Chapter Text
It had been a bit more than ten years since Harry had defeated Voldemort. The wizarding world had recovered so well and quickly that it seemed unnatural. The Ministry had been restored with Kingsley Shacklebolt as the new, competent, Minister for Magic. Hogwarts had been repaired, with both old and new professors teaching a new generation of young witches and wizards. Professor McGonagall had finally become Headteacher. The trouble was, Harry had a hard time keeping up. His friends sympathised and felt the emptiness that he did from time to time, but something in him kept him rooted to that battle with the bodies of his friends littering the grass on Hogwarts grounds. He could function, more or less, but that was about it. He hadn’t begun pursuing his dream of becoming an Auror since leaving Hogwarts that day. Well, he supposed that wasn't quite true, but it certainly felt that way to Harry. He had gotten things rolling while he was 18, only to abruptly drop the ball and leave his would-be employer with radio silence a little over a year into his training.
Harry couldn’t help picturing how his life should have been by now. Ginny might actually be interested in dating again had he not fallen into a spiral of post-traumatic stress. He’d have been visiting Hermione and Ron every night, joining Ron’s family for every holiday… not that they didn’t force him to anyway, but he would have really been present with them and enjoying himself. Something about the happy picture he had painted in his mind made his stomach lurch.
He came to his senses very suddenly, just in time to politely smile and nod in the direction of Ron’s Great Aunt Muriel. He was in the Weasley family’s backyard, and they had just finished decorating the backyard with recycled knick-knacks from Bill and Fleur’s wedding that morning. Hermione had refused to don the goblin tiara, however. Harry couldn’t say he blamed her.
The sun was beginning to set, and the ceremony had just finished. Harry had spent the majority of the ceremony trying to keep his eyes on Hermione and Ron instead of on Ginny. He had feelings for her still, but looking at her was just too painful. After Harry had defeated Voldemort, Ginny had hugged him and kissed him, but Harry felt so empty and alone that he hadn’t had the sense to reciprocate. She seemed hurt, but somehow understood what was going on inside of him, and left before they could pick up where they left off. Harry remembered her speech vividly: “You’re not the same person you were before, Harry. I know you can’t be that person again after everything that’s happened, but that’s who I’m still in love with.”
Harry couldn’t be angry with her, she was right. Maybe he’d never fully recover, but for her, he was willing to try. Or so he thought. What would it take to motivate him to put the pieces of his life back together again? He just didn’t know. Harry sighed into his clasped hands while admiring a bouquet of blue roses.
“Don’t concentrate too hard, Potter, you might strain yourself,” a familiar snide voice drawled. Draco Malfoy sat down next to him. He looked very put-together in grey and blue dress robes. Elegant, even.
“Malfoy, who the hell invited you?”
“Hermione, actually,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “She seems to think it’s high time we get past our old school rivalries.” He swirled his champagne.
“Just leave me alone, Malfoy.”
“Suit yourself, Potter. If you need help getting your foot in the door at the Ministry or would just like a tour, send me an owl.” Entirely too gracefully, he stood and left.
What an odd offer, Harry thought.
Ginny sat down next to him. Great.
“You okay, Harry? I can keep Malfoy away from you if it’ll help,” she said.
“That’s okay, Ginny. I’m fine.”
“Okay.” She gave Harry a small smile, gripped his shoulder, and went to join the rest of the wedding party.
Harry waited for an opportunity to hug Hermione and Ron in private, said his goodbyes, and disapparated back to his flat in muggle town centre London. He kicked off his shoes, collapsed in his bed, and slept fully clothed. Screw this, screw everything.
~~~~
Harry woke the next morning to yet another letter from Ron in his new owl’s clicking beak. Halwende wasn't given to the frequent loud screeches Harry had become accustomed to from Hedwig, thankfully, but he did insist on more scratches of affection. Harry scratched the dark barn owl's head and laid the envelope on Sirius's old desk. The posters from Sirius's youth remained untouched, the walls just the same as when Grimmauld Place had belonged to his late godfather. Kreacher, as far as Harry knew, did not survive the war. The guilt from this constant, silent reminder twisted Harry's stomach in a sinking knot of anxiety.
By the time Harry finally mustered the energy to get out of bed and contemplate a shower, Ron was pounding on his front door. Walburga Black began shrieking, and Harry rushed down the stairs and flicked his wand in her portrait's direction to shut her up.
"Ron," Harry said.
"You look like ruddy hell, mate."
Harry became acutely aware that he had neither showered nor changed since last night. What's more, he couldn't even pass the situation off as a walk of shame.
"When are you planning on coming back to work?" Ron asked.
Harry knew that question was coming. He sighed. "Do I look capable of working these days?" He walked into the kitchen with Ron anxiously trailing behind him.
"Then get some help, Harry. I don't like to see you ruining your future this way."
Two mugs clinked on top of the kitchen counter, and Harry set the coffee pot to brew. "Is Ginny seeing anyone new these days? "
"You've got to stop thinking about her. She doesn't want to get started again while you're still recovering."
Harry knew Ron was right, but he wasn't prepared to hear it. He turned away and faced the cabinets.
Ron laid a rough hand on his shoulder. "Hermione reckons she can get you in with a top healer to start talking about everything. What about trying that?"
Harry poured the coffee, handed Ron a cup, and shrugged. "I suppose this healer specializes in guilt," he quipped.
"Well, a little bit. She can help you sort through your memories. I know Hermione said a bit more about it, but I hadn't heard of this kind of healing before."
"I have done," Harry said. "It's the kind of healing muggles force on you when they think you've gone mad."
"Look. Just... give it a try? We're worried and we don't know what else to do. Besides, Hermione and I should be on our honeymoon instead of babysitting you." Ron elbowed Harry's ribs jokingly.
"All right, then. Where can I see this healer?"