In war, there are no unwounded soldiers.

-Jose Narosky


Harry Potter

He knows it is his fault. All of it. Every single death, every single tear that was shed, every single family that was pulled apart... his fault, because nothing was ever enough.

Nothing, and he's just done with failure.

Oh, sure, he won. Voldemort's dead, and Harry's the one who killed him. The world is in celebration- parties, drinking, the whole deal. The world is in celebration around him- he is their bloody hero, their perfect savior. They worship him; and he hates it, and knows he doesn't deserve it. No one listens. They still come with their reporters and their high-profile pictures of whatever he happened to be doing, and he can't stand it.

And when he lies alone at night, he can feel it. The weight on his shoulders, the guilt that will never go away.

It's his fault, and he knows it.


Hermione Granger

She knows all about books, and cleverness, and as she buries herself in them it is easy to forget. It's easy to forget the blood that she still feels, spattered across her hands; it is easy to forget the deadness that was in Harry's eyes. It's easy to forget, and that is the escape she looks for.

It only makes it harder, though, when she comes crashing back to reality.

That's when it hurts, and that's where no one can help her. She sees Harry, crying silently in his own little corner of his own little hell; but he can't help her, no one can.

So she lives and she breathes and she escapes and she crashes- an endless cycle, a battering circle, that she can't get out of.


Remus Lupin

His losses are too large for him to even think about, and instead he hides. He forgets, and he ignores what is going on. He stoically ignores the fact that he is alone, that he has no one.

He buries himself in the comforting familiarity of the moonlight. Never in a million years would he have guessed that the moon would be what comforted him; however, the irony of it struck him as almost right. He was the one who should have died, with them, so long ago; and now things just kept falling further and further? What does he have left?

He watches Harry with a tired and weary but caring eye. The boy suffers so much; and he sees how the war is ripping the child apart. He wishes more than anything he could do anything to stop it, to make it better... to make it go away.

But he has his own scars, and they weigh him down too much.


Molly Weasley

The kitchen is busy with frantic activity, and she methodically makes the meals and reprimands her children. She loves them beyond what she, or they, can understand; she would willingly give her own life if it meant their happiness and safety.

But she knows that being a mother isn't enough sometimes. Her babies are in the war; her children are threatened with death nearly daily, and she can't stand it. Many of them have told her that they are willing to give up their lives, that they are ready and strong enough- and she hadn't listened to them. Of course she hadn't.

Arthur had tried to comfort her in his own way, but she could tell he was scared too. He was terrified. Their children meant as much to him as they did to her, no matter how much of a mask he put up to hide the truth.

Molly's greatest fear was losing her children, and the burden of that fear crushed her.


Ron Weasley

He had never considered himself to be very strong, in any way whatsoever; Hermione was booksmart, and Harry was just... strong- but he didn't have any of that. He was just... him, and that was the entirety of his character. He didn't have anything of value, anything of purpose.

But when he saw Hermione break down; when he saw his mother's tears; when he saw the empty look in Harry's eyes... he became the strong one. He was the one who supported them, lifted them up. And they were the ones who won.

But every once in awhile, that unworthy feeling comes back. Every once in a while, he remembers the times during the war- the times when he was nothing.


To be continued.

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