A/N: "To err is human, to forgive is divine." I always thought that Harry and Draco needed to forgive each other, and at King's Cross station in the epilogue, it seems as though they have made up (a bit). So, here's Harry's POV. I'll post Draco's tomorrow (if people review he he). Takes place about three months after the war which have been spent grieving or wallowing in sorrow.

He had always been poised for failure, the worst happening to him. Was it all his fault? If he hadn't made Cedric take the tri-wizard cup, then Cedric Diggory would not have died. If Harry had practiced his Occlumency with Severus Snape and been better, then Sirius would not have been dead. If Harry hadn't listened to Dumbledore, maybe his life could have been saved. If he had only arrived to save Remus sooner, maybe his godson would have a father. Why did these people have to die for him?

Harry slumped onto the couch of his house that he and his girlfriend Ginny shared. He loved her, and she loved him, and he always wondered when the next blow was going to be dealt. For just about three months, nothing—besides funerals—had happened.

Each funeral was like a tease to him. "I would have been alive if you only…" And Harry hated himself for it. He tried to explain it to Ginny, but she wouldn't understand.

"You see it is my fault. If I had been able to face Voldemort myself sooner, then he wouldn't have had to wage war on everyone. So many times I thought about giving up, but I kept fighting, for them, for us." A tear escaped his eye, and Ginny kissed his cheek. He brushed her away. "But damnit! If I would have died then they would have lived! It is all my fault that they died, Sirius, Remus, Cedric, Fred, Mad-eye Moody, even Grindelwald and Gregorgovitch…all because of a wand. A stupid wand and a fucking prophecy!" He grabbed a hold of a glass vase that was resting serenely on a table and raised it above his head. With a look of fury in his eyes, he smashed it to the floor.

A look of shock appeared on his face, as he realized what he did, and he fell down to the floor, ashamed. Ginny had a scared expression, but walked to his side and placed her arms around him. "It's not your fault love. It's you-know-who's. You could never have prevented their deaths." She kissed his black curls. "You cannot blame yourself Harry, it was not your fault, and nothing can change it."

He shook her off and raised his voice again. "But I could have tried! While the entire school was out risking everything they had, their unfinished lives—for me—I was playing hide-and-go-seek with a bunch of horcruxes. Which, sure, I found them, but I only found them after countless good people had died. All of their lives—I destroyed them all. If I had just died as a baby, maybe everything would be better. Peaceful. Happy. Mindless. I IS my fault and you know it. Everyone knows it. The whole world would be better without me. Voldemort, well, If I hadn't had thwarted his attempts to kill me, then all of those people…they wouldn't have died. Cedric, you cannot deny that it was completely my fault. And Sirius too, if my actions were different, then they would have been alive today, and celebrating with the rest of the world. They should be celebrating a victory, raising their glasses to Harry freakin Potter, some bloke who has an infinite supply of luck and good fortune. No one cares. No one gives a damn that I'm the reason everyone died. Everyone just loves the fact that I killed Tom Riddle. And I didn't do a damn thing. I fucking sat and watched as others risked their life for me. If it wasn't for Ron and Hermione, I'd be dead fifty times over. If it wasn't for me, all the people I love could still be here. And Teddy could have a father, a mother, and a happy upbringing. It's all because of me…" He fell into silence.

Ginny was crying, frozen in place, shedding tears for her best friend's ignorance. Why could he not see that everyone was alive because of him? She was here because he saved her from the basilisk and Tom Riddle in her first year. The wizarding world was alive because he faced Voldemort and defended himself against him. He saved them all. "Harry," she choked out between sobs. "Harry you are amazing. You are the reason we're alive." She sniffed. "You are the only reason that I am alive. You saved everyone even if you don't believe it."

Harry looked back at Ginny with a murderous glare. "You don't get it do you?" he shouted at her. She shook her head, tears running down her freckled cheeks. "Everyone needs me to be the hero and I can't! I can't do it anymore. I'm not some prince come to save the whole damsel world from the evil monster. I am sick of labels, mine being The-boy-who-lived-thrice. Or for those more knowledgeable, the-boy-who-lived-cause-of-some-damn-luck. I overheard Voldemort say once, "Luck, that which spoils all but the best laid plans." And his plans were foolproof. There was no escape. And I can't take it anymore! They died. Because of me!" Harry's wand was in his hand and he apparated to a room in his house that only he could enter. It was a safe haven for him. A place of destruction, where he released his anger on inanimate objects.

"Diffindo, expulso, reducto, incendio, engorgio, expulso…" He cursed the glass bottles he had gathered from all of the funerals he had been to. Everyone knew that when they finished a bottle of firewhiskey, they gave it to Harry. So he had over one thousand shrunken bottles waiting to be shattered in his cupboard in the secret room. Although the room was within his house, there was no door to get there, one had to apparate. And he had wards so that only he could enter and exit. Ginny had begged him to let her know the password, 'in case something happened' but he refused exclaiming, "The one time I get to have a room of my own…NO! That will be my own private property. No one else will be allowed to enter there. It'll be a place I can call my own." Ginny didn't argue with him further, knowing he wouldn't do anything harmful. But after thinking it over, she vowed to be more aware of how he was feeling.

"Incendio" yelled Harry as he watched fifteen brown glass bottles melt in the red flames. "Diffindo" he cursed, and grimaced as thirty bottles smashed open in the air, some shards of glass embedding themselves into his skin. He vanished the remains and sat down on a clean red armchair. He knicked it from Sirius's room and had a habit of collapsing into it when he needed comfort. He pocketed his wand and tilted his head back, closing his eyes.

Silently, he counted to one thousand, relaxing his mind and body. His fierce breathing slowed and his heart rate dropped. To an outsider, he would appear to be sleeping. Inside, however, he was in turmoil. He kept himself completely stationary as the deaths replayed themselves in his mind. Cedric saying, "Let's take it together…wands out do you reckon" and getting hit with the green light, Harry frozen with fear. Sirius slipping through the veil, Remus holding Harry back…Mad-eye, sacrificing himself and placing the lives of twelve others on the line for his sake.

His nightmares haunted him, but they were predictable. When he was asleep, he dreamt of Voldemort killing those he loved—Ginny, Ron, Hermione and all the others that were still alive. He saw his parents die over and over. But somehow he knew that the dreams with Voldemort were just that, nightmares and had no truth value to them. It was his thoughts that plagued him the most. Because he knew that his thoughts were true.

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