2 months after the battle of Hogwarts

He can't explain what he feels. He already cried, he already screamed. It hurt, but now it's somehow worse because… everything is so quiet. His scar doesn't hurt anymore and he can go anywhere he wants to without someone hunting him down. He can do whatever he wants, he can be whomever he wants. And sometimes that's exactly what he needs. Yesterday night, for the tenth time, he went out and charmed himself. No one recognized him, no one thanked him for saving the wizarding world, no one treated him any different. There was no pity in their eyes, just the common and empty look you give someone you just met.

His friends don't know about this. They have no idea what he's been doing for the past few weeks. He left the Burrow and no one tried to stop him. They tried visiting him at his house, but he was able to put a spell inside Grimmauld that gives him time to apparate away when someone is trying to apparate inside. He's avoiding everyone. He can't look at them. Every time he looks at George he remembers Fred. Molly and Arthur are the constant adults that fill the void of all the other significant adults, references, he lost. Ginny is a loud reminder of what life could have been if he wasn't the chosen one, if he was only a normal teenager, if he hadn't a scar branding his destiny. He knows he could have loved her for real, but now he just can't. He doesn't feel anything.

But avoiding Ron and Hermione is the most difficult part of it all. He misses them and at the same time he feels lost when they're alone. It's like the war, the impending death and the never ending fight for their lives, was what connected them. He doesn't think he knows how to be their friend without all of this.

So he goes out. Alone, charmed. He drinks, flirts, dances and then comes back home with a beautiful woman.

He sighs averting his eyes from the window. The woman by his side on the bed is stirring, starting to wake. He's not charmed anymore and she's probably going to have a fit if she realizes she slept with Harry Potter. He gets his wand and makes the quill write on its own. He discovered that leaving them a note and vanishing from their sight was the best thing to do. None complained or tried to reach him again. Getting dressed he grabs the note and puts it on the pillow by her side. He clearly says he had to go and that she should apparate away, there's actually no food at the house. He's aware he's being a little rude, but he really doesn't care.

He goes through his motions automatically - brushing his teeth, washing his face, descending the stairs, opening the fridge to grab something to eat - so it takes him a while to realize he's not alone. He immediately stops what he's doing, freezing. He should have know she would find a way in. Closing the fridge's door he stares at her. She has her arms crossed and her eyebrows up, a judgmental look in her eyes.

"How-"

"Please." She cuts him. "I found out how to disarm the spell on the first time I tried." She takes a few steps inside the kitchen. Harry sighs. "I was waiting for you to be ready to talk, but I realized you're never going to be."

"Hermione, I don't want to talk about anything." He gives his back to her and starts preparing a sandwich. His mind racing. He's not angry she's there, but he's not happy either. She should live her life and forget about me.

"You don't write, you don't visit, you're never home when we try to see you." She's getting closer, he can almost feel her standing behind him. "What's going on, Harry?"

He scoffs. He can't understand how she can ask something like this. Everyone is dead. I don't know who I am anymore. That's what's going on. "I just want to be alone."

"Ron misses you. Arthur, Molly… Ginny." He turns to look at her. She's closer than he expected. "I miss you." Her voice is thin and she's looking directly into his eyes. "I'm your best friend, Harry. Tell me what's wrong, I want to help you." And there it is. That look, that voice, the way she leans closer, the way she tries reaching him. The pure affection she displays. He closes his eyes. He doesn't know how to deal with that anymore. How to exist around these people that went through everything with him, specially Hermione. Being around her reminds him of what they went trough, reminds him how much they lost, how they suffered. He doesn't feel comfortable around her anymore. Around any of them.

"I just want to be alone."

"That's not healthy, Harry. Have you even left the house?"

She's looking at him with pleading eyes and that infuriates him. "I'm not someone you need to take care of, Hermione. I can handle things on my own."

She blinks fast, a little taken aback by his answer. She sighs. "Don't do this, Harry. Don't push us away. You're not the only one suffering."

"That's the problem." His voice is low and cold. He inches closer to her, leaning and leveling their eyes. She doesn't even flinch. "You, all of you, I can't stand being around you." She frowns. "You constantly remind me of everything, of all the pain, of everyone that died because of this stupid war, because of this stupid scar." She shakes her head.

"You can't take the blame, Harry. Voldemort was the one that did all of this. He's the one that destroyed lives and families, he's the one that tried to spread hatred. And you…" she grabs his arm, "you saved us, Harry."

Rationally he knows Hermione is trying to help him, he knows she's his friend and that she wants the best for him. But emotionally he can't stand it. It's suffocating to bear all her love and friendship when he can't feel anything at all, when he goes to sleep and his last thought is the way Voldemort vanished in front of him and how that cracked him forever. He's not the same boy he was once, and he can never be the man he could have. He feels tainted and dirty. He feels cold and empty. He looks at her hand on his arm, her delicate fingers squeezing him gently, trying to bring him back to her. He hates it. He grabs her hand with his and the warmth and softness of her skin is soothing, he can see her exhaling, clearly relieved, but he, not so gently, pushes her hand away. She gasps.

"You should leave." He says between gritted teeth. She crosses her arms in front of her, more bracing herself than anything else.

"We love you, Harry."

It comes out before he can stop himself. "Yeah, but maybe I don't love you." He can see the shock and the hurt in her eyes. She instinctively takes a step back, like he slapped her. He can't stop his next words, they come out in a rush. "I grew up loveless, I never had anyone, and when I finally discovered who I truly was I was eager for someone to love me, to accept me. And I clung to all of you like nothing else existed. But tell me, how can I know what love is? I never knew it, I think I don't know it still." Hermione's mouth is hanging open. "You intoxicate me, suffocate me, always asking if everything is okay, always treating me like a helpless child. I'm tired of it. So fucking tired." He wants to hurt her. "I can't stand all this affection. It doesn't make sense anymore. And you, Hermione, you're the worst." The tears falling from her eyes burn him like an open wound. She's going to hate me. He's aware, but he continues, because that's exactly what he wants. "You and your soft voice and soothing eyes, all the hugs and displays of worry. I can't stand it. My skin crawls when you touch me." He can't recognize his own voice, full of hate and disdain. "So I don't care if you love me or not. I can't recognize love, not really." For the first time his voice wavers. Maybe I really can't. "Because for years, what I thought love was, was the beating, the shouting and the abusing. I'm damaged and that's never going to change. Never." She tries interrupting him, but he's faster. "I have to find out who I really am on my own now, I don't want to be around any of you anymore. Whatever we had, friendship or not, it's over. If you really love me like you say I know you'll respect my choice. I want nothing to do with you."

She covers her mouth with her hand, her sobs echoing in the kitchen. "You're-" she closes her eyes, taking a deep breath. "You're not making sense." She shakes her head.

"I am. You're the one not understanding it." Again she takes a little step back and his mind screams to him that he's pushing her away, that he shouldn't do it, that she loves him. "Just leave. Spare me of your concern. I'm fine on my own. You should worry about your life, about the number of kids you and Ron are going to have, stuff like that, I don't know." He shrugs and she looks at him in shock. And that's when he knows he did it. She's not coming back to check on him.

"This isn't you, Harry." Her voice is shaky.

"Maybe," He takes a step in her direction and she takes one back. It hurts and he's satisfied by it. Good. "This is the real Harry, and I'm afraid you're not going to like me." He knows his posture and tone are menacing.

An interjection interrupts whatever Hermione was about to say. At the kitchen's threshold the woman Harry brought home last night is staring at them wide eyed. "Merlin! Did I just shag Harry Potter?" She smiles and gives Hermione a nasty look. Harry sighs.

"You were supposed to leave." He shakes his head. "But since you're here, I think we could go out to grab some breakfast." He looks at Hermione while the woman he doesn't even remember the name is squealing in delight.

"Harry-" She stops. He waits. Sighing and shaking her head, Hermione looks down, a tear running across her face. "I hope you can find your way back to us some day."

He opens his mouth but she doesn't wait. Hermione disappears and he swallows his words. I hope you have a wonderful life, Hermione.

6 years later

"Oh, come on, darling, I know you want to stay." His voice is melodious and pleading. The woman is looking at him while she puts on her clothes.

She smiles seductively. "I had a blast, Harry, but I really need to go." She finishes zipping up her dress. "See you when I see you!" She blinks at him and exits his room.

Harry groans and laughs laying down on the bed with his hands behind his head. Life is good. Everyday he feels more and more sure about the decision he made many years ago. Leaving the wizarding world, leaving England, cutting all his ties with those he once loved, all of it… he doesn't regret. He did what he had to.

Sighing and standing only in his boxers he walks slowly to the big balcony that connects to his room. He lives in an isolated mansion he uses only to throw insane parties and indulge in wild and dangerous things. He loves the way his life doesn't have rules or anyone to tell him what to do. He loves how he can be himself without others expecting him to be someone he's not. He loves how much the Harry he became is the Harry he was always meant to be. Detached. Wild. Reckless. Free. Young. There are no responsibilities, no work, no suffering. He's rich and everyone loves him.

But apart from all of this, to be able to live without the burden of being the chosen one is the best thing. Muggles don't recognize him. To them he's just an eccentric young man. With loads of money. And they are absolutely right.

Harry looks around his balcony. Looking down he can see his garden and pool, everything still a mess showing all the signs of the night before. He's sure there were at least two hundred people there, drinking, smoking, getting high and laid. His body is also tired, remembering him everything he did while very drunk. He smiles. No hangover because even after leaving the wizarding world he still uses some things in his favor. Like a potion that can cure a headache in a second.

Two employees of his mansion call him from bellow. They're going to clean everything up to leave as soon as possible. Tomorrow is Christmas. And like he did for the past six years, Harry is spending the day alone in his house, drinking and watching idiotic movies. But first, he's sure going out to buy himself a present. After leaving England and moving to Monaco, he decided that he didn't want to make real friends or get involved in ties of relationships that could suffocate him, so he knows no one is going to give him a gift. He shrugs. He's okay with it.

The salesman looks at him suspiciously. Harry is used to it. The high elite of Monaco judges how young he looks… the uncertainty if he can really afford what he wants or if he's only wasting the vendor's time is something he can understand. They all change their expressions when Harry proves how rich he is. Now is one of those times. He can see the man's face going from a frown to a smile in seconds, his head nodding approvingly while he gestures for Harry to go outside, to choose the one he likes the most.

He wants to buy a yacht. A big yacht. It's crazy that he still doesn't have one. Every time he wanted to he rented for the day, but now he wants to have one. It's all about possessions.

The man is talking about one of the yachts and Harry is nodding, paying attention. His parents left him a fortune, however in a year he doubled it… Gambling. Playing cards. Fighting in alleys. Challenging others to do crazy stunts. And now he can't even count how much he has. It's a never ending amount. I have everything. He smiles and agrees with the vendor. He'll take it. The bigger one. 'Paying in cash, sir?' 'Absolutely'. The vendor nods and walks away, ready to prepare all the documents. Harry is left alone, staring at the yacht. He can already imagine how he's going to enjoy his new toy… some parties, some frenetic sex, a lot of drinking for sure.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

He turns his head and is a little shocked to see an outstanding woman by his side. He's sure he'd never seen someone so stunning. She smiles at him, dark hair, full lips, dark and piercing eyes. Harry is immediately captivated by her and without a trace of shame he gives her a look of appreciation. She's wearing a black dress, tight and short, leaving little to his imagination. Her smile grows wider, her blood red lipstick giving her mouth a natural provocative tone. Harry nods to her question and extends his hand, she takes it with her own and he brings it to his lips, never leaving her eyes while giving it a kiss.

"Harry Potter." He says.

"Madeline Wilter."

"Pleasure." He's ready to invite her to grab a drink with him, but she's faster.

"Did you just buy this?" She gestures to the yacht.

"Yes."

"Maybe we could give it a go… what do you say?"

He widens his eyes. Direct. I like it. "Don't need to ask twice."

"YES!" She screams as she reaches her orgasm.

Harry lays by her side, sweat covering his body and a smile on his face. For sure one of the best sex of his life. "I think I'm in love." He says, teasing her.

She laughs. "Are you even capable of that?"

He's a little taken aback by her words. Of course I am. He frowns. Right?

"Oh, I see a frown there." She turns to him. They're inside Harry's new yacht. "Come on, I was kidding, I'm sure you've been in love at least once in your life."

Harry gives her a humorless laugh. "Yeah, yeah, sure." His mind travels back to Cho, then Ginny. And then countless women he can't even remember the name… no one ever stuck. He never felt something deeper for any of them.

"Hum, why am I not buying it?"

He looks at her, unsure of where this conversation is going. He wants to change the subject, but without thinking he answers her. "I'm not sure I know what love is."

She raises her eyebrows. "Well, I guess most people don't." She shrugs. "I mean… I can tell that for me at least to love someone is to care… You never had someone you wanted to spend your day with? Even if you were doing nothing?"

Uninvited, Hermione comes to his mind but he shakes his head. Madeline continues:

"Someone that you would forfeit everything for? Just to see this person happy? Someone you felt safe with and also wanted to protect?"

Again Hermione comes to his mind and he closes his eyes. It's been years since he last thought of her.

"Someone to share your life? Someone that could read your mind and understand your temper? To have a family with?"

Yes, and yes. Hermione. He looks at the woman by his side, she's waiting for an answer. Harry opens a sly smile.

"But that kind of love seems dull, doesn't it? Where's the passion? The lust? The fun? Imagine having kids? What a nightmare." He nibbles her ear and she laughs.

"Oh darling, you're so innocent. If you have everything else I talked about, you're for sure going to have the passion, the lust, the fun. And kids are a blessing." She kisses him with ferocity. "Don't you believe me?"

He ponders. Why am I discussing this with this woman I just met? "I don't. You can't have everything. You're talking about a perfect relationship here, and I don't believe in this kind of bullshit. So I take the passion, the lust, the fun…" He returns her kiss. "And I'm very fine with it, thank you very much."

"Fine is not the same as happy." She says. Harry shrugs. "I mean, it's Christmas and you're all by yourself. Shagging someone you just met."

"You won't see me complaining."

She squints at him. Harry feels a little exposed and sad. Their conversation brought him feelings and thoughts long buried and forgotten, it stirred things he has no interest in dealing with. "Why so sad, Harry Potter?" She asks, her voice low. "You can't lie to me, I can see your heart." If her voice wasn't so serious Harry would have thought she's joking. But she isn't. He feels cold immediately.

"Who are you?"

"I'm a witch. Like you. And I have to say… I'm a little disappointed to see the man that saved the wizarding world leading a life like this." She shakes her head. Harry is already getting up from the bed, his heart racing. He succeed in keeping his distance from the wizarding world all these years, or at least he thought so. "Oh, don't go, I won't bite." She smiles mischievously. "I just want to help you." Harry starts getting dressed. "I'm a special kind of witch… let's say I go around fixing broken things. I could hear your desperate call from a million miles away." Already with his pants on, Harry stares at her. She's naked on the bed, teasing him. "You can't hide your true self from me, Harry."

"You should leave." He's gritting his teeth. "How did you find me?"

"I told you already," She gets up, looking for her scattered clothes on the floor. "I felt your desperation from afar."

"I'm not desperate. And there's nothing for you to fix in my life." His own words calm him a little. He comes closer to her. Taking a deep breath he realizes he shouldn't care… she has no power over him and there's nothing wrong in my life. He smiles at her, grabbing her arms. "Look, darling, I had a great time. I have to admit you surprised me a little with the whole witch thing, but I don't consider myself a wizard anymore and I want nothing to do with the wizarding world…" he gives her a little kiss. "So I guess our fun is over." He pouts and sneers.

She puts her arms around his shoulders. "Are you sure?" Harry smiles and nods. "Fine, I'm leaving then, but remember, Harry… I'm just trying to help you."

And she disappears. Harry keeps looking at the void she just left in front of him. He's a little uncomfortable. What the hell was that?

When they boarded the yacht it never crossed his mind to depart like this. He shakes his head, blinking. Just a strange woman, nothing more. However… she's a witch. Harry crosses his arms, shifting his weight from one foot to another, unsure. The last time he had any kind of communication with his old life things didn't turn out in the best of terms. Hermione owled him and practically begged for them to meet. He went and made it and… he hurt her, all of them.

"Yeah, well… c'est la vie." He shrugs, laying again on the bed and feeling the gentle sway of the sea. He's in the middle of nowhere, all by himself. His last thought as his eyes start closing is an attempt to reassure himself.

I don't care. I don't.

"Wake up! Wake up, dad! Come on!"

Someone is nudging him. Harry mumbles something, his mind trying to catch up with what's happening. Another voice fills the room.

"Alice, sweetie, go get ready!"

Harry opens his eyes immediately. He's laying on his stomach, so all he can see is a pretty nightstand that he's sure is not his. He can't comprehend what his eyes are seeing. How much did I drink last night? He can't remember where he was… wait. Ah yes, the yacht, the witch. He presses his hand against his face, trying to get rid of his slumber.

"Love, come on, they'll be here any minute. Get up."

He feels a slap on his butt. And this voice. He turns on the bed and looks up. Hermione is there staring at him. Hermione. He can feel his mouth hanging open. She's only in her underwear. She lifts an eyebrow.

"What?"

He swallows hard and closes his eyes. It's just a dream. This isn't real. He can hear her walking around the room. She's saying something about the Weasleys arriving soon and how he's not up yet. Okay, I will wake up any minute now.

"Harry!" Her voice is closer now. He feels a hand pressing against his cheek. He opens his eyes and Hermione is there, sitting by his side on the bed, her hand caressing his stubble. He's sure he's not breathing. He's mesmerized by her eyes. "Are you okay?" Her hand travels to his forehead and then to his neck. "You don't look sick." She bits her lower lip. "Did you have a nightmare? You look scared." She gives him a smile, her hair framing her face, hypnotizing him. Harry blinks.

"I think I'm dreaming. This isn't real."

She laughs out loud. "Hey, look at me." He does. She leans closer, her lips an inch from his. "I love you." She kisses him and Harry is not ready for the sensation. He's not ready for how much he wants it, for how fast and ferociously his body responds. He's sure she intended to give him a gentle kiss, but his hands act on their own and before he can register he's pulling her by the waist, squeezing her body and bitting her mouth. The way she corresponds tells him they're used to it. It's a dance they've been doing for a long time. His tongue explores hers in a way he hadn't done in years with anyone. He's eager to devour her. On the back of his mind he's aware how hard he is. And then both her hands push his chest gently. "Wow." She says. Harry opens his eyes slowly, dazed. She looks beautiful with her lips red from their kisses. "I think this is very real, don't you?" She teases him a little, one of her hands going past his waist and stroking him. Harry groans. "I wish we had time for this, but we really need to get ready." She gets up and starts for a door that Harry is sure leads to the bathroom. She disappears inside it.

He leaps out of the bed going after her. He stops at the door. Hermione is stepping out of her thin panty and the sight of it is something Harry never imagined he would be observing. Harry's mind is still numb and confused, but his body is aching for her. Looking at him over her shoulder, she smiles seductively and it's all it takes for him to lose his last thread of sanity. He pushes his boxers down and enters the shower with her.

Leaving no room for second thoughts he presses her against the tile wall. Again he's all over her, surprising even himself with how much he wants to be with her. He knows he's being a little harsh, but she's not complaining, in fact the way she's clawing his back and moaning his name is an open invitation for him to intensify his ministrations. He bits her neck and squeezes her breasts. She pulls at his hair. His erection is pressing against her in a maddening way and before he can even reach her sex, Hermione guides him inside her in one smooth motion. Harry sees stars. He loses his breath.

It's a foreigner sensation to him. He never felt so good, so complete. All his rationality is gone in seconds. Hoisting her legs around him and kissing her with abandon, he thrusts into her fast and hard. The impossibility of this being just a dream long forgotten. It's real. It feels so real. His mind is a blank after that. He can only feel the way she tightens her walls around him, the way he hits the perfect spot and makes her scream and shudder. It's over way faster than he intended to, but she's right there with him, saying his name and kissing him, panting and smiling at the same time. His vision is foggy but his body and skin are aware of everything. Aware of Hermione's nakedness. Aware of how he feels addict to her. He doesn't want to end their embrace, and the moment he pulls out of her he's invaded with dread. Dread of this being just his imagination, dread that when he opens his eyes again she will be gone and he'll be all alone in his yacht.

But he's wrong. He can still hear the shower running and a hand caressing his face. He takes a deep breath and looks at her. She has a dashing smile across her face. He can't believe how beautiful and perfect she is. How I denied it all my life. She tilts her head.

"What?" She asks. Harry shakes his head and she gives him a small kiss. "Wash my back?"

He agrees. Of course.