A/N; this is a redo of my original Heart Ache, which was abandoned. I want to say a grand thank you to my BETA READER ! dragonheart971 ! with out them this fanfiction would be a tale of bad grammar.

DISCLAIMER; anything you recall as J.K Rowlings is hers. including all characters that will be in this fanfiction. ;D

Heart ach

"Life asked Death, 'why do people hate you but love me?' in which Death replied, 'because you are a beautiful lie and I am the painful truth'"

Chapter one; A Misfortunate Cough

Shadows hung from the trees like bats, growing together in desperate huddles and towering far above Harry. The moon light shone through the tight gapes in the trees, spreading cold light on Harry, much like his disease loved one following behind him. But the comfort of Harry's mother and father's spirits did not reach Harry in this dream. Only terror reaches Harry's heart, gripping it like a Dementors hug. As a clearing came to sight Harry seized his last breath reacting to take off his cloak. But there was no need for everything was gone, a black pit of nothing but him and- Voldemort. But only it wasn't Voldemort. In his place was a boy the same age as Harry.

He couldn't move, Harry was mobilized, but Tom Riddle wasn't, he was approaching Harry like a feline, red eyes flashing dangerously and luscious lips twisting into an ugly grin.

"Harry…" the boy purred, "my friend."

Harrys stomach twisted, images of the Horcruxes he destroyed, the terrors of every sick and twisted object he was forced to carry and the knowledge that he once carried the wretched thing in his head.

"So very much alike!" Riddle now stalked around him, like a vulture circling its dying pry. "You can be great! You have the power! You posses the knowledge to fly to greatness! You have the soul to become feared and respected, to have nations bow down to your feet, too have every minister kiss the ground you walk!"

Riddle eyes gleamed manically, an insane light shining through his charm. "But you deny it. You throw away your power like scum! You care not of the greatness you are destined to grasp!" Riddle suddenly hissed, going cold like Arctic winds. "You bowed your head at those disgusting muggles, letting them spit at your face and shame your honourable name! You are unworthy of the power you carry, and I shall take it away from you, no matter what I must do, I will rip out your vary soul if I must. I will take your life, licking it away from you slowly." Harry felt Riddle wrap his arms around his shoulders, almost in a friendly way if only not for the wand stationed upon Harry's chest. "Don't worry Harry, I will end your miserable existence, I will put your magic to rest…" Tom Riddle chided gently, "I will… make you suffer." It was like a whisper in the breeze, until words of hate and broken sanity where spoken, "Aveda Kedavra!"

His eyes flew open, electric green striking his vision. His airway was cut off with a sudden and sharp pain. Harry choked; hands flying to his neck as he sat up, in a rush of panic, Harry threw up the contents blocking his breathing. He cried out again when phantom needles pierced his heart, his mouth was once again filled with a coppery dark liquid.

He spat it out horrifying realization falling upon him. Warm, sticky and thick, red with a copper taste.

Harry flung his blood covered sheets off him. Scrambling off his bed and tumbling to the floor harry ran to his washroom. Kneeling to the toilet like religion, he heaved more blood into its bowl, husky coughs ripping through his throat.

When the violent coughs drew to an end harry rose on his shaking legs groaning when his tense muscles where forced into slavery. He stopped short on his way into his bedroom, looking miserably at his bloodied blankets.

Deciding to deal with it now harry grabbed his wand from beneath his pillow. Drawing an elegant 'S' in the air, he whispered, "Scourgify!"

The blood vanished instantly, much to Harry's relief, though he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep in them, knowing all to well the sticky magic feel that would reside in them. Instead he sat on the edge of his bed, racing over what had just accrued, and also neglecting his dirty shirt.

Could this relate to the aching scar that married his chest? They one Voldemort had so graciously given him in the forest? The second lightning bolt scar he had?

Harry hadn't told a soul of what truly happen in the forest during the battle of Hogwarts, but he'd never forget it. Though Voldemort was gone for good, he'd be a part of harry for the rest of his life. To the Wizengamot the Wizarding world was safe; to harry nothing was ever going to be safe. If it wasn't the Death Eaters trying to track him down, it was the Daily Prophet trying to get something out of him, weather it was information on his personal life or the war. He never truly got a break, and now this? He wished Hermione was here.

But then again, what could Hermione do? Research of course, but they had done that in fifth year at Hogwarts, researching its vast library on old curse scars and battle wounds. Though like most thing harry was different. Of course there wouldn't be any books on a scar such as Harrys; he was after all the only one to have survived the killing curses green clutches.

Harry lay back with a frustrated sigh, mindlessly scratching his arm at the itchy feel the Scouring Charm left. Harry drifted off for a few hours of restless sleep, the terrors of past events still lingering in his mind.

Harry woke hours latter to a soft knock on his door, groaning in response, he scratch his itchy back, groaning again when he remembered last night and his 'misfortunate cough'.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

"I'm up! I'm up!" he cried. He cursed under his breath, peeling off his shirt, which was incrusted in blood. Knowing he wouldn't be getting that type of stain out he banished it.

"Breakfast is ready cub!" he heard Remus call from the other side, "Come down once you're ready."

Harry felt a great rush of gratitude. After the war harry was a mess, not knowing how to deal with everything he saw during the war, and not knowing what to do with the sudden release in stress. He was free from Voldemort! But he wasn't free from his past. So Remus had swooped him up in his loving fatherly arms and took him in, bearing the weights of the past war with harry. He had constantly been there for harry. Weather it was during night meres or when the depression started to creep up again, Remus was there to get him through it. And for that he owed his life to Remus. Taking a quick shower to clean him of last night's fit then getting ready in fresh clothes, he didn't even bother dealing with his hair, harry made his way down stirs to Remus' cozy dining room.

Harry breathed in the beautiful aroma of an English breakfast upon arriving in the dining room.

"Are you going to stand there all day breathing like a dog, or are you going to sit down?" a voice teased playfully.

Harry threw a mock glare his way but sat down, giving his thanks to Remus, who waved it off like a nuisance.

"How was your sleep?" Remus asked newspaper in hand while starting on his pouched eggs.

Talk about multitasking, harry thought. Snorting he replied casually, "fare, why'd you ask?"

Remus' eyes flicker up from his newspaper but he didn't put it down, instead he shrugged and said, "Just caught a swift of something that smelt awfully like blood. Mustn't a have been anything though." He paused, looking harry in the eyes, "Right…?"

"Just a random nose bleed." Harry shrugged, he didn't want to trouble Remus any more then he already was.

"hmm." Remus raised a doubtful eyebrow, but stayed silent. Harry new he'd be on to him for a few nights.

They continued their breakfast in normal silence.

Later that day the Golden Trio met up in Diagon Ally, at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor to be exact. The Golden Trio had grown stronger than ever after the war; there wasn't a week that went by where the three friends didn't all get together.

Hermione had taken her passion of knowledge and rights to the ministry and was currently making progress in clearing up werewolf rubbish. But changing people's views on werewolves had shown to be difficult with the war so fresh, and trying to show werewolves as human beings was a trick ambition with what grey back had down to so many. But that also worked with her favour, cause now other people where understanding and supporting werewolves giving them jobs and letting them help recreate the Wizarding community. Hell, even Remus had a job! Better yet he actually owned his very own book shop. The werewolf rights were more than they had ever been in years.

Ron, who much like harry, had decide he never wanted to fight again, therefor forgetting his O.W.L.s he'd gotten to become an Auror. Instead he was trying to get voluntary work at the hospital St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. This had proven not to be hard at all. With long lasting injuries from the war patients were still coming in like mad, whether it was from mental health or the need of a magical chiropractor. Ron had gotten a job as an assistant within a week. Though he only ran around helping patients and getting things for healers he was the most enthusiastic one there. Hermione loved it to say the least.

But harry… well harry didn't know. He definitely didn't want to fight anymore, so the Magical Law Enforcement was out. And though harry did love to help people he didn't want to see any more gore if he could help it. And so he crossed out St. Mungo's. He wanted a peaceful job, if one ever existed. And so that was why they were there, the three friends had gathered to eat ice cream and discuss job options for harry, cause truth was if he wanted to work somewhere it wouldn't be very hard to get in. being the Boy-Who-Lived-Twice did have its perks.

Harry groaned as Hermione once again suggested him apprenticing for the mental health department. Magical Therapy! Where he talked to people about their problems, while using magic to keep a calm atmosphere. He would like the idea if not for the fact that he probably needs his own Magical therapist himself.

"Oh come on harry! You'd be wonderful!" Hermione exclaimed excitingly. "You're so kind and sweet harry, and you have the heart to listen. And you'd most likely be able to relate to you clients with what you've gone through."

Ron nodded his head, swallowing what must have been his third sundae he added in "George is going through Magical Therapy right now and he say it's great and all except for the fact that the therapist doesn't understand him. But you harry! You've gone through hell and back, there are few things you wouldn't understand."

"What if my patient is afraid to speak freely in front of me 'cause I'm Harry Potter?" Hermione opened her mouth to speak but was stopped when harry continued, "You can't say that's not a possibility, cause it's very possible."

"Everyone is shy at first harry, you can't expect a person to open up right away and spill there secrets. You'll have to warm up to them, and then you. That's with everyone." Hermione probed gently, trying to get harry to see reason. She knew that he must think she was being nosey or demanding or maybe even annoying, but she wanted harry to have a job he'd love, a job that would make him feel good. And although he would have to here terrible things, she knew he feel great helping people, cause that's what harry did best. Help people. Save people.

"It's true, mate! I wouldn't just go to a random stranger and spill my beans everywhere." He said mouth full and melted ice cream flying everywhere. Harry cringed, covering his ice cream.

"No, but you haven't a problem letting your food spill everywhere!" Hermione snapped, making harry laugh and Ron blush.

"I'll think about. Ok?" he said, and it was true, he would, he liked the idea of not having to see blood or fight to help people, he could be their friend instead, an ear to listen.

That night, as harry was washing his sheet, to owls swooped down. One he recognized as Hermione's, the other reminded him suspiciously of Hogwarts. Waving his wand over the letter he found no ill intent. Curiously harry took to letter, unraveling it, to reading its contents. Harry's eyes flew across the letter in shinning happiness. He yipped in excitement and dropped the letter running off to tell Remus the good news. He didn't even need to read Hermione's letter to know what it said, for he was sure she'd gotten the same letter as he. And around all around Europe Hogwarts previous seventh years got a letter that read something along the lines of Harrys:

Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry

Headmistress: Minerva McGonagall

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that all Hogwarts previous seventh years have been welcomed back for and eighth year due to the War. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Sincerely, Severus Snape, Deputy Headmaster