Two-and-a-half years. Jesus fuck. Still, I'm back, and I hereby declare this story not dead! Hopefully. I have about 1/4 of the next chapter written, have had for the last few years, and I hope to get this thing going and done again. I've had to re-read my own story to catch up on what it was I was writing and I'll have to lay down a new outline for the rest of the story, but I hope to get there.

A lot has changed over the past few years, I'm no longer who I used to be, I dare say I've grown both as a person and a writer (reading my old chapters, I cringed a lot at what past-me wrote) and after a handful of oneshots, this is the first multi-chapter project I'm picking up again. Wish me luck, I guess. In retrospect, I kind of wish I hadn't been that open about my mental health at the time, alas, I'll keep them the way they were. Also, as you probably didn't notice (do any of the original readers still have this story subscribed?), I changed my username, came out as trans in the meantime, new name, new me, long story.

Anyhow, off we go! Since it's been a long time, I summarised the previous chapters for you.

The story so far:

After the post-war mess has mostly been sorted out, the veterans return to Hogwarts for an Eighth Year to catch up on what they missed—or weren't taught—during the final phase of the war and complete their education. Among them: Harry Potter, plagued by nightmares and set on becoming a healer, rather than an auror; and Draco Malfoy, spared Azkaban and now despised by pretty much the entire wizarding world, including his former Slytherin friends.

Struggling to keep up with his classes despite nightly horrors that keep both him and his dorm mates awake, Harry is prescribed a sleeping potion by Professors McGonagall and Slughorn. However, as the potion's effect begins to work less and less, he soon finds himself taking bigger and bigger doses, which ultimately lands him in the Hospital Wing and on withdrawal, his belongings searched regularly to keep him clean.

Meanwhile, Draco is a regular to the infirmary, being victim of his house mates' bullying who take out their anger about the lost war on the only Death Eater not imprisoned. Having lost his snarky attitude, he finds himself in Harry's company more often than he'd like, the Gryffindor having taken a liking to him, asking him for help studying or offering to try solve his bully problem, which Draco's pride makes him insist does not exist.

Nevertheless, shortly after Draco learns of Harry's nightmares, he begrudgingly somewhat accepts Harry's suggestion to spend time with each other outside their regular homework time. Harry, meanwhile, not only is struggling with withdrawal symptoms, but also his friends' dislike of Draco, keeping their meetings secret from them.

'The Boy Who Lived because of the people who died.'

'How many have been massacred in your name?'

Bodies. So many bodies. Blood, on his hands, can't get it off. The stares, the silent judgement.

'We thought that maybe you had a plan! That you knew what you were doing.'

They're shouting, a choir of accusations. He puts his hands over his ears, but he can't drown them out, can't escape their looks.

They're right, he knows it.

He led them, they believed in him.

'Leave him alone.'

Silence.

Deafening silence.

A comforting presence.

Then whispers. Hatred, he can feel it. But not him. Them. Him. Them.

'Leave him alone', he feels the words more than he hears them.

'You can't save everyone.'

He can't. And maybe, just maybe, that's okay.

Harry slowly opened his eyes. Sunlight was flooding into the eighth year dorm, drawing patterns on the floor, reflecting off doorknobs, and painting the sleeping faces of his housemates a warm amber.

Whoa. Harry froze mid-thought.

The sleeping faces of his housemates.

Thoughts starting to tumble inside his head, he reached for his wand. He couldn't have overslept for an entire day, could he now?

'Tempus', he whispered, the spell confirming that it was indeed early in the morning. He could feel the panic rise up in him. Not that he'd complain about what would more or less be two nights' worth of sleep, but he couldn't just miss an entire day! Trying to keep calm, he quietly slipped out from under the covers, tip-toeing out the dorm and down into the common room.

To his disappointment, the magic calendar on the wall remained broken, a result of a particularly intense match of Exploding Snap a few days prior. He made a mental note to ask a house elf to fix it before dropping into one of the comfy chairs.

'Harry?'

Oh. Ginny.

'It's 6 in the morning, don't tell me you have been awake here all night.'

Oh. Concerned Ginny. Not much better.

'Uh… no?' He frowned. 'It's Sunday, right?' Unsurprisingly, he felt dumb for asking about the day.

'What are you talking about? It's Saturday.' With an expression that could only be described as 'concerned', the redhead sat down opposite him. 'Are you alright?'

'Yeah, I—', he grimaced, 'I kinda woke up and worried I'd overslept and missed a day or something.'

Which apparently he hadn't. No, it seemed that he had had an actual full night of undisturbed sleep.

And he vaguely remembered a dream, not nearly as scary as usual…