Chapter 1:

He didn't know where to begin. People were starting to form groups and head up to the dormitories. Adults, students and faculty were leaving the hall. All he felt was ache. His stomach was clenched and screwed up from all the fear and anxiety from the recent events. Relief did not wash over him yet. He still felt tight inside; and also burdened. Sadness and pain were replacing the feelings of fear. Voldemort's death offered him no true happy feeling. He still felt broken, and cut off. All around him, the chaos of it all still felt real. People were either suffering from terrible losses or rejoicing in their survival. None of these emotions could reach him though. He held a forced smile as they passed him. It was a weak message that he understood their grief and gratitude. He hoped that they could understand why he couldn't comfort them. He just didn't have the strength, the energy to keep going, not tonight.

In some of their eyes, he saw that they recognized even a slight hint of his inner pain and moved on by him. Maybe it was their way of thanking him, he was glad that they did. He decided to escape the great hall, and go up to Gryffindor tower. He believed Ron and Hermione were already there. He had waited so they could have some time alone.

Harry didn't know what to do. He was floored. He had gotten through Sirius's death, but the prospect of comforting someone who had lost their brother, it was more horrible than he ever imagined. He grimaced at the thought as he climbed the stairs. Parts of it had been destroyed. The battle had left most of the school in ruins. He leap over the trick stair and climbed higher. What would he say? Would Ron blame him for what happened? If it wasn't for him none of it ever would have happened, and Fred would be alive and with his family. Though without Harry, many more would eventually have died, most likely including the entire Weasley family. It was well known that they were the biggest blood traitor family there was. Either way, this fight would have resulted in casualties.

All too soon he had reached the fat lady. At this point he couldn't hold any smile. He felt hopeless and anguished as he stared up at her. Her eyes were soft and understanding.

"Thank you," she said quietly. Harry nodded his head as she swung forward to let him in. He climbed through the portrait hole and discovered that the common room was empty. It also bore the scars of battle. Some furniture had been overturned and there were gouges in the wall. Some of the paintings had been blasted off the wall. Despite all this, he felt a small relief to be home; the only home he had ever known. He flicked his newly repaired wand and lit a fire in the fireplace. Aware of the suffering ahead and his own current despair, he sank into a chair.

His anguish overcame him so suddenly it shocked him. He felt all the physical wounds and the sting of exhaustion and hunger. He felt sick to his stomach and his head pounded. It was probably the aftermath of all the painful visions had had been having in the past 48 hours; visions that could never haunt him again.

His mind reeled as broken images forced their way to the surface. He saw the faces of the dead, the exploding and crumbling walls of Hogwarts, his home. The memory of Albus Dumbledore's lifeless body twisting in midair as it crashed down to earth made him cringe. He remembered Hermione's tortured screams and Dobby's death, the visions, Lupin hugging him tightly the night his son was born, Snape's memories, his parent's headstone, Sirius as he fell through the veil, that agonizing walk through the forest, his mother's memory standing before him, and the bright green flash of the Avada Kedavra.

He opened his eyes and gasped. He stared into the flames as a familiar scene played in his head. "Lily, take Harry and run! I'll hold him off…..not Harry, please not Harry." He felt sick. He remembered Fred's vacant expression, the ghost of his last laugh still on his face. Fred…gone. It seemed so impossible, so unfathomable that Fred Weasley could really be dead. He was so young so full of life, so much time ahead of him. Harry broke. His eyes burned as he clutched his tortured stomach. Fred, Sirius, Lupin, Tonks, Mad-Eye, him and the Weasleys had all once been laughing at a Christmas one thousand years ago. It certainly felt like it. They were together and harmonious once upon a time and now shattered and broken. He gasped, shocked by the staggering pain of it all. He felt nauseous and lightheaded. How clear he saw these images only moments ago. Now they were starting to fade.

A huge lump in his throat made it hard to swallow. He felt hot tears on his face. Why him? Why this pain? He held his head, crying and confused; what could sustain him? The glowing image of the doe and his mother filled his mind's eye. He gulped and blinked away tears. Some burden had lessened. They served as a…patronus, protecting his heart. He took a few deep breaths to steady himself. He remembered Ron and whipped his face. He blew his nose on a handkerchief and cleared his throat.

Ron and Hermione would need him now. They had been through so much together, he owed it to them. Without them he would never had survived. He whipped his face again and stood shakily. Then he slowly climbed to stairs to the boy's dormitories.

Note from the Author:

Welcome!

This story is just one example of the musings and emotions I feel and ponder when thinking about Harry Potter. It is my first Harry Potter story and also my favorite one I'm working on. I have many emotional connections with these characters, and if I could add another chapter, I would focus on the internal struggles the characters experience after that final battle. After Voldemort's downfall.

We'll see how it goes.

Fact: My favorite song off Deathly Hallows Part 2 is Courtyard Apocalypse….