Everything is J.K. Rowlings. I only claim the plot. Everything else is hers, all the characters and the magic, all of it. Please let me know what you think though, I encourage feedback of all kinds, just be nice about it!

First off, my apologies for the previous chapter. I had a few comments that I should have left a trigger warning for it. I hadn't been thinking and so I will go back and try to add that in. I didn't mean to unnecessarily harm anyone through it.

Second, the people saying that they don't understand why Hermione is more affected because she didn't really do much in the battle. To this, I disagree. I mean first off people handle the same situation in different ways all the time. And Harry suffers, this chapter will show this. My reasoning for Hermione's reaction is this. Harry has had a terrible life from the start so he kind of already knew how to deal with the trauma, though his method was just pushing it down which isn't recommended. However, for Hermione she didn't have that childhood of preparation, and she did things as well. She participated in the battle at the Ministry of Magic and we never really see how that affected her even though she suffered a dark curse. Also, in school and on the hunt Hermione was able to focus on something; she could put all of her energy on completing the goal, winning the war. And I think for someone like Hermione that helped her a lot in dealing with what was happening. Now she doesn't have that. She is purposeless for the first time in her life, while now suffering the torture from Bellatrix, the stress of a year on the run, the stress of the final battle, the aftereffects of the Ministry Battle in fifth year and then again when the Death Eaters broke into the castle in sixth year, and now losing her parents. Hermione did suffer from things we just didn't get to see it as readers since we were stuck with Harry not paying attention.

Thirdly, again another apology. This time for taking so long to post this. This chapter has been a headache and a half. I feel like it is all over the place and I ended up pushing a couple of chapter ideas into just this one because I couldn't get it all to work individually. There is a lot of swearing in this, particularly towards the end if that upsets anyone. Again, this is kind of all over and I'm not sure how I feel but I knew I needed to post it eventually.

Chapter Thirty-One

"Harry! Another round mate!" Ron called out cheerily, his face tinged red from the drinks. Harry didn't even think to refuse.

"Aye, Harry mate, you need to drink more," Seamus chuckled, clapping a hand to his back. "Your glass is always full." Again, Harry felt no reason to contradict the statement.

The Three Broomsticks was becoming almost stifling hot with so many people and the warmth of liquor pumping through his veins made him feel weightless.

It had been two weeks since he had walked into Hermione's bathroom and found her collapsed. Now, he and Neville were joining Ron and the Eighth Year blokes from Dumbledore's Army. Rons' brothers had also joined in, even George had left his room to show up, as had a few of the graduated guys who had returned to fight that night like Lee Jordan and Oliver Wood.

Stag Night Remixed, Seamus had declared in the letter invite he had sent out. Professor McGonagall was allowing a bit more leeway with the rules for the Eighth Year class since everyone was an adult and should technically be out of school anyway. So Eighth Years were allowed into Hogsmeade any weekend they wanted.

Harry hadn't originally wanted to attend. Even Hogsmeade held bad memories for him and he hadn't wanted to leave Hermione. She, of course, had put a stop to that line of thinking straight away and all but kicked him out of the house. Neville had been hesitant to leave Hannah but apparently his girlfriend had pushed him out too. Harry was glad he had come though.

In less than a week the Wizengamot would be meeting for the first time and the week after that there was the press conference for the Slytherins and then Hermione's birthday. He needed a drink just thinking of the stress he was starting to face. A drink was needed and he wasn't about to deny himself.

Rosmerta had music playing in the background once the last of her other customers had left and Seamus and Dean had begun dancing in a space cleared in the middle of the pub. Shouts and laughter flowed all around him and Harry had his drink refilled once again. Others were joining in the dancing now, everyone rosy-cheeked and eyes sparkling, some losing their shirts in the heat of intoxication.

It was probably lucky that they were the only ones there now since Ernie, Neville, Lee, and Justin were now on some of the tables. Harry was perfectly happy to remain perched on his barstool and keep drinking, he wasn't confident he'd be able to walk if he actually got off the stool anyway.

"More drinks!" Terry Boot shouted, mead sloshing over the rim of his tankard. This was met by resounding cheers.

Blissfully floating in a haze, unable to hold a full thought, Harry wasn't sure how much time had passed but Seamus was climbing onto the bartop now to the chorus of jeers and laughter at every wobble the Irish man had. His shirt had been one of the first lost and what might have been his House tie was tied around his head.

"Alr'ght, al'ght," he called out, swaying as he stood high above them all. "T'st is in o'der, Rosie ma lov', shots al'round!" Everyone crowded around the bar now, forming a jampacked line as Rosemerta filled shot glasses for all of them and magically sent them out to be placed in front of each person. Seamus, still swaying on top of the bar held out his shot glass and everyone copied him. "Lads! T'night's been gre't but lesh take a m'ment f'r those gone." Silence fell for the first time in hours and even Rosemerta had a shot glass held up in honor of those lost. "To the Fallen!" Seamus declared after a minute.

"To the Fallen!" Everyone repeated and the shots were tossed back.

The noise was beginning to rise again when Ernie climbed up to join Seamus. "To our fearless Captain!" He cried out, new shots appearing before them and raised as Ernie indicated Neville who was flushing a brighter red. "The fearless Captain who fought for our school back!" Ernie spoke far better than Seamus.

"The fearless Captain!" Everyone repeated. Dean climbed up next and another round appeared before them. If Harry could hold more than a few moments of thought together he would wonder if Rosemerta had been prepped beforehand.

"And to our glorious Savior!" Dean cried out, leaning heavily on Seamus, pushing Seamus to lean on Ernie. It took Harry a moment to realize the glasses and eyes raised were pointed to him this time. "Vanq'isher of Ole Voldie! The Chosen Golden! Boy Don't Die!" Laughter at the butchered titles had Harry joining in unable to not. He tried to form a protest but his mouth wasn't moving properly with his thoughts. He felt hotter though when the chant was repeated.

The music picked up again and toasts were shouted out randomly and met with equal cheers. Harry couldn't feel his face much now, nor any of his limbs. Were they still attached? He hoped so. How was he holding the glass? He couldn't feel his body. It was like when he first tried on the Invisibility Cloak only instead of not seeing, now he couldn't feel. He giggled and couldn't stop. Ron and Bill who sat on either side of him joined in the giggling though they couldn't know why he was laughing.

Lee and George were on the bar top now and leading the crowd in a terrible song that they rewrote the lyrics to but they kept missing words and the words they did say were getting slurred.

The pub doors flew open, blasted off the hinges. Lights lit up the pub. Shouting sounded. Blinking blearily, Harry pushed his jelly legs to stand. Dark shadows with red faces, his mind provided. Need my wand, he thought belatedly seeing people starting to fight. Someone shoved him to the ground and he fell like a limbless doll. Wand, need a wand.

His fingers fumbled with the shirt hem covering his pocket. Drawing out his wand, Harry looked back at the action. He was still on the floor but the shouting was still loud. Dragging himself half onto a barstool he felt woozy. Holding his wand in front of him he tried to find something to aim at. It was difficult when his wand kept wanting to float away. Seeing red in front of him, Harry strung together sounds and watched as a light flashed and the red went down with a scream. More red was turning to him now, he raised his wand before it floated away.

A light flashed in his eyes and then darkness.

Head pounding, throat parched, and feeling like he had been trampled by a heard of hippogriffs, Harry blinked his eyes open. The blurry outline of his room appeared and he frowned. How had he gotten home?

Groaning, he pushed himself up onto his elbows his head felt like it was going to split open. Had Voldemort returned? The weight on his legs made him think of Patronus and a quick glance showed a blurry dark figure and so he could only assume it was his dog.

"What happened?" he croaked out to his dog. The dog raised his head and gave a light woofing sound. Reaching for his bedside table, Harry shoved his glasses onto his nose. His dog looked rather disappointed in him. What was going on?

Fumbling with the covers, he threw them off and rolled off the bed. "Zabkey," he croaked. The pop of the elf was like a hit to the head. Harry groaned as he clutched at his aching skull. "Zabkey," Harry uttered again, talking over the elfs' innocent inquiry. "Hangover Potion. Please. Now."

"Zabkey is being sorry Master Harry sir. Zabkey cannot be getting youse your potion."

"What? Now. Zabkey. Hangover Potion."

"Zabkey is being sorry Master Harry sir," the elf quivered, starting to wring its ears.

"Why can't you get it for me, Zabkey?" Harry growled.

"The potions is being gone. Mistresses threw them all out. Mistresses ordered Zabkey to not get more."

"I am the Head of House Zabkey. You obey me," Harry ground out in frustration. He just wanted the ache in his head to ease up.

If it had been Dobby, Harry was sure the elf would have started beating its head already. "Zabkey is being sorry Master Harry sir," the elf repeated, wetness making the already large eyes shine. "Mistresses being saying it is for Master Harry sirs own good."

"Where are the Misteresses, Zabkey?"

"They is being waiting for Master Harry sir, in the lobby sir."

"Right," Harry said before stumbling for his door. How dare those blasted witches order his elves around! How dare they throw away the Hangover Potion! How bloody dare they! Temper rising and head throbbing worse than it had in months, Harry stumbled out of his room, not caring about his wrinkled clothes. The same ones he had worn the night before.

The house was thankfully quiet as he leaned heavily against the stair rail as he went down the steps. He wasn't expecting to see the entire house, minus Narcissa gathered in the lobby though.

"What the bloody hell is the deal here?" he growled out, it was best that all the women were present since he wasn't sure which one sent the order about the potions. Best to be angry at all of them and narrow down from there.

"The deal, Potter, is an intervention," Pansy huffed from her seat.

"The fuck are you on about? How dare you order my elf! How dare you throw out my bloody potions."

"It's for your own good," Padma cut in. "You can't keep doing this. And after last night well, this just gives us more credence."

"What?" Harry groaned, clutching at his head now. The anger was making his head hurt worse.

"What do you remember from last night, Harry?" Neville asked quietly.

Harry squinted at his fellow Gryffindor. "We were at the Three Broomsticks. Lots of alcohol. Ernie, Seamus, and Dean were giving toasts. George and Lee were singing on a table…." Merlin his head hurt so much. Wait! "Red Masks! They attacked. I think I hit one of them."

"No, Harry, you didn't," Hermione said softly. "The Red Masks did attack, yes. You didn't hit any of them though. You...you did hit Charlie though."

Harry felt cold inside. "What?"

"Apparently you hit the ground during the attack and after the Red Masks were dealt with Charlie was closest and was going to help you up," Hermione replied. "But you fired at him. Luckily something went wrong with the spell. Not sure what but it only gave minor damage. Charlie should be released from St. Mungos' tonight."

His stomach turned and Harry worried he might be sick. He collapsed into a chair. "I hurt Charlie," he whispered.

"Yes. The papers found out and Harry, it's not good," Daphne said.

"What have they said?" No one answered. "What was said!" His anger was not to be tested right now.

In response, Blaise tossed him a few papers. "Morning and Evening Edition, it is Sunday after all."

BOY WHO DRINKS! Chosen One Attacks His Own

Our Alcoholic Savior: The Truth about Harry Potter's Drunken Secret

The papers were quickly crumpled into balls and thrown at the nearest wall.

"I'm not an alcoholic!" He fumed, standing now.

"Yes you are," Hermione said standing now too, though she was still on the other side of the sitting area. "We've wanted to say something for weeks now. But… you seemed to be coping and it's my fault. I should have stopped you sooner. Said something sooner but Harry it's not healthy."

"What the hell does it matter what I do? I have a right. If I want a couple drinks at night then it is my choice. No one elses."

"But it's not a couple of drinks a night," Padma cut in, remaining seated in the blue armchair. "So, we are taking a stand. It's not just you. Tracey and Draco are cut off too. No more alcohol in this house. And don't bother asking your elves either."

"Do not try to fucking control my actions, Padma," Harry hissed seeing red at her words, stalking a few steps closer. "You are a guest in my house. I will not be controlled and I will not be forced by unnecessary rules."

"Harry! Stop," Neville demanded, tensing slightly ready to launch himself if needed. "This isn't you. So stop it.

"We are your friends and we care about you," Hermione pleaded, coming around to block Padma and fully face Harry. "We aren't trying to control you. I promise. Please, Harry."

Harry glared at Hermione, his head felt ready to split in half. "Really? You aren't? Certainly seems that way."

"We aren't. But you do have a problem Harry so please let us help you."

"I don't need help and I don't have a problem!"

"Yes, you do! Harry, you can barely go a couple hours now without getting a drink. Do not brush this off," Hermione fumed now, stepping closer and looking up at him. Harry could ignore the others at the moment.

"Don't push this, Hermione. I have earned the right to drink if I want to. It's the only thing that helps."

"Don't make me lose someone else, Harry." Harry winced at this and looked a way for a moment. "Don't do it to me, please. For me, please, let us help."

"Low Hermione, even for you," Harry breathed, steeling himself. No, he wouldn't allow guilt to sway him. He was already consumed by it and alcohol was his cure. He deserved that much. "But what about me?"

"Do you want to be lost, Harry?" Hermione asked with realization glimmering in her eyes now. They weren't shouting any longer which was good because Harry's throat was already raw from the night before.

Harry shrugged. "A couple drinks let me not decide if I do or not."

"But why?" Hermione gripped his arms now.

"You know why! You of all people!" Harry seethed, getting angry again and brushing her arms off and turning away. She knew he hated thinking of everything that happened, why was she even asking. And how dare she question him after what she did the other week. How bloody dare she!

"Harry," Daphne tried. "Let us help you. You say it's the cure but its not. If you talk to us, tell us what's wrong, then maybe we can help find something else. You're helping us, let us help you."

Harry stayed silent, staring at the far wall. He should just leave now, he thought. He didn't need elves to get a drink. He'd leave now, go find a muggle pub and then go check on the Weasleys. He'd apologize and then get another drink.

"Harry," Dudley's quiet voice was almost missed. "If the drinks didn't make you not decide, would you really decide to...decide to be gone?"

Bloody hell all of them! Why were they making him think, make him remember? Did they want the truth?

"Harry," Daphne pleaded, the desperation he heard in her voice shook him a little. "Is it true? But why?"

"Why?" Harry snorted darkly. "Because I fucking died!" He shouted, turning to face them again. "I fucking died that night but got to come back. I came back and they didn't! I had that bastard in my head for almost seventeen years. I had to watch him kill, watched attacks through his eyes, felt his emotions!" His voice cracked now and his eyes felt wet but he was too angry now to notice. Damn all of them. "So if I want a bloody drink then I'm going to have a bloody drink. Am I understood? I will not be controlled or demanded things of. Not anymore. I have been controlled my whole fucking life. No more."

Harry stormed away now. He couldn't think and didn't want to. He craved the numbing weightlessness of a drink. Why couldn't they just let him be? He was fine. Damn the Prophet. He'd need to talk to Mr. Cuffe again and Rita. Damn them all. What more did they want from him?

He made it to the apparition point before he fell to his knees. He was lightheaded from the anger, lack of food or water, and now the memories flooding back. He felt the wet nose of Patronus against his cheek and he reached out to curl his fingers into his dog's fur. A crack sounded and through blurry eyes, Harry recognized Zabkey, holding two vials.

"Please, Master Harry sir, please be forgiving Zabkey. Drink, Master Harry sir." Reaching blindly, Harry grabbed one and then the other immediately recognizing the Hangover Potion, followed by a Sleeping Draught.

"You drugged me…" Harry slurred before slipping into darkness, not feeling as Zabkey transported him and Patronus back into his bedroom and under the covers.

"What was Potter on about?" Pansy asked, surprisingly soft, her eyes turning to Hermione in the silence after Harry stormed out.

Hermione fidgeted in her yellow armchair. "This doesn't leave this house," Hermione began, deciding that the others deserved to know the basics at least. "It was a focal point of everything last year." The rest of the occupants subconsciously leaned closer, eager for news of what the Golden Trio had been up to the previous year on the run. "What you do you know of Horcruxes?"

Draco, Theo, and Blaise gasped but the rest remained confused. "What?" Dudley asked, speaking the question for the rest.

"A Horcrux is when a wizard splits their soul and places it in a container. It prevents dying because part of you still remains." Hermione explained, easily falling into lecture mode. "Voldemort had made six. All last year, Harry, Ron and I were hunting his Horcruxes to destroy them which would then allow us to destroy the creature itself. There was a Prophecy saying only Harry and Voldemort could kill the other and so that is why Harry was able to in the end. Anyway," Hermione looked down at her fingers twisting together. "We got all six. Well not just us. Neville, you actually destroyed one too. Nagini."

Neville spluttered in surprise. "So that's why he said the snake had to die. Harry told me so before he left for the forest."

Hermione nodded. "The diary Harry destroyed in our second year after killing the Basilisk was another. Dumbledore destroyed a ring that was a family heirloom on Voldemort's mother's side. It caused his hand to be all black, sixth year if you remember." There were a few nods. "So all last year we hunted. We searched and tried to determine what the remaining containers might be. Ron destroyed Salazar Slytherins' locket that Umbrdige had stolen which we stole off her when we broke into the Ministry. We found Helga Hufflepuffs cup in the vault of Bellatrix Lestrange, hence our Gringotts break-in and escape. I destroyed that one. We found the diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw in the Room of Requirement before it was set aflame. The fiendfyre destroyed that." Draco and Greg both winced at this memory. "Then there was Nagini and Voldemort himself. Or so we thought." Hermione took a shaky breath, it hurt to remember everything even the shortened version she was giving. "Harry discovered, during that one-hour intermission Voldemort provided, that the night his parents were killed the night he survived the curse, Voldemort had made him an unintentional seventh Horcrux. The only way to destroy a Horcrux is to kill the container. He left for the forest prepared to die." The silence was becoming oppressive. "So, Harry died. He took the curse and died. He hasn't told me much of what occurred but apparently he spoke with Dumbledore, in an inbetween place, who explained things and then was given the choice to come back and finish things for good. Harry returned, free of the Horcrux. Voldemort having killed his own soul piece. And well, you all know what happened then. They fought and Harry won."

"And what Harry said about seeing and feeling the things that happened?" Daphne asked into the silence that had fallen.

"Having a piece of soul in him allowed Harry...access...to certain things whether he wanted them or not, usually when he slept," Hermione answered. "It really only started fourth year on, when the man was creating a body that Harry caught a glimpse of what was happening, but it got worse after Voldemort returned after the Tournament. Fifth year was particularly bad, you might remember him being more sullen and broody then. After the fifth year though, after fighting off a full blown possession, Voldemort left him alone, to an extent."

"Fuck," Blaise breathed after a while. "I'd want to drink myself stupid too."

"Despite the reasons, we still need to stop it," Padma interjected, looking white making the scars on her face more prominent. "It's not healthy and despite what he says, it is a problem and it needs to stop. Now we can just help him more now after understanding things better. But Draco and Tracey, don't forget it applies to you as well."

"Why should it apply to us?" Draco sneered. Even though the group had already spoken to Draco and Tracey before Harry arrived, Draco still wasn't thrilled with it. "We weren't the ones who drunkenly fired on our own friends. It's not our fault he couldn't control himself when he went out."

Daphne slapped him at that, but she was too far so her nails only hit his shoulder. "I'll be sure to tell Tori what you said," she hissed. "And how dare you! Not only do you owe Harry everything and should do so just for the sake of the life you now live, but think of it as a benefit to you as well if you must." Draco looked petulant as he held his shoulder. "You are about to make a living as a potioneer, selling potions to St. Mungos and to muggle families. If word got out that you couldn't go a night without drinking any credibility you gain is gone. Any possible negative reaction someone has to one of your potions is now put on you for malpractice, people would blame your drinking and you would be done. Plus intoxication isn't a proper state to be in for brewing in."

Draco stared at his feet now. "And Tracey just in case you might want to argue," Daphne continued, turning her glare to the strawberry blonde leaning on Dudley. "You are about to be housing and raising multiple children. Any word of you drinking would ruin everything you and Greg are trying to build. You will be on call all day, every day. Can you really trust yourself to handle the needs of orphaned children when you're indulging in a couple of drinks?" Tracey flushed and curled deeper into Dudley's side.

"I understand this is going to be difficult," Padma continued, sitting stiffly. "But it needs to happen and you two and Harry are going to need a lot of support."

"Fighting addiction is not easy but it can be done," Theo said speaking up. "Diving into the root causes is necessary and we have started with Potter. It will be slow but you must trust us to help. Potter called this a place of rehabilitation earlier this summer, well that name is being proven true once again."

A pop sounded, startling everyone. Wands whipped out in the direction of the noise revealed a house elf, the one that worked directly for Harry. "Master Harry sir is being placed in bed," the elf said looking a little depressed.

"Thank you," Hermione said kindly, putting her wand away. "I know you didn't like what you did, but it really will help Harry later on. I promise. And we just want him to be better."

"Zabkey is understanding," the elf replied before disappearing again.

The following few days were tense in Peverell Manor. Eggshells were crept on by all the residents trying to help their three comrades through the withdrawals. Tempers flared constantly, Padma went between the three trying to supply potions to help the detoxification but Harry didn't think it did much but make him feel worse. The papers had only marginally stopped their raid against him, stating that since the facts were true he couldn't sue. Harry planned on dealing with them more later.

Harry had spoken with Charlie, the man had come to the manor since Harry was essentially placed on house arrest for all intents and purposes. Charlie had been thoroughly understanding and had offered his support of Harry trying to get better, saying that he would try the same with George. Charlie had left Harry to speak with Padma, Hermione, and Theo who were all the most knowledgeable on the subject on ways to help George. Though Harry found it odd that hours later he saw Charlie still in the house though on his way out. The dragon tamer had a bounce in his step which Harry found strange, especially since Pansy was the one seeing the man out.

The night before the first Wizengamot session found Harry irritably pacing his room. It was late but Harry didn't expect to sleep much anyway. Daphne was sitting on the chaise, having arrived to help him prepare for the session, laying out what robes would be best for him and speaking points for the reporters who would no doubt hound his every step.

Harry hated this. All of it. He hated the nightmares, his constant restlessness, and his temper was at an all-time high. The headaches were near unbearable too. At least he wasn't throwing up like Draco and Tracey was constantly shaking and wasn't able to sleep at all if it wasn't potion induced now.

"Harry?" Daphne asked quietly. She had been talking but Harry hadn't bothered listening he was too angry. That was another thing he hated. His relationship with Daphne had shifted, not super noticeable but enough to bother him. He knew Hermione had told them about last year. Probably not everything but the looks the others gave him told him enough.

Temper flaring again, Harry stopped pacing to glare at the blonde. She was a major culprit of all this. Her, Hermione, and Padma if they had just left well enough alone, everything would be fine. Everything had been fine! He had been well not happy but well enough and now he was just miserable.

"What."

"Please, Harry. I know you're angry but this is really for the best. Please. We want you to heal and be happy."

"What if I don't want to heal! Who gave you the right to take over my life. Any of you!"

"Because we care about you."

"Yeah right. You don't care about me. All you care about is keeping me alive until your bloody contract is up. Don't want to risk me dying and you being pawned off to someone else. Oh no, you don't care about me, you're just out for yourselves."

Daphne looked stricken. "You don't really believe that."

"Don't act so fucking patronizing. How do you know what I believe? What I think?"

"Of course I care about you! And I know because I thought we were friends."

"Friends don't control their friends," Harry sneered.

"We aren't controlling you. We are helping. Yes it is terrible right now but that doesn't give you the right to yell at everyone," Daphne yelled standing now, her fists clenched. Harry growled and stalked closer so that they were face to face. "You don't get to be a bastard just because life has been shit to you. You don't get to take out your anger on the rest of us."

"I'll do whatever the fuck I want," Harry spat back. "I'm the owner remember."

Through his red-hazed vision, Harry saw Daphne pale dramatically and collapse in her seat. Harry opened his mouth to say more when the look in her eyes pierced him. Fear. Daphne was afraid of him. Afraid of what he might do. His anger made it hard to sort through what he had just said but when he remembered he felt sick, instantly deflating. "I-I di-I woul-I-"

Unable to form a sentence, he stumbled out of the room and ran. Her fear penetrated his anger and made him cold. He needed to get out. He couldn't stay here. He was a monster. What was wrong with him? He didn't trust himself to apparate though. Floo it was.

Not fully forming proper thoughts and just moving. Running. Luckily it was late and so no one else could see his cowardly retreat. Grabbing a fist full of powder and trying to not be sick at the thought of what a monster he was, he threw it down and shouted the first place of safety and comfort he could think of.

"The Burrow."