AN: Ok sorry it has been a while since I've updated. I've been insanely busy lately. Also, this is my first chapter from Harry's POV so sorry if you think I got his emotions wrong. Please enjoy and comment.

The Fortress

(Harry's POV)

Harry was left there, still holding his cup in one sweating hand. He rested his elbows on the hard wood of the table and let his face lay in his hands. His mind swam with the regrets of the past few months. The emotional grief he had experienced in his first 17 years was nothing compared to this. Harry had always kept back his emotions from the world. It seemed he was always putting on a brave face for the public, fighting back the monsters for the greater good. Nobody would ever guess that the strongest wizard known to the world was a fraud, a shell of the person he was built up to be. So many people wanted to be him, wanted a scar on their foreheads. If only they knew what he was holding back inside himself. If they knew how much it took for him not to break down every single second of the day, they would know. They would all know that "The Chosen One" was nothing but a title. It was empty words, too great for their beholder.

All of his life he had built up a fortress. It all started at Privet Drive. During his childhood, before Hogwarts, it was to keep the Dursleys out. He had built up a sort of barrier so that he would never get his hopes up for love. The only reason he could keep his sanity while staying there was to walk around with a fake smile and push all emotion out. He would ignore the longing for love and family. He would shove past the grief he felt for his long deceased mother and father. Harry would try to forget the anger he harbored towards his aunt, uncle, and cousin. He would even deny the dreams of escape that he held deep down for his future. It was a simple plan, but it kept him going. This first attempt at shutting out the world seemed to be the most successful. It was just Harry. He only had to worry about himself, never give a thought to those outside his walls. He had never known companionship, so there was nothing to be missed or longed for.

When he first came to the magical world, that wall broke a little. Every day a new brick would crumble until eventually, he could feel again. He could feel the admiration of his fellow classmates, the friendship given by Ron and Hermione, and even his hatred of Snape and Malfoy. All seemed to be healing and fixing inside himself. It had not all decayed and fallen away though. Harry still needed the safety of his emotional armor. It kept away the thought of his parents and of a life that was stolen away from him. Only during his stays with the Dursleys, would his fortress reappear to its fullest.

Only in his fifth year, did he need a full blown barrier during his time at Hogwarts. This time, he pushed out only half of his life though. Outside the wall were Voldemort, Snape, Malfoy, Umbridge, and the sorrows of his past. Safely inside with him was his new family. It consisted of Dumbledore, McGonagall, the entire Weasley clan, Hermione, Sirius, and even Neville. By selecting a few companions to wait out the storm with him, he saved himself.

At the end of his fifth year though, he realized that somebody inside those walls could hurt him more than he could ever imagine. The death of Sirius had almost killed him. If Harry had not thrown his dead godfather outside his imaginary walls, he couldn't have made it. By trying to bury and hide his remorse, he could live on for his dear friends.

In sixth year, the same measure was taken for Dumbledore's death. Harry would simply shut it all out and focus on the ones still with him. A mask began to form on his pale face. It was a mask of bravery, of hope. This gave his companions something to live for, while he only survived for them. His fears and vulnerabilities were behind this façade and only Harry knew of their quiet existence.

All during his seventh year, he tried his best to keep his newly formed mask and his old barriers. The only difference was that now it seemed the entire world was trying to get inside his emotional protector. All wanted safety and words of encouragement from him. Harry was expected to keep himself and the entire world inside while keeping Voldemort and his death eaters out.

In fact the only one to leave was the one he needed most. Ron's departure was a small occurrence, but broke all of his walls down. For the first time in his life, he felt all that had happened to him. He had been overcome with sorrow, loss, longing, regret, and anger during those weeks without Ron's presence. His mask too was shattered. The negative feelings behind it were so strong that they had burst through the thin layer of heroics.

He stayed like this until the end of the war. He felt all that happened with full intensity and well, he loved it. Harry felt the liberation of no longer carrying his heavy armor and mask with him at all times. It helped him to feel alive and full of adrenaline. This surge of power pushed him through it all until the day after the final battle. It was then that the power ceased to carry him, and Harry was left to fend for himself. It was here that he felt the full impact of his actions.

So many had died because of him, both innocent and evil lay perished. Fred, Tonks, Lupin, Mad-eye, Hedwig, and countless that still had yet to be discovered lay lifeless along the corridors and fields of his dear school. They were all gone. They too had been stolen away from him by Voldemort. Even as the tyrant lay dead, his firm grip could still be felt around Harry's soft neck. The realization that all of this was Harry's doing, crushed him so quickly that all he could do was lay on the ground with the dead, a crumpled heap of a man. He had thought that if he lay there long enough, maybe he could join them all in the afterlife, and live there without this heavy grief crushing his lungs.

He knew not how long he stayed there with the perished. All he remembered was his tears mixing with their blood as Ginny's face came into view. She opened her mouth and Harry guessed that she screamed – he was too dazed to really hear anything - and called for help until dozens of wizards came. They checked Harry's breathing since Ginny couldn't bear to do it herself. He tried to speak as they lifted him up off the bodies, but since his voice had not been used in many, many hours, all he was able to do was make odd moaning noises.

Harry was carried up the moving staircases by a pair of strong, muscled arms. The young, grieving wizard continued to try and speak all the way up the grand staircase until finally he was able to say something. This same phrase he repeated over and over until he was set on a soft bed in the hospital wing. He began to weep. Harry screamed and swore and cried for hours and hours. Harry shook, trembled, and turned on the mattress so much that soon almost the entire bed was damp with his sorrow. He was letting it all out. The entire fortress was destroyed. All that Harry had worked to build up around him in those seventeen years was demolished in one night.

He lay there for almost an entire day, his body racked with tears. He cried for the deceased, the wounded, those who lost loved ones, and the ones who were left alive, but alone. All Harry could see in those pathetic 24 hours was green light hitting innocent people. All he could hear was the screams of the tortured. All he could feel was castle shaking with Voldemort's terribly magnified voiced.

Eventually, when he couldn't hate himself any more than he already did, he grew silent. A mere moment after he grew quiet and closed his eyes for some needed sleep, a puffy-eyed redhead walked in. She peered into the room and once she saw him, a tired smile broke into her features.

"Harry," was all she had whispered as she glided over to him and gave him a tight hug.

Harry began to repeat the same phrase from earlier again and again to her. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he croaked.

"I know my dear," she whispered to him through her own tears. "You need your rest." Mrs. Weasley then left Harry to doze off, not knowing that this would be the last, honest conversation she would ever have with the black haired teenager.

Sleep overcame Harry, but it was not a peaceful slumber. His sleep from that day on was filled with dreams of battles and dying. Even as he awoke a few hours later, he could hear the screams from his dream echoing in his ears. Strangely, the cries did not lessen, they only became louder. They became so overpowering that Harry was forced to cover his ears with a pillow to at least soften the screams.

Thankfully, Madame Pomfrey hurriedly walked in and shoved sort of medicine from a tall, black bottle down his throat that quieted the voices on contact. His muttered thank yous were ignored and she quickly hustled out of the room, probably to care for the wounded that lay in the Great Hall.

Harry had nowhere to go. He could not possibly walk down those hallways. Certainly they would all hate him for what he did. He didn't think he would be able to bear their hateful looks and quiet whispers along with his current depression. So he sat there and thought.

Harry sat there, alone and decided to rebuild. He would once again create his impenetrable fortress. This time, however, he would allow no one inside. It would be just Harry, as it was before he knew of this world. He would stay alone because he knew he would be unable to truly look at anybody else for a long, long time. He was terrified to look into the eyes of a former friend and see the hate that they bore for him. He did not deserve to be around those who had lost loved ones in the war, jut as a murderer didn't deserve to look at the victim's relatives. Harry knew that society should shun him, and if they didn't, he would do it for them. For these reasons, he would manage and grieve by himself. There, inside his barrier, Harry would live the rest of his life.

The current Harry, still alone at the Weasleys' table, stared solemnly at his empty cup. How idiotic he had been to think he could talk to Ron. Why should Ron have to be near the one that caused the death of his brother? Harry then laughed to himself because that was exactly what he had been secretly hoping for the past 10 months. He had been so foolish to even wait for his Auror job until Ron started his as well. Quickly though, as it always seemed to be, his smile was replaced by a grimace. How was his resolve broken so easily? Harry had recently done such a good job of keeping away from the Weasleys. He had been proud of how well he had resisted the urge to befriend them again. They deserved better than him, and he had remembered that the past few months. The last time he had cracked and spoken to one of them was the day after Fred's funeral. The worst day of his young life actually - even worse than the day after the final battle. Regretfully, he remembered that terrible night.

He had just snuck into the Burrow and was sitting in one of the living room's old recliners that Arthur had gotten from a muggle shop. It reminded him of the chairs that were at the Dursleys' house, and oddly enough, he was comforted by this familiarity. His life had been so full of sorrow and regret lately, that even memories of his pitiful childhood were a comfort. The only light came from a floor lamp in the corner, making the room dim. He jumped out of the chair when he saw the young girl staring at him from the stairs as if she had been waiting for him.

"Where were you?" Ginny said, her voice containing honest concern. She took a few steps toward him so that she was only around three feet from his chest. It was the closest they had been since she found him with all the dead bodies at Hogwarts. The air between them was thick and it made Harry sweat and want to hold her in his strong arms.

"I-I was at th-the Three Broomsticks," he stuttered quietly.

"The Three Broomsticks? But Fred's funeral was today and you…" she said as if trying to explain it to herself.

"I know. I didn't want to come," Harry said, not showing any of the apologies that he felt.

"So… you missed it… on purpose?" she asked him, her eyes trying to search his face for a sign of lies.

"Yes," Harry replied simply. He tried to show no emotion so she would have nothing to read in his tone.

"Why?" she asked. It was the way that she asked that made him hate himself for not showing up. She almost whispered it, and it was heavy with hurt.

"I-I just couldn't," Harry whispered, not looking at her. If his bright green eyes caught sight of a single tear in her beautifully brown ones, he would cave.

"You think you couldn't?" she said, her voice rising in volume. "We, I, needed you there."

"I-," he began, still not meeting her gaze.

"No. Don't you dare try and make up an excuse Harry," she spat at him. He cringed at the way she said his name, with such anger, but she continued anyway, "You have no idea how worried we were! Not only were we mourning for Fred but we thought you were in trouble! All I could think about was that soon I'd be at your funeral!"

She stopped yelling and stared at him until he had no choice but to look back. "Do you have any idea what that would have done to me? I-I don't think I could make it, Harry," she whispered. A single tear came out of her big eyes and Harry at once wished that she was still screaming. He would rather have her hate him than cry.

"Ginny…" he began, but once again, she refused to hear him speak.

"You should've seen Ron's face. Then you would've understood why we needed you there. He was so… broken, Harry. I've never seen him like that before," she said softly. More tears came from her eyes and Harry realized that this was the most he had ever seen her cry.

Next she asked the one thing that Harry was terrified of telling her, "Are you trying to separate from us, from me?"

Harry couldn't bring himself to speak; he was still staring into her sad eyes, so he just nodded.

"I should've known I would never be good enough for "The Chosen One"," she spat; all sorrow in her voice was now replaced with anger and sarcasm.

"Ginny, no I swear it's not like that, I love you," Harry pleaded, glad to get a full sentence out this time.

"Ha! Please! You've never loved me Harry! If you loved me you would've shown up today," Ginny said with a tone so cold that it made Harry's spine shiver.

Harry was now getting aggravated. How could she possibly say that he never loved her when she was the center of his world, the thing that kept him fighting this past year? "Ginny, you're being ridiculous," he said, showing a bit of anger.

"Harry James Potter, don't you dare say I'm being ridiculous! You're the one that's turning your back on your family!"

This comment, being completely true, hurt more than any insult she could've thrown at him. It was ironic that it was only now that he realized how much Ginny loved him. It was also now that he knew only a complete lie would keep her away, so that she could fine somebody worthy of her. "Ginny… I found somebody else… I'm sorry."

Her features turned from angry, to terrified, to blank. "Fine. Goodbye Harry," she whispered as she turned and headed for the stairs. On the second step she paused, as if considering something, and faced him. "And don't you dare think I'll come back to you again this time. I'm sick of this on and off shit."

Ginny took a few more steps and then turned once more, "Stay away from Ron. He deserves a better friend than you, Harry."

It was strange that hearing from Ginny what he had been thinking all along, could hurt so badly. He sunk to the floor and swore at himself. He had lost the person he craved most. And there he kneeled, racked with sobs once more, until morning broke. The deed had been finished forever. He could never go back now and change what he had said. It had all been done.

Harry snapped back to reality and blinked back tears. He had gotten what he wanted, seclusion. It was only after he had permanently shut out the world, that he realized he needed them even if it was against his better judgment. It was only when he was locked forever inside his fortress that he realized he needed the fresh air to live.

AN: Ok, that was a really deep chapter. I'm sorry this was so long but I had so much that I wanted to fit in. Also, I hope none of you are upset that Harry felt guilty after the war. I always thought that he would take it all on his shoulders again. Thank you so much for reading and please, please review.