Chapter One: Isolation
The war was over – that much everyone knew. Every witch and wizard around the world had continuously celebrated that fact nearly nonstop ever since the mention of the highly anticipated death of the Dark Lord. The end of his final reign had rendered the streets abandoned for fear of being snatched, but ever since that day a bright light of life had poured out of every home around to come together in the open. Once again, a cry for Harry Potter could be heard followed by the sound of goblets clinking together and liquid sloshing to the floor. Especially in London, where the presence of dark magic seemed to have been at its high, laughter rang higher and the music almost never stopped.
But the music stopped for Harry Potter. He had expected to go back to life as usual after the war and maybe start a family and be an auror. However, life for Harry Potter had never been normal. He went with the Weasley's back to the Burrow after the war had ended and after they had helped clean up Hogwarts. Things with Ginny didn't go back to "normal" either. All the passion he had felt for her had turned dull, and at first he just figured he was still in disbelief from the end of it all and his feelings would come back. On his final night at the Burrow he had shared her bed with her and exchanged a few kisses, but he then pushed her from him and sighed. No words were spoken between them, because somehow she just knew it was over.
There was nothing normal for Harry to go back to, and so nothing felt quite right. The only thing outside of Hogwarts he had ever had were the Dursley's, and he most definitely never planned to live with them again. He decided to move into 12 Grimmauld Place on his own, regardless of whatever protests Hermione or any of the Weasley's gave him. Ron and Hermione had plans to move into their own home soon and they had lovingly offered a room for Harry but he denied it. Hermione gave him a sad look and hugged him tightly before he apparated out of the Burrow.
The home was as old, dusty, and dark as he remembered it. Harry slowly walked the halls and each room of the place and lightly touched each surface, and he imagined once again what Sirius's life had been like in such a place. A tightness formed in his chest at the thought of his dead Godfather. He was supposed to be living with Sirius and enjoying a normal life for once; not even this place felt normal. There was no Order surrounding the table discussing Voldemort's next move, nor the Weasley twins trying their best to eavesdrop. There would be no warm Christmas dinner with laughter and sweets, and there would be no hope for Harry to finally have his own family instead of always burdening his friends. Not even Kreacher seemed to be wandering the halls – perhaps the poor house elf had finally passed on to be with his Masters.
Harry sat on the couch in the living room and set what little items he own on the floor. The air around him was deafeningly quiet and stuffy. He had been prone to self-isolation during much of his time at Hogwarts during the rise of Voldemort, but this was a different sort of isolation. His friends had something to go home to. Even Hermione, who had obliterated the minds of her parents, had a new and loving relationship with Ron, and they were moving on to new stages in their lives. Both of them had known a normal life before Voldemort – but not Harry. Harry had known the cupboard under the stairs. He had known hunger, teasing, loneliness, bitterness, and emptiness. He had known loss, regret, pain, suffering, and longing. Even in between all of the painful moments of his life where had known love, friendship, and laughter, it had always been followed by something else.
He couldn't go back to Hogwarts. Even if he had wanted to teach there, the memories of the war and old friends and professors would always haunt the corridors for him. As Harry remembered his days at Hogwarts, an odd thought occurred to him – one which caused him to finally feel an emotional response in a while. He wondered where the Malfoy's had gone. After the war, the three of them had escaped as quickly as possible, and the ministry had even given up its search for Lucius for his involvement with Voldemort. The Malfoy's had no normal life to go to either. Though on the other side, Harry had seen their walls break down near the end, and their true nature surfaced. And for whatever reason, he felt even emptier knowing that no one knew of their whereabouts.
Harry had no proper thought process as he acted. In fact, he never even bothered to stop and question himself why he was even doing such a thing. He found an old scrap of parchment and scribbled the first words that came to mind on it, and then took it over to the owl Hermione had given him in case he wanted to contact her or Ron. It watched him curiously as he tied the rolled up scrap to its leg. "I need you to find the Malfoy's, do you understand?" The owl hooted softly "Find Draco Malfoy. Find him and his family. And please come back." Harry took her over to the window and watched as she confidently stretched her wings and then took flight.
