✨BONUS CHAPTER THREE✨

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Tuesday 15th of Sept 1998

Harry's POV

I rubbed my eyes, glasses pushing up on my nose. Yawning widely, I glanced around the library. After blinking a few times, I turned back to my book.

Potions. Ugh!

The library was deserted. All the students were at class except for a few— who evidently had free periods like me.

I glanced at my book, the words all tiny and achingly confusing. Potions had never been my strong suit. The only reason I could think of why, in Merlin's saggy pants, I was picked to do potions was because of the sixth year and how much I had improved.

But obviously, there was more to it.

I groaned, taking my glasses off and burying my face into my palms.

Once the war ended, my nightmares wouldn't stop. It was expected. I had known it was going to be tough. With nightmares keeping me awake, I could barely sleep at all.

Through all these sleepless nights, I was staying at Burrow. I couldn't return to Grimmauld Place without having an anxiety attack. Ron and Hermione had wanted me to stay with them at all costs.

Ginny was finally able to be my girlfriend. For most of the part, it was quite nice. To have someone there.

But it didn't stop me from feeling guilty.

Fred was gone, and it felt wrong to be at the Burrow. I felt guilty for putting everyone in pain. Guilty when I saw the way George sat— hunched and defeated, never cracking a smile. Guilty when Mrs Weasley would burst into tears and leave the room. Guilty when warm brown eyes trace mine... and I couldn't give them what they need.

I felt like a burden, even though Ginny reassured me countless times that it was not my fault. I found myself distancing from all of them. I could barely meet Ron or Hermione's eyes. It was like my heart was eating itself out.

I spent days with Ron and Hermione, trying to act like everything was alright. Acting like it will get better. Making jokes and laughing.

Then at night, I would pretend that the guilt wasn't eating me up, pretend I was still not scared, not fully sure if we were out of danger.

Ginny would sleep with me— it was expected now that we were dating. She would curl up next to me, talk sleepily into my ear, her hand on my chest.

At first, it was sweet— reassuring. I was relieved Ginny didn't expect me to do anything. I wouldn't know what to do, even if I tried.

But it was clear what everyone else thought we were doing. Those little eyebrow wiggles from Ron, Hermione's hidden smiles and Ginny's subtle blushing.

Then one night, I couldn't deal with the proximity.

So I left the bed.

It was a routine after that.

Ginny would snuggle against me, and I would try to remain calm. I would smile as she talked to me, ignoring her hand on my waist. Sometimes she would kiss up and down my jaw, and I'd try not to squirm with discomfort.

I didn't know why I wasn't liking it. I liked Ginny. She was nice. I tried to talk to her about it. About how I didn't feel comfortable being intimate. She was supportive, talking about how it was alright to not be reciprocating feelings just yet.

She didn't realise that I was talking about her...

But how could I even tell her?

Through all the nightmares and trying to escape Ginny, I found myself finding solace in the little armchair in the room.

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