(A/N: This was a spur of the moment idea. It's a one shot. I just thought that I could write something to keep all of my faithful reviewers who are ((very patiently)) awaiting the ((in the works)) next chapter of my story. I would just like to say that I've written some of the last chapters of The Search For Love In the Second War, and something unexpected will come in the last few chappies. What it is, I will not say, but you'll figure it out. Or not. Now, I got inspiration for this while I was eating ((yes eating!)) the most perfectly red, round, and sweet apple. You will find my reflection for that inspiration in this story somewhere. I quite liked the idea, so I decided that I would write it. Oh, I may delete this one shot and instead turn it into a chapter of my other story, but I don't know. I'll find out. Holy crap, I'm writing a novel, and I haven't even started the story yet. Ha! Imagine that…)

Bittersweet Fruit

It was the summer of Harry's seventeenth birthday. Actually, today is his birthday. But, Harry was not happy in the slightest. He was thinking, outside, under the apple tree, in the Weasley's backyard. Thinking about what would soon come. Thinking about who may or may not die. Thinking about his destiny. What would've become of him if he had not heard the prophecy a year ago? What would of happened if Dumbledore hadn't let Harry journey with him into the depths of the cave? Would he have lived? Would Harry have turned out differently?

Harry stood up on his two long legs. He reached up and picked an apple so perfect, so red, and so shiny, it was almost a shame to eat it. He wiped it off on his shirt, poised it at his mouth, and just as he was about to take a generous bite, he stopped himself. This apple was once a living thing. It was a part of the tree, but he, Harry, had sapped it of its life source, just as Lord Voldemort had stolen so many innocent lives. Would it be kinder to rid it from this world quickly, or to leave it on this earth, so other's could see how it had done good to the world?

He pushed it down into his breast pocket, deciding to save it. He sat back down on the cold, yet warm, hard, yet soft, ground, with his legs stretched out afore him. He leaned his back against the tree and closed his eyes, planning on what was likely to be the last peaceful summers day he would have for a very long time, or maybe even, it would be the last in his lifetime, before his premature death.

The boy with the glasses had only been sitting there for five minutes when he felt and heard two pairs of footsteps come to the tree. He opened his emerald green eyes, looking up to see a tall, gangly Ron Weasley, and a slightly shorter, but just as thin, Hermione Granger. He had his arm around her shoulder: her's around his waist. They wordlessly came up to Harry and slid down the tree to sit on either side of him. It was a while before either of them spoke, and when they did, it was in small, whispered voices, as though they didn't want to disturb the peaceful tranquility around them.

"This is it, isn't it?" Hermione asked timidly.

"What's it?" Harry asked, while Ron gave him a slightly worried look.

"Our last day of peace. Of freedom. Our last day to spend together, uninterrupted by the war that lies ahead." Hermione said, looking at Harry, her chocolate eyes locking with Harry's green ones.

"It's like you said in fourth year, Hermione. Just like you said…" Ron told her.

"What did I say?"

Instead of Ron answering her, Harry supplied the answer. "That everything's going to change now. Our lives are never going to be the same again." He pulled the perfect apple out of his breast pocket, along with a small pocket knife. He sliced it three times, handing a slice to Ron and Hermione, and keeping one for himself.

They all took a bite, and immediately their faces turned sour. "How can something that looks so perfect taste so bitter." Hermione said.

"It's like today." Harry told her. "The perfect day. Yet today is a bittersweet day. Bitter, because of what we leave in the past. All the fantastic times…"

"And sweet…" Hermione said.

"Because of what we will find at the ending…" Ron told them.

"Eternal piece and serenity." Hermione said.

They finished their apples in silence, Hermione deep in thought, her eyes glazed over. Harry staring at his knees, deep in thought also. Ron, just sitting there, staring into space, and like the other two, deep in thought.

When they finished their apples, Hermione silently came over to Harry and embraced him in a hug. Ron followed suit. The Golden Trio, embraced in a group hug, may never return from this battle.

Harry decided to say something. "The odds may all be against us, but haven't the odds always been against us? Hermione, everyone thought you were a Goody-Two-Shoes, but you were the one who came up with the D.A. Ron, you became one of the best Quidditch players I've ever seen play, even though no one saw anything of you before. And me…"

"And you emerged from the Triwizard Tournament, having one. The youngest of four champions, but also the strongest emotionally." Hermione finished, her voice now shaking.

"Yes. The odds are against us, but at the same time they are with us. If we stay strong and stand together, we can overcome everything. Just remember that, what ever happens, we will always be best friends." Harry told them.

"For eternity," Hermione said firmly, though it was surprising that she could talk, for she was now crying so profusely.

"Till the end of time." Ron completed, clasping Harry's shoulder with the hand that was around him.

And so, there they were. The Golden Trio. The most unlikely group to ever become friends. The cleverest witch of their generation, the short tempered, nerve logged, wizard, and the one destined to finish this war, whether he die trying, or if he emerges victorious. Somehow, they all knew, in their hearts, that without each other, the world would end. They would be sub combed to the most evil dark wizard of the age.

Enjoying one final day of peace together, living above and beyond the expectations of others, all to destroy the wizard who had caused so much pain, agony, death, destruction, and loneliness.

The trio broke apart, withdrew their wands, and appariated out, not to be seen or heard from in a very, very long time.

The end.

(A/N: this nearly KILLED me to write! I had increasing difficulty deciding on a title for this story, so the title isn't very good, but let me ask a question. Does it make you wonder? I was going for something intriguing like that, so I hope that's what I got.)