Ginny awoke with a start. She'd been dreaming a very peculiar dream where she had seen herself flying away on a broomstick with a strange man while wearing her wedding gown. But it couldn't be true she thought as she lay in bed staring up at the ceiling. It was only a dream. But now was not the time to begin reconsidering feelings. She had to be at the chapel in an hour. She had her own wedding to attend.
Ginny had always been a romanticist. Her parents had played a major role in the way she always viewed romance. They
were always telling the children stories of how they'd met and how they'd eloped to wed. As a result of these
beloved tales, since very early in life Ginny had dreamt of a tall, dark stranger coming her way and sweeping her off
her feet.
But she did not wish to marry just to please others or to subdue her own loneliness. So for years she waited in vain for a particular Harry Potter to notice her, but that day had never arrived.
All her harlequin dreams of what romance would be had been shattered. And now at the age of thirty, and with all her brothers already married, she was due to wed Christopher, her childhood friend, in an hour.
It wasn't that Christopher was bad or anything…he wasn't the tall, dark, and handsome man she'd been waiting to sweep her off her feet, but the he loved her and that was the most important thing. But in spite of this fact, Ginny found that she wasn't feeling very well at the moment.
Ginny rolled over in her bed, away from the sunlight and brightness, away from all that was making her stomach twist into knots. It was then that she remembered what had woken her up. Her mother was shouting on top of her voice for Ginny to begin getting ready.
A sudden panic ripped through Ginny as her mother's voice was drowned out by
the thoughts that brought truth to the reality of what was about to happen in only an hour.
She couldn't stay here and see herself marrying a muggle painter, she couldn't see herself having his children.
She had to escape. Without another thought, she jumped from her bed and tore to her desk where she
began writing her farewell letter.