A/N - I'm baaack! Well, as back as I could be. Still have no idea where this story is going, but I will try to continue the daily updates. If not, at least every two days :)

Chapter 31 - Sunshine and Snowflakes

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By the time Harry made his way back to Grimmauld Place, he was numb to all that was happening around him.

Hermione and Ron immediately started thinking about a contingency plan, one that involved more people including Neville, Seamus, Dean, the Patil twins and basically everyone who fought beside him during the Final Battle. Ron mentioned how no one in his family should know about the new development.

"You must understand, mate. Mum'll freak. You're like a son to her. And don't get me started on Ginny..."

Hermione did what she did best: a list. She immediately started listing down everyone she could remember during the Final Battle; those who fought for their side and those who fought for his. Considering that only just over half of the Death Eaters who had been there were either dead or imprisoned didn't help matters either.

As Ron and Hermione contemplated the new development, Harry contemplated them. He had to admit that there was a silver lining to this new twist of fate. The tension that had plagued the three of them during the past few days had been practically smothered into non-existence. Having a common enemy and a common goal did quite well in mending bridges and bringing back their old dynamic that he had leant on in order to constantly get through everything that life had thrown at him. He was comforted by it and appreciated it.

But he soon realized that the dynamic he had seen was mostly based on him. Ron took great care in sitting right next to him and not Hermione. He even went so far as to keep his gaze firmly on Harry and away from her. Harry could see how much that upset her. And he found himself watching her instead of focusing on the task at hand, which didn't really bode for him in the end.

"Harry? Are you even listening?"

Groaning, he ran his hand over his face in an effort to make himself stay awake. He was just tired. So very tired. "Not really, Hermione." He looked around the kitchen and wondered vaguely if he should get Kreacher to make him something to eat. "This is all well and good. But right now, all I want to do is go to my bed and lie down for a bit."

He could have sworn she looked offended. "We need to do something soon."

He knew that. Just as he knew that whoever it was that was hunting him was doing so just to get the most powerful wand ever made. But right this moment, he just didn't bloody care. He had been a target for most of his life. At some point, he was bound to just...not care. "But not necessarily today." Deciding that he'd had enough, Harry stood. "We can discuss this tomorrow. I highly doubt any assasin would be coming after me today." Then leaving their stunned expressions, he stalked out of the kitchen before climbing the stairs quickly.

As he made his way to his bedroom, he started unbuttoning his collar that seemed so much more constrictive than it had before he left for the Memorial Service. Closing the door after him, he pulled out the wand that had been his mentor's and placed it carefully on the bedside table before sitting down on the bed in defeat.

Sighing, he stared at the Elder Wand. Part of him was awed by it, while another part of him was terrified of it, while another, more primal part within him, wanted nothing more than to wield it. Harry had said 'no' to Kingsley when he had first offered the wand to him, knowing that it wasn't his place to take it. In his mind, the wand would always belong to Albus Dumbledore, and the last thing Harry wanted was to take his mentor's place. But Kingsley and all the others had finally managed to wear him down through pure logic. They said that he was the obvious target, that he had to defend himself and he should use the best chance he had. It was finally the need for self-preservation that made him take the wand from Randal's outstretched hand. The wand was safer with him and he was safer with the wand; that's what Kingsley had told him. But even as Harry took the wand, he knew that he wouldn't use it unless he absolutely had no choice.

Groaning, Harry let himself fall back onto the bed, screwed his eyes shut and threw an arm over his brow. Truth be told, since he was a child, it had always been the small things that made him happy. Aunt Petunia letting him play outside in the sunshine, Dudley's hand-me-down clothes being washed before they were given to him, Uncle Vernon sending him to his room so he didn't have to cook or clean, and even trying to catch a snowflake on his tongue that one winter the Dursleys gave him permission to play in the snow. Those were what made him happy as a child. And now, he wasn't sure if anything made him happy. He thought he would feel it once the war was over. But it seemed that for him, war was never over. And somehow, having the most powerful wand at his disposal and the knowledge that he was the one meant to wield it didn't help him feel secure.

He had waited so long for his life to truly start. He didn't know if he could wait any longer.

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TBC