Clawing the way back to normality.
Summary: It's a couple of months after the final battle; let's see how Harry and the Weasley's are coping.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or anything to do with Harry potter, unless you count the books and DVDs. I am not doing this for profit, if I was I wouldn't be a skint student like I am.
A few weeks later and things were starting to feel a bit more like normal, of course there was still the over whelming differences like one less sitting at the scrubbed wooden kitchen table, but luckily some weren't as obvious anymore.
Harry was still being Harry, his days were spent of cooking for the family, doing other household chores in order to keep the burrow in full working order, and his nights, well they were still eventful, most of the members of the family still were suffering for nightmares, that plagued their sleep, and so as had been common practice since the battle, he had done everything in his power to sooth those that he could, which were mainly Ginny and George, they were the ones with no-one else.
As to how Harry was doing personally well that's a different thing entirely. To say he felt numb would have been a relief but that was not the case, no matter how busy he kept himself he still felt that pain the racked through his body, both physical and emotional. Every thought or action managed to invoke some sort of memory in him no matter how small or insignificant, it still hurt. He truthfully hadn't slept in weeks, apart from an odd nap when he was too exhausted to continue, and even those were cut short. His body had got used to it, especially after the last 7 years but no human can stand sleep deprivation to that extent and it was gradually taking its toll.
If the nightmares weren't punishment enough, his physical well-being was also taking a hit along with his sleeping habits. He knew that the fatigue was in part due to his lack of sleep and appetite, but contrary to popular belief he wasn't stupid and knew full well that the debilitating chest pain, the wheezing, the coughing up blood was due to something more serious. He also knew that he should at least go and see Madam Pomfrey, she's been begging to check him over since the battle, but there was just something holding him back. He made excuses to himself, like saying it wasn't anything bad, or that he had too many things to do, too many people to look after and therefore didn't have time to be sick. And that I part was true, between the Weasley's, rebuilding Hogwarts and his own personal projects, he didn't have much time to himself, but deep down he knew the real reason. He felt like he deserved it, whatever this thing was it was his punishment for being alive, when so many good people died instead.
At the precise moment in time, 11pm on a Sunday evening, Harry could be seen sitting on the back steps to the burrow, his face a picture of concentration. He was thinking about the last week, and about how things seemed to be getting better for the Weasley family. Mrs Weasley had started cooking again and now cooked dinner each night, and she had even started to scold them occasionally. Most of the men were gradually making their way back to work. Bill and Fleur had gone back to shell cottage but still came over every day. They were getting there, and Harry realised that they didn't need him as much anymore and they soon wouldn't need him at all. To that he surprising felt ok about it, he knew he would still help silently like he had before, but now he could concentrate on setting their things to rights.
So when the sun began to rise, he set to work making breakfast for the family, and by 7 he was ready to leave the house. A final check ensured that everything was done and tidy; the food had all been placed under warming charms and sent to the respective houses, to Bill and Fleur, to Andromeda and Teddy, the Creevleys and to all the other families that he had been sending food to for the past month. They all needed a good breakfast to start the day.
Checking again just to make sure, all was done. He walked out the door, his rucksack on his back. He had things to do and there was no time like the present.
AN: Hi I hope you enjoyed, it was just a little one shot that I have been meaning to post, for years now. Please review and tell me what you think. I also have an idea to continue this a bit, but it will most likely be a series of one-shots as I have a lot of ideas but an struggling on how to connect them to form a story. Please tell me if you will be interested in this.
I also have a prequel to this written, about the first night back at The Burrow, and although I'm not too happy about this I will happily post it if you are interested.
Thank you for reading and have a good day.