A leather-bound scrapbook with engraved roses on the cover caught my eye as I was looking through old boxes. The cover was worn, and it indeed looked very old. That's because it is, I reminded myself, not taking my eyes off it. I wanted nothing more than to grab that scrapbook and start looking through it, but then it would bring back memories. Good memories that would make me want to return to the time that the pictures were taken. I would just be taunting myself; nevertheless, I found myself reaching for the scrapbook.

I stared at the scrapbook in my hands for a moment before opening it. Tears threatened to spill out of my eyes when I noticed that the first picture was one with me and my parents. I looked like I was about a year old in the picture; I only had tufts of ginger red hair. My father was grinning, his eyes sparkling behind his glasses. And my mother had a beautiful smile on her very tired looking face. My father reached up to slide his glasses up his nose every couple of seconds and my mother bounced me on her lap while I giggled. I smiled at the moving people in the picture. They looked happy; they didn't know that an evil wizard was gaining power. I turned a couple of pages absentmindedly as I was thinking about the end of the war. So many people had died, before and during the Final Battle. They hadn't lived to see the defeat of the darkest wizard in history.

I looked down at the scrapbook and sighed slightly as I saw the picture. It was a picture of me, Harry, Hermione, and Ron. It must've been taken in my fifth year, because Harry had worry lines on his forehead. Dumbledore's death had affected all of us greatly, but Harry was the closest person to him. We looked worn, but happy in the picture. I snorted as I remembered that we were just putting on happy faces, trying not to worry everyone with how much we were suffering. Well, mostly Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Not so much for me.

I turned a couple of more pages and scanned the pictures. Most of them were just stupid pictures that I didn't really care about. I was looking for the important pictures. The pictures that I'll treasure forever due to the losses in the war.

I gasped slightly as I found one. It was a picture of me, Ron, Bill, Charlie, Fred, and George. Fred and George were pulling my hair playfully as I was swatting at them. Ron was laughing while Bill and Charlie conversed. Percy, at that point, was still acting like a big git because of his employment with Fudge. This picture was taken in my sixth year; I could tell because George had his ear missing. When we were trying to transport Harry to a safe location on the night of his seventeenth birthday, George had his ear cut off by a Death Eater. And Fred was still alive, I thought to myself. In the Final Battle, which had taken place at Hogwarts, Fred was killed along with Lupin and Tonks. It was the horrible death of Lupin and Tonks that left their infant son, Teddy, an orphan. But of course, his grandmother, Andromeda, took good care of him.

I turned another page and found a picture of Bill and Fleur's wedding. Mum (with help) had fixed up Bill's face; you could hardly see the scars given to him by Greyback. Fleur looked beautiful in her simple wedding gown; she seemed to emit a strange glow. The rest of us were in the next couple of pictures of Bill's wedding: Ron and Hermione dancing; Luna dancing alone (I had to fight the urge to laugh at this one); Harry, Ron and Hermione; Harry and I; and various members of my family.

I scanned the next couple of pages and my heart almost stopped when I saw one certain picture. It was a picture of Fred (one of the few ones of him without George), put in that certain spot to mark his death and to remember him by. It felt like an icy hand had grabbed my heart and squeezed it tightly. My eyes welled up and tears started making their way down my cheeks. I slammed the scrapbook shut and threw it across the wall, causing a bang that echoed throughout the attic. I hugged my knees to my chest and started sobbing.

I hardly noticed when two strong arms pulled me off the floor and into a loving embrace. It wasn't until I heard someone softly say my name when I looked up. There was Harry, my husband, hugging me, telling me everything was going to be all right. I sniffled and looked at him, my vision blurry.

"Ginny, what's wrong?" he asked, his voice soft as he gently squeezed me.

Instead of speaking, I pointed towards the scrapbook that lay forgotten on the floor. Harry's emerald eyes searched my own brown ones and he seemed to understand. I started sobbing again, and I buried my head in his chest. He murmured loving words to me as he rubbed my back, telling me that everything was going to be fine.

I finally stopped sobbing and pulled myself away from him. Even though I couldn't see myself, I knew that my face was all blotchy red. "It made me remember," I said in a watery voice, tears swimming in my eyes, "it makes me want to go back in time to change everything."

Harry didn't respond. Instead he put his arm around me and guided my downstairs to our living room. He pulled out his wand and said a spell to make two cups of tea appear in front of us. Then he took a blanket a draped it over my shoulders, gesturing for me to drink. I took a gulp of the hot tea and then stared into my mug, my face expressionless. Harry waited a few minutes before speaking.

"I know it's hard," he began, sounding uncertain about his own words, "but we have to get through this. Fred, Remus, Tonks, and all the others would want you to move on," he sighed and put his head in his hands.

"I miss them," I whispered as I inched closer to Harry. I felt a little bit better when he put his arm around me, but not much. "I know they'd want us to move on, but it's just so hard. My own brother, Harry!"

Harry was once again silent for a couple of minutes. He was gazing into the crackling fire and seemed to be deep in thought. After that long pause, he looked into my eyes and said, "Let's go look at that scrapbook,"

I made a face and clearly thought I misheard him. "Sorry, didn't catch that."

"C'mon," he said as he pulled me up again. He led me back to the attic and ignored my protests. It was when I started kicking and screaming that he finally explained to me. "Ginny, if you let out all your emotions now, it will be easier for you to move on later."

His emerald green eyes were sparkling and I was impressed with his idea. But I still wasn't certain that it would work, of course. But, Harry being my husband and all, I decided to listen to him. "Fine," I said, heading into the attic and casting a painful look around the place full of memories. Harry picked up the scrapbook and handed it to me.

"Are you ready, Ginny?" he asked me.

I swallowed loudly and I could feel my heart beating in my chest. I felt like I couldn't speak, so I just nodded my head. Together we leaned closer to the book as Harry opened the cover, ready to put the past behind us, ready to start a new life, ready to let those who are at rest finally rest in peace. And most of all, we were ready to dive into a past full of painful memories.