Disclaimer: Not mine.

A/N: Not my best work, but I liked it.

Many thanks to my beta, PirateQueen.

                In the few days before he would set off to hunt Horcruxes, Harry was not himself. He was a shell. He smiled when spoken to, laughed obligingly at Fred and George’s jokes, and carefully schooled his features when he saw her.

            Because she was the one who knew him best.

            She knew that he was hurting, and scared to show it, and she knew that he needed her.

            That was why, when he disappeared to their unruly garden one evening, with a pensive look on his face, she silently followed behind. He was seated on the chipped, plastic swing, face upturned to the ever-darkening sky.

            She sat beside him, and just looked at him. He knew that she knew that something was eating at him from the inside, and he knew that she would wait for him to tell her what it was.

            “Why am I fighting, Ginny?” he finally asked, his voice a whisper. “I don’t even know anymore. I don’t want to be the Chosen One, and save the world. I just want to play Quidditch, and worry about Potions exams, and feel like I’m normal for once.” She was silent for a moment, before placing her hand in his.

            “Let me tell you a story, Harry,” she said. “Once upon a time, there was a boy named Harry. Harry was special; doomed to be special from the day he was born. He grew up forever hearing that he was a burden and a menace, but his heart remained good and pure. Everyone who knew him, who really knew him, loved him dearly, and they were all confident that he would be their hero, that he would save them all.” She paused as his eyes fixed on her firmly. “But he didn’t want to be a hero,” she continued gently. “All he wanted to be was…”

            “ Just Harry,” he croaked. “He wanted be just Harry.”

            “He wanted to be just Harry,” she repeated. “He wanted to live, and love, and grow old with his friends. But he knew that he would have to fight, because he took each and every wound as his own, flinched as he felt the pain of distant people, cried with the masses that fell every day. He was selfless. And so, inevitably, a little girl fell in love with him. She loved him, and eventually he loved her back.”

            He never looked away from her, hungry to hear that his story had a happy ending.

            “She loved him, and never wanted anything other than to be with him. She loved him, but she knew he was never fully hers. She loved him, and she knew that he had to fight, because he belonged to the world first and foremost,” she continued, her eyes shut, knowing that he was silently begging for that not to be the end. “He was her hero, but he was the world’s hero first. So she had to let him go. She had to let him go, so he could finish being the hero of the world, because when he came back, she wanted just Harry.” She stopped again, making sure that he could hear every word she was saying. “She let him go and let him fight so that he could leave a hero, and come back her very own, dear, sweet boy. And he would, and they would live happily ever after.” She opened her eyes, savoring the last words on the tip of her tongue. “What do you think of that, Harry?”

            When she faced him again, she saw that his eyes were bright with unshed tears. He pulled her closer and swallowed hard.

            “I think…I think I couldn’t have found a better reason to win this war,” he said softly, his voice thick and choked.

            She leaned into his embrace as the stars shined down on two lovers, no more, no less.