Disclaimer: I am a college student, so that means I am poor, which means that I do not own Harry Potter or anything to do with him…unfortunately.

Timeline: The story starts around the year 2000. Two years after the final battle.

Summary: Harry has saved the wizarding world, but after all of the celebrations were over, everyone moved on and seemingly forgot all about the boy that saved them. Left to his own devices, can he overcome the pain that comes with witnessing so much pain and death? Help may be on the way in the form of red hair and...A kid? Slightly AU mainly because I cannot write in a world where Fred Weasley is dead.

Chapter One: At the bottom of a bottle

Harry really hated Mondays. And to be quite honest, he hated Tuesday, Wednesdays, and every other day of the week as well. He was also not too particularly fond of mornings, afternoons, tea time, evenings, or the night time. In short, he was miserable no matter what day or time it was. But as it was, he had to deal with life no matter how miserable it was.

Breath, calm yourself. You are bloody lucky to even be alive you ungrateful prig, so stop feeling sorry for yourself.

The self-pep talks never worked, but he still did them anyway. It was one of the things that kept him alive and somewhat sane. That, and the firewhiskey.

Harry Potter's life had taken a dramatic turn for the worse in the past few years. After he had ended Riddle's reign of terror, he had finally relaxed, enjoying the fact that he no longer had to defend the world or his own miserable life. The celebrations had been numerous and the world rejoiced with him. For some time, he had allowed himself to think that his life could be better, that he could finally be happy.

He took some time off and then applied to the auror program at the ministry. He had excelled in the program and had graduated near the top of his class. He loved his job and the thrill that came with it, and again, he thought that he was doing some good in the world.

However, it was around this time that things started to change. When people started to get back to their lives after the war had ended, after the funerals had taken place, after the pieces had been picked up and put back together, a strange thing happened.

Harry Potter was forgotten. Or at least pushed to the side, and he resented it. After all he had done, he was cast aside like a cask of stale butterbeer. It proved that the world was a "what have you done for me lately" kind of place, and he resented it.

Oh he still had friends, or at least he did at the time. Hurt by his treatment and plagued by inner demons that were starting to emerge, Harry had locked himself in the dark foulness that was 12 Grimauld Place and cut off contact with almost everyone he knew. The only ones that he allowed any kind of contact were Kingsley and his other supervisors at the ministry, and on occasion, Hermione, but that was it. He even pushed the Weasleys to the side. He quite simply wanted to be alone and try and deal with his problems on his own.

So, as a result, his life was a miserable one. He worked long hours, and when he was home, he barely ate, more often than not, drinking his meals from a firewhiskey bottle. He was reclusive, sullen and bitter.

Now he hardly cared that he was no longer seen as a hero by most. He never did like being in the spotlight, but what hurt him the most was that when after all was said and done, when the world was safe again, and he needed help, no one seemed to be available. He had risked his life for them, and when he needed them, he was practically invisible. That fact more than anything encouraged his bitterness and caused him to pull away from everything and everyone.

Now he knew, deep in the back of his mind, that the Weasleys would be there to help, but in his current state, he really did not care. He felt as if he was so far gone that no one, not even his surrogate family could help him. And, Harry being Harry, did not want to put them through the hell that they were sure to go through if they were to make the attempt to help him. No, it was better this way. It was better to be miserable and on his own than to drag other people into this mess and risk hurting them as well.

These thoughts and many others were on his mind as he emptied yet another bottle and slouched sullenly in a chair before a roaring fire. He tossed the bottle behind him, not caring if it broke and made a mess. Kreacher would take care of it in any case. He fought sleep even though he was exhausted. Over the years he had trained his body to function on as little sleep as possible. He would never admit it, but with sleep came the nightmares, and to admit that he was scared of those would admit weakness, and he would never do that. They had not been so bad at first, only coming once, maybe twice a week, but it had not been long before they had started to get worse, and more frequent.

When they had started to get to be about three times a week, he had sought help. He had first asked around the ministry if there was anything or anyone that could perhaps get him through this, but he was met with mostly indifference and ignorance. People actually started to treat him as if there was something wrong with him. As if the war had damaged his mind beyond repair. Which, Harry had to admit to himself, was probably true.

Once his friends found out what was going on with him, they had started to find more and more reasons to not be around him, as if they were scared that whatever he had was contagious. Ron had tried to help, but Ron being Ron was totally clueless on what to do and ended up doing more harm than good. Harry still respected his best mate for trying, but again, he did not want to drag anyone he loved into this mess, so he had slowly started to distance himself from Ron and the rest of the Weasleys. They had, of course, tried to contact him many times, but he never responded, hoping that they would get the hint and leave him alone.

Eventually the owls and floo calls tapered off and then ended, and Harry was left with the peace that he so desired. However, for whatever reason, he still corresponded with Hermione. He had tried to ignore her at first as well, but she would not back down and Harry had finally started talking to her mainly to get her to quit nagging him. Which did not work of course, she still nagged him on a daily basis…pushing him to do things that he really did not want to do, like talk to Ron and the Weasleys, or at least Ron. She and Ron were currently engaged and living together…much to the disapproval of Mrs. Weasley he was sure….so Harry knew that Ron knew exactly what was going on in his life, as he got reports from Hermione. He also knew that Ron really wanted him to be his best man, but Harry could not pull himself together long enough to do it. He pleaded with Hermione to get Ron to ask someone like Neville to do the task and just leave him the hell alone, and currently, as far as he knew, that was the end of the matter.

Pulling himself together, he finally stood up and took a few drunken, unsteady steps to a nearby mirror hanging in the drawing room. For what seemed like an eternity, he did not even look up, instead staring at the filthy floor. Kreacher had begged his master time and time again to let him clean, but Harry wanted his surroundings to be as dirty as he felt his soul was. He had finally relented a little though and allowed his house elf to clean everywhere in the house save the drawing room and the hall outside of it. It was easier than hearing him whine daily about being a bad elf. Harry had even threatened to give him clothes if he did not shut up, but even Kreacher knew that he wouldn't do it and the elf actually called his bluff, which ended in the compromise.

So now, looking down as his feet, Harry slowly brought up his left arm so that it was right in front of his face. As he did so, his robe sleeve fell away and exposed his wrist, along with the jagged scar that was on it. The scar was old, but there were others on his bodies that were newer. He simply needed to have physical pain to go with his emotional pain. It was the only way that he knew how to deal.

The thing was though, after he had hurt himself, he felt ashamed by the act and that shame translated into more guilt and pain, which in turn, turned into more physical pain. It was a vicious cycle, and Harry felt powerless to stop it.

Finally looking into the mirror, Harry almost gasped at what he saw. What he saw in the mirror was a forty year old nineteen year old. His lack of sleep showed in the lines on his face and his eyes lacked any kind of life. They were dark and lifeless showing not the slightest trace of joy of any kind. He had let his hair grow long, so long that he was sure that if Molly Weasley saw it, she would be sitting him down for a forced haircut. It fell to about the middle of his neck and it hung there limp and dull.

All those years I made fun of Snape for his greasy hair. What a hypocrite you are now Potter.

Once that thought entered his head, others soon followed. Each one worse than the one before it.

Worthless

Forgotten hero

Unloved

One right after the other, assaulting his brain almost as bad as Voldemort had done. It was not long before it simply had become too much for him to handle. The pain had to go, he had to feel something. Almost without thinking, he raised his right hand, and punched himself in the face as hard as he could. He did this three more times before collapsing on the floor in front of the mirror in a fetal position, blood coming from his broken nose and sobbing uncontrollably.

Thirty minutes later, against his will, he fell into a restless sleep. He was found a hour later by Kreacher who, used to seeing his master like this, simply placed a blanket over him and a pillow under his head, shaking his head sadly. Kreacher wanted to help, but did not know how. Until he could figure it out, he would take care of Master Potter the best way he knew how.

Molly Weasley was troubled. Oh she had a lot to be thankful for, and was happy for the most part, but there was something that was keeping her up at the midnight hour, bundled in an old quilt and sipping tea in her quite for once kitchen.

Bill and Fleur had just made her a grandmother for the first time. Something that thrilled her to no end. Percy and Ronald had just announced their engagements, and if there was one thing that she loved ALMOST as much as a grandchild, it was planning a wedding. Fred and George were very successful in their business and were both dating seriously. Charlie was happy, though still single and Ginny was recently graduated from Hogwarts and had spent the past year traveling the world. She was due back soon to start healer training and Molly was planning one hell of a welcome home party for her. Then, there was her seventh son. Not blood, but her son just the same. Harry had withdrawn from them, asking her family to leave him alone. She had resisted at first, but on Arthur's advice had finally relented, though she did not like it at all. Every motherly instinct told her that Harry needed her and she needed to help him…but her husband had counseled her that this was for the best, and Harry would come back to them when he chose, if ever. And if he didn't, she would just have to accept it. She was not so sure about that last part.

She knew she was right to worry, she knew that he surrogate son needed her help, and that feeling was backed up by the hand on the clock she was staring at…the same clock that had a hand with Harry's name on it, and was currently pointing to danger. Molly had had Bill add the new category during the last war. She felt that mortal danger and danger where two different things, and wanted more specificity.

So here she was, staring at this clock the same way she had been every night for the past few months, fighting every urge in her body to jump up and take care of the boy that she loved as a son.

A/N: So this is chapter one, and I hope you liked it. This chapter is simply setting the table for the rest of the story, so don't worry, there is more to come! While this story will be a bit dark, this first chapter is perhaps the darkest, so things will get better. Also, I know there are a lot of these kinds of Harry Potter stories out there, but I have always wanted to do one, and put my own twist to it. So I hope you enjoy my version. Please review!-J