Beautiful Shards (A Drarry Fanfic)

Chapter 4: Harry- After

  For everyone who had been at the Battle of Hogwarts, when something had happened was said as Before or After. No one used specific months or dates. Instead it was always Before and After.
  Harry didn't know exactly when this had been established, but he knew that no one ever asked "Before what?" or "After what?"   
  Everyone just knew.

  Harry had spent the summer holidays with the Weasleys, which used to be fun, but now it was torture. He couldn't bear how it always felt like something was missing, which, of course, something was.
  He couldn't take the unspoken losses that hung heavy in the air like fog, even when they were laughing and talking and joking.
  Mad-Eye, Fred, Remus, Tonks, and so many, many more, gone because of him.
  Memories of those who were gone haunted him during the day- Fred and George giving him the Marauders Map, Remus teaching him the Patronus Charm, Cedric helping him with his golden egg for the second task.
  All so kind. All gone because of him.
  They came to him in the night, too. Telling him it was all his fault, telling him that they were dead because of him. And he believed them, because he knew they were right.
  Every night he woke up screaming. Always something like, "No, I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry." Then he would feel the wetness on his cheeks and realize that he was crying.
  He had eventually started sleeping in his clothes, so that when he woke up early in the morning he could go and wander around the fields and meadows surrounding the Burrow until sunrise.
  He spent most of his days alone, instead of tending the garden with Mrs. Weasley, or explaining muggle objects to Mr. Weasley, or playing Quidditch with Ron, George, Bill, Charlie, and Ginny, or even talking to Hermione, who had also stayed there that summer.
  He avoided talking to anyone, and kept his eyes on his plate at mealtimes.
  All he could think about was how it was all his fault. The war. The deaths. The pain, and the suffering, and the ruin, and the destruction of so many beautiful things. All of it was his fault...all his fault...his fault...

  No one else ever thought it was his fault. Perhaps the most unbearable part was that everybody thought he was a hero. Causing hundreds of deaths didn't seem very heroic to Harry. Not only did he not particularly enjoy the fame in the first place, but he also felt that he didn't deserve any of it. If anything, he thought, they should throw him in Azkaban.