Author's Note: Okay… so I haven't posted anything in FOREVER!!!! Literally, I think it's been months. This didn't exactly come out right, not really what I planned when I started, but there you go. I was in the mood for heartbreak, what can I say. I swear my ginny/draco ships have been wearing me down. Now the harry/ginny fics I enjoy the most are those where they break up… creepy. I've always been pretty canon based. Anyway, please review and tell me what you think, and if you could include your favorite draco/ginny fic (if you ship that way) I'll send you e-cookies. Really good e-cookies. Come on. You know you want them.

Disclaimer: I solemnly swear that I am up to no good. Oh… ooops. That's probably NOT what they wanted to hear, D

Harry sat at the kitchen table in the burrow, brows furrowed, fingers following the complex weaving lines in the wood. He knew that the time was coming; the time when he would have to leave, but that didn't make it seem any more real. He liked this world of protection; the warm and fuzzy haven where he was always welcome, where life was one warm crackling fire, and time was judged by laughs between friends. Ron and Hermione were somewhere upstairs, probably arguing over something stupid that no one really cared about; last week it had been about socks. Ron didn't wear matching socks, which Hermione took great personal offence to, and vocalized at the top of her lungs. Fred and George were home, and every now and then a faint explosion could be heard from their room, reliably followed by a long string of cursing, and then a muttered "sorry Mum."

Charlie was still in Romania, and would be returning for the wedding tomorrow probably. Bill and Fleur were… well there were really no words to describe them. Still encompassed by the "we're getting married!" glow, they were both parked on Cloud 9, and were not showing any signs of returning to Planet Reality any time soon. Percy was still intent on competing for the "Most hated family member, EVER" award, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were driving themselves insane preparing for the wedding. And then there was Ginny.

After Dumbledore's funeral, they had not spoken a word to each other. Each time Harry entered a room, Ginny left it. She didn't make eye contact, ever. It was as if he were a disease that she was terrified of catching, except she never looked afraid. She just looked… disgusted, as though she couldn't stand to be in his company for more than about thirty seconds. Harry wondered if he smelled. She was still acting buddy buddy with Hermione, and had even shown Ron some extra tolerance, so Harry was certain it was him she had a problem with, not overall anger. Ginny was the one dark spot on his visit to the burrow, the one thing he wished was different. He was trying to protect her, by wanting her to stay at home, or at school, and not come with him and Ron and Hermione, or that was what he told himself. He was locking her away for her own good, right?

So intently was he staring at the scarred wooden table before him, he didn't hear her footsteps behind him, didn't smell the tangy scent that accompanied her arrival.

"Harry." She said, voice etched with steel, dripping with ice. "We need to talk."

Wordlessly, he followed her out the door and into the garden, not sure where she was going, but not wanting to be the first to break the silence that hung in the air like a thousand pound weight bearing down on them. She turned.

"Ginny-" began, but she cut him off.

"No."

"But-"

"Don't speak. Don't even look at me. You disgust me, Potter. You hear that? You DISGUST me." Her voice dripped with venom, and her eyes betrayed no hint of remorse at her words, just plain, cold conviction. "You think you control me. You think that I'm yours to direct. Maybe you haven't quite admitted that to yourself, but there you go. I'm not a princess, Harry, and you aren't my knight in shining armor. I don't need you to save me. I never have."

Harry stared at her, and he felt a cool icy hand grip his heart, squeezing it until he could feel himself going numb.

"Wha- what are you saying?" he asked, visibly shaking now.

Green eyes met brown.

She turned her back on him.

"It means," came her voice, soft and shaking now, for the first time showing any emotion besides anger. "It means that I've finally done it. It means that I finally got you. It means that after all these years, I could kiss you right now if I wanted to, could reach out and touch your face. It means I finally won. And I'm giving it up. I'm giving you up."

She turned around, and her face was no longer etched from stone. Her eyes were bright and shining, and heartbreak was written all over her pale face.

"Goodbye Harry." She whispered.

She turned.

She began to walk away.

"Wait!" he called, starting to run after her.

"No Harry!" she called, twirling in a circle. "No more waiting! No more waking up in the morning and thinking, maybe today. Maybe today he'll set things right. No more watching as you walk into a room, and don't even move to hold me back when I leave. No more waiting for you to fix things, no more waiting for you to see me, no more waiting for you to love me. No more wondering if you're leaving me behind to protect me, or if you're just plain leaving me behind."

He stared at her.

"Because now it's my turn. I'm leaving you behind."