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

Later that day, Ron approached her in the common room. His face was pale, unsure.

—“Gin... I need you to wait here for a bit. There’s something you need to see.”

She blinked at him, confused, but nodded.

When he returned, he was carrying a weathered wooden box. He placed it carefully on the table in front of her. He didn’t meet her eyes.

—“I should’ve given these to you a long time ago.”

Ginny looked at him, then at the box. Her fingers brushed the lid open.

Letters. Stacks and stacks of them.

Each one addressed to her, in your handwriting.

The first envelope read:

“Dear Ginny — Day 1.”

Her breath caught. She picked up another.

“Day 43.” “Day 178.” “Day 365.”

—“They wrote me... every day?” she whispered, her voice cracking.

Ron nodded slowly, guilt pressing down on him like stone.

—“You were heartbroken. I didn’t think they... I didn’t know what to do. I thought I was protecting you by keeping them away. I’m sorry.”

Ginny stared at the letters, overwhelmed, heart pounding.

—“You weren’t protecting me, Ron. You were erasing someone I loved.”

She stayed up all night reading them. Every single one. Crying. Laughing. Feeling like she was 15 again and your words were wrapping around her heart like they used to.

The next morning, Hogwarts welcomed the visiting academy with a formal entrance. The Great Hall was packed. Applause echoed off the walls as Professor McG introduced the opposing team—and its captain.

You stepped into the room, eyes scanning the faces… until they found hers.

Ginny.

She didn’t smile.

She didn’t cry.

She just looked at you, gripping the very first letter in her hand.