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July 28th, 1998

Dear George,

I'm sorry for not writing as much. For a while, it seemed as though I was actually talking to you. But I'm not of course.

It seems to be that nothing will be right for me at the moment. It's been nearly three months since you died, and it still feels surreal. Nothing has changed for me since the day you left me.

Luna and Neville are eloping. Their wedding is tomorrow, then it's Neville's birthday, and then Harry's. I can't stand the thought of me getting married without you or even having another birthday without you. I'll probably end up doing something rash on our birthday and you won't be there to convince me it's wrong.

If I make it till our birthday, that is.

-Fred

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