A/N: This world is JKR's.
Written for: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Fortnightly Event. Het: Harry/Ginny
Writing for Hufflepuff.
Good Days and Bad Days
Most days were good days but they didn't always make up for the bad ones. Sometimes, Harry would wake up with a smile, happy to realize that his very best dreams had become reality. His wife would kiss him and his kids would hug him and he would eat breakfast with his family, something he'd never had growing up.
Sometimes he'd go all day without thinking about his scar or his parents or his past and he would enjoy the simplicity of Ron stopping by his office or Hermione having tea with him at lunch. He'd go all day without worrying about anything in the world because what was there to worry about? He was an auror in a time when being an auror was boring, and that was a good thing for the Wizarding world.
But some days were bad days. He tried not to call out of work because that wasn't fair. It didn't seem right to use his background as an excuse, but considering that all of his coworkers had been there… had seen…. He knew they understood.
Some days, he would wake up with tears streaming down his face and sobs wrenching through his chest, phantom pains searing his forehead as the screams echoed through his head. Sometimes it was the screams of his mother, the ones he'd heard since childhood. Other times it was the mourning wails of the Weasleys when they lost Fred, of himself when he lost Sirius, of so many others. Sometimes it was Ginny—he hadn't failed to notice the resemblance between himself and Ginny and his parents, and his brain so helpfully filled it in.
Some days, his dreams wouldn't be so bad but there would be something small and he would suddenly hurt. Like the world was falling in on him. Little things, like the sound of ice cracking, would send him spiraling into a darkness he'd fought for years to escape.
But bad days were getting better. Ginny couldn't fix his bad days, but she was starting to recognize when they would happen. Most of the time, when Harry woke up, drenched in sweat and drowning in fear, he would be greeted with the strong hands of a woman who had loved him since she'd known him, and a warm cup of tea the way Mrs. Weasley made it.
Sometimes Harry would talk, and sometimes he would cry, but he would always feel better. It was a slow road to recovery and he knew he didn't walk it alone. Ginny woke up sometimes, too. She'd admitted after a few months that when she was really little, if she had bad dreams, she'd crawl into bed with Fred and George to feel safe. Because Mr. Weasley's work schedule meant he got so little sleep, Ginny had been desperate to find someplace else to go and the twins had been happy to help.
Sometimes it took her several minutes when she woke up from a nightmare to realize who Harry was, and usually those minutes were spent in fear, wondering why there was only one boy there to chase away her demons. Sometimes Ginny would talk, and sometimes she would cry, but she would always feel better. There were good days and bad days, but bad days were getting better.
