As the last of the words hung in the air, a young man with messy black hair bowed his head, oblivious to the adoring stares he was receiving from the masses assembled, oblivious to the flashes of the cameras that caught his glasses. All that registered in his mind as Professor McGonagall stepped down from the podium and bowed to the students assembled, was that it was really over. Slowly students rose to their feet and followed their headmistress back toward the school, or stayed behind to pay their respects to the marble headstones that marked the graves of some twenty fallen wizards and witches who had died in the war against Voldemort a year and half previously. Some like, two weary looking teens, stayed still, studying the Boy-Who-Lived from a distance, wondering what had happened to him that made him bow like that, and then, when he straightened why it seemed that suddenly a great weight had been lifted off him, though the imprint still left something haunting in the depths of his emerald eyes.

Harry Potter, slowly raised his head, seeking out the two faces he knew he'd have to confront sooner or later. He saw them, standing together, their bodies turned towards each other, completely at ease with each other's presence. Before he could start toward them he felt a soft hand catch his arm and a warm voice call his name. Turning he met the eyes of Ginny Weasley – warm, kind, filled with a light that shone only when she looked at Harry. He felt his heart tear.

"Let's go for a walk." She didn't wait for his answer, steering him away from the graves, toward the lake. So caught up in his own thoughts, he didn't catch the dirty looks she shot at the reporters who had started to follow them.

It was really over. The thought had been haunting him for a year, since the last time McGonagall had spoken to the whole school, her voice halting and stumbling over words as she fought to keep tears away. The war had ended, Voldemort was gone, and yet still Harry couldn't let it go. He'd wake in the middle of the night, alert, unable to go back to sleep. It had gotten worse- those seventh year students who had their schooling halted by the war were back for what many called the "eight year". Given a separate dormitory to live in, as their class was so small, Harry had been forced to see Draco Malfoy day after day. It had been strange between them- though Malfoy still sneered and bickered, Harry could sense that their relationship had changed. Every time he saw Malfoy thereafter using the wand- the wand Harry had used in Voldemort's defeat- his own hand would tingle, and he would remember the way it cast spells, the feel of the wood against his palm.

But it seemed only Malfoy, Ron, and Hermione seemed able to treat Harry the same. Everyone, teachers included, bowed and murmured in awe as Harry walked by. Each time, he felt sick, nauseated by the way they treated him like…like he was some sort of god. He felt suffocated.

"You are leaving aren't you?" Ginny's quiet voice startled Harry out of his thoughts. Somehow they had managed to get halfway around the lake, the school far in the distance. Ginny had stopped walking and was staring at him, her head tilted slightly as she examined him.

"Leaving?" He answered blankly, inside frowning.

"You've… You've been so quiet, ever since your finals ended. I know you weren't really talking to McGonagall about exams either the other day, even if Ron and Hermione bought that. You are leaving."

She stated it now, no longer asking. Yes, Harry thought, this is what I love about her. She always knows, and she accepts it. Ginny sighed as Harry's silence stretched. "Funny, how I thought I'd dread this moment. I always knew it was going to happen, Harry. I knew you wouldn't be able to sit still after all this. Even if it is really over. It's just like you to go off." Harry wanted to protest, but found he couldn't. After all she was right.

Ginny turned to face him again, a soft smile on her lips. "This kind of feels like after Dumbledore's death doesn't it? When you told me that we couldn't see each other?"

"Yeah," Harry said softly, tracing Ginny's face with his eyes. He noticed that there was a hardness to her mouth, like she was trying to keep it from trembling.

"Were you planning on going off without saying a goodbye?"

Harry looked away, turning so he could see the lake. On a far shore students seemed to be playing with the giant squid. The grounds looked so peaceful, he thought, everything looks just as it always was.

"You were weren't you?" Ginny sounded resigned. "And Ron and Hermione? What do they say?" When Harry continued to look away, it hit her. "You… you were just leaving?"

He turned quickly, "No, I left them letters… I… It explains why. I just…"

Ginny, on her part, had the decency to hold back the snort. "Of course you wrote letters to them. Really now?" They shared an awkward moment, and then broke it by both laughing and sitting down on a fallen log, enjoying each other's company.

"I always had this dream you know, that you and I were going to get married. We'd have this little house, with a Quidditch field out back, and we'd have two kids. One would look like me, and the other like you. Or a bit of both in each. And it would be perfect." Harry started, feeling his heart clench tightly.

"We can… I mean… we… I just need some time." He finished lamely. Ginny shook her head slightly, her hair fanning out and brushing his arm.

"You are going to need a long time, Harry. I've waited a long time, and I know it sounds selfish…but I can't wait any longer." She reached over and squeezed his hand, standing up and then pulling him up. "Besides, I had that dream when I was eleven." He raised his eyebrows and she looked away to hide a blush. "Oh come off it, every girl has probably had that dream about you, I wasn't the only one."

The mood darkened, reminding Harry who he was. Ginny smiled sadly, leaning up and pressing a soft kiss first to his cheek, then the other and finally his forehead. "Besides, I'm not the one you are looking for."

She pulled back, gave a long sigh and then put her hands on her hips, giving him a stern look that reminded him so much of Molly Weasley. "Well now, if we both hurry, I might be able to hold up Ron and Hermione long enough for you to make your clean escape. Though knowing them, I think they might be busy long enough together without my interference." Both pulled faces at the thought at what the two might be doing together. "Keep in touch will you?" Ginny asked over her shoulder as she started down the path at a brisk trot.

"I will," he called after her. Both knew that in the coming years, the owls would dwindle from frequent to none.

As Harry watched Ginny grow smaller, he felt a mixture of relief and sadness. Taking one last look up at the castle, where in a few hours, Ron and Hermione would find their letters, and would realize Harry was gone, where Kretcher would find himself two new owners, where later students would fantasize about where Harry had disappeared to, he turned and followed the path toward the school gates.

Fin.

A/N: I don't really know what came across me that made me right this. I suppose it's because I've been reading so many FF on Draco and Harry… And Part One of the movie is coming out soon… So in honour, then I wrote this.

And since you guys all know it can't just end like that… ;) Yes, there is a sequel coming up. Here's a sneak peek:

The street was crowded, full of people dressed in the latest European fashion that had swept through the old streets of London. Despite it nearing record temperatures that summer, no one seemed to bothered by it- opting instead for thinner, lighter, less clothing. Even serious office workers, had lost ties and suites in favor of unbuttoning their light dress shirts.

Through the hustle and bustle, no one noticed a man slip from a shadowed alleyway and join the cue, his hands trust deep into light washed gray jeans. Only a few curious glances were cast his way- and most were directed at his light blazer he wore. If anyone had cared to examine him closely, they would have noticed that he wasn't sweating despite the heat, and that his eyes, partially hidden behind round wire rim glasses, darted from face to face, memorizing in seconds. They would have noticed that a light, dry, breeze caused his fringe to be swept aside for a brief moment, showing the curiously shaped scar on his forehead.

….and that's it folks ;)

'Till next time,

Blue.

Sequel now up: "The Ghosts of War"