Sometimes he wonders why he lived when so many others did not.
He feels as though he no longer has a purpose. Go out, destroy the Horcruxes, kill Voldemort. Then what? So many others had more of a purpose than he did. Remus and Tonks, who just became parents. Fred, who bought laughter into everyone's lives, who made George whole. Dobby, who risked everything to save Harry.
Everyone had risked everything to help him. If only he had been faster; if only he hadn't wasted so much time…The guilt consumes him, and he worries that defeating Voldemort would be all for nothing. Why can't he just be happy?
He may have fulfilled his purpose, but he feels more lost and alone than ever.
He isolates himself from everyone after the funerals.
He couldn't bear to look at Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, who had loved him as though he were their own. He couldn't bear to look and Bill, Charlie, who looked totally lost. He couldn't bear to look at Percy, who had returned to his family, only to lose his brother; he couldn't bear to look at George, who would never be whole again. He couldn't bear to look at Ron, knowing that nothing he said or did would help his best mate. He couldn't bear to look at Ginny, though he wanted nothing more than to hold her, run his hands through her hair, reassure her that everything would be fine…
It would be better for everyone if he just stayed away.
"You should come back. Everyone's wondering where you are."
He stares at Ron, wishing that he would just go away. Couldn't he see that it would be better if he just left everyone alone?
"You should just go, Ron. I'm fine."
Ron scoffs, obviously not believing him. "Like hell you are. Look, you may be fooling yourself, but you're not fooling me. I know you better than you think. You think it's all your fault, and that we should just go away. I got news for you, mate. It's not your fault, and we don't want you to do this to yourself. Just let us in. We're all here for you."
He leans against the counter, thinking about what Ron said. He wanted to let them in, so very badly, but he had only relied ever on himself, no matter how often his friends promised that they were there. They couldn't possibly understand this. They couldn't understand the nightmares that plagued him; the way he was suddenly there; the sadness that was much more than grief. They couldn't possibly even want to try to understand.
"We're all here for you."
He looks at his best friend, seeing nothing but sincerity and worry in his expression. Finally, he nods.
"Okay."
It's been nine months since the final battle.
Much had changed since that time. He had begun seeing a Mind Healer about four months ago, and he can't remember another time where he felt more at peace.
It was going to be a long road, but he could already see that picking himself up would come to be the best decision he'd ever made.