Settling himself down in the chair at the end of the dining room table, he graciously accepted the breakfast placed before him. "Thanks, Brillare" he said to the little creature next to him.

"Is Master Harry needing more juice or tea?" asked the house elf, who was petite indeed, even for an elf. As the raven-haired young man shook his head, Brillare informed him "Steinig has cleaned Master's traveling cloak in hoping Master enjoys the beautiful weather outside… for once." Brillare's shrill voice, one that could cut through foggiest weather if she weren't so soft-spoken, trailed off at the end of her statement.

Brillare and Steinig had been Harry's house elves for nearly three years – actually, they've been his elves his entire life, but Harry had never known of them. They made an odd couple. Both were the offspring of two elf couples who served his grandparents. Where Brillare was a diminutive ray of sunshine, Steinig was large and brooding. Harry regarded Brillare to be the elfin version of Molly Weasley, Harry's long-time surrogate mother, while he considered Steinig to be a younger and much larger version of Kreacher, his elf from 12 Grimauld Place. The elves had long become accustomed to his delicate temperament and now Brillare was fearful of having trodden on one of her master's many emotional eggshells.

Harry thanked her again and ate his breakfast quietly. Surveying the dining room, he wondered if there would ever be a time when seating at this table would be full. It comfortably sat sixteen guests even before applying extension charms on the table and room. The room itself was ornate without being ostentatious. That seemed to be the theme running through the entire home – understated elegance. With ten beautiful large bedrooms, each with its own en suite bathroom, a kitchen rivaling that of Hogwarts, two sitting rooms with fireplaces, two studies also with fireplaces, a grand lounge, and a library that would make Hermione gape in awe, this was the mansion Harry now called home.

'Home', Harry scoffed, 'it's more like a bloody palace. If the Dursley's could see me now'. Harry allowed himself a rare chuckle at the thought. It has yet to become a place in which he felt comfortable. A house is not a home without others to share in it.

True happiness had eluded him for over four years. Having had no human contact since arriving here three years ago, Harry's self-imposed exile from the wizarding world had been both cathartic and heartbreaking. He came here to protect those he loved. He knew firsthand that as long as Tom Riddle's remaining followers were on the loose, he and anyone near him remained marked for death. He also knew that he was responsible for so much of the death and carnage of the Second Great Wizarding War. If only he solved the mystery of the Horcruxes and Deathly Hallows sooner, if only he faced Voldemort sooner, so many lives would have saved. How could anyone, most notably Ginny and the rest of the Weasleys, ever be able to forgive him? He alone was responsible for the death of Fred, Remus and Tonks Lupin, Colin Creevey, Mad-Eye Moody, Cedric Diggory, Dumbledore, his parents, and so many others. He alone was responsible for the lifelong suffering endured by such a large portion of the wizarding populace. He is no bloody hero; he was a cancer to wizards and witches everywhere. There just cannot be that much forgiveness in the world.

Here in his home since the end of the war, Harry went through most of the stages of grief. The initial shock and numbness of the events carried him through the first couple of days, followed shortly thereafter by an extended period of depression lasting more than two years. The guilt, sorrow, fatigue, and apathy lead to further isolation and an even greater penchant for firewhiskey. Wracked by nightmares at night and even during the day when he nodded off, Harry found that drowning in firewhiskey until passing out provided relief. They did not come when the alcohol addled his brain. However, he did not realize the toll the firewhiskey was taking on his body. He infrequently bathed, shaving was not even so much as an afterthought, and his hair had not been cut since before the Horcrux hunt. It now cascaded over his chest in the front and fell below the tips of his shoulder blades in the back. Furthermore, it had taken on a tight, wavy, almost curly appearance.

For their part during this period, Brillare and Steinig avoided their master unless necessary: bringing food and gently encouraging him to eat, and kindly urging him to care for himself properly. He picked at his food, but preferred his drink, and as a result, Harry was nothing more than skin, bones, and hair. They also spent many a day cleaning up after their Master, repairing spell damage throughout the house brought on by their master's routine drunken stupors. It was only after Steinig put his foot down and refused to bring into the house nothing stronger than pumpkin juice – at great personal cost due to his requisite self-punishment - did Harry's health improve even a little bit. This was the most fearful time for Steinig and Brillare as their master was prone to extreme fits of anger. They spent much of their time in hidey-holes avoiding Harry's wrath. Over time, however, as the detoxification process took hold, they slowly reemerged and came to his aid more frequently.

When he first arrived at Lionheart Manor, Harry did allow himself the luxury of receiving a monthly update via owl post from Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt regarding the status of the auror Department's capture of the remaining Death Eaters, as well as three-day-old copies of the Daily Prophet that were personally vetted by Kingsley himself. Kingsley had quickly gotten the unstated message only after a few months that no response from Harry would be forthcoming from any correspondence. Of course, Kingsley expected as much from the beginning, based on his initial and only meeting with Harry after the end of the Second Great Wizarding War, but attempts were made anyway. Shortly after that meeting, in what would be some of his final correspondence with the wizarding world, Harry adopted a communication plan with Kingsley. The only correspondence he would receive would be from the Minister of Magic himself, that all owl post would be delivered from one particular and rare rust-coloured Guatemalan Pygmy Owl, and that each piece of post would carry a small discrete ink mark on the lower left-hand corner that looked as if someone's wayward quill accidently brushed against it. This plan ensured Harry's security, but Kingsley also knew that by this plan Harry ensured his isolation as well.

Initially, in addition to his auror updates, Kingsley attempted to bring The Boy Who Lived Twice, the Savior of the Wizarding World, back from isolation through his own personal pleas. Shortly thereafter, he solicited the help of the only real family Harry Potter has even known, the Weasleys. For the next several months, Kingsley's updates included letters written by each of the Weasleys, the most gut wrenching being those from Ginny. However, after having read just a few of the first round of Weasley letters, Harry and his firewhiskey chose to discard them and all future Weasley correspondence in the fireplace. The pain was too great. He refused to believe he could be forgiven. As much as he loved the Weasleys, and as much as he loved Ginny, his soul mate, the only girl he ever loved or will love, Harry knew in his mind that they would be better off without him.

'No. It's better this way. When are they going to realize that?'

Toward the latter half of his first eighteen months of isolation, the number of Weasley letters slowly dwindled. Eventually, they stopped altogether. Harry's lack of response to their letters put enormous strain on Kingsley's relationship with the Weasleys, particularly that of his longest and closest friend, Arthur Weasley, the patriarch of the Weasley family. It took Kingsley the better part of two years to convince the family that, no, he had no idea where Harry was living, and that, yes, Harry must still be alive as the Guatemalan Pygmy Owl was always returned to his office after each delivery without letters. This latter bit of information seemed to indicate that Harry was at least accepting the post, if not reading its contents.

During the winter of 2000 and early spring of 2001, Harry slowly improved. As his slow march toward sobriety began, so did his attitude. Harry resigned himself to his fate and accepted his new reality. He must somehow move on with his life. His grief became more manageable, although he still suffered from horrendous nightmares. He now spent time wandering the mansion, taking in the feel of the leather and oak furniture and the beautiful paintings and tapestries that adorned the walls of this stately place. He exhausted days the massive library learning about his ancestors and the magical world of their times. Harry learned that the Potters were indeed among the oldest families of the wizarding world, descended from the Peverell Brothers and possibly even Godric Gryffindor himself. He rarely left the building, despite the fact that Lionheart Manor was immediately surrounded by fifty neatly kept acres of gardens, a swimming pool, and a full-sized quidditch pitch. Beyond the Manor and those fifty acres, the property included another two hundred acres of woodlands, with streams, glens and a couple of ponds. The woodlands provided an extra measure of privacy and protection, and if the woodlands were not enough, the wards placed around the property ensured that no soul could visit unannounced without his permission and accompaniment through them.

Beginning with the New Year, Harry began reading his post again. He learned in February that the last of the missing Death Eaters, Roudolphus LeStrange, had been captured and that in March, LeStrange was sentenced to life in Azkaban, the wizarding prison. With this news, his desire to begin a normal life slowly took hold; however, his problem was that he didn't know what a normal life was anymore. What was normal? His life with the Dursleys wasn't normal. His days at Hogwarts and the year he spent on the run from Death Eaters while searching for Horcruxes with his best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, wasn't normal. Life here at Lionheart Manor certainly wasn't normal. Harry's only experiences with a normal life were those brief summer periods living at the Burrow, the Weasley homestead, and those few stolen moments with Ginny in his sixth year at Hogwarts. However, through the whole of Harry's life, his experiences with the norm were the exception, not the rule. As badly as Harry wanted a normal life, especially one that included Ginny, he had little frame of reference for it and had a hard time conceiving its possibility.

Harry also recently realized that before any normal life could commence, he had a lot of repair work to do. Relationships with those who loved him and who stood by him in the past needed to be mended, or at least clarified. Despite fully expecting rejection, he realized he needed to apologize to those who loved him. He needed to let them know that he understood if they were angry with him and were moving forward with their lives without him. As much as rejection would break his heart, he needed to let Ginny, Hermione, Ron, and the rest of the Weasleys know he respected and accepted their wishes.

Midway through breakfast, Steinig entered the dining room. "Today's post has arrived. Would Master like to read it or shall Steinig burn it again?"

"Please leave it with me Steinig. I don't want to have the post burned anymore. And I want you to call me Harry from now on, not Master. Okay?"

"Yes Master Harry."

Harry was about to correct Steinig, but let it pass. He knew from his experience with Kreacher that an elf's adaptation of such a request would be a slow, arduous process. He would accept the compromise for now. With a small 'pop', Steinig disappeared.

Turning his attention to the front page of the Daily Prophet, Harry scanned the headlines. As he finished his breakfast, Harry flipped the paper over to read the smaller headlines on the lower half of the front page. One particular headline caught his eye.

War Heroes to Marry.

Two of the greatest heroes from the Second Great Wizarding War have announced their engagement. Ronald Bilius Weasley and Hermione Jean Granger, famous for their supporting role in assisting Harry Potter in his defeat of Lord Voldemort, will be marrying in the fall. The wedding is expected to be a private affair. No additional details have been announced.

After mulling this piece for a few moments, Harry called for Steinig again.

"Yes Master Harry?"

"Steinig, I would like you to go to Diagon Alley and purchase a good owl for me."

With a deep bow and a crooked little smile, Steinig replied, "Steinig will purchase a great owl for Master Harry." With another small pop, Steinig disappeared once again.

Rising from the table, Harry wandered into the foyer. It rivaled the Entrance Hall at Hogwarts in size, but in size only. The foyer was oval in shape, with wide curved staircases on either side. Walking between the staircases toward the front entrance, Harry stopped at a closet to the right of the set of doors. Retrieving his cloak, Harry stepped into the cool spring morning air and headed toward the nearest garden for a walk. 'Brillare was right. I should get out more' he thought to himself. As he stepped through the hedgerow surrounding the garden, Harry began to reminisce about the events since the war that brought him to this point in his life.

A/N:

First chapter, I know, kinda boring at first, but I promise, more will be here to come soon! I hope you guys enjoyed this one, and stay tuned for the next one, but first...REVIEW!