A/N: This takes place several months after the end of book seven and does not comply with the epilogue. Sorry the first chapter is kind of slow and uneventful. I have to start somewhere. Please leave reviews!

Morning light seeped past Draco's unwilling eyelids, welcoming him to the starkness of day. He stared at the ceiling of his bedroom, listening as voices mulled about throughout the guest house. His parents had bequeathed the formidable guest cottage on the edge of their property to Draco and his friends for the last few months, which forced Draco to feign constant happiness as everyone watched him. With all of the people who cared so deeply for him living in such immediate proximity it took careful calculation to hide his slowly deepening depression.

Draco exhaled, enjoying his last moment of solitude before he would have to face the day. From the sound of it, his mother was clicking about across the hard wood floors awaiting his appearance. Seeing her would deepen the wound and the guilt. Once again, he would just be reminded that of all the family's that deserved to remain intact, his was one of the few that stayed untouched. This fact was becoming increasingly difficult to live with.

But the reminders would hopefully cease after today. It was September first, and things were about to change.

Refusing to deviate from his regular morning schedule, Harry Potter sat alone, staring at his hands. His flat was small and appeared unlived-in due to the lack of decoration and furniture. There was a couch in what had been deemed the sitting area, and there was a cheap, tea stained table surrounded by mismatched chairs in the middle of his tiny kitchen. The flat was humble and Harry's inheritance from his parents could certainly have afforded him more. But over the last few months he didn't seem to have the energy to want better for himself.

It was nine in the morning and by nine in the morning everyday Harry had already showered and eaten. It was at this point that he always found himself staring blankly at his hands, attempting to rid his mind of the dread that was slowly thinning his sanity. For these few moments he could will himself to believe that time was no longer inching forward and reality didn't truly exist. The weight of consequence and unceasing guilt wouldn't matter for a moment because nothing could be real in this mental vortex he built for himself. But against all of Harry's attempts, time did continue onward and reality continued to bite at him.

Here he was, once again, in his dingy little flat. And nothing had changed.

Except things were about to change. Harry's packed trunk slumped against the ground before him, seemingly glaring back at him with bulging seams for facial features. He noted how strange it was to be heading back to the rigidity and juvenile nature of school after having lived on his own with complete emancipation. But alas, Hogwarts robes were folded, textbooks were purchased, and his pewter cauldron had been nicely polished. It was September first, and Harry would soon be abandoning his flat to return to Hogwarts.

Harry hadn't always planned on living in such a modest flat. When the great burden of the second wizarding war had been lifted from his shoulders, Harry had been filled with optimism and adrenaline towards building a new life. He had always expected to feel this way, and so he tried his best to convince himself that he was excited and happy for once. He made grand plans to buy a house to share with his godson Teddy. Ginny and his friends would move in with them, and they would juggle raising the infant with the several jobs they were bound to be offered at the ministry.

But these plans fell through very quickly. It took several interventions to make Harry realize that he was barely eighteen years old and wasn't ready to put his life on hold to raise a child. This realization had shattered Harry's resolve, and his depression had quickly escalated from there. Hermione had decided to live with her parents for the summer, and Ron and Ginny had offered for Harry to come stay at the Burrow with them, but Harry had refused. Partially from guilt surrounding Fred's death and partially from a fear of having a large family constantly fretting over him. And so came about the small flat that he currently sat in. It was his final day in the tiny living space. Though he had only lived there for three months it seemed like much longer. He'd had many difficult and serious conversations in that cramped kitchen. It was at that table two months ago that Professor McGonagall had sat, looking rather out of place, to explain the current situation at Hogwarts.

"Last year's education was so fragmented, it's left me with a very difficult decision to make." Said McGonagall. She waited for Harry to respond, but he just watched her silently. She continued. "All students at Hogwarts will be repeating last year. Those who were sixth years last year will yet again be sixth years this year. It's the same for all of the years. But we will be accepting new first years. Needless to say, it will be a very large class of first years." Once again she waited for Harry to say something, but to no avail. "Like I said, it was a tough decision to make. Many parents have expressed their disagreement with it."

"I agree with it." Harry commented. "I think it's the right thing to do." McGonagall couldn't help but express a grin.

"And, of course, those displaced by the war last year will be welcomed back to complete their education."

"Ah." Harry realized. "I see."

"Oh no, do not mistake me. There is no pressure for you to return to Hogwarts. As Headmistress, I'm willing to offer you, Hermione, and Ron honorary graduation. No one can expect you to return." She said. Harry looked down at the table in thought.

"I'd like to come back." He said. "It would be nice. Kind of normal." Once again McGonagall was smiling, but not as understatedly as before.

"In that case, I'm afraid I have one more decision I need to confide in you, and a favor to ask."

Several weeks later, a reporter had sat in the exact same chair, asking Harry his thoughts on the Hogwarts decision. Harry claimed he supported it, and his words had emblazoned the front of the Daily Prophet the day the decision was announced. Hermione and Ron had also sat across that table countless times, especially during the several visits that it took for Harry to convince them to return to Hogwarts. And of course, most recently, yesterday Ginny had sat across from him, proudly holding a piece of parchment that she had scribbled across.

"It's a contract." she explained. "To make sure you are happy this year. The next year is going to be all about indulgence. You are going to indulge yourself Harry, and you are going to like it."

"And what do you mean by 'indulgence?'" he asked while looking across the rudimentary contract.

"If someone needs your help with something, but you don't want to help, you're not going to. If you feel like going out and riding your broomstick instead of spending time with me, you're going to do it. If you want to eat an entire cake and everyone around you tells you not to, you're going to do it." She said. Harry gave a small laugh. Seeing him laugh brightened Ginny up immensely. "This is about making you happy. You've spent the last seven years saving the wizarding world, it's time for you to be selfish."

"Well, I'll sign it then." Harry agreed. He picked up the contract and moved to the counter where he spied a forgotten quill. Ginny clapped her hands and stood up as Harry signed his name.

"Great. Let's go back to the Burrow. Mum's made a huge feast." She said excitedly. Harry sighed.

"Can't we just stay here?" Harry asked. However well the moment had been going, the entire atmosphere darkened.

"This is ridiculous. Everyone misses you. How can you just sit around in here every day?" she asked. Harry's patience snapped.

"You just made me sign a piece of paper promising that I would indulge myself."

"Yeah, but not like this!"

"Only in ways you like, then? Is that what you're asking for?"

"That's not fair!"

"Okay, Ginny, you need to stop trying to force me to go out and do things I don't want to do! You are empowered, and strong, and I love that about you. But, right now, what I need is someone to just, you know, take care of me, and try to sympathize."

"You need a mother."

"No, stop! Don't twist my words around."

"No, I get what you're saying." Ginny said, calming down. "You're right. I will try to be more understanding. I'm sorry."

She had left awkwardly, and Harry had promised to meet them at platform nine and three quarters. As he looked to his watch, he saw it was time to leave. It was time to say goodbye to the flat and try to return to some normalcy.