Penance
A/N: I don't like this one too much. I couldn't decide if Ron or Harry was more slothful, and then I had to redefine my definition of sloth. Urgh. Thanks so much to my reviewers, DT-19 and ManuDelft! It means a lot! 33
Chapter 3: Sloth//Harry
In the months after the fall of Voldemort, Harry Potter was not Harry Potter. The darkness and grief he had repressed, had staved off for so long, finally engulfed him, making him incapable on some days of even lifting his head.
He grieved properly for the first time in years, not moving, not working. It was like the summer before his sixth year, only much more exacerbated- instead of one person dead, it was dozens.
Remus was gone, the only father figure he truly had left, the last of the Marauders. Tonks was gone; the ray of sunshine she had always been passed over by a permanent cloud. Fred was gone, leaving a bereft twin and a grieving family behind. Hedwig, Mad-eye, Dobby, Colin... all lost.
Depression weighed heavily on him, making his limbs like lead and his heart even more so. He could never shake the thoughts that it had all been his fault: had he never been born, had Voldemort not targeted him, everything could have been good.
For his entire life, he had only one purpose: defeat the Dark Lord at all costs. His six years at Hogwarts had been driven with one goal; each year was spent trying to stay alive until June, when the inevitable trouble would start, and he'd thwart Death for the umpteenth time. He'd been raised to defeat Dark Lords, not to be a normal teenage boy.
Now, there was no imminent threat of death, no Voldemort to evade and eventually destroy. Only a few errant Death eaters remained, and they had been easily silenced. He was no longer the Chosen One, but the Boy Who Conquered.
But there was nothing left to conquer. The feeling of release, of normalcy, he had expected after the final battle had never come, and he was content to wait for it in his bed at 12 Grimmauld Place, wallowing in his depression and his lost sense of purpose.
His sloth had been interrupted, however, by the small intrusion of an owl bearing a letter that named him Head Boy for his seventh, NEWT year at Hogwarts. Being Quidditch captain and Head Boy would make being lazy difficult indeed.