A/N: I don’t own any of the characters or anything, OK?

Our first kiss was at the first wedding I’d ever been to. It was the first time we danced. The first time I stared into his eyes and knew that I’d never be alone, I’d never need anything ever again as long as we were together.

The first time we said “I love you� was on the first day it snowed that winter. The first time we never slept, just stared out the window, watching the snow drift down, talking but knowing we didn’t need to.

The second time we held each other and cried was at the second funeral I’d ever been to. It was the second time the Wizarding World rejoiced at the end of a reign of terror. But it was the first time I saw Ginny, stripped of all her happiness, half-drifting through the rest of her life. The first time I saw the person I loved more than anyone in more pain than I could bear. And the first time I truly understood that The Boy Who Lived was the most noble and heroic person the world had ever known.

That year, I stopped counting our firsts. Everything blurred together, indiscernible, each day just us, together, with no one else in the world. We were two-thirds of a trio that could never be reunited. We were broken, damaged.

I only remember one more first. It was the first day that I was alone. The first day I didn’t have sparkling blue eyes to drown in and protect me from the rest of the world. The first day I had absolutely nothing.

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I never understood why he had to be so noble. He gave up everything that he had for a world of people who either believed he was crazy, or a liar, or just a bored kid looking for attention. He was selfless and humble and maybe that was why I loved him so much.

But no matter how hard I tried, he didn’t seem to love me. True, for the first three years that I knew him I never spoke more than two words to him, but he seemed like the kind of person who could see past my shyness to how much I wanted to talk to him, to laugh with him, to have him see me as more than his best friend’s annoying little sister. After my second year, I got a little better around him. I started telling myself that it was just a stupid crush, I was only twelve; there was no way that I could be in love with him! And the more I told myself that, the more I believed it. So then I sort of just…went on with the rest of my life. I had my first boyfriend, and kiss, and I made friends who knew me for who I am, a smart, funny, brave girl, not the sputtering idiot I was throughout my first two years at Hogwarts.

Then along came my fifth year. I was finally myself around everyone, including him. The old me was gone, replaced by a girl who only sometimes lost her breath when he looked at her, who only on occasion felt like doing back flips when he smiled at her, and who only melted every other time he accidentally brushed her hand with his. I actually believed that I was doing better. I didn’t realize how truly wrong I was until we kissed, and those old feelings rushed back full force, only this time I was different around him. I was myself, only a new, improved, and much happier model. I should’ve realized that life was too good, that my whole perfect world would come crashing down all too soon.

He broke my heart. Being the hero that he is, he broke my heart to keep me out of danger. It only made me love him more. Years passed, and I tried as hard as I did when I was thirteen to forget him. Only this time it was harder. This time I knew how wonderful he could be; how fully and totally amazed one person could make me. It terrified me that I could never hear him tell me that he loved me. He was distant and detached whenever I saw him. He seemed to have accepted something that I couldn’t. He had accepted the fact that we would never be together again.

The boy who captured my dreams, who broke my heart so gently, who saved me when I didn’t even know that I needed saving, who loved me – this boy is dead. He died fighting his greatest enemy, and he saved the world that never really knew him. But I don’t understand why it had to be him. Why was it the man that I loved who had to save the Wizarding World? Why did it have to be my brother’s best friend that was brave and good and breathtakingly amazing? Why wasn’t it someone else’s best friend, or hero, or true love that was killed. I can only think of one reason why he was chosen. He was simply too good. He was too kind, and he was too valiant, and he was too perfect to be needed for anything less.

Now I have no purpose, no reason to be here. I knew true love, but it slipped through my fingers like everything else that was good in my life has. The world rejoices, but something inside of me has shut off. And I can’t deal with that emptiness.

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The hardest goodbye that you’ll ever have to say is the last. No matter what anyone else tells you, you’ll never experience anything else that’s nearly half as painful, or as heart-breaking. I’ll never forget the last time he looked at me, or talked to me, or kissed me. All of those memories are stored inside of me for when his loss gets to be too much to bear. So now, even though he is gone, I can still think of him, and lose myself for a few precious moments.

A/N: This is my first fanfic ever. Please review, I want to hear how I did!