Harry wandered the castle aimlessly, glad for the quiet atmosphere. He had waken up nearly half an hour before and, upon seeing the rest of his old dorm mates - Ron, Seamus, Dean, and Neville - asleep and no one in the Gryffindor Tower common room, decided to take advantage of the lack of people awake and take a walk.

As he walked, he admired the walls, the portraits (whose occupants had not returned to their frames), the stairs, everything about his first real home. Many hallways brought back memories from time when he, Ron, and Hermione were still young. True, seventeen wasn't old, but he felt as though he had aged greatly since he'd found out the contents of the infamous prophecy.

He didn't realize where his feet were leading him until he'd reached the doors to the Great Hall. He froze for a moment, knowing what lay behind those doors. Taking a deep breath, he opened them.

A wave of agony and grief hit him, as strong as any spell. The mere amount of bodies laying there could make anyone have nightmares. It pained Harry greatly to know that, despite what he'd be told a thousand times, that it was all his fault.

His breath hitched; his eyes watered. Harry found himself wanting nothing more than to sob for everything, for everyone. And, seeing that he was alone, he did. He did nothing to stop the flow of tears on his face; he allowed himself to gasp for breath from his violent sobbing. It felt good to let out all of the emotions he'd been holding in, trying to hide, for nearly his whole life.

Sinking into a crouch, he put his head on his arms. No more did he want to see the bodies of the people that had died for him that lay in the Great Hall. But his demons were again haunting him, and with the images came names.

Fred... Tonks... Remus... Hedwig...

And going back further, to people who hadn't died in the recent war, but had still given their lives for him - or had them taken because of his mistakes.

Dumbledore... Sirius... Cedric... His parents...

He didn't know the names of so many people that were laying in front of him. He vowed to himself that he would learn all of their names and make sure they were honored for serving in the war.

After a few minutes his breathing became normal and his eyes were dry. After taking a few more deep breaths to calm himself, he opened his eyes. Turning his back resolutely against the horrific sight he was met with, he pushed his thoughts away from the topic.

The first thing his mind came up with for him was Ginny. Ginny... Harry hated himself for treating her the way he did; he often found himself wishing he hadn't broken up with her, that he'd let her come along like he knew she'd wanted to. But that would have put her in more danger, and she had already been in enough to begin with, without him there to make it worse. He decided then that he would accept her decision - whether to forgive him or not - without question, because he surely would deserve whatever he got.

The Deathly Hallows were also a recurring thought. Harry was confused as to what he was going to tell the Weasleys about them; were they not a vital part of his story? Was the fact that he was the true master of them not important?

No, Harry decided, he wasn't going to tell them - not yet, anyway. Nor was he going to say why he sacrificed himself. He would tell them that he had seen Snape's memories. If they doubted his judgement - well, he would let them. Harry was not about to reveal to anybody that Snape had secretly loved his mother. True love was a powerful thing; Harry had no doubt that Voldemort's betrayal of Snape by killing his mother had turned Snape to Dumbledore.

What would he tell them of the Horcruxes, though? Harry had to admit that the Horcruxes were quite an important part in the downfall of Voldemort. They were the reason he hadn't died all those years ago. They were the reason Harry didn't die in the forest; he was one himself.

But if he did decide to tell them about the Horcruxes (which he knew he eventually would), he wouldn't be including that part. After all, Harry thought, they would just be freaked out by it. Imagine being told that the person that you knew for so many years, that you basically took in as a child, had a piece of Voldemort's soul inside of him since he was a baby!

No, he wouldn't be including that part.

His thoughts drifted from the important things to the unimportant. He thought back to the good times of Hogwarts; classes with Lupin, Hagrid's lessons, teaching the DA. He reminisced about the old days. Seeing the school like this, with nearly every hallway ruined to some degree, was saddening to Harry. After all, Hogwarts had been his home. It was better to think of the old days, Harry thought, though how they could be called 'old'...

As he walked up one of the Hogwarts' countless staircases, he found himself fighting the urge to start running. He hadn't been able to just think about things that weren't of the utmost importance for a while, and he was so unaccustomed to it. He felt the need to start brainstorming places that the final Horcrux could be, or start watching Ginny on the Marauder's Map, wishing he could see her again. But he could. He would see her in a few minutes, even, when he walked into the Gryffindor common room.

Being able to do nothing for a change was so different. It's always been Quidditch practice or homework or avoiding the Dursleys; it was never nothing.

Nothing was good.

Harry hurriedly wiped his face as he walked down the hallway to the common room, making sure there was no evidence of his recent sob session. Now that he thought of it, it sounded a but pathetic, actually.

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed after he walked into the now-slightly-filled common room. "Where have you been? Ron said you weren't there when he woke up."

Scanning the room, Harry saw all of the Weasleys and Hermione were up. George, he noticed with a wrench in his chest, looked extremely lonely without his twin by his side. Finding himself unable to meet George's eyes, Harry looked away.

The next pair of eyes his met were a warm, fierce brown - Ginny, he thought, recognizing them at once. Harry was glad he saw no anger there. She just might forgive him for being such a wanker... Then again, maybe not.

"I fancied a walk," Harry told her.

After a few seconds of slightly awkward silence, Ron said, "I wonder if they're serving breakfast. We should go check - "

"No," Harry cut in sharply, shuddering at the memory of all of the bodies there. Everyone in the room looked at him oddly. "They haven't cleared up the...bodies yet," he explained quietly. "Trust me, you don't want to go down there."

"Oh, Harry," Mrs. Weasley said, sympathy in her voice. "You didn't go down there?"

He looked over to her; obviously, the look on his face answered 'yes,' for she quickly walked over and gave him a hug. He smiled what he hoped was a reassuring smile when she pulled away and said, "Don't worry about me, Mrs. Weasley. I've seen worse things."

Though whether that was true, he didn't know. Even if forced, Harry woudn't've been able to pick the worst thing he had ever seen - there were quite a few of them at the top of his long list.

Apparently, that had been the wrong thing to say. Mrs. Weasley nearly burst into tears as she looked at Harry, horror struck at his calm reply. After all, how could such a young boy have seen things worse than a room full of dead bodies? She just couldn't grasp the thought.

"Mum, leave him alone," Ron said, stopping Mrs. Weasley from hugging Harry with enough force to squish him again. Harry shot him a grateful look.

Another awkward silence... There were no topics of conversation that didn't bring some unwanted emotion into the group. Harry sat down in his favorite armchair by the fire and mulled over the events of yesterday.

Yesterday... How could that be right? He'd defeated the Dark Lord just yesterday. Defeated... Murdered... It depended on your viewpoint. Harry himself couldn't shake the feeling of murder from him, however hard he tried. Voldemort was evil, he thought. He deserved to die, after all of the people he killed...

And then there was the matter of the Deathly Hallows. Ron had disagreed with his decision to get rid of the Elder Wand, and he wasn't going to tell them about the Resurrection Stone. In fact, he wasn't telling them what happened in the forest at all. He would keep that to himself - for now, at least. He wasn't sure if he was ever going to tell anybody that he was the master of the Deathly Hallows.

He had also decided then when he told the story of going to the forest, he would only say that Voldemort's attempt didn't work. Harry knew, of course, that he had been the final Horcrux, the last thing that needed to be destroyed besides Nagini, and wasn't quite sure if he wanted people to know that - wouldn't they just see him as even more of a freak? Surely it would creep at least some of them out, to know that they'd spent a good part of their lives around someone who'd had a piece of Voldemort in them all along.

So when Hermione asked, "Harry, what happened last night?" softly a few minutes into his thought, Harry'd decided that he wouldn't tell them most things.

"I knew that in order for you all to live, I had to die - by Voldemort's hand," he said. "Only it didn't work properly; I had sacrificed myself. It's very complicated, and I don't feel like explaining it all right now, I'm sorry."

"Why would you risk your life like that, Harry?" Mrs. Weasley asked in a soft tone.

"I had my reasons. When we saw Snape die, he gave me some of his memories."

"Why in the hell would you trust Snape?" George exclaimed.

"I saw why Dumbledore trusted him," Harry said simply.

"But that could've been fake!" Ron said angrily. "He could've made that up so you would die!"

"He didn't."

"But why - "

"I have my reasons!" Harry said again, effectively ceasing all rebuttal.

Another minute or so later, he added, looking at Ron and Hermione, "I was the last one."

After a second a look of comprehension drew across Hermione's face. "Oh, Harry!" she said.

"Seriously?" Ron asked, his voice hoarse. Harry nodded.

"The last what?" George demanded.

"The last person Voldemort ever killed - well, technically," Harry lied smoothly. If he were to explain Horcruxes to them, he wouldn't include the fact that he had been one himself.

No one replied though it was obvious by the looks on their faces that none of them believed him. "Well, let's not sit around hungry," Mrs. Weasley said. "Will one of you go to the kitchen?"

"There's no need," Harry said. "Kreacher!"

With a CRACK, the ugly, old house elf was standing in front of him. Bowing low, he said, "Master Harry! How can Kreacher help you, sir?"

They all looked astonished at this magnificent change in behavior. "Hello, Kreacher," Hermione said carefully.

Kreacher turned. Upon seeing her, he said, "Mistress Granger!" and bowed - though, admittedly, not as low as he had for Harry. He then turned to the Weasleys and bowed to them, too. "What can Kreacher get for you?" he asked.

"Well," Mrs. Weasley said, still a little alarmed at his change in attitude, "we'd like some breakfast, please, Kreacher."

"Of course, Mistress Weasley!" Kreacher said, and Apparated at once.

"Woah," Charlie said. "What was that all about?"

Harry shrugged. "I gave him his old master's locket - it belonged to Sirius's brother, Regulus."

Before they could respond, as Ginny had been about to, Kreacher appeared again, accompanied by another loud CRACK. Two more house elves followed, all three bearing large, silver trays with multiple types of breakfast food. Harry saw kippers, eggs, toast, marmalade, bacon, and orange juice on one.

"Food," Ron moaned, immediately grabbing a plate and piling food onto it. The rest of the Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione followed suit. They were silent as they ate their breakfast - one of his, Ron's, and Hermione's first real meals in months, Harry realized.

"You three look like you haven't eaten in months," Mrs. Weasley said in an admonishing tone. Looking at each other, the trio grinned. "What's so funny?" she asked.

"Well," Hermione said, scooping up some scrambled eggs, "we haven't, really."

"Speaking of," Bill said, "where were you three before you showed up at my house?"

And so the trio began their story. It took quite a while, and by the time they had reached the part where the Snatchers came to their campsite, everyone had finished breakfast.

"And they took us to Malfoy Manor," Harry said. He stopped, glancing at Hermione. She had her eyes closed and was rubbing her arm, in the spot where Harry knew Bellatrix had carved the word Mudblood. She looked as if she were about to cry; Harry immediately regretted mentioning Malfoy Manor.

Ron, seeing this at the same time as Harry, wrapped his arm around her. She opened her eyes and smiled faintly, silently inviting him to continue.

"And they took us to Malfoy Manor," Harry said again, distracted, "where we met Luna and Ollivander when they put us in the cellar... Then we escaped with Dobby, who took Bellatrix's knife, meant for one of us..."

He trailed off, realizing that he had forgotten about Dobby earlier, and that there was yet another name to adds to the list of deaths that he had caused. He brought himself back to the present, deciding that he would skip the breaking into Gringotts part, because then he would be forced to explain why he did it. In fact, Harry found himself skipping a lot of parts, because most of his time at Hogwarts had been related to the Horcruxes. He knew the gaps were large and confusing, but decided that he would figure out what to do with them later.

There were a few minutes after their tale was finished in which the Weasleys processed all of this new information. As George opened his mouth, presumably to ask a question about the missing parts, Harry said, "No questions." George closed his mouth.

"Well," Mrs. Weasley said, "I think I'll go find Minerva and find out what's going on. Arthur?" Mr. Weasley nodded, standing up with his wife. Soon enough, everyone else had found something else to do, and Harry found himself alone again. Or at least, he'd thought he was alone, until he heard someone say, "Harry?"

Turning, Harry saw Ginny approaching him. She claimed the chair next to him, angling her body so that she was facing Harry's.

"Er, Ginny," Harry started. He didn't really know how to come about this. How did you apologize to a girl when you'd broken he heart, but still loved her? "I - I'm really sorry, Ginny. You know I didn't want to leave you, but if I hadn't, then you most likely would've died, and Ginny, I wouldn't be able to live if you died - especially if it was because of me."

Ginny opened her mouth to speak, but Harry kept going. "Ginny, I wouldn't have left you if it were up to me, believe me. But if the circumstances had been different - if you would've been safe - I never would've left you." He was pleading now, begging her to understand. "I still love you, Ginny, I do. But if you're too angry with me, if you can't forgive me, then... I guess I deserve it."

Ginny was silent for a moment, deliberating what she would say next. "You do deserve it, Harry," she said.

Harry's heart dropped. He hung his head, unwilling to look into her eyes.

"You deserve," Ginny continued, reaching her arm out to force his face up so his eyes met hers, "to be loved as much as anyone could ever be loved, because you haven't been your whole life."

"Do you mean - " Harry quickly said, afraid to get his hopes up.

"Yes, Harry," Ginny said sincerely, "I forgive you. Honestly. I knew you'd only left because you were being the stupid hero again; I saw how much it hurt you, as well. And Harry, I still love you."

"I love you, Ginny," Harry said without hesitation, for the first time in his life. "I never stopped. Did you know, I used to take out the Marauder's Map just to watch your dot?"

"Really?" Ginny asked, sounding surprised. "That's sweet - a bit stalkerish, yes, but still sweet nonetheless."

Harry smiled. "Ginny?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"I love you."

"I love you, too, Harry."