AN: A oneshot about Harry's ability to face death. To me, it was never an expression of bravery; Harry's never really feared death.
Harry has always been running. It was a necessity living with Dudley, who was strong and cruel, but not very fast. Running from the bullies of Privet Drive was an instinct, and before Harry had even realized it, a habit.
He's never thought of himself as particularly brave. Even his placement in Gryffindor, house of the fearless, was an act of cowardice, a plea of denial against his own nature. (Not Slytherin, anything but Slytherin.) Sometimes, when Gryffindor Tower is shrouded in darkness and the only sound is Ron's rhythmic snoring, Harry wonders if he doesn't belong in Slytherin, because he feels a deep urge to tear off his covers and run down, down into the dungeons until the earth and the darkness swallow him.
His friends chastise him for being too "brave" sometimes, his "saving-people-thing", but they don't realize that he throws himself at danger out of an abject cowardice that he can't conquer. The far more terrifying option is to see the twisted, lifeless faces of his friends, and so he runs, towards Voldemort, towards death. (It says something that the thing that he fears most is fear itself, the black-cloaked figure with ice-cold fingers that has finally caught up with him.)
He's always been running, so the long walk through the Forbidden Forest, towards Voldemort and his Death Eaters, feels so natural, a continuation of the pattern of his life. He knows that Ron and Hermione will cry over his death, and he knows that another will have to step into his vacated shoes to kill Voldemort. He knows that it's the spineless option to run away from responsibility and the heavy burdens of war, but this choice is inevitable, ensured by his very nature. (Snape was horrified that Harry was a horcrux. Harry is pathetically grateful, because dying is the easiest thing in the world.)
And as he stares at Voldemort from across the clearing, he realizes that this, too, is a forgone conclusion. This confrontation was inescapable. After all, Voldemort is running too, but in the opposite direction, away from death. They were fated to meet in the middle, because, at heart, they're both cowards, and this thought brings a smile to Harry's face as the green of the killing curse rushes over him.
Harry's always been running, away from loss and grief and guilt and fear. It's not a trial to walk towards death; he's been doing it since the day he was born. But walking away from Dumbledore and the temptation of that ghostly train is a daring, selfless act, and Harry is perplexed as to where this inner strength came from.
Perhaps, Harry thinks, as he is surrounded by friends and love and victory, he might be able to stop running now.
(Or maybe he never does, and when he watches the Hogwarts Express pull away from the station, he allows himself a brief moment of longing for the ending he had denied himself.)