Chapter 1
Harry jerked awake as the first bit of sunlight filtered in through the curtains, warming the room he and Ron shared. Ron was still snoring on the top of the bunk bed. Harry didn't blame him. He wish he could sleep as soundly as Ron. He still had nightmares that plagued him every night. He knew trying to go back to sleep now would be useless so, with a sigh, he rose from the bed and pulled a shirt on. The Burrow was eerily quiet in the mornings. Harry quietly made his way down the hallway passed all the doors and crept downstairs to the kitchen, making sure to skip the last step which always creaked. He began to make tea the muggle way since he left his wand upstairs and didn't feel like going back up. When he was done, he held the mug in his hands and stared out the kitchen window at the sun rising over the treetops in the distance.
Only two months had passed since the Second Wizarding War, as it was called. Harry, declared the Chosen One, was deemed the only one capable of stopping Voldemort from toppling the Ministry of Magic and conquering the entire wizard community. He had succeeded, but many lives were lost along the way. Hogwarts had shut down, but was scheduled to be reopened by the next school year.
"Good morning," a familiar voice said behind him.
Harry turned to face her, already feeling his face becoming red at her sudden appearance. Ginny - his girlfriend, he thought immediately, even though they hadn't talked about things since the war ended, he just assumed they were back together at last - was the only one who could sneak up on him like this without scaring him. Everything about her calmed him down and also excited him at the same time. She was wearing a soft cotton blue t-shirt that Harry recognized as his own, grey sweatpants, and pygmy puff slippers. Harry thought the slippers were ridiculous but somehow they looked cute on Ginny. She smiled up at him with perfect straight teeth, her long red hair hanging on one side of her shoulder. She was the only one who affected him the way she did.
"Morning," he smiled back, pulling her against him into a hug. "Why are you up so early?"
"I couldn't sleep," she explained. "Then I heard you going downstairs."
"How did you know it was me?"
"Who else would be up this early?" She laughed, lifting up on her toes to peck him on the lips. He sighed in contentment and they just stood there, holding each other as more sunlight brightened the room. Ginny's voice was more serious when she spoke again. "More nightmares?"
Harry nodded wordlessly against her shoulder and she squeezed him tighter.
"Me too," she whispered, then jerked out of his embrace when they heard a door close upstairs, taking with her all of the warmth he had felt. She busied herself with looking in the fridge as they heard footsteps coming downstairs. It was Mrs. Weasley. She looked as if she had aged ten years since the war ended. Out of everybody in the Burrow besides George, Mrs. Weasley was taking Fred's death the hardest. She put all of her focus on cooking, doing odd tasks around the house, and taking care of everyone else. She tried not to show that she was grieving in front of Harry and her family, but too often Harry had caught her wiping tears from her eyes or flipping through a family album which had pictures of Fred, usually accompanied by George, waving up at her. She drew up short when she saw Harry.
"Oh, good morning, Harry," she said with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. Then she noticed Ginny who was still rummaging in the fridge. "Ginny, dear, don't bother. I'm about to get breakfast started. Go wash up. And wake Ron up before he sleeps his whole day away."
Harry looked at his watch. It was still pretty early, but a lot of time had passed since he came downstairs. Mrs. Weasley began to fish ingredients out of the fridge and cupboards, humming under her breath. Harry noticed that she didn't use her wand to cook anymore. Instead, she did everything by hand the Muggle way. He figured she did it to keep herself more busy. Harry wanted to say something but he wasn't sure how to break the awkward tension in the room. He briefly wondered if Mrs. Weasley somehow blamed Harry for her son's death. As usual, this thought brought with it a feeling of guilt.
Before he could dwell on it too much, Ginny was coming back downstairs, her hair still wet from her shower. She smiled at Harry and sat next to him at the table. Ron trudged down the stairs behind her and slumped into the chair across from Harry, still bleary-eyed. Harry and Ginny started having a conversation but Ron seemed too tired to join in even when Mrs. Weasley set a plate full of hot food in front of him. He just shoveled forkfuls of scrambled eggs into his mouth so fast Harry marveled at how he was even swallowing his food. Mealtimes in the Burrow since the end of the war were usually pretty quiet. Ginny tried to lead the conversation to what she considered 'safe' topics, nothing that concerned the war such as the latest news on her favorite all-girls Quidditch team, the Holyhead Harpies, or discussing what kind of supplies she thought she would need for her last year at Hogwarts, or wondering what some of their other classmates like Neville were up to. Ron still didn't seem up for conversation and Mrs. Weasley mumbled something about taking a tray of food up to George's room, even though he only picked at his food. Harry had hardly seen him since he had come to stay with the Weasleys.
A sharp tapping at the window indicated that the mail had arrived. Ginny, who was closest, jumped up to open the window. One of the Weasleys' owls flew in and landed awkwardly on the table, knocking off Harry's silverware and sending it clattering to the floor. Ginny sorted through the mail. "One for George, one for Percy - that prat - another one for George, and oh! I already got a letter from Hogwarts." Ginny still harbored anger towards Percy, who had continued working for the Ministry of Magic and had even become head of the Department of Magical Transportation.
Harry came up to stand close behind her, reading over her shoulder. "Anything for me?"
She glanced at him with a sly smirk. "Why, are you expecting a fan letter from some girl?"
"Why would I want that when I already have the perfect girl right here?"
"Oi!" Ron nearly bellowed, slamming his fork down. He stabbed a finger at them. "None of that talk around me. I'm still not use to my best friend and my sister being an item."
"God, honestly Ron, sometimes you nag worse than mum," Ginny scoffed. "Besides, Hermione will be here in a couple of days. Don't pretend you two aren't any better than us."
"Wait, Hermione's coming here?" Ron straightened in his chair, his eyes widening. "How do you know?"
"She told me a few days ago, I wanted to keep it a surprise until now. Here, she wrote you," Ginny said, and she grabbed a letter from the pile and tossed it at Ron, who stared down at it in shock as if it were a howler. After he read it, he seemed to be in a much better mood. He went upstairs to shower with a ridiculous grin on his face.
"I knew that would cheer him up," Ginny said smugly. "Are you sure you're alright, Harry?"
Harry was staring out the window again, thinking about Hedwig, who he missed. He had a lot of time now to miss everyone he had lost. He gave her a reassuring smile and said, "Yeah, I think I just need to go on a walk for a bit."
"Okay," Ginny said simply, using her wand to begin cleaning up the dishes. That was the good thing about Ginny. She understood him perfectly and knew when he needed to be alone.
He walked outside into the warm summer air, letting his feet take him wherever they led. He ended up sitting on a fallen tree stump within seeing distance of the Burrow. He stared up at the sky, finally allowing all of the thoughts he tried he tried to shut out enter his mind. He thought about Sirius too because, even though his death had occurred before the war, it was still hard to believe he was gone. The memories scared him, still haunted him in his sleep. Mr. Weasley had said it wasn't healthy for him to hold in everything. Speaking of Mr. Weasley, Harry saw him step out of the front door and make his way towards where he sat. Harry took a few deep breaths, trying to compose himself.
"Hi, Harry," he said cheerfully, smiling down at him. "Lovely day, isn't it? Mind if I join you?"
"Hey, Mr. Weasley."
"Call me Arthur, Harry, I think it's appropriate given your age and everything we've been through."
"Alright, Arthur." It felt weird to address Mr. Weasley by his first name. He gestured to a spot next to him on the log. "Go ahead."
Mr. Weasley settled next to him, sighing and looking up into the sky. Harry wasn't sure what to say so he kept quiet. Luckily, Mr. Weasley was good at supplying conversation. "Work has been busy lately. Did I tell you I've been promoted?" He didn't give Harry time to respond. "You know, Harry, I see you sitting by yourself a lot the past few days. Something on your mind?"
Harry wasn't sure how to put it into words. Mr. Weasley was the closest thing to a father Harry had, besides Sirius. Thinking about Sirius again put a lump in his throat. He swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth and tried to explain. "I keep thinking…about everything. I think about Dumbledore a lot, and Sirius, too…And what's worse is I have this horrible feeling that something isn't right. I know the prophecy ended when I killed Voldemort, but I still have nightmares. I thought after the war I would feel settled, you know. At peace. Something keeps tugging at my mind, and this voice in my head keeps telling me it's not over yet."
He took a deep breath. It felt good to tell someone everything on his mind, but to voice his fears made them seem more real. He shivered despite the sun warming his skin. Mr. Weasley paused for a moment to digest his words, then he said carefully, "Harry, I don't expect you'll recover from the war for a few more years. What you went through was traumatic, for all of us, but you especially. You'll move past this. We all will."
The words gave Harry little comfort as he followed Mr. Weasley back inside the house. His gut instinct was hardly ever wrong, and right now it was telling him something was coming.
