Love.

That one word hurt him more than anyone would ever believe. How he had even survived after the incident was a miracle in itself. He felt broken. No. Not that.

He felt destroyed. Like that one person had decided to do the worst heart surgery imaginable and he was the test subject. Nothing but a black hole was left where his heart should be. Gone and destroyed the poor heart of his. Betrayal was not a thing anyone should ever feel.

EVER.

And yet here he was, betrayed and left to die by the one he had loved. Of course the love from the other half was nothing but a big fat lie. A lie that had lived for over three years. So long and yet so very easy to end. In the blink of an eye. Just like that, his entire world came crashing down on his shoulders and he saw the world for the first time with open eyes. How cruel people could be. Of course, not all people were horrible.

But he didn't know that, not yet. He was blinded by the hatred and agony. He had no idea if he could ever love anyone again. Life was just so unfair to him right now. And if you've ever been heartbroken, you know what he's going through. The feeling of utter despair and loneliness.

His family, Ron's and Hermione's, and friends tried to tell him during those three years that his 'partner' was not good for him and just using him. But, like everyone who's been in love knows that he just ignored them. His entire world revolved around that one person and now the center of his life now was the will to just stay alive.

Oh how he wished for those lips to be back on his. So intoxicating. So inviting. So cruel.

But, no, that would never happen. How could something like this happen to him? He had done the world some good for once instead of being a nuisance and this is how they repay him for all of his hard work. Life was so unfair. And yet he couldn't get the happy faces out of his mind. When he destroyed the one creature everyone feared, people rejoiced, happy to live in peace. Everyone he saw, everyone he met thanked him. Besides, without him millions of more people would be dead.

And that right there was the only reason he sat on the cold stone floor of his basement sobbing until he couldn't anymore. Four years after Voldemort had died and this was how the Boy-Who-Lived was spending his life. Empty Butter beer bottles littered the floor of the small, confined room along with used Kleenex's, all of which held dried tears this certain boy's eyes had leaked.

No one came to see if he was alright. Not a single person. Well, maybe some did, but he never would have known. How could he when he spent most of his days and nights down in the basement.

He rested his head on his bent knees when he felt his cell phone vibrating. He reached inside his pocket and brought it out only to find a text from Hermione.

The fifth one today and it wasn't even three in the afternoon. 'Harry, please answer me". He didn't want to. She would be all sympathetic towards him and tell him that his ex was stupid and didn't deserve him. Though they both are true along with many other things, he didn't need it right now. He needed someone to slap him across the face and tell him to be a man. Of course none of his friends would ever want to do anything like that or even remotely close to that.

However, he supposed he should text her back. He hasn't seen her in what felt like forever and she was the one who had always been there for him. Through thick and thin. He hit REPLY on his cell. "I'm alright. I think that the best thing for me is to get out. Can we do something?'. He sent it and placed the phone on the cold floor awaiting her reply. He stared at the opposite gray wall. How could he let himself go like this? He looked down at his clothes. Wet spots from his shed tears were visible on them in various spots, dark circles against the blue of both his shirt and jeans.

His phone vibrated on the cold floor and he quickly grabbed it, seeing Hermione texted back. 'Sure Harry, we'll go have diner. I'll meet you at your house in an hour and a half'. He sent a short 'ok' back to her and placed the phone back inside his jeans pocket. He sat crossed legged and rested his head on the stone wall behind him. He had an hour and a half to get ready. He sighed. Go out in public? With strangers? With people? How was he going to survive this? At least Hermione would be there. She would help him get through this, he hoped. If not, then no one could.

He got up with some difficulty due to being stiff. Sitting in one position for too long can take its toll on the body. He walked across the room towards the stairs, kicking bottles out of the way as he went. Clanking and clinking could be heard along with the sound of glass breaking. He would have to clean that up, but not now. Now all he was focused on was getting ready for Hermione.

He reached the stairs, his joints not stiff anymore, and he climbed them, opening the wooden door and stepping into the room he called the office. It held a wooden desk with a laptop, a printer, and many stacks of paper upon it. A rolly chair was pushed up to the desk while a floor lamp stood next to both. Empty boxes lined one wall of the office, left over from moving in. He saved them just in case he moved out of this house. Plus it would be a waste of money if he threw them out, and then he did decide to get a new place, he would have to go buy more boxes. Waste of money and time.

He crossed the room to the open door and walked into the small living room. And small it was indeed. It could only hold a blue plaid loveseat, a small rectangular coffee table with a glass top, and a flat screen t.v. hung on the wall. Added to this was a small table next to the loveseat, tucked into the corner of the room and a table lamp. Behind the loveseat, a window stood present, looking out over the front lawn.

Walking through the living room to the foyer, he quickly ascended the stairs to the second story of his small townhouse. Walking down the hallway he passed the door to his bedroom, the door to the spare bedroom, and the many pictures that lined his walls. Pictures of his friends, the ones who stood up for him, the ones he held most dear to him that have passed on. He tried not looking at the moving faces. It pained him that he couldn't save everyone. And yet, who would be able to? No one that he knew about. If someone could though, they would be the greatest person this world has ever known. A superhero.

At the end of the hallway was the bathroom and he slipped inside, starting the water for the shower. After days upon days of wearing the same clothes, he was in dire need of a shower and fresh clothes.

When the temperature of the water was to his liking, he stepped in, sighing as the water washed over his body. He stood there for minutes on end reveling at how the stress was just taken away by the pressure of the water. Soon he began to wash himself and all too soon the shower was over, the water quickly turning ice cold. Toweling himself dry, he wrapped the towel around the lower half of himself and walked to his bedroom.

His room contained the necessities. A full size bed, two bed-side tables with an alarm clock and table lamp, and a dresser with a closet just off to the side. He walked to the dresser, pulled it open and grabbed boxers and socks. In another drawer he grabbed a dark blue pair of jeans that fit him perfectly. He laid them on the bed and then walked to the closet where his shirts were hung. Shifting through them he found a black button-up shirt with red vertical stripes.

Putting on the clothes he checked his phone for the time. Four o'clock. Half an hour to go. He walked back to the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror.

His hair was a mess but he didn't care. He quickly brushed his teeth using mouth wash afterwards. Then he shaved. Being down in the basement for days can also take its toll on your face. That is if you are a man. To women there isn't any effect except bags under the eyes. Thankfully to Harry, he was used to sleeping upright.

He took one last look in the mirror and decided that was as good as he was going to get and headed downstairs. He stopped in the foyer when his phone went off. Another text from Hermione saying she'll be there in five minutes. Good, that'll be enough time. He grabbed his black converse and sat on the loveseat in the living room to put them on. He sat there waiting, his head resting on the back of the loveseat and eye closed, like he was going to fall asleep.

Soon he heard knocking at his door and jumped up to answer it. Upon opening the front door he grabbed his winter coat and a few flakes came flying into the house while Hermione was walking through. He put his coat on and then wrapped a scarf around his neck. He then turned to Hermione only to get tackled by her. He patted her back while her tears stained his winter coat, dark spots forming on it.

"Mione, what's wrong?" He thought it was something Ron did, or didn't do. After all, those two were dating but he didn't want to get too into all the going on between them. It was a touchy subject because, though Harry highly doubted it, Ron seemed to think that Hermione had feelings for Harry. It was like the time they all went searching for the Horcrux's all over again.

Hermione pulled back and ran her gloved hands across her face getting rid of the tears, her mascara smearing a bit. "I thought for sure I would have to drag you out of the basement". She smiled up at him. "I was wrong".

Harry smiled at her and offered her his arm, which she gladly took. "Shall we then?" She nodded and they headed out into the wintery evening, snow falling softly through the air and stirring around their feet when they walked.

Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all.