"Oh, it's what you do to me, what you do to me".
Harry lay on his bed listening to the music ebb around him. He shut his eyes and focused on the darkness in front of him, the flashes of green light erupting into the gloomy stillness stopping him from sleeping, and reminding him of the stark reality of the previous weeks. He hadn't looked at the clock in a long time, but judging by the pale light creeping over his window sill, it was nearly dawn, not that this mattered to Harry, he would lie there until his stomach told him it was time to go downstairs in search of food. The song playing on his ipod finished, and before it had a chance to change, he had hit the back button, playing the song again.
A while later, after a fitful sleep, Harry woke up, stabbed at his ipod to turn it off, and rose from his bed. Shaking his head from the memories, he opened the door and began walking downstairs, towards the kitchen. The cold, bare walls of the Burrow, which in the past had been such a comfort to Harry, in comparison to the fussy hallways of Number 4, Privet Drive, today offered none of that security. Instead they reminded him of his beloved Hogwarts, which seemed a world away. He shook his head again, like a dog trying to dry itself, to free himself of the memories he so desperately wanted gone. He reached the bottom of the stairs and made for the kitchen, but stopped when he heard voices.
"You need to understand dear, it must be very tough for him right now." It was Mrs Weasley's voice, and Harry knew they were talking about him. "He's lost everyone he cared about."
"He still has us!" he heard Ron shout, followed closely by a "shush" which could only have come from Hermione.
Harry could smell something cooking instead the room, and his stomach could hold out no longer, so cautiously he entered the room, opening the door slowly, to give the family gathered around the table enough time to change the subject. He sat down at the end of the long table in the middle of the kitchen, and stared at his shoes; he didn't really feel like making eye contact, as it almost always led to conversation.
"Harry dear," Mrs Weasley started, "I thought you were asleep, didn't see any point in waking you. Would you like some food, we've only just finished breakfast? I'll get you a plate."
Harry gratefully accepted the plate of sausages, bacon and eggs that Molly put in front of him, and started eating at breakneck speed. He was interrupted though when he saw Hermione open her mouth and shut it again, several times, before finally plucking up the courage to speak.
"How are you feeling today Harry?" She asked, with a look of genuine concern on her face. Despite this, Harry could help but send back a scathing reply.
"Just fine Hermione, life couldn't be better. And how are you?"
Hermione let out a rather large sigh, the only sign that she was exasperated with Harry; she would never shout at him, for fear of Molly Weasley. "Harry, there's only so much of this we can take. We went through the same things as you. We were friends with Lupin and Tonks too, we fought the Death Eaters, side by side with you. Fred nearly died for Christ's sake, but you only ever think about how it's affecting you, don't you?"
Mrs Weasley, who had been watching Hermione as she spoke, quickly changed the subject, passing Harry a letter that had come in the post that morning. Harry looked almost happy for the first time what felt like years. He hadn't had mail in ages, and couldn't begin to imagine who it was from. He ripped open the envelope without a second thought, and his face fell as he read it. He turned a pale grey, and every person at the table thought they were about to see his breakfast again. He opened his mouth, but instead of throwing up, he muttered something so quietly Molly had to ask him to repeat it.
"I said, are my dress robes clean, I have somewhere to be?"
"Yes dear, they're in your room," Molly Weasley replied; she knew better than to question who the letter was from or where he needed to be.
Harry rose from his seat, turned and ran out of the door, towards his room. Behind him, a small sheet of parchment fluttered to the floor next to Ron. In one swift, undetected movement, Ron pocketed the paper and went back to looking puzzled at Harry's unexplained exit.
Soon after, as everyone else was stood in the kittening, helping to clear away the breakfast things, Harry entered the room, said a quick goodbye, and left the house through the back door. He reached the dirt road at the end of the garden, stuck out his wand arm and waited for the Knight Bus to arrive. He paid his fare, stepped aboard, and with a last look back at the worried faces at the kitchen window, sped off.