Dear Harry,

My dark haired angled trapped
Beneath the Ice and Snow,
Wrapped in the warm embrace of
Sheets and my sweat.
The Kiss and the robe which
Smelt of potions, marred by charms.

But you are never mine,
like the cold autumn breeze
Or the showers of spring,
We do so enjoyed,
They were never ours
Like you are never mine.

Then You Leave,
A Brave Knight in a doomed quest
Riding amidst shrived trees;
Home to Banshees, fowls,
Beside my brother's arms,
And my sister' staff.

I await, though not yours,
With tears for company
And Thestrals to remind
Me of you, what fate I
Scarcely not behold
For whom am I to lament for you,
To forsake me for the Dark Lord.

Burn it after you read it Harry, what else more can I say?

Love,
Ginny