A/N: Of course I don't own Harry Potter.
Prologue
The war was over. Everything was slowly returning back to normal for everyone in the wizarding world… except for Harry Potter.
Harry didn't exactly know what normal was. Since he was born he had been wanted by the most feared Dark Wizard, Voldemort, and now that Voldemort was dead (Harry had to admit it) he didn't know what to do with himself.
After the war, it seemed as if the world was torn between happiness and grief. Especially for Harry and the people who were closest to him. He had spent the last couple of weeks attending funerals and making awkward speeches at them. He felt guilty. Everyone was treating him like a hero but in reality it was his fault that their son, or daughter, or husband, or wife was dead.
Sometimes it was too much to be around the Weasley family. They treated him like a son and a brother, even after the death of Fred. That's why he moved out of the Burrow. A week after the war he told the grieving family that he was moving out and living in Grimmauld Place. And why not? He was of age. The truth was… he had a terrible feeling that everything was falling apart all of the sudden, which also made him feel a little selfish. The Weasley family was missing one of its most important members. Lupin and Tonks were gone from his life. Even Ron and Hermione had been becoming more and more distant ever since they became a couple. Ginny… now Ginny was a whole other story. After the final battle, they had sought each other out in an empty classroom where they had discussed everything from the battle, to the loss of Fred, to the fact that they were free to be together again.
The trouble was that Harry didn't really know if they were together or not. Ginny told him that she didn't want to say anything to her family about them for a while, at least until "everything is back to normal… or as close to normal as it can get". Harry remembered her eyes filling with tears at that moment. Anyway, they had taken to pulling each other into empty corners of the Burrow and snogging fervently for a few short moments every once in a while.
And here he was. Living alone in his dead godfather's house (which was technically his), his picture on the front page and cover of numerous newspapers and magazines, reporters knocking on his door day and night (until he put some of the protective spells on the house again), an orphaned godson who he went to visit at Andromeda's house almost every day, two best friends who were so enamored with each other (even though they didn't want to admit it) that he lurked only in the backs of their minds, a girlfriend who… wasn't really his girlfriend yet, and he had no idea what to do with his life. He felt pathetic.
Here he was, longing for the days back when he was in school. Days spent out by the lake zooming around the Quidditch pitch on his Firebolt (he didn't even have his broom anymore either). And now that Voldemort was gone, Harry had to decide for himself what direction his life was heading in.
A/N: I'm really bad at starting stories so I'm really sorry if this sucks. It'll get better. Please review!