A/N: This is something I just came up with one day while I was sick. I do not own anything and the only gain I get from this is proof that I have no life. If the authorities decide to take that from me too, then I'd be a hollow shell. Not even kidding.

A Little Tender Loving Care

Chapter One

Harry raised his wand once again to lift another block of stone into place. He was helping to rebuild Hogwarts castle. The Final Battle had been a week ago and everyone was still working to restore order and peace in England. Harry had been working nonstop rebuilding the castle, helping to build a suitable government, attending funerals, speaking with families, keeping the spirit in the people alive, and meeting with the leaders of other countries to try and get help from them. Everybody had something they needed him to do.

Harry hardly slept for all the things he had to do. He barely ate and constantly worked, never leaving time for himself. The Weasley's had noticed his lack of self-preservation and the fact that he never stopped to relax and have a little fun. Harry did not think that he had time for that and did not believe that he deserved it. He blamed himself for all the deaths and destruction and thought that it was only fair that he work himself into the ground trying to fix it all.

He finally got the block into place. He lowered his arm and ran his sleeve across his forehead. He was sweating profusely even though what he was doing wasn't all that difficult. His wand arm hurt like crazy and he felt very weak and tired. He shrugged and lifted his arm to lift another block.

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Harry walked into the Gryffindor Common Room. He was the only one there for the Weasleys had gone back to the Burrow and everyone else was either staying in a different part of the castle or had gone back to their homes. Harry stayed at Hogwarts so that people who needed him could find him easily.

He had just gotten back from another hard day fixing the castle and the government. He didn't have to do too much anymore in regards to appointing people since Kingsley got voted the new Minister for Magic, but Kingsley did ask him to do many others things for the Ministry. It was tiring.

He sat down in an armchair in front of the fire and looked at his watch. It was 12:30 at night. Harry sighed and put his head back. He sure was tired. He squinted when a stab of pain ran through his head. He rubbed it and sighed again. Now he had a headache. Not to mention the sore throat and cough he's had all day. 'Hopefully I'm not getting sick', he thought. Harry closed his eyes, trying the stem the headache.

Harry looked around. He was at…Privet Drive? 'How did I get here?' he thought to himself. He looked up at his childhood home. He saw the telly was on through the window. He walked up to the door and knocked. Maybe he could convince Uncle Vernon to give him a ride to King's Cross so he could catch a train to Hogwarts.

No one answered. Harry tried to open the door. Surprisingly, it was unlocked. He stepped in and looked around. Dudley was sitting on the floor in front of the telly eating a bowl of ice cream. Harry looked away and then did a double take. Dudley looked like he was seven. 'What the…?' Harry thought.

He was about to say something when he heard voices upstairs. He looked up at the ceiling above him before he slowly climbed the stairs. He was surprised at what he saw. He saw his seven year old self, sitting on the floor in the middle of the hallway and crying. Uncle Vernon was towering over him, yelling at him.

"You think you're something special boy? You think you can just take a break whenever you feel like? If you want to stay in this house and eat our food than you have to earn your keep. Now stop wasting time and do your chores!"

Seven year old Harry looked up at Uncle Vernon and said, "But Uncle, I'm sick. I feel awful. Can't I rest for the day? You always let Dudley rest when he feels sick." And indeed he was sick. His skin was flushed with fever, he was shaking with chills, and he had a slight green tinge to him as if he was going to throw up. But Uncle Vernon didn't seem moved. He leaned down close to Harry.

"I don't care if you're dying, you filth. You can't just slack off because you have a little headache. Dudley is more important than you and that's why he gets to rest when he doesn't feel well. But you don't. So stand up and finish vacuuming the rug and then do the rest of your chores or you will be locked in your cupboard with no meals for two weeks," Vernon said in a deadly quiet whisper. The seven year old Harry nodded his head, wiped away his tears, and stood up to finish his chores. Uncle Vernon stood behind him smiling wickedly.

Harry awoke with a gasp. He looked around quickly before he realized that he was in the Gryffindor Common Room. He had fallen asleep in the armchair. Harry looked down at his watch. 1:30 a.m. It was going to be a long night.

Unable to fall back asleep, Harry wondered what brought on the flashback. What had happened in the dream had actually happened when he was seven. After that particular incident, he had never complained again about being sick and being tired from constant work. He figured that the stress that he's been under the past week, well, seven years actually, is what brought it on. Harry sat back and gave himself over to yet another sleepless night.