I am screwed up in the head.

Warning: THIS IS ABOUT TO GET VERY CRACKY.

HP/TR

So some of you are gonna be all like "WHY DIDN'T YOU UPDATE YOUR OTHER FANFICTION" and I'm just like, "I did not deem my partner's pathetic excuse of a reply after over two weeks worthy of a response."

If you don't like it, roleplay with me in his stead, because he obviously can't do it.

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"Oi Harry, come on, live a little."

Harry sighed, his eyebrows knitting in frustration as he attempted to pull away from his best friend. It didn't work, especially because of how physically frail he was at this point, but he managed to stall them from taking any further steps.

"No, Ron, this is wrong."

"Mate, how's it wrong?"

The other boy huffed, running his fingers over his forehead, brushing the greasy bangs to the side. "I'm cheat-"

"You're not cheating on anyone. I hate to say it, but Ginny ditched you. I know you're sad; we all are for you, but mate, it's been two months since you've stepped foot out of your house, you haven't returned our owls... Herm and I are worried about you."

Harry looked at him increduously. "You're saying Hermione put you up to this? To take me to this...this...place?"

Ron made a 'psh' sound, starting to pull the reluctant depression-wrecked boy along again. "Naw man, she just wanted to get you out of your house. This was entirely myidea."

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It had been Harry's fault.

Ginny's divorce had been Harry's fault - but only Harry knew that, and he was condemned to silence forever.

At first, their marriage had somewhat forced. Harry had given in to Ginny's demands - little sums of money, a nice cozy house, false pretenses of love. He'd been so happy and content that someone had cared about him enough to live the rest of their lives with him, even though it was for his fame. At first she hadn't loved him, and they both knew it, but Harry had no qualms. Ginny was a nice girl, and a life with her would not present any problems. Indeed, he'd finally have the peace that he had wanted for so long.

Eventually, Harry began to grow used to Ginny's presence. Even with the lack of emotion, the two had managed to live alongside each other nicely. They even had children.

...It was one day years later that he had gone back and looked at his older items, the ones that he still had left to reminisce over, and one thing had stood out to him.

The picture of his mother.

She looked uncannily similar to his ginger wife. As he rummaged through his memories, it had all begun to connect.

Oedipus Complex.

...And he began to wonder. Wonder if all of this was alright. Wonder if a marriage like this, as loveless as it was, was going to work out.

This was the beginning of the signs of break-up. Ginny had, of course, like the wonderful wife that she was, started to warm up to Harry. She was concerned, worried like a little sister would be, and Harry finally saw her for what she truly was - only that: a little sister. After that, Harry had become increasingly distant to his wife and his children; eventually, the woman's pestering had died down. And as patient of a girl as Ginny was, she would not - could not - wait forever.

Eventually one day she'd confronted him about it. 'It' being the souless gazes Harry sent her way every day, empty of emotion, void of feeling. She said, with tears in her eyes and guilt written all over her conscience, that she'd found someone better. Someone who loved her. Someone whom she loved back. She told him that they could still do this, still work it out, still make everything okay. All Harry had to do was say the words.

Harry knew that he'd took years of her life...all the years of her youth. That he should feel horrible for doing such a thing. That he should man up and fix it all.

But in the end...

Harry just hadn't loved her enough.

...No. That wasn't it. He hadn't loved her at all in the first place.

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"This?" Harry asked disbelievingly.

"This," Ron confirmed, tugging at his friend's robe sleeve as they approached the large Gothic castle-styled manor. It had a large front yard which weeds and vines of all sorts had infested around, but none creeped onto the pathway. "Come on, I'm not sure if they're still open."

"Are you sure.."

Ron snorted, casting Alohmora on the gate's lock steadily without even looking at it. It looked like he'd been here quite a few times already. "Bloody sure as I can get."

The ominous creaking of the gate did not help to assauge Harry's nerves.

"Where did you even get the address for such a place anyway?" Surely Ron didn't suddenly see a manor and decide 'Oh hey! Let's check it out, I bet there's a bunch of sexual stuff going on inside this creepy old place!'..? No, that was totally uncharacteristic.

"Malfoy."

Harry raised an eyebrow at this.

"What? You know Pureblood families have got to bugger their own family members all the time. It's gotta get boring once in a while."

Harry wasn't sure what to make of this, so he didn't say anything, rather deciding to absorb the details around him before he had to face the dreaded large double doors of the manor.

What he saw wasn't reassuring. It looked like the place had included an abundant rose garden once, but now all of the flowers were dead, withered with time. He couldn't believe that this place was... Well, what it was. The manor itself had grime all over its uneven stone bricks, yet it wasn't crumbling. Perhaps it was for effect...? If so, the manor was definitely held up by magic. Speaking of magic, Harry sensed a large amount of Dark magic coming from the manor...but it was a manor after all, and that was probably just left-over remains from years of use, so he dismissed it, but it still stayed in the back of his mind.

And then there were the double doors - large black foreboding doors, they were, the designs carved amazingly intricately. This manor had definitely at one point in time belonged to some Pureblood, judging from these doors. They reminded Harry of Trelawney's predictions in Divination class all those years ago - predictions of the Grim, of darkness, of evil, of...death.

And then they'd reached the doors, and Ron knocked on them, and no one answered, and Harry was just sorelieved, sighing in true relief, and then they'd opened creakily and oh-so-eerily, and his breath was stuck in his throat and he was freaking out just like before.

"C'mon, mate," the ginger grinned, pulling Harry along. "It'll be fun."

...Right. Fun.

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"Right..So. They're usually over here, but I'm not sure if they're closed today, so - yeah, they're not here - let's go over here, then -"

"Maybe we should leave," Harry cut in. "I mean, they're obviously not here."

"Naw mate - they're just takin' a break. See, they're just right around this door - no, not this one - not that one either, it's locked - ha! This must be the one."

"Well, of course. It's the last door in the hallway," Harry muttered to himself, causing Ron to frown.

"Don't be so pessimistic," he said, grasping and turning the knob of the door. "The door opened for us, after all - don't worry, you'll have fun-"

The two men were immediately surprised and shocked upon being greeted by the sight of five other adults...

Five other adults they were quite familiar with, as well as one set of crimson eyes Harry would never have thought he would have seen again.

The corner of Tom's lips turned up. "Well, well, well. What a pleasant surprise. If it isn't... Potter. As well as our favourite customer. We're not open on Sundays, you know."

OHHHHHHHHHH SHIT.

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Holy good luck shit to you if you can figure out what the hell the "place" is supposed to be with all the hints ( It will be revealed in the next chapter if you can't figure it out ).

Do you know how much this Pottermore stuff is grating away at my sanity? Well, I'll tell you.

It's bloody grating away at my sanity.

Also I want freaking reviews because I'm about to die here I didn't sleep last night.