"When We Were Mortal"

I was not born this way. They made me what I am. They tricked, they lied, and they created us as a result. What are we?

We are that which goes bump in the night.

We are legend.

We are immortal.

They made us Gods.

They sought to destroy us.

Fools…you cannot kill a God.

Sometimes I wonder how things would of turned out had I not chucked Harry Potter. I probably would have married him, had some green eyed little monsters, and become a frumpy housewife. Then after all my children went off to school I would realize what I had done and weep. Harry was the sort of man who wanted to take care of you, who wanted to protect you. It's not exactly a bad quality, but I'm not the kind of woman who can be happy that way, I'm too independent. I had this whole idea of living my life before I got married and started having children. I'm not my Mother, not by a long shot. It wasn't that I didn't like Harry or think him a bad man, he just turned out not to be the man for me.

I sent the Wizarding World into a tizzy when I told Harry Potter, Savior of the Wizarding World, I wasn't his girl anymore. I felt a little bad…but not enough to change my mind. Harry had probably thought we would pick things up where we left off and I had planned to ...but a lot can happen in a year.

Sixth year turned my narrow, little world upside down and kicked me in the stomach. I learned that life can always get worse, but once you hit rock bottom you can only go up. This world isn't black and white like my parents taught me, but it's grayscale, ink splotches and water running all over the palette. The most important revelation I came upon was this; I love myself more than I love Harry Potter. That may sound extremely selfish, hell maybe it is selfish, but I don't believe in giving up your dreams for someone else's …that's not noble or selfless, that's just plain barmy.

I started the year off feeling extremely…I wouldn't say depressed, per se, but a bit down in the dumps. There was a war going on, our headmaster had been murdered and his supposed murderer was now in charge of the school. My melancholy demeanor was due to the fact my boyfriend, well ex-boyfriend at that point, brother, and good friend were roaming the countryside and facing danger while Voldemort was killing people left and right. Worst of all was that I felt absolutely useless. I lacked a purpose and it seemed that there was nothing for me to do. Even when Neville recruited me to help in the continuation of DA, I couldn't beat down the feeling of worthlessness. I don't really want to recount Sixth year, however I do need to mention a few key events. These little encounters seemed insignificant at the time, but only in retrospect can I see their importance.

Christmas was right around the corner, but little joy could be found in the fact. I wasn't going home to spend the holiday with my family. My parents claimed it would be too dangerous and so I stayed at Hogwarts. Mum sent me a care package, but it did little to appease my sense of loneliness. I wandered the halls, chewing absently on a sugar quill, when I ran into him, falling backward, my bum hitting the hard stone floor. I looked up to see what, or more like whom I had bumped into. He was paler than he usual, a very daring feat, practically a ghost, and his expression illustrated his anguish. I expected him to sneer, to mock, to do anything but what he did.

"Sorry," he said and held out his hand. At the time I could do nothing but stare at it, his veins visible under milky white skin. Draco Malfoy, Prince of Slytherin, dubbed 'House Evil', was apologizing and offering to help me up. He was looking at me, but he also wasn't at the same time. His gaze was blank and his eyes seemed almost lifeless. Draco Malfoy was broken, the one person who I could always rely on to stay the same smarmy git had failed me; he had changed.

In an attempt to regain some semblance of normalcy I slapped his hand away.

"I don't want your help, Malfoy." I spat, trying to mask my confusion with venom. "You would probably just let go when I was halfway standing." He just shrugged and began to walk away, his dull eyes haunting me. I couldn't let this happen, I could not allow him to act like nothing. I rushed to catch up and blocked his path.

"Come on, Malfoy, what's your game? You don't change. You can't change! I know that slimy Git is in there somewhere!" I was screaming now, poking his chest with my index finger. I knew my face must be red, my irritation evident by my appearance alone. I didn't get a completely satisfactory reaction, but I did get one. I got a smirk and an eye roll. It was something and so I did not follow him again.

It was about a month later that my path was changed completely. I was in the Owlery, sending a message to Fred and George. I don't remember what the message was, but it isn't really important. While tying the message to the leg of one of the school owls, Malfoy showed up. Once again he ignored me, barely even looked in my direction, and it angered me beyond reason. There was a small part of me that declared 'Hey this is good, Malfoy has been muzzled!, but that part was very small. I was part curious, part angry, and well…they both beat that small voice to an itty bitty pulp.

"What is wrong with you?" I asked. It wasn't really a question though, more of a demand. He didn't say anything, just looked at me, one brow arched. "You're supposed to be mocking me for my poverty or proclaiming that Harry is going to die a horrible death. You are not supposed to change." I didn't think he would answer…but he did.

"I don't want to play a part anymore," he said. He was actually looking at me now and I noticed his eyes were no longer dull…they actually looked quite irritated. "I've played the part of petty bully all my life and I'm bored with it."

"A part? This isn't a play, Malfoy. You're an arse, a prick. It's not a part. We don't play parts." I said. I was so naïve then, so foolish, a silly girl.

"We all play a part, Weasley, even you." He sounded a little meaner now and at the time I would have rejoiced…except I wanted to know what he meant.

"Oh, really? What part do I play then?" I said, my voice coated with disdain.

"I thought it was quite obvious." He said. I just stared at him with narrowed eyes. "You, dear Weasel, are the damsel in distress to Harry Potter's Knight in shining armor. You play the part of a silly lovesick girl who will get married and have babies and live happily ever after. You will not bother to think of your future beyond Harry Potter." He said, looking quite disgusted.

I wanted to scream and throw hexes at him, to rage and deny, but I couldn't. Instead I glared at him and bit my lip.

"You're wrong." I said through gritted teeth. "I have a future!"

"Yes, as Mrs. Boy who wouldn't die."

I wanted to yell at him so much, but there was a part of me that knew he was right. A career after Hogwarts had only been vague idea in my mind, something I considered inevitable, but never concluded what occupation I would pursue. The only idea of a future I had was one that included Harry; marrying Harry, having children with Harry, and living happily ever after with Harry. If you take Harry out of the equation what was left?

This horrific realization that Harry was my life stomped out any anger I may have had towards Malfoy. I thought about my mother, about being a house wife and raising seven children while Harry went to work each day. I hated cooking and I wasn't very good with children, a hazard of being the youngest child. I wouldn't have time for a pick up match of Quidditch let alone a job. Harry would never stay home with the kids, hell he couldn't stand being at Hogwarts without getting into mischief. I knew my face was betraying my thoughts, but I didn't care, because I was having a revelation, an important life changing revelation.

"You know what the great thing about playing a part, Weasley?" he asked, a smirk gracing his lips, as I stared at him blankly. "You can always quit." He had sent his message during my inner dialogue and was now leaving. I didn't follow.

I didn't speak to him again. In the hallways we would nod to each other, slight and barely noticeable to those around us. He had given me a wake up call, had planted a seed of doubt in my mind. I wanted to be more than a mother and wife. I wanted to live for myself and not for Harry. I also felt I had gained some understanding of Malfoy, acquired a small glimpse of what was beneath his façade. I couldn't look at him, or any of the Slytherins as two-dimensional anymore. One conversation with Malfoy was all it took to realize that Harry, Ron, and my parents were wrong. A house did not define a person as being good or evil. Hell, Wormtail was Tom Riddle's right hand man and he was a Gryffindor. Slytherin, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw…they were all parts. I was tired of the song and dance. I was quitting the play.

When Harry returned from his quest, Ron and Hermione in tow, to defeat Voldemort, it was chaos. Death and decay was everywhere I looked, staying alive was more important than dwelling on future worries. I knew in my heart Harry would win, as sure as I knew I would be breaking his heart soon thereafter. Once Voldemort was in his grave and victory celebrations finished I would have to do the hardest thing I could think of.

Harry triumphed that spring and was tied up making speeches and being interviewed that I saw him only once before the summer. It was my first day back at the Burrow when Harry asked me to go for a walk. A part of me thought maybe he was going to break things off with me, that it would save me from being the villain. We walked along, Harry kept fidgeting and I stared forward, unable to look at him, my hands shoved in my pockets. Eventually he grabbed my hand and whirled me around to a stop in the middle of the path. He put his hands on my shoulders, holding me in place as he looked into my eyes. One look at his eyes and I knew this wasn't a 'Ginny we need to break up' talk.

"Ginny," he said.

"Harry I have to, " I tried to cut him off, to get things over with before he said anything more, but Harry never shuts his gob.

"Ginny I love you. I…this past year away from you, its been horrid, hell in fact. I don't want to be without you ever again. " he shoved his hand into his trouser pocket and quickly pulled it out again a small ring box in tow. "Ginevra Molly Weasley will you marry me?"

If there is a God, which at this point I'm convinced if there is he's a total wanker, he really hates me. Looking into those beautiful emerald eyes and his goofy grin I almost faltered in my decision, but I went through with it. I broke Harry Potter's heart.

"No, Harry, I can't." I decided to keep it simple to start.

It took him a minute to process this, for the whole 'No' thing to digest. I could see the realization register on his face, the widening of his eyes in shock and then the brooding anger. I guess anger is better than crying.

"WHY? This is what we talked about Ginny!" he wasn't exactly yelling, but his voice had raised a few deciables. "I love you. You love me. We're supposed to get married." He argued.

"Harry, I'm 17. I don't want to finish Hogwarts and start popping out babies." I said.

"What do you want then? You want to go party your arse off?" he spat.

"No! I just want my own life!" I was yelling now, how could he not understand. "Harry I care about you, greatly, but this can't work. I can't be what you need me to be, I want more than my parents."

"I don't understand." He said.

"Harry, if we marry I know you'll want a family. I don't even know if I want kids and I don't want to be a housewife. I just want to live a little before settling down. If you can't understand that…well, we can't be together."

"I'm sorry Ginny, but I can't understand it. I want to settle now that the war is done, I want to get married and have kids. Don't you think fighting in a war is enough excitement for one lifetime?" he asked and I could here the anger and desperation in his voice.

"Harry that isn't what I mean by living. I…I need to figure out who I am and what I truly want in life. All these years I've only thought of being with you, wanting you to be happy, that I forgot to think about my own wants and needs. This past year on my own again I realized I was just going through the motions, drifting along unthinkingly. I have to figure myself out, before I can even think about marriage and a family."

"You could of told me all this crap before I proposed!" Harry yelled.

"How was I supposed to know you would be proposing? We haven't seen each other for a year Harry, haven't even kept in contact. I think this is the best for both of us, some girl will be lucky to have you."

"I don't want some girl I want you!" he said grabbing my wrist and pulling me towards him. He crushed his lips against mine, a sloppy and forceful kiss. I pushed him off me and shoved him.

"Enough! I'm done Harry and forcing yourself on me isn't helping your case!" I screeched, turned around and stomped off. I was done, done with Harry Potter and my silly girlhood crush. Even in my anger I still thought it would all be okay. Harry would go brood, calm down, and life would go on as normal. I was so naïve.