Woo……..My first story. First off, the fact that Harry's thoughts are disjointed was on purpose, as you'll read, he's lost it.
None of the characters or names belong to me………. Hope the idea is original, but I doubt it,
Rated G
Uhmm……What else, Review please, this isn't very good, I wrote it in about 10 mins, I wanted to put something up so you could find my name.
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He always wondered what would happen once Voldermort was defeated.
Now he knew.
And it sure as hell wasn't all it was cracked up to be, he thought, laughing bitterly.
Three years. Three years since he had lost everything that mattered to him, three years since all had been betrayed.
Three years that felt like a hundred.
Sometimes he sat by the window, looking up at the stars, wondering what would happen next. Hundreds had died, it seemed as if everyone was gone.
Ron, Hermione, Seamus, Neville. And Draco.
Especially Draco.
His grave lay next to their house.
Empty, he sat by the window, black hair brushing against his shoulders.
"Draco…." he moaned, agony, despair, and longing filled his voice. He knew nothing could compare with the loneliness he now felt. Nothing could fill the void that seemed to be growing larger everyday, every moment.
"Come on Harry, your not a teenager anymore, you should be able to handle this," he mutted, crackling cynically.
No one came to visit anymore. He didn't let them, the pity he always saw. God, he hated the pity. So he bared them out, building up barriers that had long been torn down. They called him insane, the say the battle broke him, the Daily Prophet had printed story after story, "Harry Potter; Broken."
Now no place seemed safe, nothing could he find that did not hold the memories. And he hated the memories. And, yet, they were all he had.
Bitter, bitter memories.
Snape did come sometimes though. He would sit there, just watching the man by the window. Snape was one of the few left, from before that is. Snape he could handle, he didn't pity him, just watched, wouldn't let him give in to despair, wouldn't leave him to the oblivion he was seeking. Snape seemed to understand at least. Harry wasn't the only one who had loved, and lost.
It hurt, but it was nice to know someone was there, someone who didn't believe the rumors of his insanity.
Even if those rumors were true.
Sometimes it seemed too much for him to take. The world seemed a little darker everyday. Didn't matter, he knew he wouldn't last much longer. And he didn't care. That's what was worst, he didn't care, nothing could provoke anything out of him, to much had he seen, that everything now seemed murky, blurred, insignificant. Too much emotion eventually burned you out, and he had long ago reached that breaking point.
Looking at the stars, praying for some release, the man in the window finally fell asleep.