Summary: Three years later, and everyone has found their ending. Except Harry. And he soon realizes that his life has another twist to introduce. Or rather, his death does.
Lower London
"We're not working anymore." Ginny starts, as she waits at the threshold of the flat. She doesn't look at all nervous, and is just like the woman he promised himself he would marry once the war let out, before it actually did. She's still as beautiful and fiery as ever. Something he hopes he held onto in another life.
"It's like you're not all there." Harry wants to agree, and wants to feel like his heart is breaking, but his heart doesn't seem like it's there to break. He can't seem to manage normal at all nowadays.
"You've got yourself set on some other thing. Another adventure, something...and I know I can't compete. I can't bring myself to follow." Her eyes are the warm brown that he always praised when she pointed out that his were the better pair of the two. He still thinks so.
"It's always a been a bit of a dream, to marry you. First, because of the stories...then because I got to know you. But I thinkā¦" She stops, and the first hint of something being different crosses his thoughts as her brown eyes lose a bit of that spirit that so defines her.
"I think I always knew that I wasn't enough. You've got this...aura about you. Something...you're always a bit more, bigger or greater than people expect when they get into situations with you." It's silent in a solemn way, like a dirge to what what was and what now isn't. But, it isn't bad, just something a little uncomfortable, and the moment soon passes.
Ginny and he don't say their sorry, and there are no tears to be found at the entrance. The break-up just happens, and then it is over. She's explained her case, revealed the ending of their story, and he has to admit it is what he would have written soon enough as well. And time rushes onward.
Harry welcomes her in with a familiar kiss on the cheek, and something about the whole affair is completely friendly and warm. They were friends of a sort before it all, though she wasn't as close as Ron or Hermione, it was enough to pull them through to the other side of the break-up. They spend a comfortable night just talking freely as they haven't in a long while, exchanging stories and anecdotes with a newfound ease.
And when she leaves, a lingering hug the last action of thee visit still imprinted in his memory, he looks out the window to a cold, twinkling night and remembers something she said as she left,
"You've got your heart given to something else. And I know that whatever you've got yourself set on, it'll come to you, if you don't go to it first."
He laughs a little, watches a little television, and then goes to bed with thoughts of golden, glowing snitches ruling over dull, thumping bludgers lulling him into a light sleep. Before he falls, however, he gives a response to the echo:
"I don't go looking for trouble. It usually finds me."
A/N: Next part it really starts kicking it up a notch.
