Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, they belong to J.K. Rowling. I just play with them.

Reviews are welcomed.

It had been a week since the war had ended. Harry and Hermione had decided to return to the Burrow for the foreseeable future to avoid the press; it seemed the Prophet didn't want to waste any time in getting the story from them. The day after the final battle burials had been held for Fred, Lupin, and Tonks. Ron and Hermione had not been separated one moment that Harry knew of, but he gave them space, knowing they'd want it after waiting so long to be together.

That was just a pretense for keeping to himself so much. He was still numb from the past week. So much sadness and guilt weighed him down, to the point where he was unable to be around anyone. The war was over, but so many had died fighting that the happiness most felt did not come for Harry.

The Weasley's had mourned Fred, but said that he died laughing, which is the way he would've wanted. George had returned to the flat over the shop, saying that Fred would murder him if he lost their shop. Harry had avoided Ginny so far, he couldn't stand knowing that because of him her brother had died. She was suffering because of him, even if she didn't show it on the outside.

The previous day, a reporter had actually come to the door asking for interviews; Mrs. and Mr. Weasley, Charlie, Bill, Fleur, Hermione, and Ginny had all cursed him at the same moment, and he was now lying in a bed at St. Mungo's. After that, the Prophet had not sent their daily owl to Burrow, asking for an appointment.

Harry now sat on a patch of grass beside the swamp, thinking of everything that had happened in the past week. The guilt of knowing it was his fault so many had died was slowly suffocating him; he did not know how much more he could take. If only he could have done the job faster, if only he had given himself to Voldemort instead of letting everyone fight for him. What made it worse was how whenever he did go to the Burrow he was surrounded by "No one blames you, Harry," or "You saved our lives, we owe them to you."

"Harry," said a soft voice.

Hermione walked up and sat down next to him.

"How long are you going to avoid us?" she asked quietly.

"I'm not avoiding anyone, Hermione." He said defiantly.

"We haven't seen you since we got back from the funerals, if Ginny didn't come out here and check on you every day we'd think you'd have left."

"Ginny what?" he asked sharply. He had not seen anyone come out to the swamp, especially Ginny.

"We're all really worried about you. Ginny comes out here every few hours, to see if you've left or not. Harry, please just talk to me or Ron. We're your best friends; you've always came to us when something was wrong." She looked at him with tears in her eyes.

"This is different, Hermione. This is something I need to get through by myself."

"Harry Potter, do not talk to me like I am a child! I've been with you through all of this, and if you think that I'm just going to sit by while you throw yourself a pity party then you really don't know me. Quit being so thick, because it's starting to become very annoying!" With that, she sprang to her feet and began marching back to the house.

Harry sighed. He was not having a "pity party", he just could not see how he could face everyone, knowing that it was his fault . . . it was his entire fault.

He stood up, deciding he would have to do it sooner or later. It was just like sticking a hand into the Blast-Ended Skrewts; it was better to do it fast and get it over with.

He walked through the garden and stopped for a moment to watch Crookshanks chase a gnome around the garden. It reminded him of his first time at the Burrow, when he was shown how to properly de-gnome a garden with Fred, George, and Ron . . . He smiled at the memory.

"It's about time. . . ." Ginny was standing in the doorway with her arms crossed, frowning slightly.

"Ginny, I—" Harry started, but she cut him off before he could saying anything.

"I don't want to hear it! You think you can just decide when you're a part of this and when you aren't. It doesn't work that way around here. Yes, we're all sad, but you don't see any of us moping around all time. . . . Actually, you wouldn't know, because you've disappeared yet again! It's time you realize that you aren't the only one hurting! You're just the only one being a big baby and acting like life's some kind of punishment!" She dropped her hands to her hips as her eyes burned into him.

Harry walked forward, dropping his eyes to the sidewalk. "I'm sorry, Ginny."

"For what?" she hissed.

"For leaving the way I did; I wasn't trying to mess you around or anything like that. And . . . and for Fred; it was my fault. If only—"

"Quit being so damn thick, Harry! It was not your fault—do not give me that look—it wasn't your fault. You think Fred died for you? He died protecting the ones that he loves, as you gave your life for us, as your parents did for you! It was his choice, Harry. The only thing you should apologize for is the way you've acted over the last week!" She was now in front of him, poking one finger into his chest as she yelled at him. Harry could see the freckles on her smooth skin, her fiery eyes burned into his.

He placed his hand on her hand that was touching his chest. "Ginny. . . ." he whispered, "I just didn't think I could face you. Knowing how much I've hurt you, it hurts me more than you know."

"So quit hurting me!" she hissed, linking her fingers with his.

He stared at their fingers twined together; feeling as if an ache in him had finally been released by her touch. "I don't know how."

"Don't leave me again! It hurts every time you say goodbye, Harry. I feel like every time you walk out the door you're never coming back. That is what hurts me. Last year I thought we'd finally be together, but you said we couldn't because you didn't want me getting hurt, after I told you I didn't care. Then when we kissed on your birthday, I thought we'd be together, just separated by Voldemort. Once you defeated him I knew there was nothing standing in our way . . . but you left again, even if you were still here physically, you really were gone.

"Don't you see? You hurt me by leaving me!" she clenched his hand hard as she spoke those last words. "I'd rather fight a thousand Death Eaters than face you leaving again."

Harry looked into her eyes for a moment before pulling her against him. He circled her tightly in his arms, inhaling her sweet scent.

"I won't leave again, Ginny. I promise." He said softly into her ear.