Disclaimer: No characters in this story are mine. They all belong to JKRowling and respective publishers.

Warnings: SLASH. Boys kissing boys. Voluntarily.

A/N: This is my first decent try at slash, so please no flames, constructive criticism is fine though.

Sometimes I can't breathe when I see him. Sometimes I cry myself to sleep. Knowing that I can do nothing to ease his pain. Sometimes I almost wish Voldemort wasn't dead, that the war had never happened and my Harry was just the same. Almost. I look and see nothing but pain on his face. Others see the Great Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived Again, and This Time Finished The Job. And if they see past his scar, they just see a grave face, 'such a shame,' they say, 'that he saw all that.' But they have no idea the pain he goes through, the torment that he feels every night of his life, when he relays the deaths of many he loved, and many he never knew, in the one place that he cannot escape them: his dreams. And he knows that he cannot do anything about them now, but he does not let himself think that he couldn't have done anything about them at the time.

Everything changed with a simple spell. Well the spell isn't simple, but I bitterly hate my father for it. I will never forget the look of hatred on his face as he killed Seamus simply because his father was a muggle. I swear if he weren't dead I would kill him. Heartless bastard. My Harry was never the same, he felt responsible for everyone that died, but mostly he felt responsible for Seamus. It began with Cedric the real pain setting in when someone so close to him, had been taken by someone whose foolish pride had cost so many lives. My mother has told me of the horrific things that happened in that war, the parts I had not witnessed. The horrors Harry had seen, and the terrible things that he had been forced to do. I remember clearly, seeing Seamus fall to the ground with wide eyes, the breath that shook out of him as he hit the ground. I remember Harry and the pain, which is now so familiar, find its way to his beautiful eyes.

Always, I want to lift the weights off his shoulders. Always, I want to hold him tight. Always, I want to comfort him. Always, I want to tell him that it wasn't his fault. Always, I want to tell him how much I love him. Always, I want to show him that love. Always, I want to protect him. Always.

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Sometimes I want to cry. Sometimes I think 'what right do I have to cry?' Sometimes I want to hold him close to me so much. Sometimes I want to go back to before it all fell apart and tell him how I feel. Sometimes I cry myself to sleep because of the guilt, I want to hold my Dragon but I can't. He's not mine. Then I think, you selfish asshole. Why do you dwell on this when you know that you cannot have him, and so many families feel loss that you could have prevented? Sometimes I want to scream. Sometimes I think I will and damn who hears me.

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I worry about him everyday. Every hour, every second, I want to know where he is, I am scared he will do something stupid… He has been getting worse. I think Hermione has noticed it. Ron hasn't. He still hasn't recovered from Percy's death. Understandable. Every potions lesson, I watch him closely. No one notices it of course. I wouldn't let them. Everyone is still recovering from their part in the war. Many lost parents, siblings, friends. I lost nothing, I gained a mother and I gained distance between Harry and I. Still, I'm not about to let him go and leave me. So many people need him to stay alive and give them a reason to go on. They need to know that the lives lost were not in vain. I need him most of all. I know I could probably live without him, but my will to stay in my life would be gone. I would never feel joy, knowing that he died and he didn't know that I love him with all my soul. I cannot bear the thought of him not knowing that he is my everything, but I cannot risk that I tell him and then the love of the heir of the man who murdered his friend push him over the edge.

He slowly cuts the ingredients for the potion we are making today, I forget what it is, it's not important anyway. He stops suddenly. I abandon any caution I have about people noticing me watching him. He looks up to me. He looks me right in the eye for the first time since the war ended. His beautiful eyes ridden with pain and sorrow. Pleading with me to take it away. I almost give in right then and hug him. He looks down again, which gives me time to recompose myself. Slowly he puts his knife down, wipes his hands on the cloth next to him and walks out of the room, quietly as if it was completely natural. I look quickly at Severus who nods slightly 'Granger, Weasly, stop. Let him go.' It is a firm tone but soft nonetheless. I follow Harry, wondering where he would go. I go up out of the dungeons and look around the Entrance Hall. Out of the open door I can see that it's raining. I can also see Harry standing by the lake looking up at the sky. I'm paralysed as my worst fears spring to the front of my mind. My stomach knots but I have to break free of it for Harry. I run down towards where he stands. I realise he is not looking up at the sky, he is yelling at it. Screaming. My heart breaks when I hear it. I melt for him, wanting, as always to gather him in my arms and rock him 'till he sleeps a sleep free of torment and around those who love him. 'HARRY!' He looks down and closes his eyes. He shakes his head slightly and looks at me with the same torment filled look.

'Harry,' I whisper

'You called me "Harry"'

'I'm sorry.'

He shakes his head. 'Why?'

I don't understand, 'Why what?'

He shakes his head again. He moves a step closer to me and looks at me. 'I didn't mean to. No. I did. I'm sorry.'

I still don't understand. I look up to him; he is slightly taller than me, not much. His eyes are level with my forehead.

'Your father.' His beautiful eyes are abruptly filled with bitter hate. I melt again hating his eyes with anything else but joy in them.

'If you hadn't killed him I would have.'

Harry's eyes suddenly lose the bitterness; it is replaced by shock and disbelief.

'You don't blame me?' he asks hesitantly.

'No,' I reply softly.

His eyes are filled with relief. I reach up and stroke his face with the back of my fingers, barely daring to touch him. He closes his eyes and leans into my hand. I bring my fingers across his lips and I cupped his face gently. 'I love you more for it. For your bravery.' He opens his eyes and reaches up and pushes a few strands of hair out of my eyes. My skin tingles at his touch. We are standing close now. I can feel his breath on my face. I move my head closer to his and I, for the first time since leaving the hall register that we are both soaking wet and that the rain is still pouring down, before he softly brushes his infinitely soft lips against mine and I lose all concentration and my surroundings are irrelevant. He puts his arm around my waist and gently pulls me gently closer. I don't fight. Our kiss deepens and I hear and see nothing but the feeling of Harry's hot mouth on mine and his hands on the inside of my drenched robe fighting passively to find skin. My arms are around his neck and my hands buried in his hair. I can think of nothing more that I want in this moment. My consciousness is completely unable to think past the kiss with him this close, let alone actually kissing me. I stop trying to think and fall into his warm embrace.