Prorogue: to defer; postpone.

May 12, 1998

Harry didn't know why he kept coming back here. It should have been the worst place to be. It should have been filled with ghosts and nightmares and memories that dragged stole his breath. He had seen the scars, heard only a few stories of what had happened here all year, and that should be enough to make his stomach turn. But somehow the broken castle was still the haven it had always been for him. Even bloodied and barely standing, it was home.

He couldn't stay forever. He knew that. Perhaps he could come back for the seventh year he never had, though. There was already talk of that. Hermione, Dean, Justin, they'd all met with McGonogall already. Harry stared out across the deep green of the forest through a broken window. He wasn't even sure what part of the castle he was in. All he knew was that it was safely far away from anyone else. Maybe he could take up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. He'd already had some practice at that. McGonagall would understand. She would take him on even if he was young. He'd defeated Voldemort. Whose credentials could top that?

"Hey."

Harry jumped so badly he nearly fell out of the window. "What are you doing here?"

Ron shrugged, picking his way across the half-collapsed corridor to stand beside Harry's window. He made to lean against the wall, but thought better of it. "What d'you think? Mum wants you to come home."

Harry swallowed the words he wanted to say because Ron didn't look in a fit state to argue with. But the Burrow was not his home. He had moved his things back into Ron's attic bedroom four days ago, but he could not stay in the house. He had made excuses to get out, any excuse at all before the walls closed in on him and crushed him there. Maybe it was selfish, but he couldn't stand to see them all, to hear them all, every move they made. The Burrow may not have born the scars of battle, but it was haunted. He didn't want to go back there.

"You can't stay here forever," Ron told him tiredly.

"I could rent a room in the village," Harry said. He'd thought about that, too.

Ron let out a heavy breath. "Just come home. Mum and Dad have enough to deal with without worrying about you, too. Hermione can't sleep. You'll come back eventually. Why drive them all over the edge first?"

"I – it's not my house. I'm of age. I should get my own place."

"The rest of the world probably wouldn't believe how thick The-Boy-Who-Can't-Be-Killed or whatever it is they call you these days is. Oi!" Ron shouted over his shoulder.

There was a scraping of rock and tromping footsteps, and then four people came around the corner. Bill, Charlie, Percy, and even George, wound their way around the fallen rocks.

"It's not – I don't want –" Harry stammered, scrambling for another excuse.

"Come on, up you get," said Charlie, grabbing one of Harry's elbows. George took the other as Bill and Percy began clearing rocks away and Ron closed in behind.

"There's a difference between 'you've got nowhere else to stay' and 'you're not staying anywhere else," Bill told him.

And he didn't have an argument for that.

A/N: Look at that, I came up with something on my own. Anyway, so that's May done. Next month to tackle: June. Thank you all!