Author's Note: This is in response to the "Quote Challenge" I found on fictionalley by slythgoddess101. It's an easy challenge – just pick a quote and base a fic on it.

Disclaimer: If I ever tell you I own this, please hit me over the head with a frying pan and ask me to gather my sanity.

"A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step."

- Confucius

Harry stared at his feet, willing them to move. Today was the day. The day. Perhaps the last day of his life.

Or, perhaps, the first.

He clearly remembered the prophecy; it was on his mind more often than not, especially as this Final Battle loomed closer.

Neither can live while the other survives.

After hours of contemplation, he had finally decided that this was why he'd never quite felt completely at ease, even when he'd been younger and had no idea what magic was or what the implications of his powers were. It hadn't taken him long to realize that when the day finally came, he would be fighting for his life, for the right to live – and for his friends, as well. If he didn't survive, there was no doubt that the new world would be a terrible place for his friends. Hermione in particular.

Harry closed his eyes, trying to keep the fear and pain at bay. If he didn't survive, if Voldemort won, Hermione would be as good as dead, no matter if she survived the battle. Ron would, as well. It terrified him that the lives of his friends would depend on his.

He didn't like to let people in. During sixth year, he had half-heartedly attempted to push Ron and Hermione away – and subsequently toward each other – before Hermione had confronted him on it, tearful and begging him to think.

"Harry, don't push me away," she whispered. "You can't deal with this all on your own, I won't let you. Neither will Ron. We can't stand to see you this way."

Harry lowered his eyes from her tear-bright ones, saying, "I don't want you to get hurt. It hurt when Sirius died, more than you can imagine. I had thought it bad when Cedric died, but Sirius…it took me a long time to recover, Hermione. I don't want to think about how bad it would be if I lost either of you."

"Harry, you can't just push us away!" Hermione pleaded. "It won't solve anything. I know it hurt you when Sirius died, but wouldn't it hurt more if you pushed us away and we still died? Knowing that maybe, maybe you could have helped or saved us if you had been there like a good friend? Don't push me away, Harry." She threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly, refusing to let go. And in the end, he gave in and hugged her back, tears leaking out of his own eyes.

It had been the start of a very interesting relationship between himself and Hermione. He, Hermione, and Ron were still a trio, but he and Hermione started talking more when Ron wasn't around. They talked about home, of their lives before Hogwarts, of the discovery of magic, and of what they wanted to do when they finally left Hogwarts. It was a very special kind of friendship, one Harry was terrified of losing.

Sighing, Harry pulled himself back to the present, still looking at his feet. The battle had already begun, and he could hear and see the fighting in front of Hogwarts. He just had to take one step, one step and all the rest would be easy.

"Hey," came a soft voice to his right. He felt a warm hand slip into his and he looked over, smiling. "It's almost over," Hermione said softly.

"I know," he replied. "I think that's what scares me so much."

Hermione squeezed his hand as Ron walked up on his left and slapped him on the shoulder. "This is it, mate."

"That it is," he agreed. With his friends by his side, Harry Potter took his first step towards the open fields in front of Hogwarts, out of the entranceway, and towards what he laughingly called his destiny.