Hey! I decided to completely change this story because I hated it so much, and it didn't fit into the present books anyway. This story is dedicated to my friend Emma, who practically forced me to write it. Enjoy.

Harry didn't want a girlfriend; he didn't fancy anyone in the slightest, not now anyway, not after the death of his beloved Dumbledore. Guilt tripped and blackmailed into another season of going out with Ginny, he thought to himself it wasn't pleasant, but somebody had to do it. That thought didn't please Harry but he knew that this was something that he alone had to do.

He had to make Ginny live, help her to fight she was a great asset to the DA and if going out with her again was the only way… so be it. It wasn't an easy decision and he had spent many nights in agony in his bed twisting and turning until he was out of breath. Many of those worry filled nights he had twisted the sheets so tightly around himself that he had to magic himself out of them

If it wasn't for the fact that all of his friends had approved of Ginny he was certain he wouldn't have even considered her. Sure, going out with her in the first place was fun, he got to finally perfect his snogging skills something he had been lacking on for quite some time. But her being his girlfriend now was like going out with Moaning Myrtle, when she was depressed she made him depressed and being depressed wasn't something that would help him now. Not with the dementors swarming around, not with Voldemort and certainly not with thoughts of Dumbledore and "what if?" scenarios he made up for himself.

You see, Harry blamed himself for Dumbledore's death stupid and pointless though it was, he blamed himself more than he blamed Snape and Draco. He kept thinking about it, over and over again. Nothing Ginny could do would cheer him up, not that she helped much anyway, snogging with Ginny just didn't do it for him anymore.

Now almost a week after he proposed to Ginny that they should get back together and fight Voldemort, he was starting to regret it. Life at the burrow was utterly pointless after being kicked out of the Dursley's place shortly after his seventeenth birthday. He had magiced himself to the burrow that night and arrived on the Weasley's doorstep sopping wet from the storm that had raged that night.

Surprised and happy though they were to see him, he didn't doubt that they would be happy to see the back of him. He had been a burden on them for years, he knew that no matter how much he saved their lives ,was a general little treasure to Mrs Weasley and friend to them all he just wasn't cut out to be a Weasley. He didn't have ginger hair for starters anyway.

Maybe that was why he went out with Ginny so that if one day they got married he would finally be a part of the Weasley family, something he had yearned for for years. He shuddered to think about a marriage with Ginny and several ginger haired children.

Marriage scared him, to love someone as much as that and to spend your life with them. Harry considered a divorce as well if they did get married, but his heart wasn't in it. Why marry somebody you don't love, scarcely even like as a friend?

It irked him to be thinking of that evil word marriage, that bonded two seeminglessly 'in love' people together. Couldn't somebody be as self sufficient by themselves?

But even as that thought whizzed through his brain he couldn't help but realise he didn't want to be alone, and he certainly didn't want to be with Ginny, being with Ginny was like keeping a caged animal. He wasn't free to roam muggle London like he occasionally did when he managed to free himself of his babysitters, and chat up some nice looking barmaid in a dirty old pub.

Ginny wanted to be with him everywhere, and if she knew where he was now she would explode he was sure. Not that he was doing anything against the law or anything, it was just she was so overprotective of him.

Sure he was the 'chosen one' the one who supposedly was going to end this war, but he needed his freedom just as much as the next man, maybe even more.

It wasn't love or even lust keeping himself with Ginny; it was a sense of duty. A word he was as much familiar with as death. He tried not to think of the word death, the word that haunted his very nightmares to the point where he woke up crying and screaming for his mother.

The sad thing was his mother never came, not even as a spirit, never gave him a sign that she was there at all. That saddened and maddened Harry to the point of no return. He couldn't believe that his mum or even his father even though they were dead would leave him to deal with this all by himself. Couldn't they see how distressed he was? How angry? How upset?

And then another thought entered his head, maybe they sent Ginny for him? Maybe they like many others approved of their relationship? Maybe they like Ron and Hermione expected them to elope?

Too much thinking hurt his brain as it was doing so now; he glanced at his watch, he should be heading back now. How was he to enter the burrow unnoticed? But he suddenly didn't care and didn't even worry that maybe he had strolled a little too far from the burrow. It certainly seemed like that now.

When Harry was hurting inside he strolled, a really strange thing to do now that the wizarding world was in turmoil. But Harry never stopped to think about himself anymore, he thought about the good of his people. Like a king he did his duty but not with a smile placed apon his lips, but a grimace and a snarl.

His life was screwed, he knew it, everybody else knew it, but nobody said a thing. Everybody avoided him to the point where Harry felt like screaming in frustration and yelling at the stars that now twinkled at him gently behind a blanket of black silk that was the sky.

He stopped walking when he entered an unfamiliar park, and decided he better head back to the burrow, no doubt Ginny was worrying herself silly over him.

That thought angered him for a moment, why can't Ginny worry about someone else? But then he saw the sense in her worrying, he was a very accident prone boy, no man, hard to think of himself of a man. He had never felt less like a man in his life.

He walked over to the parks play equipment and swung on the swings, thinking. The night was dark and the mist was getting stronger a sure sign a dementor was not too far off. Deciding that he didn't want to be attacked at night, wandless by a dementor or a death eater, he figured it was time to walk home. The burrow was as home as any place had been in his life.

Harry didn't care about his life now; he was past caring, he didn't care if he lived or if he died. It was all the same to him; at least if he was dead he wouldn't have to worry about all the Ginny nonsense taking place. And he could see his parents again, he smiled, he would like that a lot.

Maybe it was his sense of duty that kept him walking back to safety that night, or maybe he was just too tired to fight for his life. He was still and would always be the chosen one, the one to fight Voldemort, the one that has so much shit in his life that it was almost utterly pointless to live at all. No amount of wishing and praying would change that. Ever.

Well that's it! Please R&R, I'm not quite sure what do with this fic, so I'll leave it at this chapter before I decide what to do with it. Suggestions are always welcome!