Word Count: 713
Easter Egg: Chevron Egg, Day: 26. "I dare you to walk away right now."
Done Pretending
"I cannot deal with you sometimes," Harry said, shaking his head as he turned away. "I'm going out."
"I dare you to walk away right now."
Harry didn't bother turning back. He left the room and practically ran down the stairs and then out of the front door. Walking without aim, he left the place he called home.
He and Ginny lived in a nice area. It was bland, boring, peaceful and safe. Exactly what he was supposed to want, or so she told him. It was in a good area for schools. There was a wizarding town two towns over.
The best of both worlds, she'd said, when they signed on the dotted line to rent the place for a year, with the option of an extension on the lease.
Why she cared about schools when they were twenty years old, he didn't know. Why she cared about schools when they were signing the lease on a two bedroom flat that would never be large enough for children, he also didn't know.
Why she cared about a cookie cutter neighbourhood was beyond him.
Harry didn't know what he'd expected to happen when they got back together. He didn't know what he'd expected when she left school and asked him if they could share a flat—try out living together, was the way she'd put it—while he finished his healer training and she trained with the Harpies.
It wasn't this.
The arguing was never ending. It didn't seem to matter what he did, she always pointed out why it was wrong. Like today. He'd gone for a quick drink with the others in the Healer programme after they'd finished their last classes. He and Ginny hadn't had plans, and as far as he knew, she'd probably be late with training anyway.
She had been all week after all.
When he'd gotten home, an hour and a half after his classes finished, she was already sulking with him. The table was laid out nicely, and she tartly told him that the food probably wouldn't taste as good now because it had been under a warming charm for an hour.
He wouldn't mind, but it wasn't even really time to eat. It was only just six now, and they'd been arguing for an hour.
Harry walked for hours. He must have circled their entire town three times before he finally made his way back to the flat. He couldn't call it home, it hadn't felt like a real home in months.
He was surprised it was quiet when he let himself into their second floor flat. Usually, after an argument, Ginny would be playing music, or banging around to let out her anger, but he was only greeted by silence.
She wasn't in any of the rooms, and she didn't answer when he called. Then he spotted the parchment on the bedside table. Lifting it up, he flipped it open and read the words written there.
I'm at the Burrow. If you care about our relationship at all, you'll come and get me so we can talk. Ginny.
Harry dropped the note back onto the table and sat down heavily on the bed. He looked at the wardrobe, where their clothes hung side by side. He looked at her bedside table on the other side of the bed, where her sleep mask and the book she'd been reading sat innocently, waiting to be used.
In the bathroom, he'd find their toothbrushes side by side.
Closing his eyes, Harry fell back onto the bed.
…
A last sweep of the place proved he hadn't left anything behind. He cast a lightning charm on the extended duffle bag he'd put all of his things in, and then lifted it to his shoulder.
He'd arranged to stay with one of his healer friends for a few days while he found another place to live. He'd go there soon.
First he had to go to the Burrow.
He had to give Ginny the key to the flat that was now hers, and tell her that while he'd always care about her, they weren't good together. He owed her that much.
Hopefully, one day, they'd be able to be friends.
But it just wasn't right.
Harry was done pretending it was.