A/N: Prepare yourself for some DracoxHarry fan fiction, hopefully, at it's finest!
This story will be written in the present tense, if there is any difference between tenses however, please do not hesitate to point out my mistake.
Harry is in turmoil. Today marks seven months since the momentous day when The Wizarding World breathed its final sigh of relief. The war, as well as Voldemort, is over, finished, dead. The war that continues to occupy Harry's mind, however, is another matter.
Harry stares blank-faced at his own reflection in the bathroom mirror, deciphering the success of a day spent shopping among muggles and pretending to understand their concept of "fashion trends". So this is what it will be like from now on, he realises. Harry dons a long sleeved, fitted button-up with dark trousers. The dark green of the shirt subtly highlights the magnificent emerald nature of his eyes.
Feeling something scratching lightly at his upper back, Harry is quick to retrieve the small price tag protruding from the collar of the new Tommy Hilfiger piece. For such a small piece of cardboard, it demands a ridiculously high price in return for its owner. Harry deserts the superficiality of the moment and takes leave in the simplistic lounge room of his small apartment. He sinks into the comfort of one of the leather couches and allows himself to bathe in his own thoughts.
From the time he decided to move to London, some dark feelings and doubts begun to stir in Harry's self-conscious. The motive of this decision, of course, initially stems from his separation with Ginny - as well as the fact that he, in truth, has nowhere else to go. After all, where does the famous Harry Potter truly belong? He pines for an answer as he checks the time on his watch - another a muggle contraption.
The fact that he is alone, while his two best friends are happily together does not help his feeling of immense isolation from both the wizarding and muggle worlds in which he is now expected to thrive. These days, Harry spends his - prolific - waking hours accepting normality (which he likes to label "mugglelity") and dodging his responsibilities as hero of the millennium. If he can be sure of anything, it is that things have certainly changed.
The chilly London autumn has shaken Harry's nerves and these days he opts for staying in the safety of his apartment rather than venturing out into the unknown. It's rather uncharacteristic, this newly adopted habit of seclusion, considering Harry's previous tendencies to dwell amongst friends and to - always - explore the unknown. Sometimes though, Harry visits Ron and Hermione who have chosen to share a small flat in Salisbury. He has accepted their offer of a quiet dinner in twenty-minutes times, though is cautious ahead-of-time not to let them detect his suffering.
While Harry has chosen a contradictory placement; preferring to keep to himself in Britain's most populated city, Ron and Hermione seem to have more of a handle on things. Thanks to The Ministry of Magic's considerable monetary grant however, which has been disposed to all those who were of help in the war, the trio are all currently able to live without having financial worry. In fact, Harry has been given his own Ministry funded muggle credit card - even though he could not be less concerned about price tags in the grand scheme of his life.
Harry shifts from his position from the couch, restless, suddenly deciding to make himself a cup of tea before he apparates to his best friends' flat. His mind wanders to the day he had lost Ginny, the girl he previously wished to spend his life with...
It is a sunny day at the burrow and Mrs. Weasley has made her family (as well as her adopted family - Harry and Hermione) breakfast. As a tired Harry and Ron stumble into the kitchen to offer her a hand, she plasters a huge smile on her face and dismisses them, asking only that they gather the other residents of The Burrow for the meal. Though on the surface, she appears to be the same old Molly Weasley who first assisted Harry as a young boy - struggling to find a seemingly non-existent gateway to the illusive Platform Nine and Three Quarters - he knows she now carries the loss of her son on her back like a curse.
Harry happily goes in search for Ginny while Ron lazily yells up from the bottom of the staircase, "Oi, you lazy sods! Breee-aaaakfast!"
Harry finds Ginny sitting upright in her new four-poster bed, staring out the window and out over the Weasley's orchard, an inscrutable expression cloaking her face. He makes his way towards her and carefully sits down on the edge of the bed and waits. Harry accepts the momentary silence, he knows she needs time to accept the casualties they have all endured.
"You know," she murmurs, then clears her throat coarsely, "I haven't slept a wink."
"Ginny," Harry coos with concern, inspecting the dark bags that lurk like shadows under her blinking eyes. He normally covets the way she looks in one of her oversized night-dresses - but how can he admire her now, when she is only filled with negative feelings towards herself? "Ginny, you have to stop doing this. Please. I, the family - we never see you anymore when you're always up in this room, keeping to yourself." Then, with a weary smile, "I don't think you understand how much I miss you, Gin."
She didn't even flinch, and after a moment managed a response. "You're not my family."
"That's not what I meant," Harry reached out for her hand under the covers, then watched it slide further away from him. "I just don't think it's asking to much to want to spend time with you. I want to be with you Ginny, because I really care about you..." He knew the words were coming a second before they slipped out of his mouth, "I love you."
His breakfast duties were long forgotten as he awaited her response, wondering if he should even dare hope for one. After a cautious moments silence in which Harry decided it safe to sidle in beside Ginny on the bed, though not under the covers, he turned his face towards her, inches away. "Ginny?"
No further question was necessary as Ginny snapped her face away from him, so he almost didn't hear her reply. "I don't love you back."
The gravity of the Harry's world shifts slightly as he removes himself from her bed, now realising the mistake in his previous assumption. Though she has not looked him in the eyes once since his entry, he forces a sad smile on his exit. "I forgot to tell you, breakfast is ready." The realisation that Ginny does not feel the same way about him, makes this statement harder than Harry's utterance of the three little words that came before it.
... He pulls himself harshly from the memory, ending the mental scene in darkness like that of a pensieve.
Harry gulps down his tea in anticipation for the first visit to see his friends in two months. He feels trapped and alone. It is all a bit ironic. Harry is sure that if it were not especially cold that autumn he would spend interrupted nights awake and sweating due to the intensity of his dreams.
Reviews tell me whether or not to continue? :3
Draco soon!
