A/N

Hey! So, this is my story of what happens to Harry after his defeat of Voldemort.

My mother languages isn't english so please don't be too hard if you choose to review ;) Although your thoughts are very welcome! :)

I hope you enjoy it :)

A/N

Silence. No sound except for the cackling fire. No train of thought. Harry couldn't remember the last time things had been this easy. Yet, it wasn't. People had died, died because of him. Too soon the thoughts came back – the thoughts of all the lost lives and all the people who had made sacrifices for him, for Harry.

He let out a sigh as he took his eyes from the fire and looked at the armchair beside him. He had been in the Gryffindor common room with his best friends Ron and Hermione, who were now fast asleep in the same chair, cuddled up. They had all gotten survived the battle with only bruises and a few minor scars. It was nothing compared to all the limbs and, worse, all the lives lost.

It had felt weird sitting in the same armchairs had done so many times during their Hogwarts education and chatted like old times. Of course it wasn't exactly like old times – their conversation had been somewhat intense because of the event that had taken place. It was only almost 48 hours after the battle so their topics weren't the most joyous ones.

48 hours ago Harry had cast the final spell that had destroyed Voldemort once and for all, yet he couldn't be calm. It shouldn't be hard when he was the only one up and noone or nothing to interrupt him, but it was. The previous year kept haunting his thoughts and he was unable to find rest. In fact he hadn't slept since before the fight. He had almost forgotten how to sleep. He had tried, but could not succeed.

The sun's first rays of light of the day came in through a window and hit Harry in the face. He turned to look at it. A red sunrise. Beautiful, but dramatic at the same time. He felt annoyed about not being able to get some rest so he decided to get out of the common room.

Where his feet would take him was still a mystery to him. Outside the common room he saw that the damages of the castle was still there – a proof that it had happened. Except for the harm done to the castle there was nothing else that indicated that a battle had taken place. There were no people around. The dead bodies had been removed from the castle and a funeral would take place at Hogwarts in a few days; the same day the war memorial would be placed in the grounds.

He had to remove some large rocks with his wand a few floors below the Gryffindor common room to get to the entrance hall. Here he stopped for a moment to figure where he would go next. He looked around and through the front doors, which only the half had survived; his eyes caught the Quidditch pitch. A feeling so happy rose inside of Harry. The level of this excitement was so high it almost scared him. It was so long ago he had actually felt something that really made him happy. He set off at a sprint and Harry could've sworn it took him less than a second to reach the pitch. Whether the adrenaline made him forget time or if magic had carried him down there he did not know, and frankly he did not care.

He went into the locker room and looked for spare brooms. The school brooms were no Firebolts that was sure. They were far from Cleansweep 7s too. The only broomsticks in there were models such as Killerbee's (which, if you rode them, you would fly so slow that you wouldn't feel the wind in your hair, except, well if there was wind) or Cleansweep 2s. It was just sad, really. Not caring though, he grapped a Cleansweep 2 – he was more familiar with the Cleansweep series than the Killerbee's. On his way out he found the Snitch from his pocket. The Snitch he had caught in his very first match ever.

He let it go when he was on the pitch. He jumped onto the broom while still running and kicked off with such force that made him rise fast into the air. Soon he was thrice the height of the goalposts. He leaned forward and dived. It was far from the speed his Firebolt could achieve, but it was great nonetheless. The feel of fresh air wiping against his face was ecstatic. In his first dive he caught sight of the Snitch at the other side of the field – he made for it. Soon he had it clutched in his hands. He gave a laugh. Laughing. It had been so long since he had used those muscles. It felt weird, but in a good way.

He let go of the Snitch and zoomed a victory lap around the pitch, smiling. Harry wasn't sure how long he had been on the pitch, but the sun was definitely higher than when he started. Perhaps it was midday.

He saw two figures near the front doors to the castle. Instinctively he drew his wand – it had become such a habit over the past year. But only had he just done so when he noticed the scarlet red hair that no one else but a Weasly could have and the bushy brown hair surely belonging to Hermione.

He set off at top speed in their direction. The Weasly, as he had assumed, turned out to be Ron. When Harry was close to them he jumped from the broom and made a lunge at Ron and they stumbled onto the ground; Harry laughing, Ron yelling "gerroff" and Hermione screaming.

"Come play Quidditch mate, great weather," Harry said as he released Ron from his grip.

"Harry?" Ron said getting onto his feet and dusting off the dirt of his shirt. "Are you alright? We thought something had happened to you when we noticed you were gone. We've been looking all over the place for you."

"Why?" Harry asked, still smiling. "There's nothing to worry about – Voldemort's gone, we can do whatever we want! Now let's go play!" All of this positive energy seemed to frighten Ron and Hermione. Surely he hadn't been in the best mood lately, but that wasn't any reason not to be now, Harry thought.

Harry's lips twirled into a smile as he remembered that day six months ago. Six months and he was still able to remember that day as though it had happened yesterday. He had never spent so much time apart from a broom as he had during his seventeenth year. That year had supposed to be the year he qualified as a wizard, seven years later in the same Great Hall as his journey had started.

That day he had been flying on a broom without his usual Quidditch robes; now he was in his robes not flying a broom. He could hear the crowd outside the locker room chanting. The noise that was made was on such a scale Harry had never heard before - it was nerve wrecking! Of course it wasn't the Hogwarts Quidditch stadium. No, he wasn't allowed to play for any house team anymore, although he was indeed attending his seventh year at Hogwarts. The Hogwarts school board had allowed all of the schools students to enter their previous year once again. Something so unusual it had never happened before. But seeing that so many had been taken out of class (or in Harry, Ron and Hermione's case: being on the run) and the ones actually staying having learnt nothing except illegal magic this was a special case.

He looked at his robes. He was used to the scarlet colour, but these were mostly white. He smiled again as he remembered in his first year at Hogwarts when he had become the youngest seeker of a century to play for a house team. The same situation had come up when he had been offered the position as seeker for the national team. He remembered the headlines 'Youngest player twice', 'The Chosen one chose the national team', 'Will Quidditch be as easy as killing dark wizards?' And they went on like that.

He had practice four nights a week – when close to a match it would become five or six times a week. This meant Harry's schedule with school had never been this tight before. But he liked it. Like that he wasn't on the run anymore. His biggest worry was assignments that had to be handed in. Common stuff to worry about. And of course, the fact that his entire country was expecting him to perform on international standard in Quidditch. He, Harry, still thought he wasn't ready. He still felt he needed more practice before his debut. His couch, however, thought otherwise. These kind of thoughts had Harry hoped he could leave out, because he knew it'd just make him feel butterflies in his stomach, and sure enough the feeling of not being good enough had made his stomach twist and twirl.

Too soon their coach had given them their prep talk and they were walking out onto the Quidditch pitch to a tremendous level of cheering. "Great, huh?" said Emma Hart, one of their Chasers, who had pointed to the crowd cheering them on. "Watch this," she said kissing her hand and sending it to the crowd whose cheering rose to a new level. Harry merely smiled, feeling to nervous now to respond.

They were told to mount their brooms, which Harry did. When he took a warm-up flight around the stadium the crowd almost exploded. The game had begun and he thought of the Quidditch World Cup he had watched some years ago. It had all gone so fast, but it was nothing compared to being in the middle of it all. He was zomming around the pitch, and even though the rest flew at top speed, Harry was still able to fly in and out between them. He kept a close watch at the Norwegian Seeker. She was at least five years older than he was and more used to international game's speed and therefore had an advantage. After nearly fifteen minutes it was no surprise that the speaker yelled that she had caught sign of the Snitch. Harry had noticed though before the speaker had and had set off towards her at top speed.

He was too far behind; he would never be able to catch up with her. The air was howling because of the speed he was racing at, his robes flapped uncontrollably but he still pushed the broom harder. He was gaining on her, but she was too close still. It wasn't until the Snitch changed direction and went downwards that Harry saw his opportunity; diving was his specialty. The Snitch kept going towards the ground, and she pulled out of her dive yards above the ground, but Harry didn't until the Snitch did which was only a few inches above – he was actually able to feel the soft grass against his feet when he pulled out of his dive. Harry was now not only in the lead but also so close that he pressed his broom for only just a little more, and he did it! He clutched his hand around the little ball to an explosion from the stands. They had won their first qualification match to the World Cup this summer!

Later that night after having gone through an interview and celebrated with his teammates Harry went back to Hogwarts. He entered the common room expecting it to be empty, but instead people were clapping and cheering at him. He was dragged in and had all of a sudden a butterbeer in his hand. "We listened on the radio," Harry was explained by Ron who had painted himself with England's colours on his cheeks – a lot were actually wearing their countries colours.

He was forced to tell the match, although they had all just heard it in the radio. While he told the story his eyes kept scanning the crowd for a special person. He never found what he sought, and after his storytelling (which had lead to some 'Awesome, Harry,' and 'Wow, hope you keep playing like that') Hermione came over to him. "She's not here. Ginny." She added when Harry tried to pretend not knowing what she was talking about. "I bet you she was listening to the game somewhere."

"I don't get it, I thought she wanted us together," he said falling into a chair by the fire.

"She's just hurting, Harry. You can't expect her to run towards you with her arms open as soon as you defeated You-Know-Who. You broke her heart last year before we went on the run. No matter how fine she tells you she is, I believe it really hurt her. Don't give up on her yet, Harry."

Harry let out a long sigh as he thought about his last actual conversation with Ginny. It had been on the morning on which Harry had defeated Voldemort..

It had been during the afternoon on the day of which he had defeated Voldemort in the morning. He had been helping finding some of the missing people. People were still moving in crowds because not all of the Death Eaters had been caught yet. A lot had disapparated once Voldemort fell. Apparently the damage done to the castle had also removed some of the defensive spells, including the one protecting against apparition inside the grounds.

Harry, Ron and Hermione and a few others had found three sixth years that had been badly injured. They all went to aid them, and Harry found himself helping one them get to his feet along with Ginny. When they had laid him down in the Great Hall he had turned to her "Ginny, look.." he started but was quickly cut off by her.

"There's no need to explain. I'm just happy it's all over – you really did a good thing to the wizarding world today." She said turning around to leave.

"Wait!" Harry called after her. He swiftly walked the few steps she had taken and they were within normal talking range again now. "I'm really sorry I never really explained it to you.. it just seemed the right thing to do."

"For who? You?" she said. She had crossed her arms now and it wasn't really going the way he wanted.

"No, you of course." Harry said feeling defenceless.

"Me?" she said with a raised voice. Some nearby people turned their heads in curiosity.

"Ginny, please, try to understand,"

"Sorry, I can't," and with that she turned around and left Harry watching her leave.

Since that day he and Ginny hadn't spoken a word to each other. It was not like she hated him, she was just avoiding him. At least that's what Hermione said. "Could you please talk to her again," Harry asked Hermione who had been staring at Harry while he had been talking a trip down memory lane.

She sighed, but gave him a encouraging smile. "Of course I will."

The next day was Monday, and since the party had went on until three in the morning Harry felt kind of beaten as he ate his breakfast. It wasn't like he hadn't tried to get to bed early, but since he had been the one they were celebrating they wouldn't allow him to go to bed. "What's our first class by the way?" Ron asked.

"Honestly Ron, we've been here for half a year and you still haven't bothered to learn our timetable?" Hermione responded.

"What's the point? That's one of the good things about dating you!" Ron said trying to complement her. But Harry instantly recognized the look on Hermione's face. It was true that Ron and Hermione had started dating, but that did not mean they were fighting any less than usual. In fact, it was more or less the same.. perhaps a bit closer to 'more' than 'less'.

"'One of the good things'? I'm glad you like that about me. Normal guys, Ron, like their girlfriends for stuff like their personality, the way they make them feel, their laughter and so on, but no, as long as you like me for knowing your timetable…" at this point Harry started tuning her out. He usually did when they start arguing. Or it wasn't really arguing, because Ron never stood a chance, it was actually more Hermione lecturing Ron.

But that wasn't the only reason he had tuned them out. Ginny had just walked in through the doors to the Great Hall accompanied by a few of her friends from her year. Harry watched her walk all the way down the Gryffindor table, past Harry until she sat far away from him. She hadn't even looked at him, not even close to look in his direction. "You know," said a voice as the person it belonged to slumped into the seat next to Harry. "that feeling isn't healthy to carry around all by yourself'" said Dean Thomas as he poured a big bowl of cereal.

"What are you talking about?" answered Harry quickly. Perhaps too quickly because Dean's lips turned into a smile before Harry had even finished his sentence.

"That red-haired girl that a lot of the other guys in this room stared at too while she walked down between the tables. But none of them had the same look as you did Harry." Dean said in a friendly tone. Harry wanted to respond, but didn't know what to say. It felt weird talking to talking about Ginny with Ginny's ex.

"You know, I liked her a lot while we were dating," Dean said with a mouth full of food. It definitely got weird now Harry thought, should he make an excuse to leave? "But part of me knew that her heart belonged to another all along. That only became more clearer when you started dating her, and even more – if possible – when you broke up."

"I don't understand – she seemed pretty cool about the break-up," Harry said looking at her down the table.

"Well, of course, you never want to be the one to lose face when you break up with another, right? Besides, it's Ginny we're talking about – she's tougher than most people."

"Yeah I guess," Harry said. The memories of the period after their break-up seemed to come to his mind, but this time he noticed something he had not done before now. The black area underneath her eyes and her red eyes – the evidence that a person had cried long into the night. Even now, it seemed like her face was still like that. Had he really hurt her that much?

"I'm not really supposed to say this, Harry, and if Ginny ever finds out I'm a dead person," Dean said and he immediately caught Harry's expression. "Sorry, 'dead' was probably a bad choice of word considering what happened this summer. Anyway, when you two broke up I found her late one night in the common room," he began and Harry felt the beast in his stomach starting to wake up. Dean and Ginny in the common room together? Right after she and Harry broke up? "I comforted her man, told her she should give you some time, that you would eventually come to your senses. The more we talked, the more I knew that her heart beat for you, Harry. We spent some days after that – just talking," Dean added quickly when he saw the look on Harry's face. "She said a lot of stuff, but if she had said 'Harry' all the time instead it would've made no difference. I think you owe her an apology." Dean finished as the school started getting up for their first class.

"Transfiguration is up – we don't want to be late," Dean added as Harry got up from his seat and bumped right into some one.

"Oh, sorry," Harry said. When he looked up he noticed those chocolate brown eyes he had missed so much, staring right back into his. Ginny just gave him a small smile. It almost paralyzed him.

"Harry?" Ron said tugging at his sleeve.

"I think Harry's busy," Hermione told him with a crooked smile, because at that moment Ginny walked out of the Great Hall, but right before she did she turned her head and smiled at Harry. "Told you not to give up on her yet," Hermione said and Harry couldn't help but chuckle.