This first chapter is kind of mush, but I promise it'll get more interesting! I needed to set the scene though. Just stick with me, the next one'll be better!

The old Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom had looked different every year:

When Quirrel taught, the room had a strong stench of garlic, and items for warning off dark spirits filled the wall.

With Lockhart, it had many posters of himself, Gilderoy, smiling his dazzling smile, and showing off his new books.

Lupin's time was the only time it looked like a proper Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, with facts about dangerous creatures hanging on the wall and all sorts of posters with incantations written on them.

Moody's had dark detectors and Auror items, and a rather dark feeling about it.

Umbridge's, Harry had thought, was most definitely the worst, with pink banners and pictures of frolicking kittens plastered on the walls, but indeed he was wrong.

As he, Harry, sat, feeling numb and cold, on the floor in the corner of the room, he decided the decorations this year were the worst. Pictures of Undesirable #1, Unforgivable curses, and Dark Marks filled this room with a terrible, forbidding feeling, as did the chains in the back.

It was only an hour or two after the death of Voldemort, and everyone was still in the hall, mourning and cheering. But Harry couldn't bear to face all those who died, so instead he sat there, staring blankly at a photo of Lupin and Tonks at their wedding.

He had never known what it would be like, to kill someone. Yes, people had died because of them, him. But never had he conjured the direct blow of death. He knew there was no one he could talk to (Unless you counted the adults, the older, more experienced people, which Harry did not.) as Hermione and Ron only stunned, and jinxed. They did not kill, but Harry did.

He watched Tonks twirl around, loose her footing and start to fall, before Remus grabs her arm, and steadies her, laughing.

They don't know, Harry thinks to himself, they don't know they die.

A loud crack startles Harry. He leaps up, and points his newly repaired wand at the form in front of him, who gives a yelp.

"It is only Kreacher, master. Kreacher has brought Harry Potter tea."

Nodding mutely, Harry reaches for a cup.

"Kreacher is sorry for master's losses. Kreacher also thanks Harry, for killing the one who killed Kreacher's true master."

Harry, taken aback by the elf's kindness, takes a sip and nods.

"Thanks, Kreacher." He says in a voice raspy from crying.

With a brisk nod, and a crack, Kreacher disappears.

Half an hour slips by without Harry's notice. Out the window, he can see rubble, and the ruins of the grounds. even the Defense classroom has the whole wall facing the hall caved inwards.

He sips the tea without tasting it, and though he is surely within hearing range, he does not hear the people calling him. Time alone is all he needs. Time to mourn, time to think over all he has discovered, time to remember.

The sun sets, the calling having stopped long ago, and still Harry sits.

Eventually his mind returns, and he truly sees the wreckage around him, and watches Lupin and Tonks with renewed fascination.

Bored now, and a little hungry, but not willing to face everyone else, he works on his patronus, ad finds himself struggle for happy thoughts.

As he stands and concentrates, thinking about Ginny, and Ron and Hermione, a crack of apparition unsettles the silent air. Harry glances over as there is another crack, and feels his insides warm as he sees a familiar anxious face, framed in beautiful red hair.

Ginny watches him for a moment before quietly walking over and holding his clammy hand in her warm, soft one. Harry smiles weakly, and though tears are streaming down Ginny's beautiful face, she grins feebly and squeezes his hand.

Together they stand, hand-in-hand, lost in thought until Ginny breaks the peaceful silence.

"Everyone's been looking for you. Hermione's in a state. Thinks you've run away. Funny, how no one bothered to check here, though I guess they figured you wouldn't be able to get in, considering the whole side of the wall is caved in, and the door is there."

"I apparated." he says with a rueful grin.

"You have a license?"

"No." he replies, holding up his hand to reveal two missing nails. "How did you get in?"

"Asked Kreacher to take me here. He disapparated immediately afterwards. Didn't want to bother you."

"oh."

"look, I'm sorry. I know he was the last friend of your father's, and I know you loved him. I'm really sorry."

"Thanks. I-I'm sorry about, about Fred" Harry says, feeling numbness creep up him. Once more, he stops seeing, and hearing. Nothing reaches his brain, which has shut down with grief.

Ginny nods, a sob racking her body. "George is like you." she sobs. "Having trouble producing a patronus."

This is what wrenches Harry back into reality, and out of the cool bliss of not thinking. Never before, had he been in such a state of grieving. Maybe it was the great number of deaths, maybe it was because Fred was someone he had never considered dying. Maybe it was because Lupin was the last Marauder. Maybe, and most likely, he was in such a place because he had killed someone. Granted, it was an evil mass-murderer, but he had purposefully ended someone's life. And the effect that had was lasting.

"Ginny..." he trails off, unsure as to what he should say. "Things'll get better. Just give it time." Ginny sighs, takes a deep, shuddering breath, and nods.

"It always does." she says sturdily. "It always does."

"Harry, I have to go, my family... they need me."

Giving him a quick kiss on the cheek, she calls for Kreacher.

Yeah, sorry again for the mush.