This is a story that follows Harry after the war. I kept mostly with the books, not the movies. R&R :)

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot! Everything else comes from the brilliant mind of J.K. Rowling, herself! Reminder: This is an eventual Slash fic

Life After War
Chapter 1

Flats and Funerals

Harry Potter laid on his bed, staring up at the ceiling silently. It was half past eight on Saturday night and it had been a long day. Harry could feel the fabric of his dress robes digging into his skin, but did nothing to relieve it. He felt lifeless. He felt alone.

For the past seven years of his life, he'd been working towards something. He was the Boy-Who-Lived and it had been his job his whole life to kill a man he'd been connected to since he was only a year old. Now, that man was dead and their connection to each other was gone and Harry didn't quite know what to do next.

After the final battle, he'd slept in the Gryffindor Tower for a long time. He slept as though he hadn't in years. He slept without the worry that someone would get into his head and manipulate him. He slept without the anxiety resting in his chest about what was to come. He slept without his brain keeping him half-awake, reminding him all that there still was to be done. He slept that way, all through the night, and through much of the following day.

He woke in time for supper and had a long, quiet, relaxing bath before he headed down to the Great Hall, wondering if he should just go straight to the kitchens. Surely no one would be around anymore, probably having all gone back to their homes. It wasn't likely that the Great Hall would be put back together, yet, let alone in a way that allowed for food to be served, right? He felt somewhat strange about re-entering the place that Voldemort had died. He felt strange about walking in and not seeing the dead bodies from the morning before. It certainly didn't feel right for it to all seem as though it hadn't happened, he thought to himself as he walked down the staircases and down the hallways to the Great Hall. Everything seemed back in order. It was as though the last year hadn't happened. Harry let himself think for just a moment that it hadn't and he'd dreamed it all. But then he realized that his scar didn't hurt anymore and the castle was empty. When he got to the doors, he paused and took a deep breath before opening it. His heart leapt slightly when he saw the Hall.

Everyone from the previous morning was there. Students with their families, the Weasleys, Hagrid, the professors- all there sitting mixed at the different tables sharing a warm meal. Harry noticed that there weren't any house flags above the tables, but instead a flag with the Hogwarts Crest on it above each table. Everyone turned in his direction when they heard the doors open. And then the hall erupted into applause. People started to stand and cheer and they all had looks of utter respect and gratefulness for him. He nodded his head and waved his hand, put his head down and made his way to the Weasleys. He sat down between Ron and Ginny and she grabbed his hand lightly. He squeezed it, but then took his hand back and started to fill his plate, silently. He felt Ron staring at him, so he turned to meet his friend's eyes. Ron offered a smile, but Harry could feel the pain radiating from the redhead's expression. Harry reached over under the table and squeezed Ron's knee. Ron relaxed a little and tucked back into his food. Harry glanced around and Mrs. Weasley caught his eye. She was crying silently. Harry felt a lump rise in his throat and had to look away and have a sip of water to stop himself from crying.

Ginny explained to him while they ate that Hermione had gone to Australia to find her parents. She explained that his bushy-haired friend would be back in a few days' time for the funerals. Harry felt thankful that Hermione had used a memory-modifying spell that could be lifted, allowing them to return to their rightful identities instead of Wendell and Monica Wilkins.

Ginny also explained that McGonagall had offered to transform the classrooms and dormitories into proper sleeping arrangements for the families. Most all of the families had agreed, due to the fact that they all wanted to be around other people and for at least a couple of days wouldn't have to worry about food or work. Harry understood that. He'd have to stay here for a while until he could find a place of his own. Hermione may have gone back to her family, but Harry certainly wasn't going back to his, at least not to stay. After supper, everyone in the hall stayed around and talked to one another. Most of them were returning to their homes that evening or the next morning. The Weasley's were leaving that evening. They said their goodbyes and let everyone know that Fred's funeral would be the following Saturday evening and that Lupin and Tonks's funeral would be on Sunday afternoon.

When they'd finished with their farewells, they had begun to leave, Harry following after to say goodbye away from everyone else. He also took it as a way to get away from everyone, not wanting everyone to be celebrating him when so many had lost their lives and a much greater number of people other than just himself, deserved to be celebrated as well. As they stood outside, Mrs. Weasley enveloped Harry into a tight hug. She asked him to come stay at the Burrow.

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley, but I couldn't. I know that you all need time to mourn and be a family, and I don't want to intrude in that time," Harry explained, quietly.

Ron shook his head and grabbed Harry into a strong hug, "You are part of the family, mate."

Ron pulled away from the hug and looked at Harry with a nearly desperate expression. Ginny grabbed Harry and held him tightly, kissing him on the cheek. She pulled away, her hands in his, and gave him the blazing look he'd seen so many times. "You need to mourn, too, Harry. It would make us feel better if you did it with us,"

Feeling torn, he figured he couldn't argue with any of it. By the look on Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's faces, they really wanted, maybe even needed, him home with them. Perhaps they were trying to fill the void of Fred. Perhaps they considered him like son. Perhaps they just felt better when they were helping others. Whatever the reason, they genuinely wanted Harry to come back to the Burrow. So he smiled gently and followed them home.

Not wanting to be in the way for too long, Harry started looking for his own place the very next day. He had written a letter to Headmistress McGonagall asking for her help, as he had no idea where to even start. It was only Tuesday, and with everything that she needed to accomplish before September, he knew she'd already be busy, but he hoped selfishly that she'd be able to get back to him within the week. Her reply had made him smile slightly.

'I could help you look for a flat…or you could just move back to Hogwarts. There's an open teaching spot for Defense Against the Dark Arts… -Headmistress Minerva McGonagall'

Harry took out his quill and wrote, 'I'd be flattered, Professor. Though, for now at least, I think I need to live on my own for a while. Cheers, Harry'

He stood at the window in Ron's room as he watched the owl disappear. He'd been staying in Ron's room instead of Fred and George's because George had moved back in. He couldn't be alone in their flat, he'd said. No one had needed an explanation, glad that with him there, they could keep a proper eye on him. The door to Ron's room opened and Harry glanced back, smiling a hello at Ginny. She walked in quietly and sat on Ron's bed, watching Harry gently. Harry noted the soft look on her face, the quiet plea in her eyes. He knew she would already be aware of what was to come. It was what he had loved about her.

"What changed, Harry?" she asked softly, yet confidently.

He sighed and walked to his rollaway bed, set up not far from Ron's. He sat on it and faced Ginny. He nervously ran a hand over the back of his neck and grimaced as he finally looked into her questioning eyes. "Everything,"

"Why?" she asked, her tone free of anger, which Harry appreciated as he'd played this scene out in his head a hundred times over and it always ended with him on the wrong side of a nasty hex.

"I don't know, Ginny. I just need a little bit of time. Alone. To figure everything out. I'm so-"

"Don't apologize," she interrupted him lightly and put her hand on his, squeezing. He squeezed back and let her leave her hand there for a while. "It's not going to go back to how it was, is it, Harry," it was more of a statement than a question and Harry found himself staring at the ground.

He wondered briefly if she was talking about them as a couple or life as a whole. He shook his head lightly and then shrugged, meeting her eyes again. "I just don't know, Gin,"

Harry had thought that Ron would come after him next, angry and waiting to hear why he had dumped his friend's sister. That never happened, though. Instead, he'd mumbled something about knowing what he's going through and dropped the topic completely. Wednesday morning, McGonagall had dropped Harry a line to let him know that she'd be along at half past one to take him to a few different flats. Surprised that it was all happening so fast, Harry hadn't told anyone. He didn't want to upset Mr. and Mrs. Weasley or make anyone think he didn't feel comfortable in their home. Truth was, he just didn't feel comfortable period. In this home or any other. In this life. In his skin. In this new reality.

"Thought I'd try harder to persuade you to return," McGonagall had explained when Harry had asked why she was showing him the flats herself, instead of just referring him to a Witch or Wizard that did it for a job. "You'd have all summer to be alone, you know,"

Harry grabbed her arm and nodded and she Apparated them to the first flat. "I'm sorry, Professor, I just think I need a break for a little while," he'd told her as they walked through the small kitchen to the even smaller front room. He wrinkled his nose, not liking the way the flat smelled. Seeing this, she just grabbed his arm and went on to the next one.

The second flat was nicer. Still somewhat small, but situated in a more spacious manner. There was a balcony that looked over a small Muggle town in London. He liked the smell of this one better. There were two bedrooms, a kitchen, and the sitting room. Harry already felt a little more comfortable with it. He nodded at nothing in particular and put his hands in his pockets. McGonagall smiled slightly and then grabbed hold of him, taking him to one last location. This flat was a bit larger, situated in a Magical town near Hogsmeade. The bottom of the building was a broom shop and across the street was an Apothecary. The flat had two large rooms and a spectacular kitchen. There was a sitting room as well as a front room. There were fireplaces in each room. There were three bathrooms- a large one in each bedroom and a smaller (though still large) one in the hallway near the kitchen and sitting room. Harry shook his head and screwed up his face in an unimpressed manner.

"The second flat, then?" McGonagall asked.

Harry nodded. The paperwork had been done before supper that evening. He still hadn't had the courage to tell anyone.

Thursday night after supper, Harry made the announcement. Everyone seemed pleased enough that he was going to be taking a step in the direction of growing up…of continuing his life. Ron had seemed hurt and had blurted out, "Didn't think to ask if I'd want to move with you, though, did you?" before storming up to his room.

"Sorry, mate. It all happened really fast. I only contacted McGonagall on Tuesday. I thought that it was going to take a few weeks at the least. But with everything going on…I mean with Fred's funeral and everything, I just didn't think you'd want to be worrying about something as silly as moving out," Harry explained to his friend as they sat in Ron's room. Ron was lying on his bed, his back facing Harry, while Harry sat on his rollout bed, legs crossed, picking at the calluses on his hands nervously.

"It's not just about moving out, Harry. It's about moving on. I'm not going to do that if I stay in this house. Too many memories…too much sadness. He wouldn't have wanted sadness, Harry. That's the last thing he'd have wanted,"

Harry couldn't argue with that. He lay down in his bed and went to sleep. The next morning, over breakfast, Harry asked Ron to move in with him. "I mean it's two bedroom. It's in Muggle London, though. Figured less people would recognize me, I guess,"

Ron had caught Harry's eye and stared at him for a long moment. Harry knew that his friend was trying to determine if Harry did, indeed want Ron to move in. He found what he was looking for, so he nodded his head slightly. "That'd be all right," he mumbled as he stuffed a few pieces of bacon into his mouth.

Later that afternoon, when Hermione had arrived, she seemed disappointed though not surprised with the boys as they moved into their new flat.

"What would you rather us do, stay at the Burrow forever?" Ron asked, incredulously, as they walked around the shop, looking for furniture.

Ron stopped at a bed and flopped on it. Hermione turned bright red of embarrassment and covered her face with her hands, glancing around to see if anyone was staring.

"Honestly, Ronald! The day before your brother's funeral and you're shopping for a new bed? And, no, for the record I just thought maybe you'd like to go back to Hogwarts to finish your seventh year, perhaps?"

Ron got off the bed and screwed up his face at Hermione. "You're barking mad! We could get any job we want, we don't have to finish school,"

Not choosing to be around the fighting, Harry wandered to shop and picked out a sofa, two bed-side tables, a wardrobe for his room and a wardrobe that matched the bed Ron had been flopping on. He picked out bedding for each of them, as well as pillows, and then he hailed the witch that worked at the shop and she rung it all up and said that she'd have someone bring it to the flat and set it all up by the end of Saturday. Harry thanked her and returned to his friends.

"Don't you dare question how I feel about my brother. I know he died and I am not in denial," Ron growled at Hermione.

She shook her head and Disaparated. Harry put his arm around Ron's shoulders in support and wasn't surprised that his friend was shaking. Of anger. Of shock. Harry pulled him into a hug. They hadn't ever really been 'hugger's per se, but lately Harry didn't really know what else to do. Ron hugged him back and relaxed a little, so Harry patted his back and let his friend know that it was all paid for and taken care of and Ron smiled his thanks before they went back to the Burrow.

Saturday came fast. The funeral had been long. It had been emotionally draining. Harry had only allowed himself to cry a little, fearing that if he really let himself break down, he wouldn't be able to pull himself together. A few people spoke and told funny stories about Fred. Harry had experienced many people die in his seventeen years of life, but somehow it hurt more when the people you loved were hurting, too. He couldn't take the pain away from Mr. and Weasley, Ginny, Bill, Percy, Charlie, or Ron. He couldn't even imagine trying to get through what George was going through. That would be like losing Ron or Hermione. Harry didn't think he would be strong enough to get through losing your brother; your best friend; your twin and literal other half. Harry knew he wouldn't be strong enough.

He stayed for as long as he could, but when it got too much for him, he Aparated away, not consciously knowing where he was going, but feeling relieved when he saw the new sofa he'd picked out, sitting perfectly in his new sitting room. He walked up to his room and threw himself onto the bed. He stared at the ceiling feeling lost. Alone.

What now? were the two words that kept repeating themselves over and over in his head. He couldn't settle them, because at this point, he just didn't know anymore.