So, I have always liked Harry Potter, but I have never been crazy about it. But here lately I read the books again and really enjoyed them. I decided to try my hand at some fanfiction for the series since I have never done it before. This piece takes place after the end of the DH. It may be slightly AU/OC at some points, so forgive me. If you enjoy it, drop a review and let me know what you think! It will be a multi-chapter, and I will try to post daily. I am a little out of practice, so forgive me for any errors!

The Woes of a House Elf

It had been over a month since Harry Potter had talked to any of the Weasley's. He had seen them after the Battle of Hogwarts, crouched over the body of Fred, but he couldn't face them then. Instead he had retreated to Dumbledore's office, where he spoke briefly to Ron and Hermione, but after that he seemed to vanish.

He reappeared to attend Fred's funeral of course, but he sat in the back and away from every one like a coward. Harry personally felt responsible for Fred's death and he was afraid that the only family he ever loved would feel the same way. He couldn't bear to face Mrs. Weasley and see the anger in her face. He was afraid of the rejection that he would receive from her; why should she care for him when he was responsible for her son's death? She was the closest thing he had to a mother, yet he just couldn't bring himself to face her. So, he disappeared again.

It had been three weeks since Fred's funeral. Harry had shut himself up in Grimmauld place and cut himself off from the world. He blocked the floo network, sealed the door, and ignored any letters he received, which were numerous. Kreacher had them stacked high upon the coffee table and often prompted Harry to open them, but Harry remained oblivious to his attempts.

The first two weeks it was only through Kreacher's constant care that Harry didn't starve. Kreacher would appear at the same hours every day and beg master to eat until he finally gave in. Harry hardly moved from the couch, so at night Kreacher would throw a blanket over him, fretting until Harry motioned for him to go. The guilt and despair over the people who were lost seemed to be crushing him. It seemed to rob him of his voice and left him numb to the world. It left him yearning for someone to comfort him, but the person he needed most probably hated him- Harry had gotten her brother killed.

Over the next week Harry sank lower and lower into his despair and self-pity as angry guilt inducing thoughts consumed him. Kreacher became more frantic as he watched his Master demised, especially when Harry began to deny food. Despite his many attempts, Kreacher was unable to get a single bite past his lips. The distraught house elf spent much of his time huddle behind the couch, rocking back and forth as he tried to think of a way to save his Master.

After the fourth day of denying food, Kreacher became hysteric. "Master Harry," He croaked. "Please eat Master. You must eat. You haven't touched anything in days!"

"Leave me be Kreacher." Harry spoke for the first time in weeks, his voice hoarse and strained.

"Master, please." It was a feeble plee as the house elf pressed a spoon into Harry's hand.

"I said leave me be!" Harry said more forcibly, the task making his head swim. He shoved the spoon away. "Leave Kreacher!" He shouted.

"Master…" The struggle was evident on Kreacher's face as he bowed low and disappeared with a crack. Harry stared at the spot for a long time before running a hand across his face. Kreacher was his only ally, and now he was gone. A sense of nausea came over Harry and he stumbled to his feet, his head pounding. He managed a single shaky step before he was falling. He crashed to the floor and his head hit with a thud, then he vomited all over himself. The smell of blood reached his nose, then he knew no more.