I don't believe in happy endings

Summary: A happy ending turns out to be much harder to face than his own impending doom. How do you live your life, when you'd already accepted your own death? Why, with the help of a certain ferret, of course.

Pairing/s: HP/DM, perhaps more in ze future once I've decided this fic's course.

Warnings:Depression, forms of self-harm and some other psychological issues. Slash, eventually, probably.

Disclaimer:I don't own Harry Potter, nor do I make money writing this. I also don't have a Beta. Just enjoying the practice!

Chapter 1

Harry watched in slow motion as Voldemort's body hit the ground. A surreal whirl of emotion, sound and colors engulfed him. It was finally over. His battle was over. In a daze, he looked up and around him. Death eaters retreating, Aurors heading after them, students sobbing and hugging each other. He locked eyes with a stunned Malfoy, who stood not too far across from him. Relief. In that moment, he realized that was the only emotion he could truly recognize in the turmoil that was still going on inside him. The same emotion was reflected on Malfoy's face. Startled, he realized that Malfoy was crying. Silent tears were streaming down his face.

As if on its own account, his battered and bruised body started moving towards the crying boy in front of him. The small voice in his head telling him that this was a bad idea, was easily to be ignored by the numbness he felt. Stopping in front of Malfoy, he searched his face. He had been right, relief still appeared to be the major emotion on Malfoy's face as well. There were some other emotions displayed as well, but at the moment he was too exhausted to give it any thought. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around the other boy, and noticed the faint tremble in his body. There was a quiet gasp next to his right ear, somehow seeming way louder than any of the sounds surrounding them. He felt Malfoy's arms wrapping themselves gently around him as well. Harry let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, and rested his forehead on Malfoy's shoulder. And then, Harry's knees go weak, and the world goes black.

000

A quiet chirping of some early birds in the background is the first thing he noticed, before slowly opening up his eyes. Other than his heavy limbs, Harry actually feels quite good. No headaches or pains assaulting him. He fumbled around for his glasses, and noticed them on the nightstand next to him. Shoving them onto his face, he got up and looked around. Grimmauld place. Someone seemed to have moved him here after the battle. The quiet of the house felt rather eerie, a stark contrast to the flashes from the battle that invade the inside of his eyeballs whenever he closes them. When his stomach made a sound, he decided it was time to discover whether or not someone else was around. Upon arriving downstairs, he found Hermione sitting at the large kitchen table, sipping a mug and reading the Prophet. Harry stopped in the doorway and leaned against it, simply watching her.

It didn't take long for her to notice his presence.

"Harry." She looked at him, searching his face and appearance. "You look better. How do you feel?"

Harry thought about that for a moment. In all honesty, he didn't feel much yet. "Hungry.", he replied.

A faint smile slid across her face. "Come sit down. I'll grab you a mug of coffee and something to eat. I think Mrs. Weasley actually left some things yesterday."

Harry sat down and rubbed at his face. He was getting a little scruffy, he noticed. Perhaps he could ask Hermione to perform a razor charm on him; he hadn't quite managed that one himself yet.

A moment later, Hermione came back in with a mug of coffee, a loaf of bread, jam, butter and two plates floating in front of her. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid this is all there is at the moment. We can go out and pick something up later?"

They looked at each other, the significance of that one sentence hitting home. Finally, they were able to go outside, no longer in hiding, no longer on the run.

Hermione flopped down in her chair, a grin on her face. Harry's face split into a big grin as well, which then turned into silly giggles. Soon the giggles turned into laughter, bordering hysterical. They both were holding onto the table for dear life, wiping tears off their faces. With some alarm however, Harry noticed that the tears wouldn't stop falling. He looked at Hermione again, and saw tears streaming down her face as well. Slowly, he reached across the table, and grabbed her hand. They stayed like that for quite some time.

000

"Harry?"

He looked up. Hermione stepped through the fireplace of Grimmauld place, spotting him at the kitchen table. Harry had been staring at the Prophet for the last hour or so, without actually reading it.

"There you are. I think- I think we're ready now."

It had been over two weeks since the final battle. There had been a lot of funerals, most of which Harry didn't attend. That was a part of this new reality which he hadn't quite come to terms yet. Often he replayed the last exchange of words with Remus, or the last time he'd seen Fred and George together. Snape's memories. It was too much.

He slowly nodded in response.

Ron and Hermione were going to Australia, to find her parents, in an attempt to restore their memories. Harry realized it would also give them some time to develop their relationship without any horcruxes, near death experiences or evil wizards hunting them down. It was why he had insisted to stay here.

She had tears in her eyes now. "I will miss you so much, Harry. You know we'll write as much as we can, and keep you updated on what's going on. Please take good care of yourself. I'm worried."

Harry stared at her for a moment, blinked and then got up from the table and moved around it, wrapping her in his arms.

"I'll miss you." Was all he could manage.

In the last week, Hermione had ensured that Harry got up every morning, had eaten breakfast and had a Prophet to read. She had talked about her activities, her research to retrieve her parents' location, and what was going on with the Weasleys. As Harry himself hadn't left the house during that time, she had been his only source of information. It had distracted him from the nightmares.

Through her, Harry had also learned that he had passed out in Malfoy's arms. He still wasn't sure how he felt about that. All he seemed to remember was Malfoy's tear-streaked face. Ron apparently had been quite displeased with his actions, although Hermione had tried to defend his case, saying that Harry just had been exhausted. Everyone had been out of sorts at the time being, after all. Even so, Ron had decided to distance himself from Harry for the time being. And now he was going away for an unknown period of time.

Harry supposed he should feel upset or angry about that. However, it turned out that lately, he didn't feel much of anything anymore. The numbness he had felt after the battle seemed to have settled down in his bones, leaving him constantly exhausted. He hadn't even begun to sort through his emotions yet. It was all too overwhelming, and he had locked everything away, as he was locking himself away in Grimmauld place. Funny, that after all this time, he seemed to have developed a sense of understanding for Occlumency. Remembering Snape's memories once more, he thought he finally understood the man's affinity with Occlumency a bit more. He wished it would help with the nightmares, though.

Harry shook his head to rid himself of the thoughts, and slowly disentangled himself from Hermione's fierce hug.

"Hermione," He said quietly, nudging her. "You should go. It won't get any easier this way."

She smiled at him through her tears. "You're right," She said, wiping her face. "Please reply to our letters when you can. I want to know that you're alright."

He nodded, and walked her to the fireplace. As she grabbed the floo powder, she looked back one more time. Harry managed to put a reassuring smile on his face. "Go." He whispered.

With that final look, she was gone. Grimmauld place had never felt so empty before.

000