A/N: This story is one of the first "plot heavy" fics I've written where I feel like most of the plans I made early on actually still worked when I got to the end. I really liked writing this chapter - everything I wanted to happen, plot-wise, was able to happen. Oh, and there probably should be a bit of an angst warning for several bits in the middle . . .

Grimmauld Place was much more still than Harry expected. He didn't see, hear, or feel any hint that Voldemort or Kreacher was there, and that, somehow, was even more frightening. The faster he was in and out, the sooner he could get back to Ginny. Harry ignored his disquiet and walked purposefully in through the front door, down the corridor, and up the stairs to his bedroom. He didn't even look towards the library as he walked past, but he couldn't quite keep the image of Ginny lying on the floor out of his head anyway.

Harry walked with his wand out, half expecting to be attacked any second. He didn't know what he'd do if it was Kreacher who struck, but he was sure he wouldn't kill the innocent house elf. Even if Voldemort was possessing Kreacher at the time, Harry knew that the dark wizard would be able to escape. Quirrell was the perfect example of that.

Pushing aside thoughts of how he might help Kreacher, Harry slowly opened the door to the master bedroom, relieved to see that it was as empty as the rest of the house. He went immediately to the bed and then the table next to it where he kept Hagrid's moleskin pouch in a drawer. It was perfectly safe there; the magic of it meant that only Harry could open it. He quickly pulled out the Elder Wand. If anything was powerful enough to save Ginny, this was it.

Harry sat on the bed, looking at the thing. It had come to Ginny in the Room of Requirement and he liked to think that meant the wand was somehow attuned specifically to her now. It was meant to heal her; he was confident of that. Of course, there had to be someone able to wield the wand to cast the proper spells. Harry wasn't sure if any of the healers were up to the task. He suspected he'd be able to control the wand, and maybe Bill too, but did either of them know enough healing magic? Sighing to himself, Harry stowed the wand in his robes and decided to worry about that later. He'd come rushing here, certain that the Elder Wand was the answer he needed to save Ginny, but back here at the site of her attack, it was too easy to doubt again. Better to get back to the Burrow and try to figure it out there, where he didn't feel like the very walls were watching him. Harry shivered, remembering his last nightmare. He had to get out of here.

He started to close up the moleskin pouch, but stopped when he felt something inside moving. He reached in and pulled out the old Snitch Dumbledore had left him in his will. Harry had been carrying it with him ever since, but had never figured out its purpose or why the man had left it. It was shaking softly now. Harry didn't stop to think what it meant, just shoved it in his pocket before leaving the room. At the door he stopped and looked back at the bed one more time. Originally, he'd planned to bring Ginny here at least once more before he . . . Harry shook the thought away. The Elder Wand had to heal Ginny first, then he could think about the proper way to say goodbye.

He was still thinking about Ginny when he got to the kitchen. The Floo was the fastest way back to the Burrow, and Harry was reaching for the tin of powder on the wide mantle when a blinding pain shot through his head. He gasped, dropping the powder and nearly falling to his knees. He could barely see past the pain but it didn't matter; the mingled cold laugh and sniveling sobs were both too familiar.

"Kreacher," he rasped in the direction of the elf's voice. "Help me." It was the closest he could do to give an order, but it wasn't enough.

"I . . . I can't, Master Harry. He got in, he got in! I couldn't help it; he's in, he's in!" The elf's voice was tortured.

Harry knew Kreacher wasn't talking about Voldemort getting into Grimmauld Place. He forced himself to straighten up and open his eyes. The house elf was standing in front of him, shaking. His face was absolutely miserable but there was none of his usual subservience in his stance. He stood ramrod straight and in his hand held a familiar wand made of yew. Harry looked around, unsurprised that no one else was there.

"You cannot see me, of course, but that doesn't matter." Voldemort's voice was calm, and held an edge of satisfaction that made Harry's blood turn to ice in his veins. "My servant will be more than enough this time. Bow, Kreacher."

Kreacher's body trembled but his back remained stiff.

"I said, BOW."

This time, Kreacher bent stiffly at the waist. He was squeezing the wand so tightly that his knuckles were white. When he stood back up, Harry could see tears in his eyes. The pupils glowed red.

Harry felt the tiniest odd surge of relief. Voldemort's plan was exactly as he and Ron and Hermione had discussed, and he couldn't help but be strangely pleased that they'd been right. Knowing what to expect made it easier somehow. There would be pain, but he also knew there was an end; he didn't have to wait or wonder or worry anymore. He felt for the Elder Wand in the pocket of his robes. He only needed a spell that would be impossible to survive. It wasn't possible to perform the Avada Kedavra on himself - that had been the first thing Harry had researched - but he knew of other spells that would work. He just needed enough intent to do so, and Harry knew that his intent to save those he loved would be more than enough. He wouldn't delay; there was nothing else to think about. He only had to give Kreacher another order, one to be carried out once Harry was dead and Voldemort gone as well.

He pulled out the wand and immediately felt the pull of Voldemort's interest in Kreacher's glance. The voice that spoke had almost none of the elf in it.

"So you think you can defeat me that way Potter, do you? Foolish boy, still making the same mistakes. You aren't nearly powerful enough to use that wand; the elf and I together will have no trouble putting you into a state where you cannot fight back. The ritual to return me to full power is nearly ready; it will be the last thing you get to see before I kill you - and this time there will be no return." Kreacher tilted his head back and laughed, but it was with Voldemort's voice. Harry's knees buckled. He had to act soon.

"Kreacher," he mumbled. He gave into the weakness and let himself slump against one of the kitchen chairs. "I know you can hear me. I have an order for you." The pain in his head increased and Harry fought the urge to vomit. He tried to speak quickly, hoping that somewhere inside, Kreacher could hear him. "When I'm gone, when I'm . . . dead . . . take this wand to the Burrow. Use it . . ." Harry's words were slurring so badly he wasn't sure Kreacher could understand him even if he was able to fight Voldemort's possession.

But Kreacher took a step forward. "Use it for what?" he asked, sounding terrified, but like himself. Almost immediately his body went rigid again.

The moment was all Harry needed. When Kreacher spoke, the pain receded enough for Harry to heave himself into a chair. "Use it to heal Ginny," he gasped, ignoring the way his heart clenched as he said her name. "They have my blood already, they just need a more powerful wand."

His instructions delivered, Harry gave into the blackness again, laying his head on the table. He only needed enough strength for one final task, and he didn't need the elf, or anyone else for it. His regret at not being able to leave Ginny a personal message was choking, but he'd die knowing that he'd saved her, and that had to be enough. He trusted that Kingsley, or whomever ended up with his will, would find the words Harry had written to the Weasleys and Teddy and Hermione and hidden in the blank section of parchment. It didn't say nearly what he'd wanted it to, but then, Harry didn't think he'd ever be able to convey everything he wanted.

Voldemort laughed again and Harry felt himself being jerked upright. It was too much like the way Voldemort had made him bow back in the graveyard, and Harry was immediately on alert. Kreacher was pointing his wand at Harry; the wizard had obviously gained better control over the elf again. Harry gripped the Elder Wand and slowly moved it to face his own heart. A suffocation spell would do it; he only needed to say the words. It was time; he hoped that Kreacher would survive and be able to carry the wand to Ginny.

But as much as Harry knew he had no other choice, mustering the courage to kill himself was not easy. His heart was beating out of his chest as if it knew how little time it had left, and the wand slipped in his sweaty palm. For a moment, Harry felt his body freeze up, and he wondered suddenly if it was the Horcrux inside him, struggling to stay alive. All of the other Horcruxes had fought their own destruction and it wasn't so irrational to think that this one might fight too. The irony was almost too much to think about - that the Horcrux itself might prevent Harry's death. He took a deep breath; he wouldn't let that happen. And then Voldemort spoke again.

"That wand won't save your girlfriend, Potter. It took me longer than it should have to understand, and I see that you still haven't gotten there." Kreacher was pacing back and forth in front of Harry's chair, his wand still shaking in his hand as it pointed at Harry.

"You lie," said Harry calmly. "The healers already have my blood, mixed with hers. I gave her protection when I prevented you from killing her at Hogwarts. They just need a more powerful wand to perform the spell." He steadied his hand and lifted the tip of the Elder Wand higher on his chest. "And once I'm dead, and you're gone too, Kreacher will easily fulfill my last order and carry the wand to the Burrow." Harry looked at the elf. The red glow seemed even brighter now, and Harry wondered if his words were penetrating at all. Kreacher's head trembled but he didn't nod. But Harry couldn't wait anymore. He swallowed hard and closed his eyes.

"But your blood is tainted; it cannot save your girlfriend." Voldemort's voice took on a silky tone. "You know that already, don't you? The supposed protection you gave Miss Weasley is a lie." Harry opened his eyes; Kreacher was pacing again, and twirling the wand in his hand. His shaking had stopped. "The only reason she's not dead right now is because I didn't have full control over the elf then. He didn't feel quite strongly enough about killing when he cursed her." Voldemort laughed again. "Maybe your love for her prevented the curse from finishing the job; I'll give you that." Kreacher inclined his head and the gesture was purely Voldemort. Harry didn't have to ask. The thought that had been flitting around the edges of his brain as he watched the healers fail to make Ginny better finally came to roost. Voldemort noticed.

"You got there, didn't you? It doesn't matter what wand anyone uses; your blood has too much of me inside it' it isn't pure enough to make a difference. And if you kill yourself now, it never will be." Harry couldn't have imagined Kreacher ever smirking, but somehow he managed it. Voldemort kept talking. "You intend to die with the Horcrux inside you and in doing so, you condemn the one you love as well."

Harry lowered his wand. He knew Voldemort was right; the blood he and Ginny had mixed would not be able to save her. He felt like he'd been punched in the gut. It was just as he'd thought from the moment he'd first learned about the Horcrux inside him, when Dumbledore had looked at him in despair and confirmed that even he didn't know what to do. All these last weeks of research and planning and hope were for nothing. No, it was worse. If Harry had died earlier, Ginny would never have been hurt. And now that he was finally going to die, there wasn't even any way to tell her family what had happened to their daughter, to tell them that Harry had dared to love her and in return, had forced her into a state worse than death.

Harry sat numbly; for the first time he couldn't even begin to think what he needed to do. Thoughts of fighting, of yelling, spells and curses - they all eluded him as he sat in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place and waited to die. Voldemort - through Kreacher - was still speaking, but Harry couldn't even bring himself to process the words. He dropped his head to his hands.

A bang on the table made him look up. "Did you hear even a word I said?" Kreacher was bearing down on him, the wand in his hand moving menacingly. Harry couldn't bring himself to dodge the sparks that flew out of the end of the wand, stinging bits of his skin. He stared at the elf.

He spoke again. "I said, there is a way to save her. Miss Weasley." Voldemort spoke dispassionately; he may have been talking about a houseplant. But it got Harry's attention. He knew it was probably a trap, but he couldn't hold back. "How?" he asked quickly.

Voldemort laughed. "How great a wizard you might have been, Harry Potter, if not for your insistence on love being the principle you followed beyond all others. It's pathetic, really, but in this case, it just might suit both of our needs."

"What is it?" Harry asked harshly. He gripped his wand.

Kreacher jerked his head. "I'm still having a bit of . . . difficulty," he said. "Convincing the elf of the advantages to be gained by assisting me. Voluntarily, of course."

Harry didn't pretend not to understand. "You need a faithful servant."

Kreacher nodded; the effect of seeing his stooped figure and yet being able to imagine it was Voldemort was dizzying. "I do. And the elf is almost ready to agree. However, neither nor I really want to wait, do we?"

Harry's head was throbbing and he felt barely strong enough to keep it upright and his eyes on the elf. "What do you want from me?" he asked weakly.

"You still seem to have some control over the elf. It's waning, but I'd rather not wait until it's done. Order him to serve me, and only me, faithfully, and you have my word that . . . afterwards . . . I will extract the blood necessary to save Miss Weasley." Voldemort almost chuckled. "It would amuse me to no end to be able to tell her how you died, unable to save her first from a fate of your own creation."

Harry knew Voldemort was lying. There was no way he'd keep any of the Weasleys alive once he'd resurrected himself. And yet, as he stared into Kreacher's red eyes, Harry couldn't help but hope. He tried to tell himself it was the wizard playing with his mind again, but he couldn't give up the thought that if he agreed, if he ordered Kreacher to sacrifice himself for Voldemort's cause, it would be enough to save Ginny. Harry rubbed at his eyes. His thinking was becoming irrational and he didn't realize it - he'd been fighting the weakness and pain that being close to Voldemort brought on for too long. All he needed to do was agree - to give the order to Kreacher to serve The Dark Lord as his loyal servant - and Ginny would be healed. That was all it would take. It would all be okay.

"A single order," said Voldemort. "It will take no effort at all."

Harry got shakily to his feet. Kreacher stopped pacing and stood in front of Harry, watching him carefully. He began shaking again. For moment, the red in his eyes dimmed. "Master Harry," he began.

Harry held up his hand to stop him. "It's okay, Kreacher, it's what I have to do to save Ginny, to save everyone." He held out the Elder Wand. "Take it," he said.

Kreacher's eyes gleamed again as he grasped the new wand. His shaking got worse. "Master Harry," he said again.

Harry swallowed hard. "One final order, Kreacher," he said quietly. His head was about to burst. It was only a few more words. He dropped his hands to his sides and stared pleadingly at the elf.

"Kreacher, I order you to use the Elder Wand to kill me."

Almost immediately the pain increased tenfold. Harry could feel Voldemort's surprise, followed quickly by a glimmer of fear, before he hid it. "Don't listen to him," Voldemort snarled. "Serve me."

The second of fear was all Harry needed though. The pain was overwhelming him but his voice stayed strong. The pain would be over soon anyway; he could stand it a little bit longer. "Kreacher, I order you!" he shouted with every last ounce of his strength. He only had to stay upright few more seconds; he had to make himself an easy target.

Harry closed his eyes as the peak of Voldemort's anger washed over him. He felt movement at his front and someone taking deep breaths that he recognized. His last thought was of Ginny.

The voice that spoke was shaking, but strong. It had intent behind it; it followed Harry's command.

AVADA KEDAVRA!

HPHPHPHP

Harry was back in King's Cross Station, which was how he knew it had worked. Kreacher's curse had been strong enough and Harry was dead. He lay on the white floor in the great white hall he'd last seen the night of the Final Battle and hoped he was right in thinking that with his own death, Voldemort had been finished too. It was very quiet. Last time he'd heard the crying of that horrible, flayed child left under a bench, and Dumbledore had explained what it meant and what had gone wrong. But now, all was still and silent.

Harry sat up and looked around, again noticing that he was naked and again having robes immediately appear. Dumbledore would likely be here soon. He'd smile sadly - Harry could imagine it - and tell him that yes, it had worked. The Horcrux in Harry was gone, and with it, Voldemort was gone too. But it was too late, this time. There was no way back, and so Harry must move on.

It should be hard to feel too much despair in the peace of this place, but somehow, Harry managed it. The only thing he'd been able to do right was finish off Voldemort. But in the process he'd left nothing but carnage and emptiness. Ginny would never recover and he'd never gotten to say goodbye, or thank you, or I love you, to any of the most important people in his life. He'd wasted too much time on hope and spent way too little on what he should have done to put his affairs in order. And now it was too late.

Harry looked around again, wondering when Dumbledore would appear. Last time, the man had given him a choice - to go back to a situation he wouldn't be able to win, or to go on. The Headmaster had referred to it as "taking a train." Harry had chosen to go back even knowing what he'd likely face. He couldn't stand the thought of not seeing them again, of not being there, no matter what the odds. And finally the odds had made themselves known.

Harry knew he wouldn't have made a different decision last time, even knowing that he'd end up back here again, and even knowing the pain he would cause with his actions. He was too selfish, he knew. Even an extra second with Ginny would have been enough to send him back. The loss of Ron and Hermione hurt too, but it came from a different place in Harry's heart. He'd unpack those feelings soon; he'd have plenty of time. But now he looked around again for Dumbledore. Why wasn't he here?

Something vibrated in the pocket of Harry's robes and he startled. These robes were not his; they'd appeared soon after he had. And yet, out of the pocket of these anonymous robes Harry pulled his old Snitch, the one he'd grabbed back in his bedroom at Grimmauld Place. It had been vibrating then too, and Harry stared at it curiously. He remembered when Scrigemeour had given it too him, and how he'd managed to keep its secret from everyone but Ron and Hermione. Now he put his lips to it again, and again saw the flowing script appear across the side. I open at the close.

Harry still didn't know what it meant, but if there was going to be a close, this must be it. He rubbed his thumb across the smooth metal.

"It's over; I've defeated Voldemort and died," he said quietly. The Snitch shuddered and fell open. Lying between the two halves was a cracked black stone Harry hadn't seen in over a year. He knew immediately what it was; he would never forget Dumbledore's story of love and desire and the terrible curse that ultimately killed him. The stone was no longer cursed, and Harry knew instinctively that he'd been meant to use it much earlier. He didn't know if it would even work here, but Harry nevertheless closed his eyes and turned the stone three times in his hand. Maybe this was how he was meant to summon Dumbledore, now that Harry too was dead.

There was a rustling around him, and a chuckle that wasn't familiar but felt like it should be, and then a barking laugh that Harry knew well. But it wasn't until he heard the soft "ohhhh," of a woman's voice did Harry dare open his eyes. Dumbledore hadn't come.

Harry stared at his parents, standing and smiling at him between Sirius and Remus, and felt his heart give a leap. Without even thinking about it, he was moving, throwing himself at his mother and only at the last second thinking that she wasn't really there and he'd fall through her like smoke. But Lily's arms wrapped around Harry and held him so firmly it was if she'd been holding him all his life. He didn't know which one of them was shaking - probably both - and he only let go when the warmth of a hand on his back allowed his mother to pass him joyfully over his father as well. And then Harry hugged Sirius and Remus and felt some of the knot in his chest loosen as he leaned into his mother again.

"We didn't know if we'd get to see you," she said when they were all finally done greeting each other.

"I didn't know either," said Harry. He couldn't quite believe he was seeing them now. "I didn't do it right, the first time; I think Dumbledore intended that I get the stone earlier."

"We wouldn't have been able to touch you then," said his father.

Harry nodded, understanding. "If I'd brought you back while I was still alive." He stared hungrily at his parents, collecting every detail of expression and stance, not sure how long he'd be allowed to stay with them. His mother was looking back at him in the same way, joyful and curious at the same time. She gently touched his face.

"You have my eyes," she said. "We weren't sure if they'd change as you got older."

"I'm glad they didn't," said Harry. "And I'm glad I finally get to see for myself." His mother smiled a little wider as she contemplated him from head to toe. Harry tried not to feel self-conscious; this was his mother, after all. It must be difficult to reconcile her memories of him then and what he looked like now. Indeed, after a moment her smile turned a little sad.

"You were an adorable baby," she said softly. "But now, as a man . . ." She shook her head. "I'm so lucky to have been your mother."

Harry touched her on the arm. "You still are my mother," he said. He was struck suddenly with the depth of what it had meant for her to jump in front of Voldemort's curse for him. He hadn't wanted to agree with Bill that his doing the same for Ginny wouldn't have the same effect; after all, he loved Ginny more than anyone in the world. Now he nodded in understanding; the love of a parent was different. Lily smiled again and Harry wondered what she was thinking, but then a light punch on his arm pulled him away.

His father was easier to read; he looked as proud of Harry as Sirius had always promised him James would be. He put his hands on Harry's shoulders and looked him up and down appraisingly. "Youngest Seeker in a century, eh?" he said lightly. "I wish I could have seen you play."

Harry nodded. "Me too," he managed. "Or that we could have flown together." He looked hopefully around; this place had given him robes, could it also give them brooms? It certainly was big enough for a fly. But nothing appeared. "Thank you for the Marauder's Map," he said finally. "It saved my life more than once."

"Saved your arse from detention too," said Sirius with a laugh. He looked at James. "You too are so alike in that way."

James nodded. "I can see that," he said. Like Lily, his voice became a little sad.

Harry wasn't sure, but he thought maybe the edges of the station were getting a little blurry. He spoke quickly. "So . . . where do we go now? Last time I was here, Dumbledore said I could take a train to go on. Is that what we do?"

His father looked at him in surprise. "Is that what you want?"

Harry shook his head, confused. "What I want? I'm dead, right? I don't get to pick what I want, do I?"

Instead of answering, his father reached out and ruffled Harry's hair. "You have no better luck than I do with this, I see."

"None," said Harry, content to let his father change the subject. "Do you have any tips?"

"Just that you shouldn't worry about it," said James. "Your mother always liked it a mess." He turned towards Lily with a grin. "Isn't that right?"

Lily rolled her eyes and reached up to kiss her husband. "I knew it was a hopeless case," she said. "So I focused on things I could control, like your clothing."

Everyone laughed and Harry felt a warm comfort he'd always dreamed of but had never quite been able to imagine. Without really thinking about it, he blurted, "Ginny likes my hair messy too." He paused. "Liked."

It was as though a wet blanket had been thrown over the group; his mum squeezed his shoulder, but before Harry could say another word, Sirius threw back his head and barked another laugh.

You Potter men and your redheads," he said, leaning over to cuff Harry on the arm. "I suspected something between you and Ginny even though the two of you didn't realize it yet." His eyes twinkled. "So things are going well?"

"Yes, please tell us," said Lily. "She's more than a just another girlfriend, isn't she? I can see it on your face."

"Ginny and Harry are more than just another couple," confirmed Remus. He smiled at his friends. "They remind me a lot of Lily and James, once James stopped being such an arse about everything."

Now his parents' images were getting blurry too. "I love her, and she loves me," Harry said quietly. "Or, we did." Inexplicably, he felt tears prickling at his eyes - was it possible to cry here? "But she got hurt because of me and she's never going to get better and now I'm dead and I never got the chance to say goodbye to her. Or to any of them. Or that I'm sorry." He looked pleadingly at his parents, and then at Remus and Sirius. "I should have been faster, to find a way to die. I should have destroyed Voldemort when I could do it so that no one else could get hurt." He shook his head. "But I was too late." He looked at the group and sighed. "It's time to go, I can feel it." Harry suspected he'd be saying goodbye to his parents as well.

His father looked at him seriously. "Is that what you want, Harry?"

"You said that before," he said. His mum touched his arm.

"I don't think that's what you want," she said.

"But I'm dead," Harry said. He still didn't understand what his parents meant. "And it didn't happen the way Dumbledore intended it to, with me walking to my death and voluntarily letting Voldemort kill me." He shook his head. "Instead I ordered Kreacher to do it when Voldemort thought I was going to make him become Voldemort's loyal servant." He rubbed his hand over his face. "Voldemort promised to heal Ginny if I did, and I almost believed him." He looked at his parents for reassurance. "He was lying, right? He wouldn't have healed Ginny if I did what he asked, would he?" He couldn't stop his voice from breaking at the end.

"Voldemort would have killed Ginny and the rest of her family the first moment he could," said Sirius firmly.

His father nodded. "Voldemort doesn't make deals. Ever."

His mother brushed her hand across Harry's cheek. "I wish there was time for you to tell me about Ginny," she said with a smile.

"More important that we have time to tell him why he doesn't have to stay here," said Sirius. He looked at Harry. "You want to go back to her, don't you?"

"Of course!" The words burst out of Harry before he realized it. He flushed and looked at his parents. "I mean, I love being here with you all; I've missed you every minute of my life." He took a deep breath. "But I can go back? How?"

His father chuckled. "I'm no Dumbledore, but I'd guess that sacrificing yourself to destroy Voldemort, and thinking you were destroying yourself at the same time, should do it."

"Not to mention all those blood rituals you and Ginny did," added Remus. "She has your protection, you have hers, they're intermingled. And they've created quite a strong pull for you to return, don't you think?"

"I'm not sure what to think," Harry admitted. "I just know I want to save Ginny."

"You will," said his mother firmly. "I know you'll figure out a way."

The mist was much thicker now and Harry looked from his mother and father and then to Sirius, his gaze landing finally on Remus.

"I'll take good care of Teddy," he promised. "He'll know all about his parents and how much they loved him."

Remus smiled. "I never doubted for a moment," he said.

Harry looked at his parents one last time. "I love you both so much."

They smiled back at him. "Always," his mother said, before the mist grew too thick for Harry to see anything else.