'Luck, Darling.

Author's Note: Nothing is mine, technically and legally. Although I do take pride in creating my very own Ginny; I haven't seen one quite like this one before, and hopefully, neither have you. It's rather vague, so you may create your own world for this little ficlet, but I think we all suspect Harry and Voldemort will have one final showdown, right? This is right before said showdown. Enjoy, and please review, if you are so inclined.

Ginny leaned against the wall, her arms folded across her chest. Harry was shaking, handing Ron and Hermione thick letters. She couldn't hear what he was saying, but she could guess.

Don't open these unless... unless I don't come back.

She watched as Hermione brought one hand to her mouth in horror and grabbed Ron's sleeve with the other, shaking her head.

No Harry! You can't think like that! We've gone over ever possible spell, and you're protected and...

No, Hermione, this is my destiny. This is my purpose. My parents died for this, blah, blah, blah....

Ginny yawned, continuing her ad libbing game in her head, even guessing what was in the letters. You've been the only family I've ever known... I love you both... Be sure I'm buried with my parents... Dumbledore came over to Harry and clasped a hand on his shoulder, looking old and tired, but determined, as always.

He's close to the school. It won't be long now. Are you sure you're going to do this, Harry? Harry nodded. Of course, what else was he going to do? "No thank you, I'd rather hide in the innermost room of the dungeons. Do you think he'd find me there? Maybe I should check out to Aruba to become a lowly banana farmer named Miguel." Ginny smirked; now that would make for something interesting. But no, this is how it would be. The hero facing his final moments, sure that he would perish under the hand of the great Dark Lord. Not likely.

She sighed as Harry caught her eye and came over to her, motioning for Ron and Hermione to go on with the Headmaster. 'Here it comes,' she thought bitterly.

"Ginny," he started, nervously. She didn't say anything but waited for him to say whatever it was he had to say to cleanse his pathetic soul. "I know we haven't really-"

She held up her hand to silence him. No, nevermind, she wasn't going to wait for him. "Don't say it," she warned. "Whatever it is- and I have a pretty good idea- whatever it is you could possibly say to me, I don't want to hear."

"But-"

"No."

"Why not?" He was getting confused and angry, and mixed with his building anxiety, it was not a good thing.

"Because I don't care. You don't need to confess all your sins and guilt to me, because you aren't going to die. I can't believe you really think you will. Hello! Good triumphs over evil, the hero conquers the villain- and believe me, Voldemort is the classic villain. Go out there, seek vengeance for all the wrongs of all the world- ever- kill the bastard, and get on with your life. Lord, it's not that hard."

Harry stared at her, his mouth slightly open with astonishment. She tried not to smile; she was rather proud of that assessment of the situation. "How... how can you say that?" His voice was choked and shaking. "This is my life, Ginny. You think this is all I'm good for? I might not come back," the anger and his voice was rising, "I might die tonight, and the whole world will go to hell because I couldn't save it. And to top it all off, the girl I love just told me off!" He froze, realizing he had said the last part out loud.

"Damn," Ginny said in a bored tone, "I was hoping we could get though this with out you saying that. You know, it's called rejection. Normal people just deal with it by shutting themselves in their rooms and writing crap poetry. But you, lucky little superhero that you are, get to take it out on a badass wizard." As an afterthought, "Don't worry. You don't love me."

"You don't know that! I do! I don't know why you're acting like this now, but-"

"Yes, yes, I know," Ginny said, pushing herself up from the wall. "Yeah, sure. But you're late for an appointment with Voldemort, and he does like punctual opponents, so you might want to make your way to the slaughtering now..." Harry looked like he might cry. Ginny cursed as her conscience chose this moment to send off bells of guilt. "You know," she remarked, "boys as old as 17 shouldn't be so good at puppy dog eyes. It's really not fair." He closed his eyes quickly, his mouth forming a thin line as he pursed his lips together.

"Harry," Ginny said in a hesitant voice, softer than before. "It's ok, really. You aren't going to die, you don't really love me, everything's going to be happily-ever-after, all right? Stop dwelling, or you really will lose the duel." His eyes opened abruptly.

"You don't know it's all going to be ok," he whispered.

"Well, I don't mean life will be perfect. You'll probably have days when the Floo Network is down, and you hate your job, and you fight with your wife, yes. But as far as dying today goes? Well, I doubt it."

"I'm not invincible."

"It's that type of thinking that gets one killed. You're David Copperfield with magic powers, of course you're invincible." He looked at her oddly for a moment.

"David Copperfield, like Dickens?"

"Who else would I be talking about?"

"Well, I think there's a Muggle magician..." His brow furrowed in thought. "Last year when the Dursleys went to Las Vegas-" Ginny rolled her eyes and snapped her fingers in front of his face.

"The book character, ok?" she said. He raised his head and looked behind them down the hallway, which was surprisingly empty. She waited to see if he would go back to his gonna-die attitude, or had adopted hers of here-goes-nothing.

"Does that make you Agnes?" he asked, turning back to look at her. She shook her head.

"God no. Hated Agnes, but hated Dora more." She thought. "Hated David, come to that."

"Hate me?" Harry asked, a sad resignation creeping into his voice.


"No," Ginny sighed. "Don't hate you." She looked behind him as she saw Dumbledore walking toward them again. She placed a hand on Harry's shoulder to steady herself as she reached up and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Luck, darling," she said casually, and walked around him to go down a near-by staircase.

"Where are you going?" he called after her. "Aren't you coming to fight?" She looked at him as if he were daft.

"No. I don't believe in either side enough to fight. Is that cowardly? Eh, no matter. I think I'll run down to the kitchens though." She turned and began to walk away. "I have a terrible craving for some strawberries."