Author's note: I don't own any of the characters, they belong to J. K. Rowling.

Chapter 2

Coping

The day after the battle Harry woke up just before twilight. Ginny wasn't there with him, but he did notice a sandwich on his nightstand that Kreacher must've left for him. Hungry as he was, he ate it in record time. He got dressed up, though everything hurt. He noticed his wounds were healed, but there was a new scar on his chest – just like the one on his forehead, this one was shaped like a lightning bolt. It was dark black, surrounded by a big bruise. This must be the place where the curse hit him in the forest. He hadn't really felt the pain until now. Physical pain, that is. He remembered Ginny in his bed but he wasn't sure if it was real or only a dream, a very nice dream.

He walked down the stairs to the common room where he found Ron and Hermione talking quietly right by the fireplace. He noticed George in the corner, Lee and Angelina right by his side. All three of them looked up as he entered the room and nodded in his direction.

Quickly he turned away from them, he couldn't look at George, whose twin brother died because of him. He was looking for Ginny, but she wasn't there. Hermione smiled at Harry and waved for him to come closer. Harry stepped forward, towards them, looking at his feet. Since yesterday, he was starting to feel so many things at once, he couldn't understand what was it that was bothering him really. He had trouble breathing, not just because of the physical pain, it was something else, something that was suffocating him.

He looked apologetically at Hermione, but he hadn't dared to look at Ron. Ron, however, stood up and hugged his best friend. Harry winced from the pain, but it felt good, the hug did. They stood there, hugged, not saying a word. Harry saw Hermione tear up, but only after he couldn't recognize her due to the clouded vision did he realize he was crying too.

At that moment, the door to the Gryffindor common room opened. Seamus and Dean entered, laughing loudly. They were carrying glasses and a bottle of firewhiskey with them. Soon after they sat down on the sofa, right next to Hermione, Mr and Mrs Weasley, Bill and Fleur, Charlie, Hagrid and Ginny walked in.

'We're all going home in the morning,' said Mr Weasley. Harry could see he had been crying, his eyes were all red and puffy, but he still managed to smile at Harry as he reached out to hug him as well. Mrs Weasley embraced both men in a bone crushing hug and soon all Weasleys, Hermione included, joined the group hug, while Seamus, Dean, Lee, Angelina and Hagrid were smiling at them from the sofas. Bill led Harry to the nearest seat and patted his back, while Hagrid poured firewhiskey in glasses. When everyone held their glass of firewhiskey, Hagrid stood up and exclaimed:

'To Harry and to the future!'

'To Harry and to the future!' Repeated the entire room.

Harry couldn't look at them, he just knocked back his shot. It felt good, he thought, the slight burn down his throat, the warmth in his stomach… He looked up and he saw Ginny staring at him. He quickly made his move towards her, she held her hand out for him, which he gladly took and sat down next to her. Ginny snuggled close to him, which no one present found strange, Mrs Weasley got a bit teary eyed and Mr Weasley nodded proudly in their direction, but nobody commented on what was clearly now a relationship everyone knew about. Harry couldn't tell how he felt about that, but he knew he needed Ginny in his life.

Everyone was talking happily, drinking more firewhiskey and even Harry relaxed after a couple more rounds.

Since Harry had sex with Ginny for the first time, he didn't want to go a day without it anymore. Sex and firewhiskey might be what helps him forget, he believed.

He did not understand, however, how everyone else moved in so easily. How Ginny was able to smile every time they had sex, how Mrs Weasley could cook just as well and hug everyone just as tightly, or how George managed to go straight back to work at Weasley's wizard wheezes and even came up with some new ones. It had been hell for him, the guilt he felt.

.

Harry woke up with a start. It's been two weeks since the battle. He was in Ginny's bed, once again, just like every night since they returned to the Burrow. He doesn't remember how he got there, again. He remembers going out with Seamus and Ron, there's a bar right by the village of Ottery St. Catchpole, where they don't get asked for their IDs and they can order beer and other muggle drinks that make him forget.

Careful not to wake Ginny up, he got up, left the room and went for a walk, lighting a cigarette.

He knew all about cigarettes because one of uncle Vernon's friends smoked, but he always hated the smell of them. One night at a bar though, a guy at the table next to him offered him one and it was one of those things that helped him feel again. He had been enjoying those nights out with the muggles, where no one knew him and no one spoke of the war, no one was grieving, and he wasn't to blame for the deaths of their loved ones. It was a nice change of environment, he thought. The drinks helped him relax and forget about the horrors.

He reached the big oak tree right by the little pond behind the Burrow. It was one of his favorite spots to relax with Ginny there. He couldn't think of his future without her in it, but he couldn't bring himself to talk about the war with her or anyone else for that matter. He smoked another cigarette and watched the sun slowly rise. As it started to get warmer, he got up, his head seemingly emptied of dark thoughts.

It was like that every day now. He would walk back to the Burrow and have breakfast with the Weasleys and he'd help clean the house afterwards – it had been in a terrible state since they left it so suddenly during Easter holidays. He would go for a silent walk with Ginny, followed by a snogging session by the pond, he would help Mrs Weasley prepare dinner and then he'd go to the village again, sometimes joined by Ron or other boys. Ron was okay, he didn't ask questions, they could grab a drink in silence, or they would just talk about quidditch.

.

Just like every night for the past month, Hermione and Harry switched rooms. Ginny was the only person for him, he thought every single time. He knew that without her he wouldn't be alive, she was his motivation. But the nightmares, the pain he felt, that was what had kept him from making any steps forward in the relationship.

Ginny knew something wasn't right with him, he wasn't acting like himself anymore. She didn't know how to help him, she tried to get him talking, but he wouldn't. It seemed their relationship consisted of sex and cuddling, while Harry refused to speak about the war, about what happened in the forest or anything that had happened in the past year. She could see dark thoughts forming in his eyes whenever he got quiet. Was this how their relationship would be? She wanted to talk. She wanted to know what he went through, and she wanted to tell him about the Carrows, about Snape and the DA fighting against the new regime at Hogwarts.

Hermione noticed that as well. The night before she left for Australia, to try and bring her parents back, she had to say something to Ginny.

'Ginny, get Harry back on tracks. He's been moping for far too long now. He stinks of cigarettes all the time, he's going out every night, he's avoiding all of us – it's not normal and that is not Harry.'

'Hermione, don't you think I know that? I've been trying to get him talking, you're his best friend, you know him better than anyone, why don't you say anything to him? He hasn't been talking about this… this irrational behaviour of his, he won't talk to me about anything. All he wants is…' Ginny blushed and stopped talking.

'What, he wants what?'

'Well, uhm, he wants me I guess?' Ginny grinned.

'Don't tell me you've been doing that every night! Oh, don't let Ron know!' She exclaimed and jumped as she spoke that last part.

'What, are you surprised? As if you're totally innocent when it comes to that, Hermione. And don't get me started about Ron, I could handle him anytime', she said while twirling her wand.

'What, your bat-boggey hex? It's not going to help you every time. Just… fine, let's not talk about that, although I might want more information on THAT topic some other day, we need to worry about Harry now. Did he ever tell you what his nightmares are about?'

Ginny shook her head.

'No, he refuses to communicate with me. You're the brains of this family, I'm sure you wanted to talk because you came up with something?'

'I mean, I did look it up in…'

'…Your books.' Ginny interrupted. Hermione gave her a stern look, but she didn't let that disturb her thoughts.

'I think his nightmares and his behavior is what muggles call PTSD. I read about it in one of my mother's books I brought with me last year for some light reading. It makes sense, I believe he feels guilty about surviving, that's why he doesn't want to talk to anyone, because of… Fred.' She stalled as she mentioned his name.

'He should get help, professional help, sooner rather than later.' She finished.

'Oh, yeah right, as if. He hates going to St. Mungo's, he won't even get that nasty bruise checked out.'

'Bruise? What bruise? I thought you said Fawkes healed his wounds?'

'I thought you were the smart one, Hermione. The one from the curse, the one that Voldemort meant to kill him, in the Forbidden forest. He's got a wound shaped just like the one on his forehead on his chest, it's real bad looking one, too. The black bruise around it covers half of his chest.'

Hermione starred in disbelief. 'How did I not think about that?' she whispered.

After a moment od silence Ginny spoke again. This time, her tone had changed, it was clear she had realized Harry was even worse than she believed, she thought he just needed time.

'Hermione, what do you think I should do?' It was barely a whisper, but Hermione heard her.

'I think we, well, you, need to get him into therapy. It's this muggle thing where they talk and learn how to cope with bad thoughts, and it might help him with the nightmares as well. He needs to talk. And he needs to show that bruise to someone, someone we can trust. We don't need the tabloids knowing about any of this, Witch Weekly already has enough material on all of us without that even.'

'How do you suppose we do that?' Hermione looked at her and Ginny could read her mind. It was something only Ginny Weasley could make Harry Potter do.

That night, after they Hermione and Ginny had that talk, Ginny decided to try and persuade Harry to talk about the war again. After he returned from the bar, he came straight to her bed and kissed her awake.

Ginny smiled, half asleep, but she gladly made room for him next to her. He slithered in and started kissing her all over. She barely found the courage to start the conversation, but it was now or never, she thought.

'Harry, I need to talk about the war. I need to. And this last year at Hogwarts.' Harry moved away from her, sighing.

'Snape protected us, in a way, did you know that?' She continued. 'When we tried to steal the sword, he refused to let the Carrows deal with us, he told them that Hagrid would take care of our detention. And he tried to get the sword to you himself, I think. That's why he kept asking me where you were, to help you…' She felt him tense as she mentioned Snape.

'He knew they loved torturing us, Neville, Luna and me. With the Cruciatus curse… And Dobby, Colin snuck to the kitchen once and Dobby helped him get some food for us when they would starve us, that house-elf brought food to the Gryffindor common room every night since then.'

Harry's eyes got watery at the mention of Dobby and Colin, but the thought of Ginny in pain made him so angry he couldn't talk, all the words failed him. He kissed Ginny hard, as if that could make anyone forget the past and as if it could take their pain away.

'Harry, we have to talk about this,' She tried saying, while he kept on kissing her. But he didn't listen, he wouldn't. She pushed him away gently and looked him straight in those beautiful emerald-green eyes that had been filled with darkness.

'Harry! Talk to me, please!'

'Fine, you want to talk?!' He half-shouted at her, while moving away from her embrace. He looked at her, his eyes seemingly changed to a darker green, it was clear to Ginny he hadn't been in his right mind due to those muggle drinks again.

'You want to talk, Gin? How about every-fucking-person I ever loved died because of me? And you, you were tortured because of me, you want to talk about how that makes me feel? Do you? Because I don't! I don't want to think about the danger I put you and your family in! I don't want to remember, Ginny, I want to forget about that! I want to forget about all that shit, I want to forget, do you understand that, Ginny?'

He got up and started walking around the room, while tears were flowing down his face and he couldn't calm himself down. Ginny was left naked in her bed, she watched him move around the room, worried even more about him. She thought he will start throwing things, just like he told her he did in Dumbledore's office after Sirius died, but she didn't care about that, as long as it would make him feel better.

'I don't think we can just forget the war. We shouldn't. And people didn't die because of you, they died fighting for what was right…'

'Don't even start with that, Gin! You have no idea!' And he grabbed his jacket from the floor and stormed out the room. Ginny sat up in bed, hugged her knees and cried, worried about the love of her life.

Harry ran out of the house, it was starting to get lighter, with the night slowly turning into morning. He ran towards the pond and sat down by the tree, furious. He started thinking it would be better for him to move away, at least for now. He needed to be alone, Ginny could come if she wanted to, but not if she wanted to talk about the war, his head was full of it as it was. He could go to Grimmauld Place and get Kreacher to help him sort the place out…

When he watched the sun rise above the hills, he slowly came to his senses. He'd have to apologize to Ginny, and he'd have to do it well, he couldn't afford to lose her. He'll have to tell her about moving away, too, and he was sure she wouldn't take it lightly. He might even have to deal with a bad case of bat-boggeys latter.

After what felt like hours later, he got up and walked back to the Burrow. He entered straight to the kitchen where he noticed Mrs Weasley working her magic to prepare breakfast.

Mrs Weasley worried about Harry as well. She would hug him every night as he left for the bar – alone or with Ron – and she would stay awake, waiting for him to come back home, she would sit on the sofa in the corner, hidden from view, as Harry came home and went up to bed – up to Ginny's room. She knew, she didn't really mind it, she just hoped it would help them heal. Ron was quite happy with Hermione, she saw the improvements in them, but Harry… She didn't know how to get to him.

Since they were alone, the rest of the Weasleys were still sound asleep, she decided to talk with her as-good-as son. She sat a plate with toast, bacon and eggs on the table for him as he sat down.

'Harry, dear,' She started, 'You know you are family, right, I think of you as my son,'

Harry looked up from the plate she set before him, not knowing how to respond.

'Oh, darling, I just – well, I worry about you. I don't want to see you in pain. We've been through this before, we lost people in the first war, I lost both my brothers then. We know how it feels, losing people, I mean. You could talk to us, Arthur and me.' Mrs Weasley was reaching for Harry's hand, when he interrupted her.

'I… Mrs Weasley –'

'Molly, please, Harry, I have asked you to call me Molly a thousand times.'

'Molly,' he continued, swallowing hard, 'I… I don't know. I don't really want to talk about it. I really appreciate everything that you are doing, I really do, but I can't talk about it, any of it.'

He considered if this is the time to talk about his plans to move out. He felt he needed to get away from all the people that he hurt the most.

Harry looked at her, he could see tears forming in her eyes. The guilt was starting to eat him alive at the sight.

'Well, dear, we are here if there is anything you need. Just remember that, okay? You are family, you are our son and no matter what, we will always be here for you.' She turned away from him and carefully wiped tears from her eyes, hoping Harry didn't notice.

Harry left his breakfast on the plate, stood up and left the kitchen. He needed to get away from her, the closest person to a mom he ever knew, the woman he is causing so much pain to. He started walking towards the trees, taking a cigarette from his pocket. The smoke filled his lungs and he felt that. He knew what he felt. There were so many things inside of him that he didn't know or understand, so many emotions he couldn't name.

He thought of all the funerals he attended in the last month. The first one being Colin Creevey's, where he was hugged by both his little brother, Dennis, and his parents. He wanted to stand in the back and silently pay his respect to Colin, but wherever he went now people seemed to pay more attention to him than anything else. He thought of the first time he met Colin, one of the few muggle-borns in his year, he carried his camera everywhere and Harry was usually the main motif of his pictures. Harry knew Colin had incredible magic powers; he really noticed his potential during the DA meetings. And now he is gone. He died. Because of him, for him. Colin's parents and his brother were mourning their loss, yet he, Harry, an orphan who had no one, no family, was alive.

Nobody would feel the way Dennis does after the loss of his brother, if it were me who died, he thought. Fuck those dark thoughts, they were there all the time and didn't go away.

The pain in his chest increased with every funeral he attended. At Lupin and Tonks' funeral, where a tiny boy with blue, no, red hair was sleeping in his grandmother's arms, Harry felt the darkness inside of him rise as never before. A little boy who will never meet his parents, just like Harry, and now he is supposed to raise the little boy, his godson. How he is to do that, was beyond him.

He attended Snape's funeral as well. He didn't tell anyone, but he was there, under his cloak, he was sick of people looking at him everywhere he went. He noticed Professor Slughorn came, but he was the only person out of the ten attendees that he knew. The man that had made sure Harry's school days were tainted with insults and detentions had in fact tried to help him, because he loved Lily Potter. What a weird, twisted love that had been.

Fred's funeral was the hardest. He wanted to make sure to be there for Ginny, but really it had been her who took care of him that day. The night before the funeral, his nightmare got even worse, it wasn't just Ginny dying in the Forbidden forest, somehow the entire Weasley family fell to the floor while he couldn't move to help any of them. He didn't want to leave the bed in the morning, but Ginny made him forget his worries for a second.

He stood next to Ginny when her brother's casket was lowered in the ground at the Prewett family grave. Harry noticed that Mrs Weasley's brothers, Gideon and Fabian, were laid to rest there as well. Lee Jordan, Fred and George's best friend from Hogwarts, was kind enough to give a farewell speech, after which Arthur and Molly pointed their wands at the stone to write his name. George, who barely spoke that day, walked up to the stone, added a few words and smiled as he looked at the job done. The stone said:

Fred Gideon Weasley

'The better looking one'

April 1st 1978 – May 2nd 1998

Harry didn't even notice at the time, but as he thought back, he realized that at least half of the Hogwarts student body was there, everyone came to say goodbye to one of the brothers that made everyone laugh and enjoy Hogwarts a bit more. Harry could've sworn he even saw Draco Malfoy standing in the back. Harry really tried to stay in the back and just support Ginny and her family, but there were many that came and congratulated him, which he found strange to say the least. Later that day, as Ginny's eyes were red and puffy from crying, he held her tight on the living room couch. Even then Harry thought she looked like the most beautiful witch he ever laid eyes on. Soon, she fell asleep with her head on his lap and Mrs Weasley brought a blanket to cover them. They spent the night cuddled on the couch.

Love, he thought as he continued his walk, was a pain in the ass. Fucking love. Anyone he loved, any family he had, had been hurt because of him. His nightmares about Ginny's death surely meant something and he couldn't have that. He was actually putting her and the entire Weasley family in danger just by being alive, with all of the Death eaters still out there. And he really would die for Ginny, just like he did before, but maybe it would be better to just leave and save her from any possible torture. Is that how love is supposed to feel, so painful? That's how it must've felt for Snape, he figured. He couldn't even be mad at that man anymore.

He didn't return to the Burrow after his walk. He apparated to Grimmauld Place, straight to the top stair, he opened the door of the house that once belonged to his godfather and entered the dark hallway.