Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

So who else is super excited that this story will be over in a few chapters?

Chapter Fifty: Purgatory
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Mundungus being Mundungus, it had taken quite a while for McGonagall to convince him to give up the snake. He'd agreed eventually, though Harry didn't doubt that it was more out of fear of McGonagall than out of any desire to do the right thing. And when McGonagall pointed her wand at Nagini and did the spell – when the spell identified that stupid snake as a Horcrux and everyone watched as the final extra piece of Voldemort's soul was destroyed – Harry felt his legs give out and sank into the nearest chair.

He was not aware of everyone else clearing out and leaving him alone, nor was he aware of the fact that surely hours had passed and he had not moved once. He sat with his hands covering his face, trying to familiarize himself with the strange, too-real weight that had settled itself firmly onto his shoulders.

How long would it be before he could remember to breathe on his own again? Before his hands would stop shaking enough for him to properly hold his own wand?

This was it.

There was nothing standing between Harry and Voldemort now. There was no reason to sit back and watch as Death Eaters wreaked havoc on the world. He could do something about it now. He would do something about it.

Desire and obligation were two separate things. Two opposite things. Harry had yet to meet a person (other than Hermione, perhaps) who took genuine pleasure from the tasks they were forced into performing.

And so it was incredibly fortunate – miraculous, even – that the greatest obligation in Harry's life was also his greatest desire. That which would give him the greatest satisfaction would also give him the most grief. In order to avenge the ones he had loved and lost, he would have to lose others whom he loved.

It was no secret that Harry had been dealt a difficult hand in life. But he had lately begun telling himself that it could be worse. It had become his mantra. He was an orphan who had grown up with terrible family, but then again, he could have been left without any family to protect him. He had lost Sirius, the only father figure he'd ever known, but at least he had met Sirius in the first place. He had to fight Voldemort, arguably the most powerful wizard ever, but he had a whole army of people who loved him and were willing to fight to the death with him.

It could be worse. Harry believed this in the same way he believed that he could actually beat Voldemort – he had no proof and surely no real reason to place any faith in the idea, but it was the only thing that got him out of bed in the morning.

The surface of the table felt cool under his palm, and as he idly traced the patterns he found, he thought of everything Voldemort had done – not just to Harry, but to everyone. To the witches and wizards who had been brave enough to stand up to him and even to the ones who had faithfully served him until they were no longer needed. To the innocent Muggles who didn't even get to choose a side.

How many children were orphaned, just as Harry was, because of Voldemort? How many mothers had buried their children because of him? For the past twenty years, so many lives had been taken and even more had been destroyed as a result. How many more would there be? If Harry didn't act now, what would the future hold for the billions of people who didn't deserve any part of this?

It came on so suddenly that it took Harry's breath away. One moment he had been confident but concerned, and the next he was overcome with a new intensity, one that made his fingertips itch and his hair stand on end.

His chair scraped across the floor as he stood, but he didn't hear the awful noise that echoed through the kitchen when it did, nor did he hear Mrs Black's shrieks. He walked to the fireplace, and it was as if he was watching this scene unfold from outside his own body. He could see the determination of his own stride and the way his eyes were so dark that not even Ginny would be able to identify them as his.

He was going to do this. He was most likely going to die trying, but as long as he took Voldemort with him, he couldn't even begin to care.

And that was probably the cleanest ending Harry could envision, anyway.

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Ginny waited in the twins' room for Harry to come home. It was hours before he came in, and by then, she was too exhausted from everything to even want to talk to him. But he'd spotted her, and so she would have to spill her guts or strip naked and pass off her presence as an effort to seduce him into forgiving her. And knowing Harry, it would be far easier to just explain the truth to him.

'Is anything wrong?' he asked.

'No,' she said.

'Okay,' he said stiffly. 'Then … what're you doing here?'

She thought it was sad that neither of them could swallow their pride and apologize, but even though she realized this, she wasn't going to give in.

'It occurred to me that for two people with the ability to read each others' minds, we keep an awful lot of secrets,' she said. He appeared to consider this, and at his nod, she continued. 'So I've come to tell you the truth about why I went to Hogsmeade with Snape.'

Harry's demeanor changed at her words. 'You mean you lied before?'

Ginny felt herself shrug. This was where it would get tricky. She'd practiced this over and over in her mind, but every line she'd come up with had deserted her now. 'I didn't lie,' she said. 'I just … neglected to tell you certain things that would probably make a difference in one way or another.'

Harry swallowed thickly. 'Go on, then,' he said.

'I know you aren't going to believe it, but Snape wasn't a Death Eater. Well – he obviously was, I mean,' she stammered. 'But not really. And he did kill Dumbledore, but it wasn't for the reasons you think it was.'

Dumbledore's death was always a touchy subject with Harry, especially with what she was proposing, and he immediately jumped to argue with her.

'I don't want to cast a Silencing Charm on you, but I will if you don't let me talk,' she threatened. 'I need to say this.'

He crossed his arms and she could almost feel him checking out of this conversation. 'So hurry up and talk. I want to go to bed.'

She frowned at him but continued. He was giving her more time to explain than she deserved. And he hadn't thrown her out of his room yet, which was a good sign.

'When I was at the Manor, Snape saved my life,' she said. 'A ton of different Death Eaters would come down to where I was being held to torture me. But when Snape came in, he didn't do any of that rubbish. He helped me. When the Order got there, he came to me and told me what was going on. He left the door open for you. Surely you remember that. And what about the fact that I wasn't restrained when you got to me? Didn't you think that was strange?'

Harry's stubborn eyes did not leave the floor, and it led Ginny to believe that he did indeed remember all of those things and could not come up with a reasonable explanation for any of them.

'Snape is the reason I made it out of there alive, Harry.'

'Why didn't you tell me this before?' asked Harry. His voice was confused but softer, and she was thankful.

'He asked me not to,' she explained. 'He didn't want you knowing.'

'Why not?'

'I don't know,' she admitted. It wasn't as though he'd answered any of her questions when they'd been in contact. 'I think maybe because he wanted to keep you guessing about what he was doing. And maybe because he didn't want you to think he was doing you any favours.'

Harry cursed. 'But he did. If what you're saying is true, at least. And if he really is dead now … that means he died with me in his debt.'

'No,' she said. 'If anyone owed him anything for what he did, it was me. And that's why I went to Hogwarts when he sent me that message.'

'And you didn't have any suspicions?'

'Of course I did,' she insisted. 'I had a million. A giant part of me expected to be ambushed by Death Eaters before I even got to the Quidditch stands. But I still had to go.'

'Why?'

He stared at her, confusion all over his face. It blew her mind that he still didn't understand that there was no limit to what she would do for him.

'I suspected he wanted to talk about you. I went because I wanted to hear what he had to say. And I'm glad I did. He explained that people were starting to doubt his loyalty to Voldemort, and he promised a Horcrux if I went with him and pretended that he'd captured me. It was a win-win situation.'

'But it could have been a trick!'

'I knew that,' she said. 'But I also knew that if he was telling me the truth, you'd end up with the last Horcrux.'

She wanted to reach for him, but it still didn't feel right. She wondered if there was enough time for them to make it right, or if it was too late.

'Harry, all you've ever wanted is to end this. And all I've ever wanted is for you to be happy. I didn't care what I had to do as long as I could help you. I still don't care. I know that we got Nagini and that means everything I did was worth it, even if you hate me now.'

Harry put his hand on her cheek, and she knew that she wasn't the only one feeling strange about them. 'I don't hate you,' he insisted. 'I could never hate you. I was just angry.'

'I'm not trying to get you to forgive me,' she said. 'To be honest, I don't think there's anything to forgive. I didn't do anything that you wouldn't have done if the situation was reversed. Am I right?'

'I don't know,' muttered Harry. It was a hideous lie and they both knew it.

'If I was in your position and you had the chance to help me in a huge way, would you do it? Even if it put you at risk?'

'Of course I would,' he said. 'But it's different.'

'It's not.'

'Ginny –'

'I'm not a child,' she cried.

Harry looked sideways at her. 'What?'

'You treat me like I haven't even finished first year or something,' she said.

'No, I don't –'

'You do. Even if you don't realize it. And I think that's one of the reasons why things are so bad between us lately.'

'Things aren't bad between us,' he said halfheartedly.

'Aren't they?'

Harry sighed and sat down on the bed. 'I don't know if I can believe that Snape was innocent all along. Maybe I'm letting my personal feelings get in the way, but I can't help that,' he said. 'But … I believe that you believe he was. That's all I can say, really.'

'That's all I wanted to hear,' she said softly, sitting down beside him.

'I'm sorry that I didn't trust you,' he told her.

'I'm sorry that I gave you a reason to not trust me.'

Harry stared at his hands. 'What the hell is going on with us?' he asked.

Ginny shook her head. 'I don't know. Things don't feel the same anymore. Do they?'

'No,' he said. 'And I don't know what to do about it.'

'Neither do I.'

Harry looked up at her and she was shocked at the worry she found on his face. 'I can't lose you. But part of me feels like I already did when I wasn't looking.'

'You didn't,' she insisted. 'And you won't. Ever.'

'Now that the Horcruxes are out of the way … things are so much more serious. And there isn't time to sit around and try to figure things out.'

She rested her head against his shoulder. She'd been waiting for him to apologize and be the first to admit he was wrong, but hadn't she'd swallowed her pride and given in before he had just by approaching him tonight? It was funny how things happened without her wanting them to, and yet everything ended up being okay. Perhaps their relationship was stronger than either she or Harry realized.

'Gin,' he whispered. 'If I die –'

And with his words, whatever small piece of mind she'd had vanished.

'You are not going to die.'

'If I die,' he began again, 'I don't want to leave things unfinished.'

'What do you mean?'

'I mean – things could be over at any time now. Tomorrow, even. As much as we try to prepare for it, none of us are ever going to be ready,' he admitted. 'I don't want to die … but I really don't want to die and leave you here with all these questions. If there's anything you want to know, just ask me now. Okay?'

She tried blinking away her tears, but it only made things worse. She hated that Harry continued to bring this up. But what she hated even more was the fact that she suddenly did not feel so confident and reassured of their fates. When Ron told her that Nagini had been destroyed, it had made everything real in a way it had not been before. It was amazing to think that she'd been living at the heart of this war for so long and had been able to stay blind to most of the facts. The odds were certainly not in Harry's favour and she had managed to remain oblivious to that until tonight.

She thought of every time she'd yelled at her family for treating her like some naïve little girl, and she felt shame in the realization that a part of her had been acting that way all along.

She tried to imagine that the war was over and Harry had been killed. She knew that despite Harry's efforts, things would always feel unfinished. She would spend the rest of her life wondering about a million different things. Should she ask him now? Or was he only offering to give himself peace of mind?

She could only ask him so much. She could ask about the big things – Could you see us having kids one day? But she'd never know the little things, like whether or not those children would have had his eyes or his smile or his utter inability to accept even the smallest of praises.

Would you want to be a professional Quidditch player or even a teacher at Hogwarts? But she'd never know the joy of cheering after he won his first World Cup match or of listening to him talk about the funny thing that happened in class one day.

Would we buy a house close to The Burrow or move away like Bill and Charlie? But she'd never know what colour their bedroom would be or if she'd be more inclined to cook if she had her own kitchen to mess around in. Would they put a Quidditch Pitch in the backyard, and would Hermione let Ron bring their kids over to play on it?

'Okay,' she said. 'Say the war is over and you're alive. What next?'

She kept it vague because she wanted as many different answers as he could give her.

'If I'd survived,' he said, and was she the only one who realized he was talking in the wrong tense? 'We would've gone back to Hogwarts. I would've waited for you to finish and then I would have made you marry me. And I don't know what I would've wanted to do with the rest of my life, but having you with me would've been enough.'

Harry's answer was both exactly what she needed to hear and the only thing she couldn't bear to know.

'I wish things could work out like that,' he said.

'They still can,' she vowed. And she knew then that she would give it everything she had. Harry was not the only one who would be fighting for his destiny.

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The Final Battle would end it all. It was almost funny to think that all of this could be over at any given time – that the only thing keeping Harry from his destiny was a variable which he could now control.

He thought back over everything that had ever happened and knew that every single second of his life had been leading up to this. This battle would be the culmination of everything.

Harry wasn't an idiot. He had known for quite some that this would have to end soon. But the Horcruxes had always been a factor. They had always been the last hurdle to overcome. They'd always been the first thing on his mind, and they'd always kept him from getting ahead of himself. And now, all six of them were destroyed. There was nothing else to do but go after Voldemort.

Was he ready?

A part of Harry thought that perhaps he would never be.

But there was another, larger part that insisted he was. And really, wasn't his whole entire life just preparation for this?

Perhaps he was not more powerful than Voldemort, but did that mean he couldn't win? If he was faster, if he was fiercer – he could very well do it. And who said he wasn't more powerful than Voldemort, anyway? There was no denying the fact that Harry's ability to do wandless magic had far surpassed what anyone had expected. And even he didn't know what he was still capable of doing.

He had so many questions. And perhaps the most frustrating and yet the most gratifying this was that he was the only one with the answers.

From here on out, Harry answered to no one. He was the only person with even a hope of defeating Voldemort. Hermione could no longer nag him about all the things he had to get out of the way before fighting. He had done everything he had to do.

There was a great moment where he was aware of all that he had overcome, all that he had accomplished, and he allowed himself to feel every ounce of pride he deserved to feel. He opened himself up to every emotion he could muster, both positive and negative, just incase the next sunrise brought the Final Battle with it and he would never have another chance to feel anything at all.

There were so many things that had spent too long lurking in the corners of his mind. He did not want to spend another minute avoiding anything. He settled into bed and instead of clearing his mind as he usually did, he worked on bringing forth every memory he had, one by one. He examined each from every angle, taking from it what he needed before storing it away forever more.

Sometime in the night, he decided that he was grateful for his life. He loved his parents and would always wish to know them, but if he hadn't been alone that day at King's Cross, he might never have met the Weasleys. Some of his best memories were of summers and Christmases spent The Burrow. He didn't have the red hair, but Mr and Mrs Weasley had always loved him just as much as they did their own children. He couldn't imagine not going down to breakfast every morning and seeing Mr Weasley reading the paper or Mrs Weasley making enough food to feed thirty people instead of just ten or eleven. What would he do without the twins and their inappropriate jokes? Where would he be without best friends like Ron and Hermione? Or Ginny? His hand on Mrs Weasley's clock might've been pointing to Mortal Peril, but as long as it was there, he couldn't begin to care about where it pointed.

He did not sleep that night, but when the morning came, it was as though he had slept a hundred years. His soul felt purged. For the first time in a long time, Harry thought that he could die content, leaving everything exactly how it needed to be.

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Short but I think I actually like it. Review.