Everyone was telling him he needed his sleep. It's not like he didn't know that, but they didn't see blinding flashes of red and green light or hear deafening screams whenever they closed their eyes. So he preferred to stay awake whenever possible. When the exhaustion finally caught up to him, he would drift off into a fitful sleep and get a few hours at most. He knew that he needed rest…he really did. He actually wanted to sleep undisturbed for about three days, but the nightmares simply wouldn't allow it. He would never tell them that, though. And it wasn't like they weren't already aware anyway…

Giving up on getting any more hours in, he slowly sat up and began to make his way downstairs. He skipped the creaky steps, not wanting to wake anyone else knowing that they were all still deep asleep. Finally reaching the bottom, he looked around the empty living room and sat down heavily on the beat up sofa. Sighing quietly, he took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes tiredly. The dim light of dawn gave everything a soft sort of light and he felt brief wonder at the sight. It was all dashed away in the next second however.

"Morning," a heavy voice greeted him from behind, nearly making him jump out of his skin. He whipped around in his seat to look at a blurry figure leaning against the wall behind him and he realized his glasses were still off. Quickly shoving them back onto his face, a messy bed head of red hair came into focus. It only took him a split second to realize it was a haggard-looking George standing there, regarding him with dark circles under his eyes.

"Couldn't sleep either, eh?" The older boy asked, looking at him empathetically. Harry tried to calm his racing heart as he felt nervousness start to spring up in his chest. He swallowed anxiously and shook his head shortly. He had no idea that anyone else was awake at this hour and was quickly regretting his decision to get out of bed.

"Sorry I…I thought everyone was still…" he trailed off as he gestured vaguely at the direction of the staircase. George pushed off from the wall and made his way around to sit next to Harry on the worn out sofa with a groan.

"Don't worry," George said with a small sideways smile aimed at him, "It's just me..." Harry felt himself tense slightly as he sat down so close to him. He felt an itch creep up his arm where their shoulders were nearly brushing and he felt the sudden need to get out of there as quickly as possible.

"Err…I – I think I'll just..." Harry stood urgently, straightening his clothes and making his way back toward the stairs. He heard George scramble up from his spot and rush up to him, blocking the way back up.

"Hang on," He spoke gently, concern painting his features, "You all right?" Harry kept his gaze trained on the floor, not wanting to meet the other boy's gaze. He felt like he was being backed into a corner and he didn't know what to say. A part of him wanted to talk about the particularly terrible dream that caused his early trek downstairs, but another part of him desperately wanted to simply leave this room immediately.

"Harry," George prompted as he reached out and put a steadying hand on his shoulder. He could feel George looking at him searchingly and he had to fight the urge to shake his hand off. He couldn't get his voice to work no matter how hard he tried and he didn't trust it to be steady anyway.

"Harry," George spoke again, his level of concern rising rapidly, "What is it? What's the matter?" Harry was finally able to bring his eyes up to look at the worried gaze of the other boy and found that he couldn't hold it for very long without risking the exposure of his true feelings. He shook his head and carefully shrugged George's hand away.

"N-Nothing, I'm fine…" he spoke, his voice slightly hoarse, "I'm just…tired." George appeared to deem that as a good enough explanation, for he nodded sympathetically, gave a quiet "okay" and stood aside. He gave Harry a tired, tiny smirk as he passed by gratefully, hoping that he wasn't being too rude. George simply wouldn't understand if he were to attempt to explain...no one would. It would be best if he dealt with it on his own and didn't drag anybody else down with him. He really was grateful that the Weasleys were kind enough to let him stay at the Burrow, but as he climbed the stairs he found himself simply wanting to be alone. He was passing by the bathroom and, before he could think about it, he doubled back at shut himself in.

The restroom was quickly becoming his favourite room in the house because it was where he could go and lock himself in and nobody would disturb him for however long he was inside. It was a great escape for whenever he needed a break from all the "Harry, you alright?" "You look a bit pale, dear." "What is it, mate?" "You need some fresh air, son." He knew they all meant well, but sometimes he just felt like he was being pulled from every direction and he couldn't even tell which way was up.

He knew that things were never going to be the same, but he could have tried harder. He was so angry with all the sacrifice that had to go into winning the stupid war. But then…it really didn't feel like he had won. Not with so many people that he could have saved. So he sat himself in the bathtub and enjoyed the alone time while he could, because he definitely couldn't let himself be thinking all of this when everyone else was awake. He had a difficult enough time around them as it is and he didn't want to make it even harder on himself.

He stared at the porcelain surrounding him and wondered what he would say to George when he saw him again. He really wished he didn't have to come face to face with him as often as he did, because every time he laid eyes on him he felt a stab of guilt in his chest. He heaved out a sigh and rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses once more, feeling as if he were constantly viewing the world through a thin fog. Relaxing himself, he let his head fall back to rest on the wall of the tub and only just realized the absurdity of his position. He felt a small breath of a laugh escape his lips when he considered just how odd he must look in this moment. He closed his eyes and tried to remember easier times…though it was quite difficult.

He must have stayed there for longer than he realized because, for the second time that morning, he was startled by a sudden voice ringing out in the silence.

"Harry?" it called through the door, "You in there?" Harry scrambled out of the tub, knowing he'd be absolutely mortified if someone found him apparently lounging about in the restroom. He struggled to find his voice for a few moments.

"Err, y – yeah, yeah it's me," He spoke a bit shakily, hoping he didn't sound too suspicious. He heard some shuffling just on the other side of the door and had a brief moment of panic at the thought that they might break it down.

"You alright?" The voice came again and this time he recognized it as Mr. Weasley's. Harry looked around the room as if to find an escape besides the door. He nervously ran a hand through his hair while responding, wondering how he was going to explain himself.

"Yeah, fine," he willed his voice to be steady. Deciding that there was no way out, he rested his hand upon the doorknob for a second while he braced himself and opened the door slowly. A mildly concerned Mr. Weasley came into view, hair a bit unkempt, still in pyjamas, eyes looking at him searchingly. Harry felt his heart stutter and his chest constrict at meeting the man's gaze.

"Can't sleep?" He inquired gently, his gaze a little too knowing for Harry's liking. He shifted his weight anxiously, glancing down for a moment before responding.

"No, I'm fine I – I was just about to head back up, actually," He said, hoping that it was much too early in the morning for Mr. Weasley to start piling on the questions. The man himself merely gave Harry a small smile in response and nodded at him.

"Well, alright. Up you go, then," He said, giving a sideways nod to the stairs that lead up to the room that Ron was letting Harry share. Harry gave a quick nod of thanks to the older man as he sidled by. He trudged up the remaining flights of stairs, automatically skipping the creaky steps, just wising that he could somehow find a way to put an end to the swirling ball of emotion that continued to grow and tense in his chest. When he finally reached Ron's room, he paused for a minute just waiting outside the door before he had to go and suffer one of two options: lie there sleeplessly while he waited for everyone else to wake up, or slip into a fitful sleep where he was plagued by nightmares until he woke up feeling worse than he had before.

Letting his head fall forward, he rested his forehead against the door frame with a tiny sigh. He thought that time would help him forget but the more time that passed, the worse he seemed to feel. He felt as if he were slowly sinking, but it was so gradual that only he could notice while everyone else seemed oblivious. At last he gathered the nerve to open the door and slowly inched his way into the small room, not wanting to wake his slumbering friend. Though, of course, because it was Ron, Harry probably could've entered in a full on sprint and done a double front flip into his bed without disturbing Ron in the slightest. As he settled himself into the spare bed he glanced at his friend once more, taking in his sprawled limbs, messy red hair, and slightly open mouth. Harry smirked at the sight briefly before lying down on his back and staring up at the ceiling. Perhaps they were all right…perhaps all he really did need was sleep. If only that could fix everything…

A/N – Here's the first chapter of how Harry is living at the Weasley's. I feel like this is what happened right after the Battle because of course that is where Harry would go until he gets his bearings back. And the people Harry was hearing in his head were George, Mrs. Weasley, Ron, and Mr. Weasley in case anyone was wondering.