Disclaimer: Not mine.

One

A tall figure, cloaked in black, moved silently down the desolate hallway. A gloved hand reached into the left hand pocket of the cloak and pulled out a single silver key. Stopping outside of a battered door they put the key into the slot and turned it, the lock clicked and the door creaked open. The figure put the key back into the pocket and walked into the room.

They looked around and the tiny room, on the single wooden table, that would be in what would be the kitchen, hundreds of pieces of paper were scattered over its rough wooden surface. Also lying on the table were numerous biro pens, and on the floor surrounding the table were screwed up pieces of paper.

The figure took off the cloak and threw it over the back of the single chair that sat inside of the table. Under the cloak was more black. The person was wearing a pair of long black trousers that covered the figures shoes and dragged along the floor. The rims were ripped from being trodden on constantly. There were a few tears in the knees and they had specks on mud over them. They were also wearing a thick black jumper with a high neck, the sleeves completely covered the person's hand, and the rims of these were ripped too.

Slowly they walked over to the metal sink and turned on the cold tap. The water gushed out of the facet and filled a dirty cup that they had picked up off the surface. Filling the cup quickly the figure drank the icy water before filling it up again and doing the same. They then put the cup back down and turned the tap off before moving over to the small one-man bad that was pushed up against the wall to the left of the door, opposite the sink.

On the bed was a letter, the one thing in the room that was dirty. In fact it looked completely out of place in the run down, one roomed flat. The figure picked it up and re-read the words written on it in purple ink.

Dearest Harry,

We are very worried about you, after you killed Voldemort you became so distant and cold. I know you receive these letters, but can you please write back to us? We miss you so much! Ginny has had a little girl and named her Kamaria. Her and Daniel (Do you remember that muggle she met in her 7th year in London?) are getting married soon and they want you to come too. Ginny said that she was going to write to you herself but little Kamaria is taking up a lot of her time. She's so pretty. Her hair is as red as Ginny's and she has really dark blue eyes that she got from her father.

Ron is still trying to ask me, and he is still failing, everyone thinks his attempts are really sweet and they are but it would be easier if he just gritted his teeth and asked. I am working in the ministry now, with Mr Wesley in the misuse of muggle artefacts, it's very interesting seeing what futile attempts the witches and wizards come up with to tease the muggles with!

Ron is working with Dean in the DIE DE! Well that's what they call it; its proper name is the Department Involving Escaped Death Eaters. Even though Voldemort is dead his followers are still out there. Most have been caught but some of the cleverer ones are still managing to avoid our traps. But we will catch them in the end.

Any way, please write back to me, or at least come back to the wizarding world again, we all miss you greatly!!

Love Hermione xxx

Harry put the letter back down on the bed and looked around the room again. It was called a one-roomed flat, but there was technically two. The main room; which had a table, bed, sink, fridge and chair, and the bathroom; which had a toilet, sink and shower.

He sighed, he had left the wizarding world almost a year ago, and it was 6 months before that when he had finally managed to defeat Voldemort for the last time. He fulfilled the prophecy and could do whatever he wanted to do in life. However after the prophecy was finished he was left with an empty feeling inside himself that was never there before.

He fell back onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling. The old paint was peeling off and mould was growing in the corner and quickly spreading over the walls. He could have bought a better place to live; after all he did have the money. But he wanted to live at the lowest point; he felt that somehow he should. His wand he still carried with him everywhere, securely placed in a duelling strap that was attached to his lower left arm. Hidden by the long black sleeves of his jumper.

Harry closed his eyes and tried to think back on all the times he was happy with his friends, learning magic at Hogwarts, but his thoughts kept straying to the worst parts of his life, as if a Dementor was constantly at his side.

His mind strayed to the times before he knew he was a wizard, when his cousin Dudley and his friends continually beat him up, to when he first met Voldemort and saw images of his parents. They then moved on to when he felt so out of place in Gryffindor that he just wanted everything to end, then when he found out about how his parents died, to when Voldemort came back at the end of the tournament in 1994 and then how everybody ridiculed him in his fifth. Tears weld up in his eyes as he thought of when Sirius died and how he met Voldemort again. Harry gritted his teeth, all of every ounce of pain every minute of sadness, they all led back to Voldemort even when Harry finally killed him the year after he graduated in august 1998, his life was still filled with sadness. Though this time it was because Voldemort had been destroyed not because of what he, Voldemort, had destroyed.

The destruction of Voldemort had taken part of Harry with him. It had required all of his magic, all of his strength and all of his mind, heart and soul to finally destroy the creature that was once a well-respected young man. He had fainted into a coma that lasted 3 months after Voldemort had been vanquished. Everyone thought that he would never wake up again, and now, he sometimes wished that he hadn't.

Harry sighed again and rolled over on the rickety bed and fell into a restless sleep plagued with memories that were not his own.