-A/N: Yep, I've nowdecided that I'm going to start re-posting 'Bury The Hatchet' as well. (Same story, new title, which fits better.It's a Jimmy Eat World song).This was written way before HPB came out, so some facts and events might clash with what has happened in the book. I will eventually finish this story, so I'm going to just continue with where I left off and not even attempt to fix every little detail that doesn't fit HPB. I think if I did that, it'd ruin the story. Anyway, here it is. And thanks for at least reading!

I'd always heard stories about you, you know.

They were more like mythological legends, actually. You were the hero, although you could barely walk or talk and your mission, though seemingly impossible, was to save mankind and the wizarding world from the clutches of an evil sorcerer.

They were bedtime stories that always gave me a sense of comfort, like as the sky is blue. Never changing, always victorious in the end and laced with a pinch of optimism.

And as my Mum placed a delicate kiss on my forehead, I would simply smile to myself as the cheer of her words echoed in my mind and prayed to Merlin that I would find a handsome hero to come and sweep me off my feet.

The ideas of valor, honor and elegant Princesses seemed lovely to me. It would separate me from my brothers and I wouldn't be "just another Weasley."

I would be someone's something, someone's everything.

I so badly wanted to love someone. That's all every little girl wants. We get so caught up in the ideas of romance and roses that we forget about reality. I had managed to forget about reality for a long time, too.

That is, until you showed up.

There you were glasses, scar and all, sitting at our breakfast table with my brother and eating toast as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

I was petrified, actually. All the tales and wonders I'd indulged in as a child had come to life. The Hero I'd always heard about was in the flesh and all I could do was gape like a fish out of water.

Another year followed and I still doted after you like a lovesick puppy. Actually, I'm not quite sure it was love. Yes, I loved the way your hair always stuck out in multiple directions and I loved the way you seemed so loyal to my brother and Hermione but to this day, I'm not positive I was in love with you.

I think I was in love with the idea of being in love, you see.

So, little by little, my doting diminished to high infatuation, then disintegrated to extreme fondness, until your fifth year rolled around and I'd believed I was free.

I was cured.

The stories remained just stories and the fable of a Prince sweeping me off into the blazing sunset seemed as juvenile as my brother's practical jokes.

Hermione always used to bug me about it, you know. Mum too. But not exactly in an obvious and annoying way but in that subtle, "I know something you don't," approach. I would only laugh and repeat my newfound self-discovery of freedom and independence.

I didn't need you, I'd proclaim. I'd grown up and gotten over it, like a bad cold.

But colds and sickness always can come back with a vengeance and pretty soon, you turned everything upside down. Everything I'd worked so hard on upholding crumbled like sandcastles facing the crushing blow of high tide.

It was the summer time and in the beginning of your sixth year. You stayed at our house for the rest of the summer and things weren't so awkward between us anymore. You truly believed I was over you as much as I boasted to other people, about it.

And we talked and played Quidditch and I was beginning to think that maybe we could become actual friends, instead of the over exaggerated and sickly sweet relationship I'd giggled and fantasized about years before.

And that's when I began to notice things.

Like the way your nose crinkles the tiniest bit whenever you laugh. Or the way your eyes flicker with drear when you're upset or change to a darker, velvet hue with latent frustration when you're angry.

All the little things added up and suddenly, without my approval, I'd fallen for you. Except this time I wasn't waiting to be saved by some kind of hero. I was waiting for some kind of wonderful.

It was the kind of feeling you get before a huge storm approaches; the anxiety, the fear and the slight excitement of it all. I was standing on the edge of a catastrophe I couldn't escape.

My heart and mind were tugging and pulling and pushing in opposite directions. You should know that I tried so hard to fight it. I'd make up all these outrageous excuses and reassurances but when it came down to it, I couldn't get that image of a boy and his jade eyes and his beautiful smile that always lingered with beautiful sadness.

It all came down to you.

So now it's the last day of term and the last day you'll be a boy. Tomorrow will be another day and another summer for me, while tomorrow will mark your first steps into adulthood.

But tonight I should take the chance and tell you, though I'd rather wait until tomorrow and pretend I forget all about it, so I could pretend nothing ever happened.

We're sitting in the middle of the Quidditch pitch and though it's rather odd, it's a rather fitting tribute. Our butter beers lay by our sides. Mine's unopened and yours is ¾ full.

There's only a small portion of the moon in view but it's quite all right, since there are thousands and thousands of stars that glimmer and shimmer. They're rendering off a dazzling glow, giving the jet-black sky the illusion that it is a blanket and the stars are polished diamonds sewn into the delicate fabric.

Everyone's probably inside, speculating about where we wandered off to but I could care less. Just about every seventh year dorm or common room is having a party but I enjoy our silence.

You've grown so much over the past years; it's hard to believe I'm looking at the same person. From the few photos I've seen, you look a lot like James but Mum says you remind her a lot of Lily.

But to me you've transformed into simply Harry, not the Boy Who Lived or "The Boy Who Defeated You-Know-Who." You're so much more than that. You're the one who always has the messy hair and always plays games of 'keep away' with me just because you're taller than I am. You're the one who doesn't see me as "just another Weasley."

You're the one who occasionally knocks shoulders with me when we're walking down the streets of Hogsmeade as we joke about plans to get my brother and Hermione together.

I'm only sixteen but I think I'm in love.

And I only came out here with you to confess all of this but we haven't talked much since we sat down. Silence just fell over us like a cloak. The words are on the tip of my tongue but I'm too scared to let them go.

"You think Ron and Hermione are looking for us?" You suddenly ask.

I shrug.

"Maybe. Most likely, not. Actually, I'm hoping Ron will grow a backbone and finally tell Hermione how he feels. It's getting quite old, this game of pretend, if I say so myself," I reply with amusement.

You chuckle and take a swig of your butter beer.

"I bet you anything he started to go for it, chickened out and so he started an argument," you guess with a wry smile.

I had to laugh at that. It was so true.

"You don't have to bet. I totally agree."

We're silent for a moment.

How am I supposed to confess what I've been thinking, when all I can think about is that smile of yours or what would happen if I reached for your hand?

"I can't believe it's finally over," you muse.

I nod.

"One more year for me and it's all over. It's happening so fast, isn't it? One minute I'm getting the sorting hat put on my head, the next I'm biding you farewell."

You turn to me with a half-smile.

"It's not really goodbye, you know. I'll see you loads of times during the summer and stuff. We're friends, right?" You ask.

Friends. In a way, the word makes me smile from head to toe. In the beginning, it was all some childish fantasy. You were Harry Bloody Potter for Pete's sake! I'd dreamed about all the ways I'd meet you but I never really thought it would happen.

It's like when you learn about all these disaster, survival tips. You never really anticipate the disaster.

And now…to hear you use that word, it's weird. Like wandering into an alternate universe type of weird. But a good weird.

But the word also breaks my heart. I don't want to be just your friend. I want you to see me in another light, another way. I want to step out of the shadows of just a friend and into…something more, into the great beyond of just friendship.

I'm just so confused, that all I can do is deliver you with an artificial smile and quickly confirm, "Yes. Of course, Harry."

You smile and face forward once more.

"I have so many memories, I'm afraid I'll forget them all once I leave here," you confess with a hint of sarcasm.

I shake my head.

"Don't worry, you won't forget anything. Trust me. Here…this school…Hogwarts…it'll always be apart of you, wherever you end up."

Your lips curl into a smile at my words, reminiscing on your past experiences.

"I guess you're right."

Silence once more.

You suddenly turn to me and the expression in your eyes makes me hesitate.

"Ginny?" You question.

I face you, uncertain.

"Yes?"

"I…"

Your voice trails off as your brilliant eyes suddenly widen and seem to swallow mine whole and before I know what's happening, we're both moving closer and my eyes are closing and I'm nervous but desperately try to hide it and then your lips crash onto mine and I can't help but wonder if it's all a blissful dream.

And when you pull back my eyes are still frantically fluttering along with my heart and for me, out in the Qudditch pitch, this is the closest to heaven I'll ever get.

Though I want the moment to last longer, my eyes snap open and search into yours, hoping for only the best.

But I can tell you're having second thoughts, with me being your best friend's little sister and all. For once, I just wish that you could learn how to be completely selfish.

I pray it didn't have to end this way and I that don't have to do what I'm about to do. It's best to sew up this wound before it becomes a vicious scar.

Before you can fumble with an excuse, I open my mouth and speak.

"It's all right, Harry. We're just friends, right? We can pretend…it never happened. Just one of those forgive and forget things," I sigh.

You continue to stare at me as though I'm a stranger then sigh and run a hand through your chaotic hair.

"Right. Friends."

You turn your head forward and I follow pursuit, radiating strength andserenity on the outside, though I'm falling to pieces on the inside.

I hastily snatch my bottle of butter beer and take a huge gulp, my saline mixing with the delicious beverage.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see your hand linger next to mine, move an inch closer than immediately pull back.

And I can't help but think with irony that instead of a knight in shining armor, this fairy tale Princess got a best friend.