Prologue
He didn’t want to see a single person. He couldn’t stand it.
The Battle of Hogwarts was a relief. Death he had accepted, but life? Living with everything weighing on his chest was impossible. He heard a distant banging in the distance.
Most days, Harry couldn’t even think straight. Fragments of memories and nightmares played in his head over and over again. His house was a mess. Ginny was long gone, mourning kind joyous Fred.
Fred. He took another swing at his firewhiskey. More loud banging.
Harry missed Hermione and Ron desperately. But, he had locked his doors and shut down his Floo for a reason: he wasn’t ready to tell them that he just felt like giving up. Or that he wished he had died when Voldemort did. It had only been weeks and he just couldn’t do it anymore.
Suddenly, Harry felt the floor beneath him rattle and shake. Then, a forceful thud resounding around the house. Harry braced himself on the floor for whatever might finally end him.
Instantly, he was shot with a sobering spell, a cleaning spell and a replenishing spell. Harry moaned and opened his eyes to find her.
Professor McGonagall seemed to not understand what locked doors mean.
She spent a good hour scolding him while handing him biscuits to eat one by one.
“You know Hogwarts has always been home, Harry,” Professor McGonagall said, softly at the end of her tirade. “Let Hogwarts be your guide again. Your friends are desperate to hear from you and you’re desperately in need of friends. You have never been stupider, Harry.”
She left him with pumpkin bread, paper and pens. And Harry was alone again.
It took him a week to decide she was right.
Harry sat down and wrote his first letter. To Luna. She would always understand.
Slowly, one letter became multiple. To Neville and Ron and George and Bill and Hermione and Ginny and Seamus and Dean. He wrote apologies, gratitudes, sorrows and joys. He wrote and wrote.
Harry eagerly turned to send them when he realized he didn’t have Hedwig anymore. His heart plummeted. He spent the next several hours dwelling in self pity and firewhiskey.
Eventually, Harry summoned a general delivery owl. And then he sent all of them. And then an hour later, one by one, he got letters back. His smile had appeared on his face for the first time in two months.
As embarrassed as he was to send the letters, he could have never expected the response. Fuck. He was so stupid AND Hermione was going to kill him. He couldn’t die if there were still people who wanted him in their lives. Harry had to try, at least for them.
After reading the letters, he looked up to see the one letter that laid unfinished on the corner of his desk.
Malfoy , he had scribbled on the parchment. Harry stared at Malfoy’s name. He didn’t know what to say. Harry had send in his testimony at his trial for a reason. Malfoy had saved his life twice and, in turn, Harry did the same. However, Harry still had no idea why Malfoy saved him at the Manor or why he had thrown Potter a wand to fight Voldemort. They hated each other. They fought on opposite sides of the war. But, something inside Harry twitched at Malfoy’s name. Something warm. He had felt it before. But, now, after layers of disgust and hate had been lifted, Harry had felt it stronger than before. Something in Harry didn’t want to give up on Malfoy. Not yet anyways.