A/n: This story is cross-posted on under my pen name Gia_Sesshoumaru to reach more people. This story is pre-Snarry and will be continued in the planned sequel. Also, thanks to my betas/pre-readers for all their help - Ticia, wonderwomanlovesyou221, and Lady Eve! You guys are wonderful.
Edit: Also, thanks to skyla2010star for the beta!
Chapter One
Harry Potter stood in front of the door and wished that he had another option. In the past three years, though, his options had dwindled to nothing. After he'd defeated Voldemort, he'd had this idea in his head of how his life would go from that point on. He would become an Auror, he would marry Ginny, they would have children, and he would be happy. After all, why wouldn't he be happy after finally destroying Voldemort, who had made his life a living hell for seven years? That had been his mistake; he should have realized by then that nothing ever worked out the way that he wanted it to.
He thought he'd be happy with Voldemort gone, but happiness had been the farthest emotion from him at that moment. He'd been more relieved than anything else. All he'd wanted to do was to be with Ron and Hermione and to sleep. Neither of those things had happened, of course. He was, after all, the Wizarding World's Greatest Hero. He'd gotten what only seemed like a short time to himself before everyone had wanted a piece of him. Without anywhere else to go, he'd gone to stay with Weasleys. It seemed as though the letters started hounding both him and the family before the dust had even settled upon the graves of the many that died.
The list had been long, not as long as it could have been, he supposed, but long enough to haunt him. He'd stared at the list over and over before Hermione had snatched it out of his hand. She had left soon afterward to go and find her parents. Ron had offered to go with her, but she had wanted to do it by herself. She returned what seemed like an eternity later to her boyfriend, Ron, but in reality, it had only been a week or two
The Burrow had not been the happy place it was before. Arthur and Molly were depressed at first at the loss of Fred, as well as Remus and Tonks. Their infant child, Teddy, was with Andromeda, where he would stay. She had shown up, her eyes red-rimmed as if she had been crying. Of course, she had. She had lost her husband, daughter, and son-in-law in a very short period of time. Teddy was really the only thing she had left. She would raise him, which was fine with Harry, as he was still only seventeen at the time. As his godfather, he would go over and help whenever he could.
Harry hadn't felt like leaving. He knew the Weasleys wouldn't kick him out or anything. In reality, he hadn't felt like leaving the room he shared with Ron. If the Weasleys themselves were hurting, George was a wreck. He barely left his room at all for what seemed like a long time. Losing his twin had shaken him to his core. As for Harry himself, he just felt… lost. It was like, yeah, Voldemort's dead, now what do I do? The idea of being an Auror didn't seem too appealing to him anymore, but what else could he really do? Professional Quidditch? Somehow, that didn't sound quite right, either.
So, Harry had hung out at the Burrow. Molly and Arthur didn't ask him to leave. In fact, they seemed happy to have him there. Arthur went back to work at the Ministry. Kingsley Shacklebolt had been named interim Minister of Magic. He talked about wanting to clean out the corruption in the Ministry. It sounded great, but Harry wasn't convinced that was really possible. Hermione wanted to go back to school and finish up her final year that she'd missed while hunting Horcruxes with Harry. She wasn't the only one in their year that was going back either, but most had skipped their NEWTs and were moving to life after. Ron had wanted to be an Auror, and the Ministry was looking for them. He signed up quickly, wanting to drag Harry along. Harry, however, pushed the idea away and went back to hiding in his room. Despite losing Fred, the Weasleys were determined to move on. Sadness still permeated the house, though. It seemed as if everything reminded them all of what they'd lost. That was why it was easier for Harry to hide. If he hid under the covers long enough, everything would go away and get better.
Harry had been okay until the trials started. After that, it was all anyone talked about. It was on the WWN and in the Daily Prophet. In his opinion, it seemed as if the Wizarding World thought sending a bunch of people to Azkaban would make it all better. To them, it was like pushing the dirt under a rug makes you forget that the dirt was ever there. It didn't make sense to him. He had skipped all the trials, preferring to hide in the hole that he created for himself until the major ones happened – the big name Death Eaters. He had been required to attend. The most prominent trials by far were that of the Malfoy Family and Snape.
Yes, Severus Snape had survived, though just barely. He'd been found unconscious and bleeding on the floor of the Shrieking Shack where Harry had thought he'd died. Recovering in St. Mungo's, he had still been weak by the time his trial came long. The Malfoy Family trials had come first. Draco had been the first of the three to stand trial. Harry had spoken up for him, saying that he did not participate in the final battle. He had also lied to his aunt and father about if he recognized him or not, saving his life. It was obvious that he was forced into participating, and thus, the charges were dropped.
Narcissa's trial had been up next. She was not an actual Death Eater in that she did not have the Dark Mark, but she was a sympathizer. Harry had also spoken up for her, saying that he owed her a life debt because she lied to Voldemort's face and told him he was dead when he wasn't. He wasn't sure he wanted to owe her a life debt, but there wasn't much he could do about that now. As she also had not participated in the final battle, her charges were also dropped.
Lucius Malfoy's trial, however, had been a lot more complicated. After all, he had lied after the first war. Saying that he'd been bewitched by the Imperius Curse wouldn't work this time around because now it was public knowledge that he was a Death Eater. Harry hadn't really been all that surprised when he cooperated fully with anything they asked, but he was a bit surprised when he agreed to give whatever information that they required. He had provided information against many Death Eaters who were trying to evade arrest by the Ministry. That information, however surprising it may have been, had turned out to be invaluable as many of them were caught.
Severus Snape's trial had come after that. He had still been weak from Nagini's attack. He had gotten off after the first trial because Dumbledore had vouched for him as a spy. However, Dumbledore wasn't here this time because Snape himself had killed him. Harry had needed to speak up for him this time, and after what he'd seen in the other man's memories, he had been more than willing. The very idea that he would speak for Severus Snape had shocked people. He had advocated for the man very passionately, and Snape's memories were used to prove what he had been saying - with his permission, of course (not that he'd had much choice in the matter.)
It had worked, and Snape also provided information – including backing up much of what Lucius Malfoy had told them. He had been released back into the care of St. Mungo's for further recovery, and after they had cleared him, he was free to go his own way. Of course, he would never be allowed to work at Hogwarts again, but Harry was sure that the school's former Potions Master was secretly very happy about that because anyone could have seen that he hated the job.
With the trials over, one would think that Harry's life would be better from then on out. However, the trials had brought on a much bigger problem. As soon as they had started, so did the nightmares. It was as if every time he closed his eyes, the faces of all those who had died for him came to him. It always reminded him of all the lives that had ended because they had sided with him. Yes, it had been their choice, but it was still because of Harry. If only he had been able to end the war faster, find the Horcruxes faster, maybe, just maybe…
Harry would just wake up screaming sometimes. Other nights, he would come back to consciousness kicking and thrashing. Voldemort had still haunted his dreams, as well. He knew Ron would never complain, but he disturbed everyone with it. It hadn't mattered if they told him it was fine. So, he had moved out. After trying out five different Wizarding flats and getting the same reactions – "Merlin, it's Harry Potter!", "Look, everyone, it's Harry Potter!", "Harry Potter's going to live here!" – he went to a Muggle flat. Ron talked about moving in together, but Harry quickly squashed that. The truth was, he hadn't wanted Ron around all the time though he couldn't explain why.
Harry's new flat was nice, and it helped some. The Weasleys were great, but being around them was another reminder of what he saw every night in his nightmares – people dying for him. After that, he joined the Auror Department. As much as he enjoyed the job – well, at first, anyway – it brought on too much press. Some days, he found it hard to get out of bed because just knowing what would be waiting for him when he left his flat and entered the Wizarding World was enough to make him want to scream.
He thought things would get better, but he should have known nothing would be that easy. His relationship with Ginny ended, quite badly, if he did say so himself. She tried to be there for him and help him, but she didn't know how and honestly, he didn't want her help. He didn't want to feel like he was something that needed to be fixed. After she and Hermione had left school, she got a position on the Holyhead Harpies Quidditch team as a Chaser. Hermione went to the Ministry in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. She wanted to make a difference.
Harry was happy for them, really he was. Ron was enjoying his job as an Auror. Hermione wanted to help get magical creatures the rights that they deserved, and anyone with half a brain cell knew not to mess with Hermione Granger. It wasn't that Harry didn't enjoy the job as an Auror, but… it just felt like he was going through life in this thick, gray haze and no matter what he did, it never left him. He and Ginny kept in touch. He didn't want her out of his life altogether, but whatever they had in school was gone as soon as the war ended.
Over two years after the end of the war, something else had happened that proved to him that his life was not meant to be happy. Something would always come along and snatch it away. If not Voldemort or some Death Eater, then some random freak thing because, hey, he's Harry Potter, so why not screw with him some more?
Harry had been over visiting the Weasleys. Arthur had been holed up in his shed working on something. He was fixing to leave, so he wanted to say goodbye to the older man and had gone to visit him in the shed. He was examining some cursed Muggle artifact. Well, Harry entering the room set something off – either that or it was random – and some of the dark magic infused in the device came right at him, hitting him square in the chest.
His memory was a bit sketchy, but he remembered waking up a couple of days later in a back room of the infirmary at Hogwarts, surrounded by the Weasleys and Madam Pomfrey. After all, they had been smart enough not to take him to St. Mungo's where the press would undoubtedly find out. They couldn't get him in there without someone seeing, and there was no one there they really trusted.
Madam Pomfrey also informed him that while she had stopped the dark magic from doing any further damage, a great deal had been done already. Arthur looked horrible and kept continually apologizing. Harry told him it was fine, and he didn't blame him, more to shut him up than anything else. In truth, it wasn't Arthur's fault… it was his. These things just happened to him. Something would have happened to him eventually regardless, so better the bad things happen sooner rather than let him get a false sense of security.
Madam Pomfrey informed him that the spell had done damage to his chest and lungs. He would feel straining in that area if he got overly upset and nervous, that it would almost feel like a heart attack. He needed to stay calm, and staying in shape wouldn't hurt either. She gave him the recipe for a potion to try should the effects worsen. It could be made into a salve, as well, so he could either drink the potion or rub the salve on his chest to calm the effects. She told him not to use that as an excuse, though, and that getting upset when one of these attacks happened would only make things worse. If he took deep breaths and kept calm, anything he was feeling would pass.
Harry's Auror career was also over. Among everything else, she informed him that a spell to the chest could not just injure him, but might put too much strain on him and kill him. Sure, take that from him, too. Why not? She tried to make it sound like it was not a big deal, but to him, it was merely the icing on the cake that was his life.
Over the next year, his life got worse. Ron and Hermione got happier, talked about moving into together, and eventually did it. Ginny was doing great in professional Quidditch. The joke shop was going great – a little too great, as it turned out. Without Fred, George simply couldn't manage it all comfortably by himself. So, he offered his little brother a job after he expressed interest. Ron would be his co-manager at Weasleys Wizard Wheezes. Ron accepted, quitting his job as an Auror.
Meanwhile, Harry left the Ministry altogether. He didn't know what he wanted to do. He had enough money to last him for quite a while. After all, he hadn't actually needed to work, and he'd made decent money as an Auror. McGonagall and the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, a woman named Estelle Rockfort, asked him to do a couple of lectures on Defense Against the Dark Arts. He accepted, despite feeling like he didn't know what to say. They'd seemed happy with both lectures that he'd done, though.
The nightmares, however, hadn't gone away, and Harry was getting worse. Originally, Hermione had suggested Dreamless Sleep potions and Sleeping Draughts – light ones that wouldn't knock him out for a couple of days. He couldn't just walk into an apothecary, though. He'd tried that, and it inevitably ended up in the paper the next morning. He made them himself from time to time but buying the ingredients was hard, too. Hermione helped him, but she always harped on about not overdoing it on potions because he was also taking the potion for his chest pains as well whenever he got an attack. That irked him more than anything - he needed them.
It felt like Harry had stopped sleeping altogether, even though he knew that wasn't true. He started getting more tired during the day. Working out did seem to help him be a bit healthier. Sometimes, he would overdo it in the gym to make up for what was going wrong in the other aspects of his life. He had also gained occasional migraines, which he had to take either potions or Muggle pills for. He felt like he hadn't had a decent night's sleep since the war ended, and the nightmares were constant when he couldn't get Dreamless Sleep.
Harry had been pushing away Ron and Hermione, all the Weasleys, really. Sure, Arthur and Molly would never truly get over the loss of their child, but it seemed as if everyone was moving on except for him. Ron and Hermione had moved in together. It made him begin to resent all of them. How could they be happy when he couldn't? He didn't even remember what being happy felt like, let alone how to achieve that. Hermione kept telling him to talk to someone about it, but that just annoyed him even more. As if talking could fix what he was going through!
Harry didn't know what to do, and he started to become desperate. He kept telling himself that he just needed to sleep. If he could just sleep, he could clear his mind. So, that left him where he was now – standing in front of the door. It was the back door to a new apothecary only a couple of years old in Diagon Alley. It was called The Master's Shop. Hermione's theory was that the Potions Master behind the potions was Snape, but no one ever saw his face. That was the mystery of it. Harry had tried asking directly for him, and the attendant always turned him down, saying he could write or make an appointment.
Yeah, right, Harry thought to himself. There was no way if it was Snape that he would want to talk to him. He told himself that if he could just see him, he might be able to talk him into giving him some potion of his creation. All he needed was something simple yet strong enough to knock him out when the potions he'd been taking had stopped working. He just needed to sleep. So, after standing outside for about fifteen minutes and pacing back and forth, he walked up to the door to knock. It had opened before he had even finished.
"I thought you were going to stand outside all day, Potter."