Harry took off his glasses with surprisingly steady hands and opened the cold water, closing his eyes and leaned back his head on the wall, wishing it could wash everything away. The freezing water was hitting his skin constantly but all he felt was burning. His nails were turning purple and his skin started to feel numb after a while. Just like his mind, just how he wanted to feel. His eyes opened for a second and what he saw made his breath hitch. Blood was gathered around his feet and the cold water was only making it grow. He traced his new scar and watched his bloodstained hands which was clean after seconds by the water.

Author: The characters of the following story belong to J.K Rowling and this is my version of after war.

Chapter 2

His pupils were fixed on the sinking red liquid, disappearing in the pipes under the floor. Harry barely released the breath he wasn't aware of holding and searched clumsily with his wet fingers for anything to help him wash the dirt and blood from his body. Once he found the soap and the Shampoo he closed his eyes again, not daring to look down at the pool of blood but he could almost taste the thick smell of iron at the back of his throat. He swallowed a mouthful of water…then two…followed by the third but the bitter taste in his mouth didn't go away. The rest of his time in the shower was nothing but a blur in his mind, he didn't remember quite well or rather didn't want to remember. He refused to accept the helplessness filling him more and more by minutes passing by.

By the time he was out of the bathroom, His friends were tangled with each other and the sheets even more. The sight of them finding comfort in each other so intimately was unfamiliar and though it considered a happy ending, it also brought a sense of sadness. Not anyone could find the fact of Ron not snoring in his sleep uneasy and worrying. For Harry it meant That his best friend was experiencing the after effects of Fred's death. He could tell by the firm grip of Ron's hands around Hermione that even in his sleep he couldn't shake the terror of her screams which they both heard in the Malfoy's not so comfortable dungeons. "Silenceo" he said in his mind in order not to wake them up from his movements around the room. He was in no kind of state to realize he had just done the spell with no wand or saying it out loud. His mind was still blank, keeping him sane enough. The wound on his chest was wrapped by a white bandage he had found in bathroom and he ignored the stinging and red stain on the white fabric and he busied himself with putting on the clean clothes Kreacher had left for him on his bed. A shot of pumpkin's juice almost helped the blood taste in his mouth before he wore his invisibility cloak and grabbed the wands on his bed stand and left his old room.

The first sight greeting him was sleeping people on the staircases, probably afraid of unknown attacks towards the chosen one." Yeah…That's it. Line up for death to protect me…Line the life of yours and your family for me…just like you always do." He said in his mind with a hint of anger rising but he climbed down the stairs and left the damaged common room, making no sounds. The castle was dead silent. After all the chaos and war, it seemed kind of strange. His feet moved him to first floor, seeking a way out of the mess Hogwarts was in and also looking for Dumbledore's tomb. While passing from the great hall's open doors he kept telling himself "Don't look…keep going…Don't look" but despite his best efforts, his head turned and he got a glimpse of what was exactly happening in the large broken hall and what he saw made him regret moving out of the bed instantly. Rows and Rows of unmoving people could be seen lying on the once shiny floor. Some so bloody and battled that they were barely recognizable and some simply looking somewhere distant with lifeless eyes…His body started to act on its own almost like his mind was shut off and incapable of functioning but he could feel the growing pain in his chest. It hurt to breath to inhale Oxygen when so many could not. His feet took him to the opposite direction, getting as far as they could from the dead bodies.

Once Harry got himself together he realized that his feet had taken him to the least place he wished to go…Here he was, standing at the edge of the forbidden forest. There was this temptation inside him to go and look for the stone. Seeking his peace with the dead. He took a step inside the forest and was met with the ghostly faces and lifeless eyes of all the people who had died in the war. Harry took three steps back and almost cried out in fear but no sound came out of his mouth. The cloak almost slipped off him. His sweaty shaky hands wrapped tightly around the cloak and he ran. He ran…and ran. Blood pounding in his ears, his lungs running out of the air.

A part of sky was getting lighter and lighter as the night was falling into the hands of sun but darkness was still present in the forbidden forest. By the time Harry was out of breath and forced to stop, only a shade of light had become visible between the green leaves of trees. He was panting with his hands on his knees, trying to suppress the burning pain in his sides. His green orbs looked for a tiny black stone on the ground but it was almost impossible to find the Resurrection stone in the blood soaked soil. He let out a pained groan and sank to his knees, touching the ground with his burned and scarred palms like a blind person. He wanted to…. needed to get them back. He needed them alive. He didn't give a damn about Dumbledore's or anyone's words at the moment. He could only see the cold lifeless eyes of Fred, Lupin, Tonks and so many others hunting him. Even without the stone he could see the ghosts peeking out from the trees, coming closer, reaching out while saying the same thing "Harry…" Sweat rolled from his temple down to his neck, where it made the chain mark sting, his mouth went dry "please…" he choked. The ghostly bodies were closing around him, blocking his air "I didn't want it…. I…. I couldn't stop it" A cold hissing sound approached him from behind. His hair rose, hearing a snake move deep in the forest "Too late…" Harry turned and met the red merciless eyes of Tom riddle, staring at his core, making him feel naked and exposed under the ghostly gaze. But what he felt wasn't fear, wasn't the urge to fight. Even in those minutes of insanity he knew Tom Riddle was gone for good but his words cut deep nevertheless. Like a pair of poisonous fangs sinking in his heart, making it clench so hard till he breathed out the words and the pain with them "I was too late…" he repeated and all the ghosts disappeared at once. He shivered from the sudden cold. Part of him expected to see a Dementor hiding in the shadows but there were none. Realization came to him like a wave as the ugly truth stared him at the face "I was too late..." His throat muscled flexed and his mouth tried to swallow the thick lump blocking his air way but it wouldn't budge. Before he could process anything further, the sounds of footsteps made his adrenaline spike and he turned with his wand ready and a spell at the tip of his tongue. The sight of red ginger hair made his reaction stop but unlike a few hours before it didn't calm him. "Harry?" Ginny asked with uncertainty in her voice. "You OK? "He blunt out without wasting a second "Fine" He dropped his eyes and hide his wand back at his sleeve, not meeting her chocolate orbs. "Yeah…sure you are" She mocked. It came to him as a surprise. Yes, there was mock but the sharp coldness was nothing like Ginny. At least the Ginny he once knew. Something or rather someone had dulled the fire in her. He snapped to her words while his mind was still occupied with processing the changes in her." What's that supposed to mean?" Ginny was already ready to leave but she stared hard at his eyes, unblinkingly. "You know what I mean" with that said, she was gone. As quickly and quietly as she had come. Harry let his head fall back, leaning on a huge tree trunk. She probably didn't want to see him or have anything to do with him. After all Fred…It was weird to call his name without the ever sticking word "George". Oh George…The one man he wanted to avoid at all costs. The simple thought of his name made him sick to his stomach. Acid rising to his throat, burning all the way up to his chest. He managed to swallow it with difficulty and pressed his palms to his eyes, trying to push them back into his skull so the horrible images would stop playing in his mind. If only he had known sooner, if only he had offered himself at the start, things would have been very different. Why didn't Dumbledore tell him before his death? Afraid he might chicken out? He never could…if it meant to save the others, if it meant for blood to be spared, he would do it in a heartbeat. Didn't Dumbledore know that? So what was his reason? The timing? Harry could have make it work. He could have stopped everything if only he knew…But nothing could change the fact of Dumbledore not risking. Perhaps in his eyes these dead people…children even were collateral damage. Everything for the greater good.

When the first rays of sunshine hit Harry's face, he opened his eyes and made his way back to the castle, once again under the safety of his father's invisibility cloak. He knew that he had to go back. He knew everyone will worry, wonder and look for him and by everyone he meant the people he had hurt the most. Maybe he was wrong, maybe he should let them be…After all people were safer without him. There are words you hear that are not so easy to erase, forget or ignore and at that moment his aunt Petunia's words rang in his ears" and you were just like them…a freak…"

Standing at the bottom of the white tomb, Harry took out the elder wand. The famous wand didn't feel like any other wand he had ever touched. He could almost feel the life moving in the wood, trapped and longing for him, calling his name. His pupils got fixed on the wand and his hold tightened around it due to the growing temptation of keeping it but as the noble Harry potter went, he put the wand back where it belonged or so he thought.

Hermione Jean Granger was staring at the Gryffindor common room's fire, watching the flames dance. It had been only a day or two since everything had took a dramatic turn. The wizarding world, though still grieving, was slowly trying to get back on its feet. Unlike the first war there was no celebrations at least not the kind she heard of but there were funerals and orphaned kids with no home. The most important magical places in Britain were facing massive destruction such as Gringorts, Hogsmeade and Hogwarts itself. Houses were burned down and family members missed much like hers. It would take a while for the people on run to hear about the news. She was thinking of the three of them and how hard they could get their hands on a piece of news.

It was easy to lose yourself in repairing works and tasks at hands but somewhere in the back of her mind, she was panicking and terrified. She needed to find them, now that everything had changed. But even though Voldemort had been killed the war was not over yet and it certainly wasn't safe to travel to Australia, much less for a muggle born like her who had helped Harry Potter all along. How could she bring her family back to this chaos? They didn't have any idea of what was it like to be helpless under torture you're receiving. Helpless to hear the disgusting voice of a mad woman. She shuddered as her mind replayed the events of the Malfoy manor, hugging herself and getting closer to the fire. War seemed to be over but nothing was the same. Not Her nor Ron and nor Harry. They hadn't talked about the kiss, not even mentioning it. They avoided talking about it so much that she thought that it had only happened in her imaginations. Did she regret it? Thinking back about the moment they were only a step from death her answer was No, she did not. Ron wasn't himself these past few days, ever since he had seen Fred death by his own eyes and she couldn't blame him. He seemed to feel the urge and need to stick around his family after being away for so long and after all the loss and trauma.

She sighed, it wasn't like she was complaining. No she was in fact proud of him to be the one who his family could lean and count on but none of it helped the loneliness she was feeling, like she was out of the place and an outsider. Maybe that was the reason she was trying to get her family back. As wonderful as Weasleys were, they needed and deserved some family time. She had already talked to Kingsley about her trip and with all the pressing issues, he still helped her find a way to Australia a.s.a.p. with a crew of people who were looking for their family members as well. She couldn't ask Ron to come with her and asking Harry was out of the question. He seemed distant and confused. The few times she had seen him since the final Battel, he was pretty shaken up. She needed to talk to him, maybe asking him to come wasn't such a bad idea after all. As long as it didn't give Ron any funny ideas. She just had to go through her stuff in the purse, seeing if she needed to replace somethings or throw them out. But as she started to search for it, the purse was nowhere to be found, nor was Harry.

Author: Sorry for updating so late but I try to update the story regularly from now on. I'll be very happy to read your reviews and your thoughts about the story. I'm almost new to writing and since English is not my first language I would appreciate your help and advice.

Thank you for reading