Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

Summary: Set after Deathly Hallows. Harry Potter's life changed dramatically ever since he defeated Voldemort. Loads is expected from him even though he just wants to be himself. And he wants the one thing he cannot get: his family. But when he gets a second chance, and be a part of everything he has always wanted, will he take it? And will he be able to deal with the consequences?


The morning light streamed into the bedroom, effectively waking the eighteen year old. He turned around in his bed and shut his eyes tightly. He had been having a good dream, and he didn't want it to end yet. The boy had raven black hair that stood up at all angels, a porcelain-white skin and a slender body. And, even though one could not see it now, the most beautiful emerald eyes that almost seemed enchanted themselves. This boy's, no man's, name was Harry Potter. Harry drew the bedcovers over his face, determined to keep the light out. Unfortunately it got difficult to ignore after a while.

With a sigh he threw the covers away from him, got up, and went into the bathroom. He undressed himself and stepped into the shower, letting the warm water run over his back, letting it calm him.

So much had happened these last few months. So much it almost seemed it couldn't have been a few months. He, Ron and Hermione had done as Dumbledore wanted; they had destroyed the Horcruxes. Harry fulfilled his destiny; he had defeated Voldemort. The Wizarding World was safe again, and people did not have to live in fear anymore. Harry was praised a hero, and things were expected from him that he couldn't fulfill, rumors circulating around him which were the farthest thing from the truth, and girls throwing themselves at him just to see what kissing The-Boy-Who-Lived was like, maybe even sleep with him. And it all annoyed Harry to no end, and so he spent most of his time wishing he were someone else, that he could be just another face in the crowd.

He absentmindedly grabbed the shampoo and put some in his hair, massaging his head so the shampoo would start to foam.

There were very few people who liked him because of him, and not because he was the bloody Boy-Who-Lived. Ron and Hermione for example, but even though he knew they loved him, they were too busy with each other, now that they had gotten together, to be the friends they had been. A few of the Order also liked him for him, but he wasn't as close to them. And he got sick of Mrs. Weasley coddling him; he wasn't a baby! And then Ginny. They had dated in his sixth year, and he had felt as though he really loved her. But something had changed after he defeated Voldemort, he didn't know exactly what but it just wasn't the same anymore. So he broke it off with her.

No, the only four people who loved him for him and unconditionally, were dead. His parents, Sirius and Remus, and it were them that his heart ached to be with. His true family, the one that couldn't be replaced.

He rinsed the shampoo out of his hair, letting it glide down his body and into the drain.

He had been dreaming about them. It was his eleventh birthday and he rode his broom across the Quidditch pitch that the Potters had in their back yard, his father not far behind him, cheering him on. They raced, and James let Harry win, though not making it obvious so Harry would feel extra proud of himself. Then, when they reached the ground, James would ruffle Harry's hair (making it even messier than before), and say it wouldn't surprise him if Harry got on the Quidditch team in his first year. Once inside, his mother would kiss him on the check and try to flatten his hair a bit and complain about it in a funny way. Then James would pout, and Lily would kiss him as well (with Harry making gagging noises).

After James and Harry had cleaned up, they joined the table for breakfast, at which time Sirius and Remus would arrive. Both looked younger, healthier and more handsome by far. They'd kiss Harry as well (and, in Sirius' case, give him such a big hug it almost squeezed him to death) and joined breakfast. Then Harry would see an owl in the distance, coming strait towards him. He would squeal in delight and anticipation and then… He woke up.

If Harry hadn't been as strong as he was, he would have cried while thinking about it. But, he thought, was that a good or a bad thing? With another sigh he turned off the shower and started to dry himself off. Once he was all finished he walked out of the bathroom, through the bedroom and into the Head Common Room. Yes, he was Head Boy now, though it didn't make him any happier. Only more reason for others to treat him more differently. Seeing the clock, he saw he still had half an hour before breakfast started. He walked out of his room and up to the seventh floor, where he paced three times beside the wall opposite of the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. I need a place to think, somewhere I can be alone… And sure enough, a door appeared in the wall, and Harry quickly went inside. He saw it was almost an exact replica of the Gryffindor common room, though somehow it seemed more restful. Harry let himself sink into the couch, and put his head in his hands. His thoughts drifted back to his dream.

I wish I could be with them… Se them alive and happy and carefree… If only there was a way…

Suddenly a bright white light surrounded him. Harry's head snapped up and he reached for his wand, but it was too late. He felt like he was falling, falling through a black, never-ending well. Suddenly he hit what he thought was the bottom, and he lost all consciousness.


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